Derek threw his gown and cap into the back seat.

“Let’s drive,” he said.

“We can talk to him at the dinner.”

I started the engine, the familiar rumble vibrating through the steering wheel.

We navigated the campus traffic, leaving the red-tiled roofs behind us.

The highway was crowded, a ribbon of brake lights stretching toward San Francisco.

I called Marcus on the speakerphone.

It rang three times before he picked up.

“Sarah,” Marcus said, his voice muffled by background noise.

“Are you still on campus?”

“We just left,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.

“I got your message. What is going on with the Series A?”

“I am already at the restaurant in San Francisco,” Marcus said.

“The rest of your team is here too.”

“But we need to sit down before the others arrive at our table.”

“Is there a hitch with the term sheet?” I asked.

My chest tightened.

We had spent six months negotiating the valuation.

“Not exactly,” Marcus said.

“Just get here as fast as you can, Sarah.”

“We will talk when you arrive.”

The line went dead.