Chapter 22
“Um…I’d like to discuss something else?” Haylee sounded so unsure, her voice almost squeaking in the dim lighting of Febe’s office, and Cherish knew something was up in an instant. With the rise of pitch in her voice at the end of her sentence, it undermined the idea before she could even voice it. “I was wondering if we could talk about my proposal?”
Another question.
But one that made Cherish’s body pulse.
She flicked her gaze straight to Haylee, remembering the feeling of Haylee’s mouth between her legs, the buildup of pleasure, the crashing through it. Her cheeks reddened, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. Febe might pick up on that, but she doubted Haylee would. As attentive as Haylee could be, her focus was far away from Cherish at that moment.
“What proposal?” Febe’s voice cracked through the room like a whip.
Cherish tensed. She hadn’t had time to soften Febe to Haylee’s idea yet. Hell, she and Haylee had barely had time to talk about what Haylee really needed to do in order to prove her point to Febe and maybe make some headway. She almost jumped in to stop everything from unraveling, but Haylee beat her to the punch.
“I want us to specialize in working with veteran families.” Haylee leaned forward slightly in her chair.
That was good, she included herself, using us where it mattered, just as Cherish had suggested. Febe would be less defensive then, but Haylee also seemed to imply that the entire operation should focus on veterans instead of adding it to what they already had.
Cherish whipped her head up to look at Febe, judging her reactions. She already wasn’t in the greatest mood. Something about an HR issue had set her off earlier that morning, and she hadn’t calmed down from it yet. No doubt Cherish would learn the details soon enough and have to deal with the consequences of Febe crossing whomever it had been this time.
“There are veterans and veteran families everywhere, Ms. Coleman.” Febe’s words were emphasized, a cold sharp edge to them.
Oh, this wasn’t good. Cherish bit back words, wanting to burst out and protect Haylee. She blinked at the tension radiating between Febe and Haylee, but just as much as she blinked at her own desires. Protect Haylee? The woman was a wrecking ball. She was strong and incredible and insecure, but it had never dawned on Cherish that she might ever need protecting.
“Yes, exactly.” Haylee jumped a little, her voice rising again in pitch. She was nervous.
Cherish had that pegged from the start, but the slight tremor in Haylee’s fingers set off warning bells. Haylee couldn’t even look Febe in the eye. This wasn’t going to end well, and all Cherish could do was try and prevent it from getting worse. Tightening her body to prepare to join the battle, Cherish couldn’t stop herself.
“I think what Ms. Coleman is trying to say is that focusing on veterans and their families would increase business revenue drastically. With the current conflicts, our military are coming home with a deep need for care.” Cherish bit back anything else she was going to say, but now the pressure that had been building beneath her skin, like an overfilled balloon, eased enough for her to breathe. Surely, she had skirted around the conflict. And this was Haylee’s baby after all. As much as she wanted to support her, and protect her, Haylee had to make her own pitch.
“What I’m saying is…” the vehemence in Haylee’s words was undeniable and sank in Cherish’s chest like a stone in water. “…there are people out there suffering who need to be able to make one call and know it will be answered by someone who understands. And we have a platform to reach a wide audience in the United States. We should be using that.”
Cherish looked over at Febe and then closed her eyes. She barely contained the groan from escaping her lips. Her heart sank in an instant. For the near year that Haylee had worked there, she had thought that Haylee had come to understand Febe. But Cherish was clearly wrong. Haylee was innocent, and she was about to be pounded into the pavement.
Febe’s eyebrows raised at Haylee’s tone.
This could not be going any worse. Cherish was about to step in again, and Febe cut her a sharp warning in a simple look. Immediately, Cherish bit the inside of her cheek, listening to her boss.
“And you are saying that other people, the people we help every day, don’t deserve it?” Febe’s voice was quiet, which was deadly. The quieter she got the worse this would be.
“What?” Haylee’s face drained of color. The fiery anger, the entirely wrong kind of energy for a meeting like this especially with Febe, dissipated until a new wave of doubt and stammering overtook Haylee’s words. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Of course they deserve it.”
