11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
“ W e’re making good time,” I said to Jack as we neared the end of our first mile on Monday, the bright sun providing a small bit of warmth on a frosty spring morning. “How was your weekend? I hope you didn’t work through all of it?”
He looked down at his running watch, squinting to read past the glare. “Yes, quite fast this morning.” He paused, nodding politely to another runner on the trail. “Jermaine and his brother came over to watch the Twins game yesterday. But other than that, unfortunately, work did take up most of my weekend. And you?”
“Let’s just say I wasn’t very productive.” Yesterday, I’d caught myself reading the same sentences three or four times, fixing comma errors but not comprehending anything I read. Even with extra coffee, my brain wouldn’t focus on words, whether editing or writing. Sadly, I was fresh out of material for my Darcy story, and I hadn’t even written a sentence. Things had progressed with Gregory somewhat, but I needed more material and I needed clarity. When would I see him again? Would I see him again? I knew very little about what he was doing in the city with Brandon and what business he had with Bolder, if any. I’d considered consulting Jack for writing motivation tips but elected not to, for reasons unknown.
“And another cancellation from Jenn, a typical Sunday. I did write a bit though.”
“Oh no, she canceled again? Jenn’s always so busy now.”
“Yes, well, this time they were sick, which I can definitely believe, with two toddlers in the house. At least she mentioned hosting a board game night to make it up to me.”
“I feel for her,” he said sympathetically. He turned toward me briefly. “But also for you, Vivi. It must be hard to have your friend be less available now.”
“Yes, in more ways than one,” I mumbled, thinking of Jack’s elusiveness in the past week.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
For the next half a mile, which was mostly uphill, we were both quiet. Despite the early spring chill, there were signs of life all around. Among the patches of green, some brave plants were emerging, and quite a few squirrels, birds, and rabbits could be seen foraging in the wooded area to the left of the trail. I inhaled the invigorating cool air.
“Walk break? Run feels good, but those hills are brutal today.”
“Sure,” he said, slowing to a walk. “That’s probably because we were running two miles per hour faster than usual, Vivi.”
“That fast?” I asked between heavy breaths. “Well, that explains it. I didn’t realize … It’s just such a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
He nodded, a look of contentment on his face. “I know just what you mean.”
“You always do,” I said, my eyes bright.
Our eyes met, and we both smiled before returning to gaze at our peaceful surroundings.
After nearly two minutes of walking, we resumed running, and I decided to venture into riskier conversation territory, if nothing else to amuse myself for the next few miles. “So Jack, did Irene go easy on you Saturday night, or did your ‘work call’ take up most of the night?” I kept my tone light and glanced over, expecting to see him stiffen, but his expression was still open and friendly.
As Jack opened his mouth to reply, a deep, cultured voice called out behind us.
“Hello, Viviana. Jack,” said Gregory as he ran up alongside us and then slowed to match our pace. He wasn’t even out of breath, though he must have run quite a bit faster to have caught us from out of nowhere.
When I stole a glance at Jack, he was grimacing. Whether it was Gregory’s appearance or the mention of Irene, I wasn’t sure, but it could be both.
“Dr. Fitzgerald! We didn’t expect to see you out here this morning.” I offered a hesitant smile in his direction.
“I have found this trail surprisingly suitable for both the running and biking arms of my training, so I will likely be frequenting it more often,” Gregory replied.
Who uses words like “frequenting” in everyday speech?
“Ah. It’s nice to see another soul outside this early on a Monday morning.” When Gregory didn’t reply, I added, “We’re here earlier than usual, since Jack has a work engagement later this morning.”
Jack, who had been looking off in the other direction, chose this moment to chime in, “Yes, I do have that lunch meeting. In fact, I … if you don’t mind, I’ll just leave you two to finish the miles, as I actually need to go prep for that meeting.”
I turned toward Jack in surprise, my eyes narrowing. “I didn’t realize you were in a hurry.”
“Yes, unfortunately. I’ll catch up with you later,” Jack said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He nodded to Gregory and turned to follow a narrow offshoot of the trail that I knew from experience would return him home more quickly.
