Almost Doesn't Count

When the men pinballed again, Miranda finally caught of glimpse of Ben. She wanted to call his name and wave, but her nerves stopped her. Her stomach rumbled watching him move, right next to Dani. He was going to see her first! Closing her eyes, Miranda took a deep breath and tried to listen to the man in front of her, but Ben kept taking her attention. Even the back of his head was sexy. "… I've been married twice," the guy called Donald was saying. "Have you ever been married?"

"Uh… yeah," she answered looking at the entrepreneur with the decent smile.

"Divorced?"

Miranda nodded. She didn't often tell people that. Her divorce filled her with shame. She sometimes wished that Tucker had cheated. Maybe that would make her three-year marriage to a man she thought she'd been in love with somewhat valuable instead of a waste of time. And she wished that the reasoning for their marriage's demise couldn't be summed up with words like miscommunication and indifference. "Yeah, you?"

"N-no, but, uh, I'm a widower—twice," he said picking up his bottle of beer.

"Twice?" Her brain screamed at the new information.

"I know, I know, I know, it sounds weird, and it was even in the local paper about how they both died the same way."

Miranda swallowed, not wanting to ask the next question, but the True Crime lover inside wouldn't dare let her be silent. "H… how?"

"They were both hit by cars."

"Oh, God," she said putting her hands to her mouth unable to stop her surprise. "Wow. I am so sorry."

He drank from the bottle again. "Yeah, but the good thing is—"

Ding!

"Oh, well, um… have a good night, Donald," Miranda said. Afraid that his bad juju would transfer to her if she shook his hand, she picked up her glass clinking it with his.

"You, too," he said.

Her eyes darted over to Ben and she licked her lips as he moved to the next table—Dani's. As soon as he walked over, her sister stood up and hugged him, enraging Miranda. Dani waved behind his back and Miranda felt like throwing something. "Are you… okay?" The voice across from her asked.

"Oh, yes, of course," she responded with a smile that actually hurt. "I'm sorry …" She glanced at his nametag. "Jackson." He was very cute, a few years younger, but not a baby. And his hazel eyes pulled her in whenever he spoke. He'd also told her that he was a surgeon at a neighboring hospital, North Pac, so that meant he was, at best, intelligent. In theory, the man should have been a perfect match for her. Handsome and smart, but he didn't appeal to her at all. Seeing Ben and Dani having a conversation where the latter was gesturing animatedly teed her off. Miranda couldn't help speculating what they were talking about. Then she wondered why she cared. He'd given her his number, had chosen her before the event had even begun. She looked at this Jackson and gave him a real smile this time. "So, Plastics?" She asked.

He nodded. "Yes."

"You must be a perfectionist."

The light-skinned man blushed, rubbing his hand over his short hair. "I plead the fifth." They continued to talk easily for the last minute or so, laughing occasionally. "I see you keep looking over my shoulder, either at the clock or at someone else…" She opened her mouth to explain. "And that's fine, but, look," he said tearing off two pieces of his dating card, sliding her one.

"What's this for?"

"Since we're not matching romantically, no offense…"

"None taken."

"I figured, we might as well network." Miranda nodded slowly. That was a good idea. "We're two young, hot, Black surgeons, we need to keep in touch," he told her writing his name and email address on the slip of paper as she did the same. "Talk some more."

"Yeah, we can grab coffee or something," she suggested.

"I'll call you."

Ding!

The two of them swapped their information. "Fox? Like…" Jackson wiggled his brows and moved away, waving. If nothing else, at least she'd made a work connection tonight with medical royalty. Twenty seconds later, someone came and asked if they could sit down. "Sure," she said with a gesture. "Oh! You're… Marcel, right?" She checked his nametag to see that she was spot on.

He bobbed his head, confirming. "Correct. Warren's friend." His voice was so deep and balanced, he should have been narrating an audiobook.

"Hi," she said holding out her hand.

He took it, shaking it. "Hello, Miranda," Marcel said.

They looked at each other and she grinned slowly. Damn, he was really fine, dark-skinned and tall. A mole on his cheek was the perfect accent to his round face. "So, Marcel…" Miranda started. "What do you do for a living?" She was really starting to hate that question.

"I'm a firefighter. We both are."

"Who?" She asked acting if she didn't know who he was talking about. The man pulled in his lips, then he smirked. "Oh. Him? He's a firefighter?" She asked, captivated by the information. "Like real-life one with the boots and the hat, the fire and pole and the… the… the hose?" She made a noise that signaled just how embarrassed she was. Sometimes her mouth moved faster than her brain did.

His smile was friendly. "Yes, yes. All of that." The thought of Ben dressed head to toe in his gear had her body reacting in ways that she swiftly tamed by picking up her glass, sipping her watered-down drink. "What about you?"

She sighed. Usually she said her profession with such fervor, but she was honestly tired. "I'm a surgeon."

"That's amazing." He cocked his head to the side, pensive. "What hospital are you at? If you don't mind telling me."

"Seattle Grace."

"Been there loads of times. I wonder if we've ever run into each other."

Miranda shook her head, shrugging. Things usually happened so quickly, but she was sure she'd remember this face and definitely Ben's… wouldn't she? "I mean… maybe. But I'll be on the lookout now," she said beneath her breath.

"Well, if you're looking for me, look for 23. For Warren, 19." Her face must have communicated what she was thinking because he kept going. "We met while training and just stayed friends even though we got sent to different stations."

"Ahh. I see." She tapped her fingers against her glass, full of questions.

Marcel bit his bottom lip and hung his head a little. "Look, um, Miranda, I think you are beautiful."

She raised a brow, trying to tread the line of being flattered and knowing that she did not want to come between them in any way. "And I think you have a very… lovely face."

"A lovely face? Is that code for… cute?"

Miranda grinned. "Yes, but—"

"But even though I'm the better-looking one, Warren is my best friend…" A smile betrayed her. "I get it. I get it."

"Exactly," she exhaled, looking for Ben and finding him talking to woman who was gulping down her drink searching for the cherry at the bottom. She couldn't see his face, but his posture told the entire story. He was over it.

He checked his watch. "We have thirty seconds left."

Trying to lighten the conversation, she asked: "What do you do when you're not doing what you do?"

He rubbed his hands together. "Usually, I go to, uh, jazz concerts and art exhibits."

She touched her chest. What were the odds? "Me, too!" She exclaimed. "I mean, I try to when I can find the time. Are you excited about the new Kara Walker exhibit coming this summer? Because I missed it the last go—"

"I'm kidding," Marcel said holding up both hands. "I'm kidding."

"What?"

"That nerdy stuff… that's all Warren."

"Oh! Jackal!" She hit his arm laughing with relief. She didn't want to think about the alternate universe where Marcel shared her interests. "You're really talking him up."

He joined in picking up his beer. "It's my job as his wingman."

"You're a good friend, you know that?"

"Make sure you tell him that."

Ding! They shook hands and he stood up, moving away without another word. She would only admit it to her sisters later, but half of her wished that Ben and Marcel weren't friends. They seemed great. And dating both of them wouldn't have been so bad. But, if she'd had to choose, she was picking Ben. The thought warmed her. The emcee got on the mic again and told them that they would have a ten-minute break. Miranda headed outside, glad to get some fresh air, glad to have a little time to herself.