Breaking Benedict

Chapter 1

Dear Darcy,
I recently started a great new job, which I love-- great pay and benefits and lots of great co-workers. I have been working really closely with a male co-worker on this big project and as a result, we are spending a lot of time together at the office and we are getting really close. We have a ton in common and have amazing chemistry and I could really see myself with him. I usually have a rule about dating co-workers, but I am willing to throw that right out the window for him! Darcy, is it ever ok to date a co-worker?
Sincerely,
All (Co) Worked Up!

Dear All (Co) Worked Up!
When you spend 8 to 10 hours of your day cooped up with the same people, your odds of becoming romantically involved go way up. Lots of people have met their significant others in the workplace and have managed to live happily ever after. However, there is a higher percentage of people getting jammed up like an old copy machine.
Here is my advice:
If he is your boss or your subordinate - STEER CLEAR! Getting involved with these types of co-workers is super messy and likely to tarnish your professional reputation.
If the object of your affection is a mere co-worker, think about what you have to lose if it doesn't work out. Will you be able to work side by side with this person if one or both of you end up with a broken heart? If not, are you willing to walk away from your job that you love? Also, make sure you know your company's policy on fraternization. Some companies frown on workplace romances and engaging in one could lead to termination.
If after you've weighed all your options and you have decided to promote your relationship to the next level, do try to be discreet. Remember, even though you are in love, you are both being paid to do a job!
Go slow, be smart and act professional and the next update on your resume could just be a new last name!
X.
- Darcy

"But what do I know, anyway?" Darcy said, clicking send on the document and setting it wooshing off to her editor. She stood and pulled her sweater tightly around her and wandered over to the window of her small council flat. She often found herself wondering how in the world she wound up in the position of giving other people advice, let alone advice on workplace romances. Luckily for her, her poor readers had no idea that they were taking their advice from a heartbroken, single, introverted young woman who had botched up her own workplace relationship so badly that she'd had decided to up and move across the Atlantic. She pressed her head against the cool glass of the small window and shut her eyes. She listened to the light rain gently tapping against the pane as she fought against the tide of memories that was threatening to overtake her. She received dozens of questions for her blog on Time Out London's website, so why she chose to answer one that hit so close to home was beyond her. Perhaps she felt compelled to give the poor soul the advice she wished she'd been given two long years ago, knowing the whole time she was typing out her answer that she wouldn't have bothered to take the advice. This thought made her giggle in spite of her sour mood. An advice columnist that can't take advice.
She prided herself on giving her readers the honest, sometimes painful answers that they were unlikely to get from their friends or loved ones. She dealt in hard truths with a dash of humour, and at first her editors at Time Out London were hesitant to print her replies, feeling them a bit "too harsh" but soon Dear Darcy letters began to pour in. It would have been perfect, except for the fact that Darcy hated being an advice columnist and that it paid next to nothing.
A harsh buzzing sound made her jump. She spun around to see her cell phone (or mobile as they called them here in Europe) vibrating and dancing across the wooden coffee table.
"Hello?"
"I'm here darling," the posh English accent of her best friend Nora informed her.
"Be right down!" she said, hanging up and gathering her raincoat, purse and umbrella. She bounded down the three flights of stairs to the curb, where Nora's car was waiting. She slid in next to her friend and smiled.
"Are you sure about this?" Darcy asked again, eliciting the predicted eyeroll from Nora. "I could just go to Primark and see if I can find something there?"
"Sweetie," Nora started as she pulled away from the curb, "You have been here nearly a year and haven't bothered to take the slightest bit of advantage of me or the benefits that come with my job!" Darcy laughed.
"Well, isn't that called being nice?"
"Enough nice," Nora said with a shake of her head. "I want to take you shopping. I am proud of you. You're a goddamn local celebrity and you need to look gorgeous for the benefit."
"I am a London D-Lister and the only reason I am going to be judging charity talent show is because my 'pro bono publicist' agreed on my behalf," Darcy said, making sure to use her fingers to make air quotes around publicist. Nora took her eyes off the road for a brief second to smile at her.
"I agreed on your behalf because it's an amazing organization and you could use a night out," she replied. "And I am your 'pro bono publicist' because you are a very talented writer, my best friend and ridiculously broke." Darcy glared at her. "That is," Nora laughed. "Until you get your novel published. Then you can pay me."
"Finished and published," Darcy corrected glumly. "Finished and published."
"What is going on with you today?" Nora asked as she pulled into a parking spot in front of Zara. "You are quite down on yourself."
"This stupid reader question from earlier," Darcy said, picking at an imaginary spot on her rain coat. "About workplace romances."
"Darcy, Michael was a twat," Nora said, twisting in her seat to face her friend. Darcy snorted at the terminology. "You did nothing wrong. You weren't run out of the company, or the country. You moved to England with your dignity intact for a fresh start." Darcy mulled this over in her head for a few long moments.
"He was a twat, wasn't he?" she said at last.
"Complete twat," Nora said, gathering her purse and umbrella. "Now come on, let's go get you a fabulous dress. You've pouted enough for one day!"
Darcy dashed into the store behind Nora and did manage to forget all about her ex-twat, her ex-job and her ex-life, allowing Nora to splurge on a new dress and shoes for her. She tried on several options before they settled on a black layered embroidered sheath dress with a very flattering scalloped neckline and banding accents around the waist that showed of her petite figure. The hemline of the pencil skirt fell just above the knee and they paired it with black leather pumps. Darcy gave another turn in front of the three way mirror, happy with the results. She twisted up her long brown hair and held it at the back of her head.
"No, darling," Nora said from behind her. "I think you should wear it down, in loose curls, parted off to the side, like you did for your 'About The Author Photo'." Darcy frowned at the mention of her last book, which had not quite been the success she'd hoped for. "And for Christ's sake, stop frowning, you're going to get permanent lines around your pouty little mouth." Darcy flashed her friend a big, fake, cheesy smile in the mirror before slipping back into the dressing room to change.
The rain had stopped by the time they were loading Darcy's new items into the car. Nora pulled up outside Darcy's building and set the car in park, letting it idle while she turned to her friend.
"I know that reader letter has got you in a bit of a funk," she said, her tone soft, but firm. "And I know that this past year hasn't gone exactly as we've planned but we need to stay positive. I believe in you. Since we first met at NYU, I knew you were going to be a smashing success. Just keep focusing on the novel and leave the past in the past." Darcy sighed.
"What if it flops like my last book?" she asked, speaking her worst fears aloud.
"Your last book didn't 'flop'," Nora reminded her. "It just wasn't a smashing success. According to your publishers it did very well with certain demographics. This one will hit, I can feel it. Besides, now you have me representing you. Just keep working away and let me worry about the rest."
Darcy thanked her friend again, for the dress and for the pep talk. She let herself into her flat, pausing to collect her mail before ascending the never ending flights of stairs. Once inside, she dumped her mail on the kitchen table and tucked her dress, shoes and bag gently away in her closet. She then got out her laptop, returned to the table, and began opening the post.
She sent a payment to NYU for her student loans. She sent a payment to New York Presbyterian Hospital for the medical expenses she'd accrued a year ago, she sent out payments to three credit card companies for the debt she'd racked closing up her apartment in New York and flying to London to start over. She made one last payment to Uncle Jake's storage in Queens where the contents of the life she almost had were still packed up. She refreshed the balance on her online banking statement. There were a few meager deposits, a few small royalties from the sale of her first book and her modest weekly paycheck from Time Out London. She had barely enough money left for a trip to the market for food for the week. She needed to find a few more freelancing gigs to tide her over until her novel was done. Things were getting dire.