Gregory didn’t speak at first, so I was left alone with my thoughts as we ran. What had gotten into Jack? The casual comment about Irene was probably unwise. Something was obviously going on there, and for whatever reason, he was uncomfortable and edgy about it. His odd behavior was all the more noticeable because Jack was never uncomfortable and edgy; he was the most even-tempered person I knew. I supposed an office romance (or whatever it was) would start to become extra complicated when one person was the boss. In fact, he and Irene had been merely colleagues of a similar rank until a few months ago, when she had assumed the managing editor role and he became one of her direct reports. I was uncertain whether their relationship (or whatever it was) had begun before or after that, since Jack had rarely spoken of her. When we met, Irene had always narrowed her piercing eyes at me in ways that made me feel vaguely uncomfortable or at least inferior, for reasons I couldn’t understand. His boss was certainly an unusual woman, much more demanding and self-assured than most women even higher up the ladder, and I was never quite sure whether to admire her or despise her.
Or perhaps something less dramatic , I thought with a chuckle.
Maybe I’d grant Jack some space with his Irene problem (or whatever it was). If the problem were important enough, surely he would share it with me. Or so I told myself.
As we rounded a curve, I squinted as the sun shone on my eyes and realized that we’d been running together for several minutes without speaking. Why on earth was I thinking about Jack when I had my very own Mr. Darcy right next to me? “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts for a bit there.” I offered an apologetic smile, though he was looking straight ahead.
“You need not apologize. I prefer running in silence.”
“Oh … OK.”
How could I respond to that? Why did he want to run with me then? Jack and I talked a great deal during our training runs; it was the benefit of having a running partner to endure through the long miles. Though I could also be comfortably silent with Jack. At least until recently. I frowned, trying to recall when or why this slight tension had arisen between us. It was useless to deny that something was off lately.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and looked at Gregory, unsure what to say.
“We can converse, if you prefer that,” Gregory said, his tone stiff, his eyes still on the ground directly a few paces ahead of him.
He was so oddly formal sometimes, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. It was definitely more Darcy-like.
After a moment, I responded, “I’m pretty flexible. But I would like to hear more about what you’re doing in town with Brandon. Actually, I know very little about your history together.”
“Our history?” He glanced at me finally, his brow furrowed as though I’d asked a difficult question.
“You know, as friends. How did you become friends?”
“We met at a conference in San Francisco.” Gregory paused for a moment, which was unusual for him. He was usually so confident in speaking that he seemingly had no reason to think before he spoke. “I cannot recall why we became friends, though we had mutual business acquaintances. He lived in New York for quite some time, which is where we forged a closer connection.”
“You mean a closer friendship, right? You guys are friends, not just business acquaintances, right?” I gazed at him, pondering his mysterious words.
“Yes, I consider him both a friend and a business associate in a manner that has been mutually beneficial, though I suspect he benefits more from the connection,” he said, as though it were a business transaction and he the superior partner.
How could I follow that bizarre comment? “So, what do you guys like to do in your free time, when you’re not working?”
“I spend a considerable amount of time training, especially lately, with the triathlon date approaching.”
“And what else? When you’re not working or working out?”
“There is not a great deal of time outside of those pursuits.”
“What about travel, parties, fun ? There must be some fabulous parties in publishing, in New York and all the many inspiring places you travel to,” I said, growing animated. He did not strike me as an avid partygoer—nor was I—but I hoped my questions would lend more insight into who this mysterious man was when he wasn’t Dr. Fitzgerald in publishing.
“Yes, such things occur,” he said, again with a mysterious pause. He glanced at me for a moment, his face unreadable. “I suppose I enjoy them as much as any man in my position.”
I raised my eyebrows, as it was hard to imagine Gregory truly enjoying anything. Even in a jacuzzi, he’d been attached to his cell phone and barely interested in socializing at all. He might see himself as far above the likes of me and Annie, but surely even he could not be completely immune to the appeal of alcohol and women.
Unless—oh no! Is he gay? Why didn’t I consider that? It would be just my luck .
I frowned. How could I find out? Or would that be considered rude? I remained quiet for a few moments, trying to determine how to subtly confirm or disconfirm this new possibility. Ultimately, I decided to just be direct(ish). Running long miles with someone often had a way of breaking down the usual barriers.
“Are you seeing anyone?” I hastily added, “I just wondered because it must be difficult when you travel and work so much.”
“I am not. It is indeed difficult,” he admitted.
“Not impossible though?”
“No, certainly not. I do not require a serious relationship at the moment. I have many years still to produce an heir.”