“But you’ve decided that of all the people out there, veterans deserve our entire focus?” Febe pressed her palm to the desk, her fingers turning white from the pressure of her quietly controlled anger.
“And their families.” Haylee retorted, almost a stammer.
Cherish imagined the two women as strange dogs approaching each other’s territories, lips curled back in snarls and hair standing up along the ridge of their backs. Circling each other. Which one would win out? Cherish already knew.
Haylee was wholly unprepared for this.
“Right.” Febe threw the pen down on the desk, and Cherish forced her shoulders to stay where they were, despite her desire for them to slump forward in defeat. “Ms. Coleman, every dedicated line we have is a valuable addition to our company and our community. Everyone who works here cares about the person coming to us in need. My question to you, Ms. Coleman, is do you actually care about anything?”
Silence charged through the room, heavy and fizzing with a tension that Cherish rarely felt in this office. And as this was Febe's office, that truly said something.
Heat raced up Cherish’s neck. So hot, it made her wonder what temperature the air was set at because she couldn’t possibly be this worried and tied up over Haylee’s failed pitch.
Second failed pitch, she reminded herself.
What fallout was going to ensue now? Because if Cherish had to run this office on her own again—without Haylee—she wasn’t sure she could do it. Not with the way she and Febe had left things after the gala.
“Apparently not. Thank you for your time, Ms. Aarts,” Haylee spoke with a barely contained fury behind her teeth. She didn’t wait to be dismissed before she stood up. Her knuckles clenched around the pen and still closed notepad. She hadn’t taken a single note in the entire meeting.
The door didn’t quite slam, but it shut far louder and harder than was necessary. But the tension didn’t leave with Haylee. Cherish sat in her chair, waiting for the best opportunity to leave, preferably sooner rather than later, because Febe was about to turn on her. She always did.
“Was there anything else, Cherish?” Febe asked on a sigh, as though the cruelty she had slung Haylee’s way was warranted.
Was there anything else?
Was she truly this heartless? Had she always been?
Anger worked its way into Cherish’s chest, firing all of the cylinders of her heart in a way it hadn’t in a very long time. She ground her molars and glanced to the door Haylee had just walked through and then back to her boss.
She snapped.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Cherish shot up and stepped right up to Febe’s desk. She gripped the front edge of the dark cherrywood top, both to stop her hands curling into fists, while also leaning closer to Febe, an urge to truly see the woman sitting there. Who was this woman? Because this wasn’t Cherish’s best friend. This wasn’t the person she had grown up with. This was someone who didn’t understand people.
“Excuse me?” Febe smirked, that single eyebrow raising.
Cherish noted the curiosity in Febe’s tone, the fire in her eyes. It still managed to send a sizzle of heat through her body, but not like it once had. Not like Haylee could do. Cherish kept her position, holding still and standing her ground. No matter what Febe did, she wasn’t going to back down. Not this time.
“You didn’t need to be such a cold-hearted bitch to her.” Shock filled Cherish’s body as much as it spread over Febe’s face. She’d never done this before.
“I wasn’t a bitch,” Febe snapped. But she stayed perfectly put, the queen on her throne. Oh how Cherish wished she could smack her off it for just one day.
“Like hell you weren’t.” Cherish couldn’t stop now, couldn’t back down. Despite the trembling in her fingers that continued to grip at Febe’s desk, she had to keep going. She couldn’t let it end like this, and she had far too much to say to swallow it all down now. “You could tell she was nervous. Hell, a blind dog could have seen that. And she’s young. She hasn’t had years of experience and opportunities like you, but she’s trying.”
“She has no passion,” Febe replied, her own voice returned to a flatness that Cherish wanted to scream at.
“You don’t even know her,” Cherish pleaded. When had she gone from anger to begging?
“And you do?” Febe’s direct stare sent a flood of heat to Cherish’s cheeks, but no. She wouldn’t let this argument be derailed because of…well, because of sex. Febe couldn’t know what she and Haylee had done. It would be the end of Haylee’s job in a second flat.
