Page 68 of Mr. Perfect

“Holy shit,” I say. “That just stressed me out so bad. Are you really going to leave the company, Mac?”

“Are you?” he asks back.

“Well, I don’t know.”

“He made a good offer.”

“He did,” I admit.

“Think about it at least.”

“I will.”

“OK,” Mac says with a sigh. “Well, we got through that minefield. Wanna get the hell out of here?”

“Together?”

“Of course together,” Mac says. “He’s wrong, you know. He’s wrong about me. I’m not against risk. I risked this job for you. That’s worth something.”

“True. And yes. I really want to get the hell out of here. Like bad.”

“Let’s go then. It’s Friday. Let’s have a nice weekend and forget about work until next week. We have time to make decisions. Plenty of time.”

He takes my hand and leads me out of the office. No one is really around when we come out. Maybe Senior threatened everyone when he left? But Jennifer is, because she’s been holding my phone for safekeeping since Mac texted her. We don’t stay for small talk, just tell her thanks and I make our way down to the parking lot and I get in my car to follow him over to a local restaurant for lunch.

But I can’t help wondering about his last statement up in the office. About risk. Did he really risk his job for me? Or did he never want the job to begin with? It kind of nullifies the risk if you don’t really want one of the two things you’re taking a chance on, right?

Who am I to question his risk? I mean, look at me and my book. I’m already hedging my bets thinking about Senior’s new offer. I’d probably get a fat raise too. I’d get everything I thought I wanted. But I don’t really want the job, do I? I want to publish this book and be a life coach. So is staying at Stonewall while I take a half-hearted shot at a new career really risk?

I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it anymore, so I drop it and just get out when Mac is there at the restaurant opening my door.

And after the morning I’ve had, I just have to agree with his last statement. No more thoughts about work until Monday.

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Ellie

The restaurant is not one I’ve ever been to before. It’s past lunchtime now, so there’s only a few people still hanging around. Mac and I are seated at a large semi-circular booth in the back and it’s nice because we’re sitting next to each other.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“I know. You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry that all the plans I had for this weekend got messed up. I wanted us to have a nice time. Do things together. I was going to fly you to Aspen where my family has a house. Make it real romantic. But now…”

“You’re having second thoughts?”

“No,” he says. “Not that. Not about you, if that’s what you were implying. I’m having second thoughts about the weekend I planned though. I just want to know more about you and I thought we needed time away. But this trip today, that meeting, everything. The mood is just all wrong. Maybe we can just stay home?”

“You know how I love to stay home.”

“No, Ellie. I mean, we can stay home. Me and you. At my place. My home. Just forget about everything for a couple days, take some time to get to know each other. Make no decisions until Monday.”

I get a thrill up my arms. “A weekend away, only not away.” Yes, I quite like the sound of that. I’d like to snoop around his stuff. Peek into his fridge. “When do we start?” I laugh.

Mac’s blue eyes are smiling at me. They are bright and happy even though we just had the most fucked-up morning ever. “You’re incredible, you know that? Most women would’ve walked out after that whole Brutus fuckup. Most women would not have even given me a chance after I accosted them in the stairs that first day. Most women would’ve hated my guts if I embarrassed them—humiliated them, as you said—in front of all their peers. But you’re so forgiving.”

“I just like you, Mac.” I shrug. “That’s all there is to it. When you like people you forgive their faults and look past their mistakes. It’s not as big a deal. And yeah, I was pretty pissed off at you that first day, but not nearly as pissed as I was at Brutus this morning. I don’t like him. Hating him is easy. Not forgiving him is easy. But you, well… I’m just not interested in hating you, Mac.”

He leans into me, places both his hands on each side of my face, and gives me a kiss. It starts off small, but once I open my mouth, it’s more demanding. His fingertips slip under my hair and grab a fistful. “Thank you,” he whispers into my mouth. “For liking me.”