I burst out laughing before managing to contain my mirth, not wanting to offend him. “Has anyone ever told you that you sometimes sound like you came out of the pages of a nineteenth-century novel?”
He seemed at a loss for how to respond. His voice sounded strained when he finally said, “No, you are the first.”
“Oh, I mean no offense. I’m a great fan of Regency and Victorian novels myself,” I reassured him. “I just haven’t heard anyone speak of producing an heir for a long time, or maybe ever, outside the pages of a book.”
“Well, I do read widely, so perhaps I have acquired some of the affectations of the works of literature I have read.”
“That makes sense, actually.” I was dying to ask if he was a reader and/or lover of Austen or perhaps Bronte, but I was also afraid of his answer. If he said no, it would likely break my heart, though it wouldn’t be surprising. And if he said yes … I wasn’t ready to think about what that could mean. Instead, I continued my previous line of questioning. “So, no women waiting for you back home?” I asked. “Or perhaps men?”
“No women that I know of and certainly no men,” he said, still no trace of emotion in his words.
So, he was indeed interested in women—though no one in particular.
“How about your family, back in New York, I imagine?” I hoped my innocent-sounding question would lead him to confide about his sister’s death. I didn’t want to pry, but I had to. I needed to learn more, to know why he was the way he was. To understand Mr. Darcy.
“Yes, they have a residence in New York, among other places.”
Multiple homes … how rich is his family?
“Uh, what are your parents like? Any—” I stopped before saying “siblings,” watching the muscles in his jaw tighten.
He finally replied in a tone that was curiously dispassionate, given the subject. “Typical Asian parents with high expectations and obsession with reputation, I suppose.”
I wondered how those expectations might have influenced his life, his personality, his disdain for most people and things. He interrupted my thoughts, however, reminding me that we were almost finished with our loop. “I will be heading to the pool after this. Perhaps we can run together in the future.” His intonation suggested this was more of a statement than a question, but he did look at me as though awaiting an answer.
I scrambled to respond. “Uh. Sure! It was fun getting to know you a bit, Gregory,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “Er, Dr. Fitzgerald. Do you really prefer such a formal name?”
He didn’t reply initially but slowed his pace to a fast walk. Had he heard me? Finally, he looked at me directly, frowned, and said, “I see nothing wrong with using formal names.” He paused as his brows furrowed in concentration. “If it is simply too difficult for you to address me formally, you may call me Gregory, but never Greg.”
“Right, you … you don’t seem like the nickname sort.”
He said nothing as we reached a small parking area. I stopped and began to stretch my calves, assuming he would halt as well. Instead, he stepped off the trail and started toward what I assumed was a rental car, sleek black and parked at a distance from the few other cars in the area.
“Have fun swimming,” I called out, hating the desperate edge in my voice.
Really? That was the best I could think of?
As he walked away, I couldn’t stop staring at his muscled, dark legs while I stretched my quads.
He paused abruptly and turned. “Thank you.” I diverted my glance quickly from his lower half to his expressionless face before he continued on his way.
I sighed. Could one reasonably expect any more from him? He had opened up a fair amount today, and just the fact that he showed up had to mean something, didn’t it? Gregory Fitzgerald wouldn’t condescend to spend his time with just anyone. He must have taken some liking to me—whether on a friendly or romantic level, I couldn’t tell. His arrogance, at least, seemed to be fading a bit as he spoke to me more like a person than someone or something far beneath him. Didn’t Mr. Darcy undergo the same transformation? I smiled, shivering with excitement—or perhaps from the cool wind, as I was no longer running but standing still in a triceps stretch.
I gazed up at the sky, where the sun journeyed ever higher amidst only a few small clouds. Smiling at the slight warmth of the sun on my face, I felt the butterflies in my stomach and realized I was truly excited about this would-be love story. Giddy even. Especially when I allowed myself to dream, to imagine what if? and to let my heart feel what it would feel.
Upon finishing my usual stretches, I retrieved my empty water bottle from the ground and immediately tripped over an exposed tree root, twisting to land on my bottom on the cold, damp ground.
Instead of cursing and rising from the ground though, I arranged my legs more comfortably on the ground and took a deep breath of the still frosty air, admiring the budding spring scene around me. I rarely stopped thinking and planning and doing to simply enjoy a beautiful day.
That changes today.