Chapter 23
"And this is how we could push the sales peak up here," Tanya Baker said, pointing to the left side of the chart with a laser pointer, "and improve the progression through next year."
Clara nodded as she studied the slide projected on the wall. She dragged her fingers under her eyes with a tired gesture and refocused on the graphs.
"Thank you, Tanya. Now we need development to sign off before we start building the proposal," she said, placing both hands on the long table she shared with four other people. "We have time — the client isn't expecting it for another month."
"Yesterday afternoon I sent it to Diane, but Tatiana told me she wasn't in." The girl settled in front of her laptop. "I'll swing by her office now in case she's had a chance to look it over."
Clara shook her head and straightened in her chair.
"Diane isn't in today either. I don't think she'll be in for the rest of the week." She stood, closed her laptop, and tucked it under her arm. "Have Harper Lewis do a first pass. Then we'll figure it out from there."
Cassidy Collins's chest tightened with unease. It wouldn't have set off any alarm bells if Diane's name hadn't been paired with an absence that Clara had explained in halting, uncertain words.
Since the blonde had started at Whitestone, she'd never seen Diane miss a single day — and on the rare occasions she hadn't been in, Tatiana or Clara had always given clear, specific answers: she's in a meeting with a client, she'll be back this afternoon, she's out until tomorrow.
Hearing "Diane isn't in today either, I don't think she'll be in for the rest of the week" did something strange to her throat.
She tried to convince herself it wasn't her problem — she didn't think anything Diane did in the past had been her problem either, but at least back then they'd been sleeping together and she'd had the right to feel a little worried.
Now, three months after everything ended, they didn't even exchange a polite hello. No. It wasn't her problem.
Three hours, four coffees, and too many glasses of water later, Cassidy sat twisting in her chair, her anxiety eating her up and refusing to let go.
She'd seen Clara pass through the hallway twice, phone in hand, her expression troubled.
She knew it didn't necessarily have anything to do with Diane — but when her mind latched onto something, nothing could pull it loose.
"Hey, Cass," she heard a male voice say, and she jolted in her seat. "God, sorry — didn't mean to scare you."
Cassidy looked up and found the chiseled face of Adam Foster.
It didn't surprise her to see him near her desk; the office's resident heartthrob made at least a couple of appearances a month with some flimsy excuse to ask her somewhere.
A few months back she'd agreed to grab a beer with him after work on a Friday — she'd spent three weeks feeling wrecked, her heart as broken as a teenager's after a rejection, and he'd shown up at just the right moment to pull her out of her miserable slump.
It had been a mistake — at least she hadn't slept with him in a fit of spite — because Adam was good-looking, smart enough when he was doing his job, but outside of work he had just barely enough neurons to hold a conversation without embarrassing himself.
Since then he'd never stopped trying to set up another date, and she, occasionally suffocated by an excessive need to be nice, had given him polite brush-offs every single time. Until today.
"What do you need?" she said, standing and grabbing her phone off the desk. "I don't think I'm working on any of your projects. Maybe try Tanya."
He smiled with easy confidence and slid a hand into his pocket, striking the effortless pose of someone who knew it usually worked.
"No, this isn't about work." He let a theatrical pause settle — one that apparently landed with other women. "I've got tickets to the opening night of The Club tonight, and I was wondering if you'd want to come with me."
Cassidy checked the time on her phone and locked the screen before answering.
"Adam, I don't know if I gave you the wrong impression, but I'm not going to see you again. I don't think we have much in common — that time didn't go great for either of us, so I'd rather we just stay office coworkers."
She'd tried to keep her voice from coming out harsh, and she thought she'd managed it — though Adam's expression was one of complete bewilderment.
"Sure, I get it," he said. She knew he didn't.
Adam glanced around, searching for an exit, and settled on walking back the same way he'd come in. Cassidy followed, but only to stop in front of Clara's office. She knocked twice on the door and waited until Clara waved her in.
There was a slight shift in Clara's expression when she noticed her — Cassidy caught it, and even though reading her mind was impossible, she was sure Clara knew something about what had happened between Diane and her.
"Cassidy, do you need something?" Clara set her glasses on the desk and looked at her.
"Has something happened with Diane?" The blonde was direct, no hesitation.
Clara laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them, watching Cassidy through narrowed eyes.
"You'll have to be more specific," she said, and a brief standoff of stares passed between them.
Cassidy didn't ask permission before dropping into one of the chairs across from her boss. She sat without looking away.
"You're her friend," Cassidy said — skipping over and her ex-lover too — "Diane's not here and you don't know when she's coming back. I'm worried about her."
Clara recognized the same anguish in the girl's eyes that she herself had felt so many years ago.
