8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
S omewhere between the editing, the writing, and the running, I survived the week with surprisingly little rumination about my parents’ big trip and shockingly few obsessive thoughts about Gregory. I was so pleased with my writing progress that I would have whistled, if I were the whistling type. Alas, I settled for smiling while strolling into the Bolder office on Friday morning for the weekly copyeditors’ meeting. Sometimes Ellen held the meeting virtually, but she believed it was beneficial for us to meet in person at least occasionally. I didn’t know why, but today, I didn’t care because I’d resolved to have a great day.
The meeting was longer than it needed to be because Ellen just liked to talk and, even better, for others to hear her talk. A few possible changes to the in-house style guide were discussed, prompting a brief but passionate grammar discussion. It was the sort of conversation I lived for, but I tapped my foot impatiently but lightly under the table. I was full of nervous energy but unsure why. As soon as I stepped out of the conference room, Ellen pulled me into her office next door. “Viv, you look radiant today! Do spill.”
I laughed nervously, averting my eyes. “I’ve just had a good week of writing—I mean editing.” I wasn’t ready to tell Ellen about my novel. In fact, Ellen would very likely be the last to hear about it. I liked my boss, usually, but she couldn’t be discreet to save her life.
Ellen sat in a comfortable purple chair instead of behind her desk. Somehow she’d secured the largest office in the suite, even though she certainly wasn’t in the highest-ranking position. She’d taken advantage of the space and spent a great deal of time and money on decorating. Her office served dual roles—depending on Ellen’s goals at the moment, she could either laugh and relax (or even flirt) with someone on the comfortable but expensive furniture or sit behind her executive-style desk in a high-backed chair that somehow made her look intimidating.
Ellen waved me over to the empty turquoise chair beside her. “Have you been smiling like a fool because you got a lot of editing done? Was it a book on erotica?”
“Haha, you know very well I was editing Mastersen’s book.” I couldn’t help but smile. “What can I tell you? It’s 360 dull pages on, well, banking. And law. It isn’t exactly thrilling, but sometimes the feeling of accomplishing that much is just so … so …” I faltered, searching for a convincing word. “Invigorating.” Regret poured in. It was probably the least convincing word I could’ve chosen. Invigorating? Not even a banking lawyer would say that.
“I’m not buying it,” Ellen started, before her eyes darted to her office doorway. I turned to look as Gregory and Brandon passed in the hallway. Ellen was of course immediately on her feet, calling to them and ushering them inside.
I stood up, biting my lip as I smoothed my hair. I hadn’t expected to see Gregory here today. Perhaps a tiny part of me had wished for it, though. The sight of him was certainly not one I’d regret. He was dressed for business, but instead of looking dull in a suit, he was as handsome as ever, perhaps even more so, despite the lack of any smile gracing his face.
“Brandon, Gregory, nice of you to brighten our office this Friday morning. Can I help you find something?” Ellen said, a bright smile adorning her dark features. I looked over and saw her eyes twitching.
Is she nervous? Oh. No. Her eyelashes are fluttering. She’s—is she flirting?
Brandon looked around, flashing a friendly smile at Ellen. “We were actually stopping in just to steal Annie for lunch—”
“You were, Brandon,” Gregory interrupted, looking bored. “ I came to meet with Ron. We just happened to meet outside.”
“Yes, but of course you’ll join us for lunch, right? Surely it’ll be a short meeting,” said Brandon dismissively, as though his lunch plans were of far greater consequence than a meeting with Bolder’s editor in chief.
“I certainly hope so,” Gregory said sharply. “The meeting, that is. I will not be joining anyone for lunch. I have an appointment with my trainer immediately after this.”
Brandon gave him a sideways glance, shaking his head. He turned fully toward Ellen and me with an apologetic smile. “He’s training for a triathlon, so his trainer is basically his love life.”
Looking even more annoyed than usual, Gregory started to turn to leave, just as Ellen took a step toward him and briefly touched his arm to stop his retreat. “A triathlon! You must be a runner then, just like Viviana here. She’s training for her third half marathon.”
