Chapter 2

The cold hard truth that you see right to
I'm just a basket case without you

It turned out to be easier than he thought and he wondered what this said about how genuine his efforts to find a girlfriend had been before. A friend of a friend knew a girl, contacted the girl, and set Niles up on a blind date with this girl. Her name was Molly.

And if Molly was shorter and slimmer and more brunette than was strictly his type, she (mostly) made up for it by being genuinely nice to him. She laughed at his jokes, asked about his day, and didn't scoff when he told her he was a butler. She worked for a catering company, so they found a breadth of food-related things to talk about.

And if, during their first kiss, Niles's mind traveled back in time to when he'd kissed a taller, shapelier, and blonder woman, and if his stomach dipped from guilt instead of arousal, he reminded himself that Molly was here whereas whoever else might be on his mind was there. There, of course, was further away than Park Avenue. There was years of complicated history that they'd never talked about. There was her bank account, her trust fund, her investments, her millions. There was where she'd likely always remain because neither of them could figure out how to bring her here.

But then something odd began happening. Going through his daily tasks was a breeze: Fran could usually be counted on to bring up Niles's girlfriend and CC could usually be counted on to be somewhere nearby. Niles would answer, Fran would tease him, and he'd do an inner victory dance after seeing CC's eyes (springtime sky blue) narrow. They'd spar, and banter, and bicker. Whatever the hell had hung over his shoulders after seeing her with the French guy (long gone, of course) disappeared. His days were almost back to normal.

It was the nights that were problematic. Alone, he could deal with his feelings (and, truth be told, his sexual frustration). With Molly, he couldn't. Their most passionate kiss thus far had only been so passionate because—Niles winced at the memory every time it came to him—his mind had conjured up CC before him. It was only when Molly began responding in kind that the part of Niles's psyche that had cataloged all things CC for the past however many years reported back that he was not, in fact, kissing CC Babcock and Niles had pulled away. (The signal? Molly kept her hands low, venturing from Niles's waist to his shoulders. CC preferred things a little more frenetic with her hands clawing at his face, in his hair, on his shoulders. She liked to feel her lovers.)

And at that word—lovers—Niles lost a little bit more hope. Molly agreed on taking it slow, but Niles feared that taking it any slower would mean moving backwards. There was just something a little permanent about sex that gave Niles pause. Not normally, of course, but this was a special occasion. Sex with Molly would mark a stamp in the timeline of Niles's life: here is where he gave up on CC Babcock.

(This wasn't true. Niles knew it wasn't true. He was being, as he sometimes was, dramatic. Still, it would certainly mean something more than physical intimacy with Molly. It would be a conscious choice Niles made, one he'd never made before, to make love to a woman after admitting he had feelings for CC. So this sex was more.)

There were times, though, when Niles thought maybe all hope was not lost. These were times when he hated himself. He was dating a perfectly nice woman and here he was, worrying about a perfectly not nice woman.

But still. It was there. She'd be a little more irritated with him than the situation called for. She'd spit out your girlfriend as though it left a foul taste in her mouth. She didn't follow him out of rooms as much anymore, and it was only after it stopped that Niles realized how often she'd done it before. But he knew he needed a little more than this.

So the morning before his fifth date with Molly—this woman must really like him, he realized—Niles set forth determinedly to receive some answers. Or as close to answers as he and CC ever really got.

He found her in the kitchen, her hand grasping an empty coffee mug. He smirked. Miss Babcock and Mr. Sheffield truly did have a lot in common: both would wait an interminable time for coffee instead of actually making it for themselves.

"There you are, Beulah. Girlfriend slowing you down? Taking up too much of your energy?"

"It takes longer than you'd think to sap my energy," he replied.

He thought she'd clam up at that, but she laughed. "I doubt you could keep up with me. Where's my coffee?"

"That's true—it would take me the better part of five minutes just to circle around you," Niles granted, flipping open the coffee machine and ladling grounds into it.

"Funny. So what's your little girlfriend do? I haven't seen her around here," CC said, tapping her thumb nail against the handle of her mug and watching him obliquely.

"She works for a catering company." It was no coincidence that Molly hadn't shown up at the Sheffield's. Niles sought to delay that moment for as long as possible, fearing what seeing Molly and CC standing next to each other would elicit in him. He didn't want to realize that he was the type of man to make direct comparisons, but worse than that, he feared that the brunette wouldn't stand up to it.

"How cute! Two servants in love. You can have little janitor babies in a tiny shack in Queens."

"There's more to life than money," Niles said quietly, watching as the water turned into coffee dripping into the pot.

"I've heard that's what poor people tell themselves for comfort," she replied blithely. "What's her name?"

Niles looked up at her. Her eyes were curious but not playful. He knew she wanted to sound like she was teasing. "Molly."

CC snorted. "Molly. Cute name." Her face darkened for a moment before her eyes lit up, realizing something. "If you marry her, she'll be Molly Maid!" She laughed deeply, if a little maliciously.

Niles grabbed the mug from her hand and poured her coffee, adding a splash of milk and a dusting of sugar. "And if I did, what would you say?"

"I'll buy you a new feather duster for the occasion."

"I'm serious, Miss Babcock. What would you say?"

CC placed her hand on the coffee mug but evidently decided it was too hot to drink. A look of regret lingered on her face but it disappeared in the air with the steam from her mug. Regret for what, he wondered? The coffee? Him?

She snorted derisively and turned to leave the kitchen, reaching for her coffee. "I'd say what everyone says when a person gets married. Congratulations and good luck."

His hand darted across the counter before he could rethink it. It left the edge of the island digging into his hip but what was physical discomfort compared to his mental anguish? His hand clasped around her wrist (delicate and slender as a calla lily). "Would you?"

She shifted her eyes from his hand to his face. Now she looked angry. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to care about the dating habits of domestics?"

"On the whole, no. But maybe this one, yes," Niles said, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously but she still gave a sarcastic laugh. "Let me go, Niles."

How melodramatic this scene had become: he knew she meant her wrist, but she didn't know he meant for good. He sighed, "If that's what you want." He released her.