2.

Jan 7, 1994

I can't get that woman off my mind and I can't be in that office and look at her without thinking that I could have gone home with her on New Year's Eve. She's been watching me, too, and I'm not the only one noticing that. Dack gives me shit about it, McKee has warned me to keep my distance because it wouldn't be “professional,” and Cork has pointed out that I'm not exactly avoiding her. I don't give a damn what McKee thinks; it isn't like I was stalking one of the other agents; Charlie is strictly office, and I don't see the harm in it.

So, I asked her out. And she shot me down. I think I flinched when she said no, because I expected her to be willing to go out with me at least once, but she followed it up. She doesn't want to be my rebound. She knows I'm in the middle of getting a divorce, and she doesn't want to be the woman I soothe hurt feelings with. It wasn't a complete denial, though, if I can get 25 other women to go out with me first and I still want to see her, she'll say yes. It's kind of fucked up and I don't think I know 25 women, much less women who will go out with me, but I'll give it a shot. My gut says she's worth the effort.

I agonized through that week; everyone in the office could see us flirting and every time he walked past I couldn't stop myself from watching him. I know I had a running chant going through my head, ask me out, ask me out, ask me out, but when he did and the word “no” came out of my mouth, I was horrified. That's all I had wanted since that New Year's Eve kiss, but as soon as he asked it hit me hard that he was just getting out of a marriage, and I didn't want to be the person he got over the hurt with. If I was going to have even a small chance of getting what I wanted, I just couldn't be the first person he dated.

Everyone thought I was insane. My best friend kept telling me how stupid I was, and Dack kept pointing out that I was setting Ian up to fall for someone else, because somewhere in 25 different women was someone he would likely click with. I worried about that endlessly; for years I'd set him up as the ideal man, and when I had my chance, I sent him off to play with other women. And it killed me, especially when I stopped to consider that I had tossed out such a high number of women I wanted him to date, and I didn't know if he was going sleep his way through that long list of women or if he would settle for dinner and a movie. I had only kissed him once and hadn't gone out with him at all, and was honestly a little angry at the idea he was out there having random sex with someone that wasn't me.

My fear only got worse with the increasing behind-my-back gossip buzzing around the office. I could hear the mute laughing and knew half of it was aimed at me. I heard bits and pieces of information that went through me like a knife: Murf was in a dating frenzy and half the secretarial pool had gone out with him. He was funny, he was sweet, and god was he ever sexy.

I just knew he was going to fall for someone else, and I had no one to blame for it but myself. I had one chance at starting a relationship with him, and I blew it. I handed him over to the masses, and I doubted I'd have another chance.

I broke my own heart.