Page 9 of Mismatched

Now that I’m physically in the conference room, all the energy I employed to make it here seems to evaporate. I glance at the clock on my phone, disappointed to see it’s not even nine thirty. A text comes through, but it’s just Seth replying to an earlier message, saying he’ll call me later. My heart would have started pounding at that a short time ago, but now it feels depressingly non-urgent. I’m thinking vaguely about going to the gym after work, just anything that feels familiar and good, when Jin from client relations next to me nudges my elbow.

I glance up to find Carl—and most of the people around the table—looking right at me.

“Do you disagree, Anton?”

“Um...” I glance down, heat creeping into my face. I’ve covered most of the pad in front of me with doodles. For a scrambling moment I think I can come up with something passable to say. Pull some numbers out of thin air. Relate them to... something. But I quickly realize I have no idea if we’re discussing something account related, or like, whether to do a white elephant Christmas party. “Sorry, what was the question?”

Carl frowns, but doesn’t miss a beat turning to Milo. “Mr. Briggs, why don’t you take the lead on this?”

Damn. Not the Christmas party, I guess.

“Of course,” Milo says, with the kind of just-out-of-college self-importance that makes me want to punch him in the teeth. I sink back into my chair. I should’ve stayed home.

When the meeting finally ends, I take advantage of my position near the exit and slink down the hall to my office, intending to close the door and work all the way through lunch. Even if it means answering every message in my inbox.

But as soon as I open my laptop, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in?” I say, trying to sound confident but landing on something more like confusion.

Carl enters the room, closes the door, and sits across from me before I can speak. He’s a stately Black man in his fifties, and while he can be quite competitive in his role as CEO, he has gone to great lengths to take me under his wing. He’s probably the closest thing I’ve had to a father figure as an adult.

“Anton. Good to have you back,” he says. His voice is kind, but there’s a note of benign disapproval.

I slump in my seat. “I’m sorry about what happened in there, sir. Maybe I’m not quite ready to be back in the office.”

The second apology I’ve had to make to someone who matters to me before lunch. Awesome way to start my week.

“How was the service?” Carl asks calmly, poised in his seat. “My condolences again.”

“Uh, it was nice,” I say through my teeth. I know he isn’t really looking for details, and I’m happier not rehashing the whole thing. “The flowers you and Eva sent were beautiful,” I remember to add. “Thank you.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “I know you and your mom were close. Actually, I was surprised to see you this morning. I just came in here to let you know I don’t expect you back right away if you need more time, or even if you want to work remotely for a while.”

I swallow hard. God, I must’ve fucked up in the meeting worse than I thought. Something deep in my brain shifts into panic mode. I’m tempted to take his enormous hint and walk out right now. But I take a breath and manage to pull a response together.

“Thanks, Carl. I actually think I’m better off digging back in. You know? Gives me something to focus on.”

He nods steadily, considering my words. Then he clears his throat. “You remember Derek Norman from Colorado Springs? We’ve been talking seriously about a collaboration. Maybe opening up a branch office. I’d been planning to loop you in last week.”

The fog in my brain finally dissipates and I pick up a pen. “Yes, of course I know Derek. And... that sounds like a fantastic opportunity.”

“Agreed,” he says, inclining his head. “But if we go through with this, Anton, I’ll need my best people in place, doing their finest work.”

I straighten. “You can count on me, sir.”

A week ago, we would’ve shaken hands and that might’ve been the whole conversation. But I can tell something has shifted.

“I know that, Anton.” Carl gives me a kind smile. “I just came in to say I’d like Milo to work in conjunction with you for a time. I think he could be an asset in this endeavor, and it’ll be good experience for him.”

My pen slips out of my hand and hits the desk. “With all due respect, sir, Milo’s barely been here a year.”

“You’re correct,” he says. “But I had him assist on your accounts while you were away, and he’s shown a lot of potential. Even Myra Alvarez gave him a good report.”

I swallow hard. He already put Milo with one of our biggest clients? It took me years to get to work with her. I swallow hard, unable to shake the feeling I’ve screwed up and now he’s assigning me a babysitter.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Carl adds, “Anton, I’m bringing Milo in to help support you. I lost my mother as a young man too, and I know how hard that is.”

He rises from the chair and I follow him to the door, shaking my head and wishing again that I’d just stayed home today. “I wasn’t prepared this morning, Carl. I’m sorry. It—it won’t happen again.”

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