Gregory sighed, undoubtedly realizing he was not going to escape the conversation so quickly. “Yes, I run. It is, in fact, one of the three activities constituting a triathlon.”
Either missing or choosing to ignore his blatant condescension, Ellen continued, “You two could train together! Viviana’s always telling me how she could use a new running partner.”
I widened my eyes at the audacity of Ellen’s lie. “Ell, you know I always run with Jack. I’m sure Greg—I mean, Dr. Fitzgerald has better things to do than run with us.”
“Indeed.” He nodded, either not realizing how rude he sounded or not caring.
I blinked rapidly and then narrowed my eyes. “Well, then,” I snapped. “You’d better get on with your important meetings and training then. Don’t let us keep you.”
He nodded again and left the room as they all stood gaping and silent.
Brandon was the first to speak, a pained look of apology in his eyes. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s just, he’s just …”
“It’s all right, Brandon. You don’t have to defend him. Jack and I already have a great running partnership anyway, being matched in pace and being really old friends who can put up with all of each other’s annoying running habits,” I said, forcing a laugh. “Trust me, it’s for the best. And you’re not responsible for your friend’s actions in any case.” Why did I feel the need to soothe Brandon’s feelings? Maybe because he seemed like a genuinely nice and pleasant man who was just unfortunate enough to have found an awful friend. Perhaps his only flaw was being overly generous in giving people the benefit of the doubt and looking beyond their flaws. Like Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley …
“I can see why Annie speaks so highly of you, Viviana. Gosh, everyone here is just so great!” he exclaimed, smiling at Ellen.
Could he be any more like Charles Bingley? , I marveled as he began making excuses to go find Annie.
Once Ellen and I were safely alone, I closed the door and sank into the turquoise chair. “Ell, I can’t imagine how we ever thought Gregory was anything like Mr. Darcy. I really don’t think he has a heart of gold beneath all that arrogance. Or a heart of anything.”
Ellen sighed, striding over to sit behind her desk. “He does sometimes test my patience … and my theory about you two.” She paused, looking thoughtful for a few moments. “But I’m not often wrong about people, so I’m not giving up yet. Maybe he’ll surprise us. Have you seen a softer side at all? I know from Annie that you’ve spent some time together.”
“Not really, I don’t know what to make of him. But ‘softer side’ definitely isn’t what comes to mind. Not even a glimmer of kindness or laughter. He’s—”
Just then, the door opened after a brief knock. Gregory re-entered, stopping near my chair as I looked up in confusion. “Vivian, I have had a change of heart. Would you like to join me for a run tomorrow morning?” His voice sounded a bit pained.
I narrowed my eyes. “It’s Viviana .”
He nodded briefly. “I’m sorry. Viviana.”
I took a deep breath and glanced at Ellen quickly before returning my attention to him. Astoundingly, he looked somewhat contrite. “You can tag along with Jack and me, if you’d like. We usually start on the Midtown Greenway around 8 a.m. every Saturday.”
“Is Jack the fellow you brought to Ellen’s dinner engagement?”
“Yes, Jack Normandy. That is, I—I didn’t bring him to the party, but he was there,” I stammered. “We’re—we’re old friends. And running partners. He’s like a brother, that’s all.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wondered why I’d felt the need to explain my friendship with Jack. Why would Gregory care? And even if he did care, did he deserve an explanation?
He tilted his head and wore a puzzled expression, probably just as surprised as I was about my odd explanation. He cleared his throat. “Good. I shall see you tomorrow morning then. At which part of the trail should we meet?”
“Uh, Hamlet Avenue,” I replied, still in disbelief. “Harriet Avenue, I mean. Not Hamlet. I don’t know why I said that. Then again, I think I dreamt about Shakespeare recently. But it’s not Hamlet; it’s Harriet. Harriet Avenue. In South Minneapolis. Harriet is—”
“I will look it up. See you then,” he said briskly, making his exit as abrupt as his entrance.
The moment he closed the door, Ellen exclaimed, “ See ? He must be into you. He sought you out, and he apologized. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who apologizes, ever.”
