Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Mr. Mitchell?”
I turn. It’s Mia, the woman with the same name as my ex. She’s dressed differently from work. She’s still looking at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable, implication in her expression.
“Hello, Mia,” I say politely.
“I thought it was you.” She giggles for no reason. “What are you doing sitting all alone, sir?” She looks buzzed, more forward than usual.
“Just clearing my head. Are you with your boyfriend?”
I ask this to make it clear I’m not interested. Judging from her reaction, she takes it to mean I’m fishing for information. “No, I’m here with some friends…”
“Oh, okay.” How can I get rid of her without being rude?
“Sir …” She moves her hand across the bar. “There was something I wanted to say. I’ve been wanting to say it ever since you started. You might think I’m stepping over the line. I might regret it once this wine wears off, but …”
“Let me stop you there, Mia. I don’t want you to say anything you’re going to regret. If you still want to say it when you sober up, you can in the professional setting of the office.”
She looks stung. I feel like an ass, but it would be worse to lead her on, wouldn’t it?
“Okay,” she mutters. “Fine. Have a great night, sir.”
So much for establishing myself as the approachable boss when I started on this team. She leaves, tossing her head. I put down a fifty, grab my cell, and leave the bar, abandoning my Coke. I’ve only had one drink, so technically, I can drive, but I decide to go for a walk first.
There’s an obnoxious amount of Christmas merriment everywhere I go. Bright lights and carol singers and people talking loudly about their holiday plans.
Snowflake is right. I really am a Grinch. Not that she knows she’s calling me Grinch.
I sit in a park, not caring about the cold. It clears my head.
I take out the phone. I want to speak to Holly about the “Derek situation,” but she probably won’t discuss it after the kiss. Maybe she’ll talk to her Secret Santa.
Me: How did work go today?
Her response comes right away. I think of her at home, staring at her phone, trying to distract herself but drawn back to it repeatedly, just like I’m drawn to her again and again. We can’t help it.
My Secret Santa: Me think thou are changing the subject.
My mood is in the gutter tonight, but she gets a smile out of me. She’s a miracle worker with that.
Me: Okay, Miss Shakespeare.
My Secret Santa: You need to ease up on the nicknames. I can hardly keep up!
Me: If I don’t know your real name, nicknames will have to do. You haven’t answered my question.
My Secret Santa: Work was fine, she tells me. I love my job, but nothing is perfect.
That’s where she’s wrong. She’s perfect: her smile, confidence, everything about her. The only imperfect thing about her—and it’s not her fault—is who her brother is.
Me: What happened to make it imperfect?
My Secret Santa: Nothing, she replies.
Me: Don’t get shy on me now, Snowflake.
I delete the nickname. Oops. Her Grinch doesn’t call her that. Without the nickname, I click send.
My Secret Santa: Okay. Since you want to know that desperately, this guy has been asking me on dates, being aggressive about it, and acting weird. I’ve managed to keep him at arm’s length, but I don’t think he’s going to quit it.
I grind my teeth, not feeling the cold. I’m hot with rage. Nobody has any right to make Holly’s life miserable.
Me: It sounds like you need to report him to HR. You shouldn’t be uncomfortable at work.
When she asked me if I was going to hit him after she first told me it happened, I wasn’t sure if I was. That would’ve meant throwing my career away. I wasn’t thinking straight, hence the kiss.
Maybe I would have run out there, bounced my knuckles off his face, and roared at him for daring to upset my Snowflake.
My Secret Santa: It’s not as simple as that, she replies.
Me: Why not?
My Secret Santa: It’s complicated.
Me: I can handle complicated.
My Secret Santa: Some people in my workplace think I don’t deserve my job. I can’t go into details, but I’ve had to work hard to disprove them. I’ve had to work long hours and cheerlead multiple projects. If I cause an HR storm, this guy might throw those accusations at me again. I don’t want that.
This bothers me. I know Holly deserves her job because she submitted her video anonymously. She didn’t use her connection to her brother to get ahead in the candidate process. Since then, she’s led several successful video marketing campaigns. People in my old office even remarked on their PR game taking a step up.
Me: Screw what people think. You know the truth. You know you deserve your job.