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Mark
I’m pretty sure Millie is avoiding me. That’s the only explanation I can come up with. I haven’t seen her since we had lunch last week. She didn’t come to dinner at the Jacobsons’ on Saturday, some excuse about having to work. Maybe she did have work, but it still feels like she is avoiding me. We work in the same building, on the same floor. My firm has done multiple contracts for her publisher this past week. Odds are that we would run into one another at least once.
I thought we had a nice time at lunch, at least I did. We spent the whole time catching up on what the other had been up to the last couple of years. A lot was left unsaid, but I can’t blame her for not bringing up the last few times we’ve seen each other. It’s not like I was going to. What’s the point in talking about the past. It’s in the past. Here and now, we are two adults who have known each other since the day she was born. Two people who might have had some insane levels of chemistry brewing between them at some point, but again, that was in the past. No need to dwell on things that can’t be changed.
As much as I have come to the conclusion that under any other circumstances, I would pursue Millie, I can’t. It’s just too complicated. Ben and Jonathan aside, there is just too much history there. If any relationship were to develop and it went wrong, it would completely divide our families. I don’t want Millie to be a distraction. She can’t be a distraction. Unfortunately for me, not seeing her is proving to be an even bigger distraction.
“You bringing anyone to the mixer tonight?” Nancy pops her head into my office.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Panic starts to set in. Was there some sort of date requirement I wasn’t aware of? “Do I need to?”
I didn’t even think that I would need a date for this thing tonight. Sure, at Bancroft and Watson it wasn’t exactly required, but it was expected. I didn’t think too much about it until Natasha and I broke up. Then I usually just dragged Todd with me, and we would leave as soon as I made sure I was seen by enough people to prove I had been there. Lexington is night and day different from Bancroft and Watson; they wouldn’t make me have a date for this thing, would they? I mean, I’m a grown adult. A very single grown adult as my mother likes to point out. Often.
“Not at all. I’m sure there will be plenty of buzz about your handsome face from all the women at the event tonight. Married and single,” she says this way too mischievously. With a wink, she’s out the door as quickly and quietly as she popped in.
“Nancy, what did you do?” I call after her, not liking the strange feeling that she was setting me up for some sort of Bachelor moment. I have no interest in handing out any roses in the near or distant future.
I walk out of my office to face a completely unfazed Nancy. Amusement twinkles in her eyes.
“I didn’t do anything, but, honey, you’d have to be blind not to notice how good-looking you are. You’re lucky I’m an old married woman.” She’s toying with me now. “Or rather my husband should be grateful I’m a happily married old woman,” she laughs.
As much as I try to resist a smile, I can’t. I head back into my office when I hear her mutter, “This will work nicely.”
I turn back and eye her. “What will work nicely?”
She looks up at me with all the innocence of a fox. “Oh, nothing. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”
“Nancy,” I say warningly, “what are you playing at?”
She keeps the innocent act in place. “I don’t play games, honey.” I resign myself and turn and walk back to my office. My steps falter slightly when I hear, “I win them.”
I don’t know what Nancy thinks she’s planning, but I would bet that it has something to do with Millie. She has talked up Millie every chance that she can, permitting Troy is not in earshot. I almost welcomed his smug presence when I had to shadow him on client calls and meetings if it meant not having to be constantly reminded how amazing Millie is. I am highly aware. I am also very aware, thanks to Nancy, that Millie hasn’t dated anyone seriously since she’s been at Quimby. I also become more and more aware of how off-limits she should be by the guilty feeling I have each time I get a message from Ben when I’ve been thinking about Millie.
I never should have let Rosie talk me into this navy suit. It is far more form-fitting than I would ever choose. I feel like one of the Jonas Brothers or One Direction. The annoyance that I even know who those people are bothers me even more than the restrictive material that is currently suffocating my body. And how did she ever talk me into a bright pink tie?
Walking into the hotel ballroom, I’m not sure what I was expecting from this mixer, but it wasn’t something of this scale. Miles majorly undersold how much business Lexington does in this town. This ballroom is filled with hundreds of people representing the various clientele that we work with.
I saw Nancy, and a man who I assume is her husband, from across the room when I first came in. I’ve also talked with a few people I’ve met so far, but for the most part I’ve stayed to myself. Which is fine by me. My social battery is lowering by the minute, and I’m counting down until it would be socially acceptable to leave. I feel so awkward talking to strangers. I keep reminding myself that eventually these clients won’t be strangers and I won’t feel so uncomfortable, but in the meantime, I have built in small breaks where I mostly people-watch. My current source of entertainment is watching Troy schmooze and hit on every presumably single woman in the room. It’s almost painful to watch. I’m not sure which is worse, the total flops or the near successes. It’s impressive and yet sickening all at the same time. It’s like watching Barney Stinson at work.
“Looking good, Winters.”
I recognize her voice even before I turn around. My breath catches as I struggle to not let my eyes roam. Millie has her auburn hair down with soft curls that bounce around her face and shoulders, hitting just above her clavicle. Her dark blue dress fits her perfectly and stops just above her knee. It’s hard to not follow the lines of her toned bare legs. It’s suddenly very warm in here, and I try to loosen my tie without being obvious. I am absolutely not noticing how sculpted she is in all the right places or how those heels only add to the flawless, classic beauty that Amelia Jean Jacobson is.
“Hey, Millie,” I gulp. “Just getting here?” Get it together, Mark, it’s just Millie. You have talked to Millie a thousand times. Yeah, and after the last time she started avoiding me.
“Yeah.” It shouldn’t give me so much comfort noticing how awkward she also feels. “I had to make an appearance at my parents’ house, you know, after missing last week.”
“So… are you avoiding me?” I blurt.
Millie’s eyes go wide, but she tries to recover. “Why would I be avoiding you?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”
“Well, I’m not, so there isn’t anything to figure out.”
“I just haven’t seen you since we went to lunch and since we work in the same building—on the same floor—I just figured I’d at least see you from a distance, and I haven’t.”
“Work has been really busy lately.”
