Page 14 of Breaking News

“We’re taking some summer interns at the TV station, too,” I told her.

“Wait,” Olivia said, sitting up straighter. “What will the interns be doing?”

“Well,” I said, having not really considered this. Marco told me I’d be getting an intern to assist me in the mornings, but he hadn’t really mentioned any specific tasks. It was probably up to me to decide, after all.

My workload had increased over the past year after my co-anchor accepted a job in Indianapolis. Doing the morning show solo was supposed to be temporary, but when Silas swooped in and started making cuts, he saw that I was capable of carrying the show on my own. So he made no effort to hire anyone else. I was drowning in all the extra work, and having no one but Bernard to riff with on-air devalued the quality of the show. At that point, though, I’d been so used to making it work that I didn’t complain.

“Whoever they give me will just be in charge of helping me keep my head on straight,” I said with a laugh, but it was the truth. Olivia smiled from one side of her mouth as she listened. “And supplying me with fresh coffee throughout the morning.”

I watched the girl fiddle with the zipper on her backpack. “When does that start?”

“Um…?” I couldn’t remember the exact date, so I looked at Graham for an answer.

“Next week. Wednesday.”

Olivia chewed on her bottom lip. “Okay, so it’s like, way too late to sign up then, isn’t it?”

An involuntary gasp escaped from my lips. “Why, do you want to do it?”

“Maybe,” she replied with a casual shrug.

“Are you kidding me? You little traitor,” Graham said with a laugh, leaning back to get a better look at his daughter in the mirror. “When I told you about this, you said, and I quote, ‘nobody wants to work with their dad.’”

“I know, but I didn’t really think about how fun it could be to work in the TV studio. I wish I’d filled out an application.”

“Maybe it’s not too late?” I looked from her to Graham, arching one eyebrow. “I bet we could convince the CEO to accept a late application.”

Graham shifted, wincing, as he flipped the turn signal on. The car slowed before turning onto my street, where a row of towering oak trees lined the road. I loved the way the branches created a canopy over the streets in my neighborhood, even if the roots made the sidewalks crack and lift from the ground. When I used to jog before work in the mornings, I’d stick to the street, wearing reflective clothing so I wouldn’t become a breaking news story myself.

But that was before I realized jogging was exacerbating my pain. I’d traded jogging in the dark to walking on the treadmill at the gym, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t considering signing up for a water aerobics class with all the senior citizens.

Graham tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking from his daughter in the rearview to me in his passenger seat. “I can hear the cries of nepotism already,” he said with a sigh.

“It’s not nepotism ifI’mrequesting her,” I said, smiling over my shoulder at Olivia.

She looked pleased. “Would you actually do that?”

“I actually would!”

“Livvy,” Graham exhaled, his tone mixed with caution and amusement, “this might not work out.”

“It’d be a good distraction from Richie this summer…”

Graham immediately straightened. “I’ll pull some strings. Hell, I’ll build you your own office.”

I knew there had to be a story there, especially when I noticed the way Olivia rolled her eyes.

The summer intern program had sort of slipped my mind in the chaos of everything else, but now I had something to look forward to. Olivia seemed like someone I could really get along with—she was sharp, funny, and curious. She might even make a good news anchor someday, if I could prove to her that journalism wasn’t “dorky.”

As Graham pulled up to my house, he slowed the car and glanced at me. “Is this it?”

“This is it,” I said, looking up at the Craftsman-style house sitting atop my sloped lawn. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a modest home with a wide front porch and a single dormer window on the second floor—the detail that had made me fall in love with it on Zillow. It might not have been much, but it was mine. I bought it without a partner and without my parents’ help.

Unless you counted the free labor my dad put into refinishing the floors and sealing the windows.

My mind shifted to Xander for a second, wondering when he planned on telling me about his handyman skills. Would he and my dad get along?

And when would it be the right time to ask Xander to come to Tennessee to meet my family?

---