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“Do we need to plan more for the gala?” Haylee asked.
“Yes.” Cherish sighed. “We’ll need a detailed plan once we get a schedule of events.”
“That’ll help,” Haylee murmured.
“Until then, let’s try to make Ms. Aarts as happy as possible. That way we’ll go into the gala with her in a good mood.”
Haylee frowned. “With how you’ve described last year, I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“We can always try.” Cherish tilted her glass toward Haylee. “Ally?”
“Ally.” Haylee grinned broadly, her smile warming Cherish with that simple look. It was something she wanted to see again and again. This was the perfect way to do that.
eight
The door to the office opened, startling Haylee in her seat. She flicked her gaze up and then quickly back to the words on her computer screen, which now looked like hieroglyphs to her distracted mind. Her cheeks burned, and she did her best to look busy, but it was no use. She wanted to see Cherish. Hell, she just wanted to talk to her again, like at dinner.
Cherish walked in, and Haylee was riveted to every step, to Cherish’s long strides that hid secrets and held them close. Haylee breathed in and let that tantalizing mix of fresh rain and vanilla wash over her. Then, of course, Haylee couldn’t help but admire the outfit, and how it clung to all the luscious curves. Oh, how Haylee had wanted Friday night to continue.
“Good morning, Cherish.” Haylee caught Cherish’s eyes. They exchanged grins, and Cherish gave a small nod.
“Hello, Haylee.” Cherish sat at her desk. “It’s good to see you here a little earlier than normal.”
Haylee smiled, but the small sting of the backhanded compliment worked into her chest. She was a little earlier than normal, but she had managed to catch the earlier train and with a hop in her step found herself eager to get in and get working.
She internally rolled her eyes. She knew exactly why she had rushed to get here, and it had nothing to do with the job. Before she could say anything else, the door to the office opened once more. Only this time, a cold rushed through her, chilling her to the core like it always did when the stunning Febe arrived.
“Morning, Cherish. Hope you got some actual downtime over the weekend.” Febe strolled through the office door, all but gliding as she made her way through the path between the two desks. The chill didn’t lighten up as she moved, the air seeming to freeze in her wake.
“Good morning, Ms. Aarts.” Cherish pushed her shoulders back and smiled that grin she reserved for Febe and Febe alone. Jealousy flared in Haylee’s chest, wrapping around her heart and tangling it up. She hated being jealous, so she bit her tongue to keep it in check. Cherish wasn’t hers, and even though Cherish fawned over Febe, it didn’t mean Haylee registered in Cherish’s mind. Haylee would always know she was on the bottom rung in Cherish’s world, only existing because she was useful.
How Cherish thought she hid that crush was hilarious. It was so damn obvious. Had no one really called her out on it before? It seemed impossible. Surely someone had noticed and simply hadn’t mentioned it? That idea was pushed aside as quickly as it came. Humans tended to be incapable of keeping secrets, especially if it could travel on the gossip train.
Haylee quickly shook her head and looked up at Febe. She opened her mouth, about to say good morning, when the woman swiftly closed her office door behind her. The resounding click was so loud that it echoed in Haylee’s ears as though she’d done something impertinent.
Haylee slumped in her chair, forcing down the bile that threatened to rise up her throat. Her mood, which just moments ago had her floating on clouds, now sank to the bottom depths of the sea. She knew her face had fallen. She knew that if she didn’t pick herself back up into her sunny disposition someone would notice, but it was so hard to drag herself back to where she should be.
“Haylee?” Cherish’s voice was a balm that pulled her to the surface.
The last thing she wanted was to look at Cherish, allow Cherish to see inside her soul, and it would be so easy in this moment. Forcing herself to be who she wasn’t, Haylee smiled at Cherish and focused on the work in front of her. She managed to get her work done, though it was like pulling teeth for the rest of the morning.
A part of her wanted to answer Cherish’s questioning gaze. She needed someone to talk to about all her woes and trials and pains. But each time she opened her mouth to speak, all she heard was Precious and her whining down the phone line. All she heard was Febe’s sharp condemnation of her generation. All she heard was the annoying voice in the back of her mind saying she wasn’t good enough.
She never had been.
“Cherish, I’ll be back after two. You know where to find me,” Febe said in crisp words as she walked through the gap between Haylee and Cherish’s desks. Why wasn’t there just a red carpet laid out for Febe? It would make sense not only with her fashionista vibes but with the way she paraded around like she owned the world. Which she did in that small office. But the confidence she radiated didn’t soak into Haylee as much as she wished that it would.
“Yes, Ms. Aarts.” Cherish faced her computer as soon as Febe was gone, not even bothering to lock her gaze on Haylee for a brief second before going back to work.
Haylee couldn’t hold the words back any longer. “She really hates me.”
“If she hated you, you wouldn’t be here.” Cherish’s voice was strained, and Haylee wanted to slap herself out of her thinking, but she had been here too many times before. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Febe had her in that office, screaming and telling Haylee how useless she was. How much Haylee didn’t understand or continued to mess up. How much Haylee didn’t belong there.
“But it won’t be long until she gets sick of me.” The contents of Haylee’s stomach twisted and churned, nausea rising with each flip. “I know the signs.”
“What signs?” Cherish snapped.
Haylee winced and sank in her chair a little more. Great, not only would she lose this job, but now the energy between her and Cherish would change. She was her own worst enemy most days. They had finally gotten to be—to be what? Were they even friends?
