“Right?” Allie adds. “Completely unbothered.”
“This might be my last day at work, but I’ll be damned if anyone is going to see me cry.”
No. The tears will come later when I’m home. Me, a pint of butter pecan, and ugly crying into my anxiety pillow.
For now, I stroll toward the door with my head held high.
Leo reaches for my hand as I brush past him. “I love you, okay?”
My lips curve into a smile. “I know.”
Allie shouts, “I love you too!” As I push my door open.
Priti Singh is the editor-in-chief ofWorld Explorermagazine and travel director of the media brand behind it. In 2014, she took a chance on a new travel writer who started with a small blog on a homemade website.
Me.
Together, with a handful of others including Leo McMann and Alison Whitlock, we helped the president of NeXus Broadcasting Group, Sullivan Rhodes, grow World Explorer into a media conglomerate that now owns its own river cruise company and produces television shows for Uncharted TV. I’ve been lucky enough to snag a ride on this rising company, and I had been proud to help grow it into something special: A travel magazine for all travelers, not just the elite or privileged.
Priti’s office sits at the end of the hall and obviously has thebest view of Central Park. I catch Priti flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder as she takes a seat behind her desk. I clear my throat before pressing my elbow into her office door.
“That’s my hope,” Priti says into her phone. She ends her call and then waves me in. “Yes! Roxanne. Please come in.”
I flash a thin smile and take a seat across from her.
“How is it with you?”
I exhale the breath I’ve been holding. “I’m doing well.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“You wanted to see me?” I ask.
“Yes!” She folds her fingers together and stares a me for what feels like an hour. “I’m so proud of you, Roxanne, and I have a feeling I’m going to feel even more so after this is all over.”
My stomach twists. “Oh?”
She pushes up from her seat and begins to pace. “You remember our conversation with Sullivan Rhodes at the New York Philanthropy Summit last year?”
I think for a moment, recalling the evening at the Met. He smelled like day-old bourbon and cigars and insisted I call him Sully. “Yes, he mentioned some exciting new ideas he had for philanthropy that were ‘very outside the box,’ as he described them.”
“I love a billionaire who feels guilty about being so rich.”
“I’m not following.”
“Sullivan has decided to give a sizable portion of his money away?—”
“So …” I lean forward. “Are you letting me go or not?”
Priti’s eyes grow wide, and then she throws her head back and laughs. “My darling. No, I’m not firing you. Not yet, anyway.”
My feeling of relief was immediately squelched. “Not yet?”
Priti pulls a San Pellegrino out from the fridge behind her desk. “Would you like one?”
My shoulders are still tense, but my mouth is dry so I accept. She pours me a glass and sticks a slice of lime in it. I take a sip. “Now that I no longer feel like jumping out the window, I’m happy you called me here to tell me how I can keep my job, not release me from it.”
Priti nods. “We need you, Roxanne, but … we need theoldyou.”