“I do know her, and I know you. Despite what you think, there are many people, even some employed here who wonder the same thing about you.” It was a low blow, but it was the truth. And it wasn’t only since Bernie died. Febe had always kept her distance from everyone. The only reason Cherish was allowed in was because she had been there when it had happened.
“Are you telling me you’re one of them, Cherry?” Febe’s slip back into the realm of their friendship, into names that existed before this company, threatened to throw Cherish entirely off balance.
Which was exactly what Febe had wanted.
She wanted Cherish to go back to being her lapdog. The person who agreed with her every word and decision, the person who idolized her and never second-guessed or questioned. Febe didn’t even want her to be the friend who had stood by her, been there for her. Febe didn’t want the one who had witnessed her wedding or been the first phone call when Bernie had died. She didn’t want a friend—she wanted a lackey.
Fury like none other boiled up and tasted like bile at the back of her throat.
“No, Ms. Aarts.” Cherish forced her hands to uncurl and straightened her arms at her sides. A herculean effort she should be applauded for. “I wouldn’t know a thing about what you do or do not have passion for anymore.”
Cherish turned, time dragging through every second before she finally reached the door. What had she just done? What had she just ruined?
“Cherry.” Febe’s voice was soft, hints of the friend she once knew threaded through the name.
“Yes, Ms. Aarts?” She didn’t dare turn around. She didn’t dare to see what pain or hurt she had inflicted. Or worse, to see no impact at all written on her face. Because as soon as she saw Febe’s face, she was going to crumble at her feet.
“I’ll give her another chance, but she has to show some passion. Passion for the actual proposal, not just anger and a hyper-intensity. I need to know she cares about the people, not just her own plans for using my company as a steppingstone to reach some personal career goal.”
Cherish’s chest tightened so hard she could barely breathe deep enough to stop spots from forming in her vision. Words were beyond her capability. Hell, acknowledging Febe was beyond her at this moment.
Cherish twisted the handle in her palm.
“Cherry.” Febe halted, her voice hitching. The only sign that Cherish had done something. “I do have passion still.”
Before a sob could escape, Cherish finished turning the handle and left the dim office. The pure bliss of freedom disappeared as the bright light in the main foyer caused a stab of pain to spear through her head. She couldn’t handle this. She couldn’t be this person who followed Febe around like a lost little puppy.
She’d destroyed her already fraying friendship. And all for what?
Some girl.
She was so stupid.
Febe had seemed to appreciate her honesty and her openness and the friendship. Had Cherish been blind all this time? Had she ever been more than a boost for Febe’s ego? Someone to get shit done because Febe didn’t want to?
Taking a deep breath, Cherish focused on the more pressing matter at hand. She had to face Haylee. Because the decision had already been made. Cherish was going to stand with Haylee instead of Febe. She’d chosen the girl. If Haylee’s tone toward Cherish had been anything to go by, she would not be given a warm welcome.
How could the morning have started out with her feeling so alive and free, only now for her to fear the very idea of opening her eyes? Mustering all the strength she could scrape together, Cherish let out a small whimper of relief.
The office was empty.
But it was also very cold.
Lifeless.
On trembling legs, Cherish walked to her desk, her mind racing and her head pounding behind her eyes. She snagged her migraine medication out of the desk drawer and dry swallowed four pills. Steadying her breathing, she collected herself before she sat heavily at her desk and turned on her computer. She had work to do.
An email from Haylee sent her heart pounding.
“Don’t quit. Please, don’t quit,” Cherish mumbled beneath her breath. A wild sort of uncontrollable chuckle tickled up her throat. But she refused to let it loose.
How things had changed. How she had changed.
She clicked the email.
I’m going to lunch early.
The chuckle escaped Cherish’s mouth as a tear slid over her cheeks. She wasn’t going to be left alone in here again. She didn’t have to face Febe by herself. No matter what, she would have Haylee with her still, even if their relationship was strained.
What the hell was happening?
When had she given up Febe for Haylee?