Chapter 24
twenty-four
. . .
Witt
Success changes your life.
The elevator doors slide open onto the executive floor, and before I even reach my office, I know Dara has been waiting for me.
Not because she's standing outside my door.
Because she's smiling.
Dara doesn't smile at seven o'clock in the morning unless she's about to make my day unnecessarily complicated.
She straightens from the reception desk the moment she sees me, tablet tucked beneath one arm, coffee in the other. The expression on her face reminds me of Parker right before he says something he thinks is hilarious and everyone else shakes their head.
"Good morning," she says.
I stop a few feet from her. "It appears you've been planning that greeting."
"For approximately twenty-four hours."
"I thought so."
She grins wider.
Something about the interaction catches me off guard.
Six months ago, I probably would have walked around her and continued into my office.
There would have been work waiting, emails requiring answers, updates and problems to solve from five different Synatrix companies.
Every minute had a purpose, and conversations that didn't move projects forward usually fell into the category of inefficient.
Lately, I’m beginning to suspect efficiency isn't the only thing that gives a day value.
The realization is uncomfortable enough that I decide not to examine it further.
I continue toward my office.
"How was your research?" Dara asks, following me inside.
"Productive."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"What exactly did you research?"
I set my laptop on the desk before answering. "The history of gaming."
She hums thoughtfully.
"I honestly thought you meant a different kind of research."
Before I have an opportunity to ask what that means, the office door swings open again.
Maci walks in carrying her laptop against one hip, a coffee balanced precariously in her other hand, and several printed pages tucked beneath her arm.
A strand of silvery-pink hair has escaped the knot on top of her head, and she absently blows it away as she crosses the room, completely unaware she's smiling.
She looks...
Happy.
The thought arrives before I can categorize why noticing matters.
"Morning," she says.
"Good morning," Dara answers, still wearing that suspicious smile.
Maci doesn't notice.
She's already spreading papers across the small work table, excitement replacing whatever sleep still lingered in her eyes.
"I couldn't stop thinking about yesterday."
"I noticed," I say.
She laughs. "I may have gotten a little carried away."
"A little?"
"I outlined the documentary."
Dara looks between us. "The documentary?"
Maci nods enthusiastically and turns the first page toward us.
"I kept thinking about those kids in the arcade yesterday. The grandparents showing them where gaming started. Then I started wondering how many people know the story behind any of it."
She flips to another page.
"So I broke it into six episodes instead of one. Arcades. Home consoles. LAN parties. Competitive gaming. Streaming. Then where we think it's headed."
As she talks, she stops reading her notes.
She's simply...
Talking.
Her hands move when she's excited. Her ideas build on one another faster than she can organize them, and every time I think she's reached the end of a thought, another connection appears.
I find myself watching her instead of the proposal.
That's inefficient.
It's also becoming increasingly difficult to stop doing.
She finally slides the last page toward me.
"I also think each episode should end with someone telling the story of why gaming mattered to them."
My eyes lift to hers.
"Not the game."
She nods.
"The person."
Something settles quietly in my chest.
That's why yesterday worked.
I showed her old machines.
She saw people.
"I like this," I say.
Her smile widens. "I knew you would."
"I didn't."
"You would've eventually."
"I've been wrong before."
She folds her arms with obvious satisfaction. "I'll remember you admitted that."
Dara clears her throat dramatically.
"I have a confession."
Neither of us looks at her.
"I genuinely thought when Mr. O'Ryan canceled his schedule yesterday that the two of you were... conducting different research."
Maci turns, completely confused.
"What?"
Dara waves a hand. "Never mind."
Maci pops her hip, “No, now I want to know."
"I've decided ignorance is a better option."
Maci’s brow knits together like she doesn’t quite know where Dara’s mind is going. "Witt would never create drama."
"I work with the O’Ryans… all of them," Dara says. "I've learned to expect chaos."
I glance toward Dara. "You've completed your entertainment for the morning."
She smiles. "So... that's my cue to leave?"
"Correct."
She reaches the doorway before looking back over one shoulder. "For what it's worth..." She stills. Her shoulders drop and the tablet she’s carrying now in her hand beside her thigh. "I've never seen you this relaxed."
The door closes before I can respond, but I probably wouldn’t have anyway.
Silence settles over the office, not the rigid silence I usually prefer—a comfortable one. The kind that doesn't demand anything from either of us.
Maci studies me for a moment. "Were you smiling?"
"I don't believe so."
"I think Dara knows you better than you know yourself."
"That seems statistically improbable."
She grins. "I've seen you smile three times this morning."
I glance back at the proposal still spread across the table, then at her.
The EFL opens in three days.
Ordinarily I'd spend every available hour checking systems, reviewing contingency plans, and solving problems before anyone else discovered them. Instead, I slide the proposal back toward her.
"I'd like you to handle the final preparations."
She blinks. "By myself?"
I nod. "I hired you because you're capable."
Her expression changes, not excitement.
Pride.
"I won't let you down."
"I know."
The words leave my mouth with surprising ease. I don't even question them. Maybe that's what trust feels like.
I wouldn't know.
I've never had much reason to measure it before.