Entwined with You(14)

“You have to.”


“You’ll hurt me bad if you don’t go,” he said quietly. “And that’s not bullshit. We’ll go as friends, if that’s what it takes, but I need you there.”


I sighed heavily, my head bowing over my desk. “I don’t want to lead you on.” Or piss Gideon off …


“I promise to consider it a favor from one friend to another.”


As f*cking if. I didn’t answer.


He didn’t give up. He might never give up. “Okay?” he prodded.


A cup of coffee appeared at my elbow and I looked up to see Mark standing behind me. “Okay,” I agreed, mostly so I could get to work.


“Yesss.” There was a note of triumph in his voice that sounded like it was accompanied by a fist pump. “Could be either Thursday or Friday night; I’m not sure yet. Give me your cell number, so I can text you when I know for sure.”


I rattled the number off in a hurry. “Got it? I’ve got to run.”


“Have a great day at work,” he said, making me feel bad for being rushed and unfriendly. He’d always been a nice guy, and could have been a great friend, but I blew that chance when I kissed him.


“Thanks. Brett … I’m really happy for you. Bye.” I returned the handset to its cradle and smiled at Mark. “Good morning.”


“Everything all right?” he asked, his brown eyes capped with a slight frown. He was dressed in a navy suit with a deep purple tie that did great things for his dark skin.


“Yes. Thank you for the coffee.”


“You’re welcome. Ready to get to work?”


I grinned. “Always.”


IT didn’t take long for me to realize something wasn’t right with Mark. He was distracted and moody, which was very unlike him. We were working on a campaign for foreign-language-learning software, but he wasn’t into it at all. I suggested we talk a bit about the whole-foods locavore campaign, but that didn’t help.


“Is everything okay?” I asked finally, sliding uncomfortably into friend territory, where we both made an effort not to go during work.


We put work aside every other week when he invited me along to lunch with his partner, Steven, but we were careful about maintaining our roles as boss and subordinate. I appreciated that a lot, considering Mark knew my stepfather was rich. I didn’t want people giving me considerations I hadn’t earned.


“What?” He glanced up at me, then ran a hand over his close-cut hair. “Sorry.”


I laid my tablet flat in my lap. “Seems like you’ve got something weighing on your mind.”


He shrugged, swiveling away and back again in his Aeron chair. “Sunday is my seventh anniversary with Steven.”


“That’s awesome.” I smiled. Out of all the couples I’d seen over the course of my life, Mark and Steven were the most stable and loving. “Congratulations.”


“Thanks.” He managed a weak smile.


“Are you going out? Do you have reservations or do you want me to handle that?”


He shook his head. “Haven’t decided. I don’t know what would be best.”


“Let’s brainstorm. I haven’t had many anniversaries myself, I’m sad to say, but my mom is spectacular with them. I’ve picked up a thing or two.”


After playing hostess to three wealthy husbands, Monica Tramell Barker Mitchell Stanton could’ve been a professional event planner if she ever had to work for a living.


“Do you want something private,” I suggested, “with just the two of you? Or a party with friends and family? Do you exchange gifts?”


“I want to get married!” he snapped.


“Oh. Okay.” I sat back in my chair. “As far as romance goes, I can’t top that.”


Mark barked out a humorless laugh and followed it with a miserable look at me. “It should be romantic. God knows when Steven asked me a few years ago, it was hearts and flowers to the max. You know drama is his middle name. He went all out.”


Startled, I blinked at him. “You said no?”


“I said not yet. I was just starting to get my legs under me here at the agency, he was starting to get some really lucrative referrals, and we were picking up the pieces after a painful breakup. It seemed like the wrong time and I wasn’t sure he wanted to marry for the right reasons.”


“No one ever knows that for sure,” I said softly, as much to myself as to him.


“But I didn’t want him to think I had doubts about us,” Mark went on, as if I hadn’t spoken, “so I blamed my refusal on the institution of marriage, like a total ass.”


I suppressed a smile. “You’re not an ass.”


“Over the last couple years, he’s made more than a few comments about how right I was to say no.”


“But you didn’t say no. You said not yet, right?”


“I don’t know. Jesus, I don’t know what I said.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desktop and dropping his face into his hands. His voice came low and muffled. “I panicked. I was twenty-four. Maybe some people are up for that kind of commitment then, but I … I wasn’t.”