His face lit up. Then he kissed her again, before saying, “I’m really happy, too. And for what it’s worth, I’m also scared out of my mind.”
“You are?” Her throat constricted. This was wrong, and yet . . . she just couldn’t stop. It felt like the first real thing that had happened to her in a long time. Yes, she knew her time in Starlight Peak—and with Jake—would have an inevitable end, and soon. But Charlie wasn’t ready to face that yet, as unfair as that might have been.
“We can be scared together. Deal?”
“Just . . . don’t let me go, okay?” Charlie’s voice was a whisper, her mind swirling with the seismic shift of the evening.
Jake pulled her back to him and wrapped his arms around her, starting to spin them around in another slow dance. She closed her eyes again and gave herself over to the moment. “I’ve got you, Cass Goodwin. I’ve got you.”
19
Cass
Wednesday: 3 Days Until Christmas . . .
Los Angeles
Cass couldn’t count now how many times she had taken out her phone to call her sister and tell her the awful news: the Bake My Day job was being given to Austin, and there had never been anything either of them could have done about it. But she couldn’t stand the idea of breaking her sister’s heart. Not yet. For the past twelve hours she had been wracking her brain, trying to think of a way to fix things for Charlie.
But there was no way to fix this. She could hear Sasha’s voice in her head. Please don’t make us regret giving you the host job over Charlie. And then Austin’s snide response: Well, then good thing it wasn’t up to you, Sasha.
It was over for Charlie. Still, that morning Cass had risen early as usual and started to dress for work. It was supposed to be what Sasha referred to as an “easy day”—a little B-roll, some production stills and teaser videos for the promo of the finale of the holiday baking marathon, and a team meeting. “Charlie, let’s have a chat, just you and I—tomorrow afternoon?” Sasha had said to Cass the night before as she prepared to leave the set. Cass had known that would be the moment Sasha delivered the terrible news.
Which was why this morning Cass had decided not to go in to work. She had left a voicemail for Sasha, when she knew she wouldn’t be in yet, telling her she was sick.
Now, Cass stood at the door of the Hive café, which was, just like last time, not yet open. As she waited for the barista to arrive, another text from Priya came in, the third one this morning.
I’m REALLY worried now. Are you really sick? CALL ME.
Cass was in the middle of typing, Yes, I really am, I’ll call later, when her phone rang.
“Oh my God, you answered! Cass, what the hell? Charlie would never call in sick!”
Priya sounded angry, and she had reason to be. Cass opened her mouth to try to explain, but nothing came out. How could she tell Priya that her sister’s television career was over, about everything she’d overheard the day before? Where to even begin . . .
The barista had arrived. Cass looked through the café window as customers began flowing in, forming a quick line. “I’m not okay,” she finally managed.
“Obviously not! Cass, you are in trouble here—which means Charlie is in trouble! I’ve never seen Sasha like this—probably because Charlie has never, ever not shown up to work.” Priya lowered her voice, then must have covered the phone because all Cass could hear were muffled words. A moment later, Priya was back, but she was whispering now. “That was Sasha. You’re sure you can’t come in?”
It was the right thing to do. Go back on set, show up at work even if Cass knew the network had no intention of giving Charlie the job she deserved, finish what she had started.
Except, was it the right thing? What would Charlie do, if she knew what Cass knew?
Cass squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. “Is Sasha still nearby? Could you pass the phone to her, please?”
“Cass, what are you—”
“I’m Charlie. Make sure to tell her it is Charlie on the line.”
A moment later, Sasha was on the line. “What’s going on? Is it the head injury? Austin has been telling me constantly this week that you’re not up to working and I should be sending you home, but we really need—”
“No! It’s not that. It’s true what I’ve been telling you all week, that my head injury is not even remotely the issue here. Doesn’t it strike you as strange, how obsessed Austin is about it, about sending me home? Getting me out of the way? Except he can’t really shine when I’m not around. Manipulation, sabotage, and undermining are his only tricks. And still, the network is more compelled by him, they see him as being more of an expert and more in control. More of a ‘real chef.’？” Cass paused, drawing in a quick breath. “Did it ever occur to anyone that the reason no one sees me as a real chef is because I’m dressed like a doll every day? That no one thinks I’m in control because I’m supposed to be the nice one, the sweet one—while he gets to be himself? It’s wrong, Sasha. And I appreciate that you know that—I heard you telling him so yesterday. But you aren’t planning to go to bat for me, even though you know I am the most qualified candidate for Bake My Day, because I’m an accomplished chef with an excellent reputation, and I don’t constantly rely on making other people look bad to get ahead.”