Page 47
Story: Love and Cherish
“Umm…” Cherish’s face grew warm as she sat back on the couch, allowing herself to settle down and enjoy a side of herself she never knew existed until recently. “In the rain. She stopped me from getting splashed by a passing car and then we were kissing.” All right, so that wasn’t the full story, but it was all Stuart needed to know. Cherish wasn’t even certain about that. She wanted to keep these moments with Haylee sacred. And worst of all, she knew what his reaction was going to be.
“And you’re still trying to convince me this isn’t like the movies?” He laughed with satisfaction.
Cherish groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, but realized she didn’t have a headache this evening. That was a new and strange sensation.
“All right, all right. I’ll move away from the movies side of all of this.” Stuart was obviously not okay with this, but he did as promised. “What does Febe think about her top two assistants making out in the middle of the office?”
“It wasn’t in the middle of the office. It was in the printer alcove.” Cherish cringed as soon as her defensiveness leaked through her words.
“Deflecting, deflecting.” Stuart still had far too much of a smile in his voice for Cherish’s liking.
“Deflecting from what?” Cherish asked, knowing even as the words left her mouth that the last thing she wanted was to get into a conversation about Febe, especially over this.
“What did Febe say?” Stuart asked.
“I haven’t told her.” Cherish wanted to lie but knew she wouldn’t. She never lied to Stuart. She might not always tell him the truth, but an outright lie had never slipped from her lips to her brother.
“Why not?” Stuart asked, as though the idea of telling Febe about her crush on Haylee would have been the most obvious and natural thing in the world to do.
“Aside from the fact that she’s our boss and would definitely not be happy about her two office managers kissing, she has enough on her plate.” Cherish wasn’t lying. It was the truth. The gala was racing toward them, and the last thing Febe needed was to deal with Cherish having a little crush on her coworker. Even if maybe it wasn’t just a little crush.
“Bullshit.” Stuart didn’t sound angry, but he made sure Cherish knew he wasn’t buying it either.
“You said she called you? Did you actually talk about anything important?” But Cherish couldn’t keep her own anger at bay. She pursed her lips and knew her nostrils had flared. She no longer wanted to talk about Haylee. It wasn’t nearly as important as making sure Febe was okay. She had too much faith in Stuart being able to help Febe, and now here they were with the gala looming too close, and again it was her responsibility to protect Febe. How stupid was she not to notice? She had been too focused on Haylee—too distracted.
“About a month ago,” Stuart replied.
“Exactly.” Game, set, match. Cherish leaned back into the couch, exhaustion overtaking her previous calm. She didn’t imagine Haylee’s arms wrapped around her this time. The headache began as a steady pulse at the base of her skull.
“What’s that got to do with you not telling Febe?”
“She has enough on her plate.” Cherish spoke slowly, because he clearly didn’t understand the first time. Maybe if she said it slowly, he would this time. “I figured you would know that since she called you.”
“Febe isn’t fragile. She’s not going to break. And we aren’t her keepers.” The only fight the two of them had was when Stuart had broken up with Febe. Cherish had screamed at him until she lost her voice, and he had lashed right back at her. “But you do know the real reason you haven’t told her.”
“She doesn’t need to know. She’s shut herself off since Bernie died.” Tears welled in Cherish’s eyes. She hadn’t realized how badly she missed her best friend until moments like this when she couldn’t avoid it. “I’m not going to pour salt into her wounds.”
Cherish sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her wrist. She hated that she was crying, and if Stuart was in the room with her, she would be sobbing. She counted both Stuart and Febe as her best friends. Hell, she’d moved to Portland to be with Febe all those years ago, and now Febe was just gone from her life.
“What would I say? Oh hey, I know you’re still grieving from your wife dying and all, but I’ve been checking out your other assistant, and we like making out during work hours. What are your thoughts about the situation?”
“Cherry.” Stuart’s voice held that air of big brother knowing all and demanding an honest answer. But despite how she felt at the start of the conversation, Cherish was not the sixteen-year-old in need of help. Not when it came to Febe. She only ever had Febe’s best interests at heart.
“No. You don’t know what it’s like here. You don’t know how broken she is.”
“Maybe she’s not the one who is acting strange and distancing herself.” Stuart spoke as though Cherish hadn’t said anything. “And maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to tell her about Haylee because you still haven’t worked through your own feelings for Febe.”
An instant lump in Cherish’s throat clogged up all those words she had never had the courage to say. How had he known? Why did everyone know?
“Of course I have feelings for her. She’s my best friend!”
“You know that’s not what I meant. But seeing as you brought it up, have you actually been much of a best friend to her lately?”
“Excuse me?” Cherish wasn’t playing around, shards of ice at the edges of her tone. Her breath came a little faster, and the heat of fury burned beneath her skin.
“Think about it.” Stuart didn’t back down, and the condescension that dripped from his voice was like showing a red rag to a bull.
“How dare you!” And just like that the heat burst into a raging inferno with Stuart in the direct path. “Who do you think you are, telling me what a crappy friend I am? When was the last time you even bothered to visit, or to call her? You aren’t the one helping her keep her head above water. You aren’t the one making sure she’s getting through each and every day knowing someone has her back and knowing someone gives a flying fuck. You aren’t the one who’s here.” Cherish all but screamed the last word. She breathed raggedly, her chest rising and falling. Her face was so hot. The pulse of her headache throbbed through her skull.
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