Page 5 of The Truths We Find

Now, I’m left to navigate the reality that we’ll be working together. Whether she’s disappointed or not isn’t something I can control, but I’m aware of how being passed over for an external hire can land. Still, gamble or not, I know I’m the right person for this job. I didn’t arrive here by chance.

I’ve spent the last eight years earning this role. After graduating with my degree, I started as an intern at my former station in New York. Living in one of the most expensive cities in the country without a paycheck was brutal, but I made it work by taking on side repair jobs just to stay afloat. What made the difference was having a mentor who believed in me. He taught me everything no textbook ever could, trusted me with real responsibility, and pushed me to lead. Within a few years, I was running the morning show.

He retired a few years ago, and when I landed this job, he was the first person I called.

I straighten the lapel of my suit jacket and adjust the buttons of my vest. I’m probably overdressed, but a three-piece suit has always been my armor. Confidence comes easier when I look the part, and a well-dressed boss commands authority before saying a word.

Applause spills in from the other room, and I realize that’s my cue. For a moment, my hand lingers on the door handle as I steady myself, drawing in a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Then I turn the handle and step through, crossing the threshold into the massive open space.

Long desks stretch from wall to wall, every surface crowded with computers, cables, and half-finished notes. Dozens of televisions line the walls, each one silently broadcasting live newscasts from around the world. A constant reminder of the pace, pressure, and responsibility of this place. Nearly thirty people stand at their desks, all facing the doorway I’ve just entered. Mr. White lingers off to the side, giving me the floor.

The applause swells, and I scan the room, meeting faces that will soon look to me for direction. I smile, nodding in acknowledgment, offering a quiet thanks through eye contact and small gestures. Beneath the professional composure, there’s a surge of nerves and pride. This is the room I crossed the country for. This is where I’m meant to lead.

Then, my heart stops. There is no way with all the news stations in the country, she’s here. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.

Dani. My Dani.

I need to remember to breathe. I bite the inside of my cheek to see if I’m really awake. The small twinge of pain and the taste of copper from the blood confirms this isn’t a dream.

She’s actually here. I offer her a smile.

She’s staring at me as if she’s seen a ghost.

“What the fuck?!” Dani yells.

It takes everything in me not to laugh. This is going to go well.

“Sorry. Slammed my finger in the drawer,” she says more calmly this time. “Carry on.”

I need to get to her. Talk to her. How’s it possible she’s here? That we’re here together?

She’s still as beautiful as I remember. Her green eyes could make any man stop in their tracks, and I’m glad to see she still has the same relaxed style that first drew me to her. Her brown hair is pulled up, and the jeans she’s wearing hug her hips in a way that’s getting my dick very excited.

I can’t take my eyes off her, but I can tell she’s avoiding my gaze. I know Mr. White’s still talking, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

When I realize he’s telling everyone to get back to work, I know this is my chance to make my way to Dani.

I start to move, but an arm wraps around my shoulder, and Mr. White guides me in the opposite direction.

Shit.

I try to keep my gaze on Dani for as long as possible, but she grabs someone and takes them down a different hallway.

Mr. White and I make our way towards my new office, which happens to be one of the only private offices in the newsroom. A large desk sits in the center, with a leather chair on one side, and two chairs for guests on the other. Other than a computer on top of the desk, and a floor lamp in the corner, the space is bare with its windowless beige walls. Mr. White sits in one of the guest chairs, gesturing for me to sit across from him.

“So, what do you think?” He crosses his arms.

“It’s great. I’ve never had my own office before.”

“Feel free to decorate it as you see fit. The budget is in your email, and you can expense it to your company card. We’re very excited to have you here, Gavin. I think you’re just what we need to turn our station around.”

“Thank you, sir. That means a lot,” I say with a soft smile.

I take a moment, letting it all sink in. The space, the reality of where I am now. Alone with my boss, with no audience left to impress, the weight of the moment finally lands.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” I pause, really worried about his answer. “Was the executive producer I beat out for this position in the newsroom this morning?”