I chuckled, refusing to acknowledge the flutter of nerves rising up. “Probably because he got my name wrong the first five times he said it. Even he realized that was more than a little rude.” With Ellen looking at me expectantly, I sighed and allowed a small grin. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s a small glimmer of hope that he isn’t a complete jerk. It’s still pretty small though. Minuscule.” I gazed out the window and shrugged. I didn’t want Ellen to think I cared—that I was actually invested in this unlikely love story.
“Would it be incredibly cliché for someone who works in publishing to say ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much’?” Ellen didn’t even try to hide her sly smile.
“Cliché, maybe. But tragically incorrect, for sure. Hamlet’s mother said ‘The lady—’”
“You can take off your editor hat, Viv. I know what she said. I’m just trying to bait you, which is very easy to do today.” Ellen raised a thin eyebrow. “It must be love that has you so easily riled up. What else could it be? Surely not banking law.”
I laughed despite myself. “Definitely not that. But I’m not riled up . You’re imagining things, Ell. He’s just a confusing person, that’s all. And I’m hungry.”
Ellen was silent for a moment, eyeing me knowingly. “And Shakespeare? What was that?”
I buried my face in my hands. “I am mortified, Ell. How idiotic did I sound?”
“Idiotic isn’t the word I’d use. It was … .” Ellen gestured, looking for the right word. “It was … charming. I’ve only ever seen you ramble like that once before, with that Anthony guy years ago.”
I groaned at the mention of my former relationship disaster. Anthony Rivera was the business development manager at Bolder when I started contracting there over four years ago, and we’d started dating almost immediately after meeting at a networking event. Despite being a few years younger than me, Anthony had seemed more mature and emotionally available than the commitment-phobic guys I’d dated in college. He was responsible and ambitious, with a good job. He had a nice apartment, nice clothes, a nice Puerto Rican family, and no posters on his wall. But after a year of dating, he found a better-paying position elsewhere (to my shock, as I hadn’t been aware he was job hunting), and he dumped me. Ghosted me, actually. I figured he was too good-looking, maybe a little arrogant and self-centered, and although I stayed at his place often, he never asked me to move in. I thought I was in love, but for reasons I couldn’t pinpoint, I hadn’t even felt comfortable bringing a toothbrush to his place. I’d either failed to notice his flaws or convinced myself they were no big deal. I’d been cautious and even a bit bitter about men ever since. And wasn’t I still? But I was opening up to at least the possibility of something developing with Gregory—that is, if I could keep my cool and not ramble like an idiot next time.
“I can’t believe I have to face Gregory after that. Maybe I’ll tell him I forgot to eat this morning, which is actually half true. Or maybe I should just cancel—this running date is a disaster waiting to happen.”
Ellen shook her head as she pulled her chair closer to her desk and flipped open her laptop, usually the sign that a conversation was becoming tedious and she was moving on. “No, you won’t do that. Go eat. And text me tomorrow after the run.”
Taking my cue to leave, I rose. “No, I mean, I don’t know if—”
Ignoring my protest, Ellen added, “I need to hear how this goes, OK? He’s as much of a mystery to me as he is to you.” She gazed at me thoughtfully, as if considering whether to say more. “Did you know he was in a car accident with his younger sister when they were both very young? She didn’t survive.”
I gasped. “No, I … I had no idea. That’s terrible.”
Ellen nodded. “I don’t know all the details, but I managed to pry it out of Brandon. I can’t help thinking it’s really affected him.” She paused, staring at some distant spot on the wall for a long moment and then finally refocusing her gaze on me. “I do love me some romance heroes with a tortured history. Hell, if I were 10 years younger, I’d no doubt be pursuing Gregory myself.” I laughed but also winced. Sometimes Ellen’s words were startling if not cringe-worthy coming from a married woman. And so soon after divulging the tragic information about Gregory. I was still trying to digest the information when Ellen added, “I’ll just have to settle for hearing about your love life.”
My eyes widened.
Ellen put on her work glasses and narrowed her eyes. “So you’d better make it good.”