The Vibrant Years(5)

Then it had started. The air brightened with awareness around them, saturated with need when their bodies were close. But he hadn’t touched her. Not when they worked together sixteen hours a day. Not when they spent a week in Vegas at the Apps Supercon and she’d literally had to scream into her pillow at night, knowing he was in the next room.

He hadn’t touched her at all until Shloka went to market, until after his wife had signed those divorce papers. It was why a little piece of her would always love him.

But what kind of asshole thing to say was that?

“Strange how you didn’t think my age was a problem when we were screwing.”

He yanked his hand away, as though she’d spat in his face. To her mortification, her body followed it.

“Do you really think I didn’t?”

“We were together for a year. You had plenty of time to stop the problem if you’d really been worried about me.”

Guilt and hurt flared again. The oceanic-blue darkening and brightening like the play of light on waves.

She knew it hadn’t been just sex. They’d planned and strategized and created something fantastic. Suddenly, her skin prickled for an entirely different reason. Shloka was her life.

Slipping past him, she put distance between them. “Tell me what the board has decided. Are they funding the new features?”

His hand went to the nape of his neck and squeezed. Sympathy flooded his eyes. “I ordered you something to drink.” He turned to his desk.

An iced matcha bubble tea sat on his desk, next to his coffee. Black with a packet and a half of Splenda.

“Wow. Bubble tea, a mention of my age. You’re really leaning into the little girl narrative. How bad is it?”

Picking up the bubble tea, he held it out to her. “Extra boba.”

“Now you’re scaring me.”

His eyes did that hurt thing again, but this time tinged with humor. “I would never manipulate you with boba.”

Oh, he totally would. But she wasn’t going to fall into their old banter. She was not going to let his manipulation work any more than it already had. She fixed him with her most cynical glare.

“This is business, Cal. It’s not personal.”

“Tell me what the board said or I’m marching into CJ’s office right now.” She headed for the door.

“Don’t be this way. This isn’t who you are.”

Anger rose inside her, feeling too much like panic. It isn’t panic. This is anger. Name it. Anger and disappointment and hurt. Don’t try to control it.

She faced him, eye to eye. He was leaning back into his desk, making sure she knew he had this. His “I’m the rock to your waves” pose.

“They’re not funding new releases of the app anymore, are they? Why? It’s growing. There’s eight million subscribers now. Why would they do that? What aren’t you telling me?”

He took a deep breath, and his lean shoulders straightened. “They’re going to start charging a subscription for it.”

The icy bubble tea burned her hand. She slammed it down on the desk. “They can’t do that.” Eight million people took solace in Shloka, depended on it. In some cases, they were able to survive because of it. Cullie was one of those people too. “They pay for the Neuroband. They shouldn’t have to pay a subscription too. That was part of the deal. The board promised me there would be no subscription fee. Ever.”

“It’s already done. The decision has been made. The company has to make money. If they don’t charge a subscription, they’ll have to sell it, Cullie.” He made her name sound like Callie, and she hated that.

“It’s Cullie!” she snapped. “Cuh-lee. How many times do you have to sleep with someone to say their name right?” It meant “flower bud,” and it suddenly struck Cullie that every time he mispronounced it, the image of someone crushing petals formed in her head.

“Sorry.”

She shoved back the heavy bangs that fell across her forehead. “Sorry for what? For stealing my app? You can’t sell it. It’s not yours to sell.” But it was. She had given away enough equity that with the board’s support, he could do whatever the heck he wanted.

She was never trusting another soul again. Ever.

Lies were the laziest form of evil, and Cullie refused to be an easy target. Not any longer.

“You know that’s not my decision.”

Of course it was. Everything between them had been his decision.

She marched to the door, and he followed her.

“This is business. Don’t mix it with what we had.”

Without another word she let herself out of his office and stormed to the CEO’s office. NewReal was the umbrella company with a suite of apps for everything from meditation and anxiety support, like Shloka, to apps that helped you navigate emotional eating and count your way out of insomnia into sleep. A self-help conglomerate.

“Cullie.” He pronounced her name exactly right this time, exaggerating the uh as though he were suddenly Indian or like he was mocking her. “Wait. Let’s talk about this. Let’s not make a scene.”

Desai women do not make scenes. It was the one thing her mom and her grandmother would say together right now. In one voice.

“Yes, let’s not.” It would be a scene only if his betraying ass kept following her.