A few days later, I come in to work to discover Mark looking smug. He’s smirking at me when I reach for the coffee he’s pretending to hold out of my reach. “What in the hell do you know?” I chide him. “Spill.”
“Two things,” he says, settling in to the chair opposite my desk and crossing his ankle up onto the opposite knee so I can see his brightly colored socks.
“Mark, we’re not in tech anymore. You can wear normal socks to work,” I tell him, dying to know what he knows.
“I like the fun ones,” he says, spreading out his papers and pulling out his fancy gel pen. “So, first, your mother called to remind you that her birthday party is coming soon. Don’t roll your eyes at me. I also talked to Alice in the kitchen, and she mentioned how Emma has been practicing saying no to everyone and e