For a moment she felt angry at Diane — she couldn't understand that stubborn insistence on suffering, and, clearly, on making Cassidy suffer too.
She pressed her jaw tight, because if she opened her mouth, Diane Carter would bury her with her own shovel.
"This is the second time you've tried to get me in trouble."
"That's not true and you know it," Cassidy shot back — the first time she'd come to her asking for Diane's home address, everything had been fine, no consequences beyond a broken heart for herself, and Clara had come out unscathed.
"I just want to get rid of this feeling that something's wrong. That's all."
To hell with Diane.
"Go see her," Clara said, without an ounce of regret. "I can't give you details — she'll give you those herself if she wants to. But she's alone at a moment when no one should be."
Cassidy was out of her chair so fast she nearly stumbled.
"Then why aren't you with her?" The question came out sharper than she intended, and she pressed her fingers to her forehead to steady herself.
Clara tilted her head and stretched her lips into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"You know Diane even better than I do." They looked at each other; neither needed to add anything more to that. "And you know that when she shuts down, not even the best locksmith in the world can break through — but I'm pretty sure you'll figure out how."
"Thanks for telling me." Cassidy turned to go, and before she reached the door she heard her boss's voice behind her.
"Leave now. I'll cover for you."
Cassidy pushed the door open and disappeared down the hallway. She grabbed her things from her desk and headed to the elevator.
It all happened so fast that by the time she was aware of it, she was parking across the street from Diane's house.
She sat in the car for a few minutes, searching for some calm — but mostly for a strength she didn't know where to find.
She hadn't let her brain process what Clara had told her, because she was so afraid she didn't want to feed that fear with wild possibilities.
She got out, locked the Corolla, and crossed the street. The neighborhood was strangely quiet, and a chill ran down her spine. She pressed the doorbell without letting herself think any further.
A couple of minutes passed and Cassidy pressed it again — two long rings. Almost immediately, the brief metallic sound from the speaker that she'd come to recognize crackled to life. She turned toward the camera, waiting for the gate to open, but nothing happened.
"Diane," she said softly, "I just need to know you're okay."
The silence stretched for a few seconds.
"Please, Diane." It was almost a plea now. "Let me see you and I'll leave. I'm not asking for anything else."
The gate began to open slowly, and she moved so quickly she had to wait for it to swing wide enough to slip through.
She crossed the front yard, and just as she was climbing the steps, the front door opened.
Cassidy stopped cold. The woman standing in the doorway was a shadow of the one she'd seen two days ago at the office.
Her face was bare — no makeup — leaving dark hollows visible under her eyes.
Her hair was pulled back, her face looked thinner, and judging by how her T-shirt fit, she'd lost weight.
"You've seen me. I'm still alive," she said in an icy tone, arms spread wide. "You can go now."
Cassidy's expression hardened, and without thinking about the consequences, she walked into her house — past the woman she hated, loved enough to be there, barely brushing against her.
"I said you can leave," Diane said again, louder. "Goddamn Clara."
"Leave her out of this." Cassidy turned, jaw tight with anger.
Diane's eyes went wide and she crossed her arms.
"Are you her defender now?" she asked, and her eyes blazed. "Or are you sleeping with her these days?"
Cassidy didn't answer yet — God knew if she did, everything would get worse.
"Don't do that, Diane." She shook her head, disbelieving. "Don't turn us into those kinds of women."
Diane looked at her — a long, unbroken gaze from those blue eyes that saw her as both heaven and hell. She let out the breath she'd been holding and walked to the couch, dropping onto it.
Cassidy did the same, settling into the armchair across from her.
"Did something happen?" the blonde asked. "Did they let you go?"
"No," she answered flatly, but her gaze slipped sideways for a second.
"Then what's going on?" Cassidy pressed. "I know it's not my place to ask — but I need to know you're okay."
It was that catch in Cassidy's throat, those green eyes so full of uncertainty, that broke through Diane's walls. Watching her suffer hurt, and even though the vulnerability that implied irritated her, she gave in.
"Yesterday I had a checkup for a lump I felt in my chest," she said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Her eyes stayed down, away from Cassidy's. "Dr. Presley said it was a little large and she'd rather order a biopsy. They did it this morning, and now I'm waiting for the results."
Cassidy's world didn't stop — it spun, too fast, round and round until she felt dizzy, and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick.
Her voice wouldn't come. She opened her mouth and tried to say something, but nothing happened — so she got up, crossed the room in unsteady steps, and sat down beside Diane on the couch.
"Diane." It was the only word she managed, and she pulled her into a hug — too tight, too fierce. The surprise shattered her, because suddenly she felt arms wrapping around her and heard a sob that sounded like the cry of a wounded animal.
"I'm scared, Cassidy."