He took out his anger and frustration on the gym equipment that night, and Andrew paid for it the next morning. He was sore and found himself almost limping to work. It wasn't how he wanted to start his day, but that woman, she made him frustrated to no end. Andrew gingerly carried his morning latte to work, earlier than normal, because, well, he was seriously trying to avoid the thorn in his side. That was making him even more irritated, that not only was he in pain after his ridiculous gym workout the night before, the thorn in his side had him getting up much earlier than normal to basically avoid running into her at work. Margaret. Of course, Margaret was back and had expected life would just go back to normal.
Andrew just wanted to hide in his office all day, away from her. He had a coaching meeting in the evening about this baseball team he was going to be coaching for the summer . That would occupy his mind and time, but seriously, Margaret-thorn in his side. Sadly, her return just confirmed that he definitely had not gotten over her, even as much as he was trying, and that he was now going to be painfully reminded of that each day.
After he'd gotten to work and started in on his editing for the day, he looked up when he heard a knock at his door, grateful to only see Jordan stepping inside.
"Never thought I'd see the day she brought her own coffee to work," Jordan rolled his eyes as he stepped inside, shut the door, and slumped down into one of Andrew's chairs. The two were still very good friends, and it wasn't awkward that Andrew was now and editor because Jordan didn't report to him. Andrew put down the manuscript he had-he always liked a hard copy of it even when so many were now preferring to edit more and more online-and he flashed Jordan one of his fake smiles.
"Hmm, well, good luck to Margaret trying to find anyone to be her errand boy now. That ship has sailed, my friend," he said with a nod as he sat back in his chair and yawned. Jordan nodded in agreement.
"She blew through the office, definitely irritated at the world and almost slammed that new office of hers. What's the word? Is she back to her old job?" Jordan asked.
"Funny, you would think I would know the answer to that, but I have no clue," he said as he yawned again.
Jordan raised an eyebrow to him, "Get any sleep? What time did you get here to avoid her?"
"That obvious?" Andrew sighed. He shook his head, "Why can't I get her out of my head?"
"You know why, even if the rest of us think you are crazy," Jordan nodded as he told him. "Question is what are you going to do about it?"
Andrew, now visibly frustrated, raised his hands, "Do? I tried to do something about it. I've spent the last year trying to move on, and then, then," he fumbled and waved his hands, "she comes back here."
Just as Jordan was about to say more, the side door into the shared kitchenette opened, "Andrew, I see there's a coffee pot in here, but is there coffee?"
Andrew and Jordan shared a glance, and then, the two turned their attention to Margaret who stood there, waiting for an answer as if it was any normal day and question.
"Margaret! You can't just barge in here whenever you feel like it. I'm not your assistant. I don't make your coffee. You usually buy those things anyway."
She scrunched up her nose at him and shook her head, "My latte was terrible, and I desperately need something. Black coffee will have to do, that is if there is coffee."
"I don't make your coffee," he said slowly, making sure she understood. She put her hand on her hip and narrowed her gaze.
"Is there anything here to make coffee?" Margaret asked, also slowing her words. Two could and were playing this game.
Andrew threw up his hands and made a face at her, "Nope, nothing. I barely use that room. It looks like you will have to figure it out on your own. Oh, by the way," he smirked, "my morning coffee was perfect, as always."
"Yes, well," she nodded at him before stepping back into the shared space, "it's about time you aren't wearing it on your shirt."
Andrew heard Jordan smirk, and when he eyed him, Jordan had his fist up to his mouth to try and silence his laughter. When he looked back toward Margaret, she'd stepped away, and he swallowed hard, watching the door close. Those black heels-he never understood how she walked in them, but after admitting his feelings to himself over a year ago now, he realized just how long her legs looked with those black heels. The pencil skirt, that too, just totally Margaret. He had it bad, and he needed to snap out of it.
"Really?" Andrew eyed his friend and gestured at him. "You laugh at her comment?"
"This, this," he gestured between Andrew and Margaret, "come on, man. You know everyone is just waiting to watch this mess play out. Odds aren't in your favor."
"What do you mean by that?" Andrew asked, giving him a quizzical look as Jordan stood and stepped toward the door.
"After your proposal last year, the whole office knows you've got it bad. Just deal with it, with her. We're all betting that you cave, or I should say that you two figure it out. Very few believe you two will work well together if you can't figure this out."
Andrew slumped his head back and groaned loudly, "I was supposed to be over her, over this mess. I'm a guy! Why is this so hard?"
Jordan gave him a sympathetic smile as he stood at the door and shrugged, "You tell me. You could have your pick of any woman in New York-I mean, we're talking New York, thousands of women, not Alaska, your small town of what, maybe a dozen women? You could have any woman, and she's the one you want. I guess when you know, you figure it out. Good luck."