She hasn’t looked at me at all while she’s spoken and I refuse to reply until she at least lifts her head. Finally, she does.

“Why?” I ask.

She blinks a couple of times. “I think it’s for the best, don’t you?”

“No.”

Sighing, Tash leans back in her chair, crosses her arms and indicates that I should sit in the chair opposite. I do so reluctantly and she continues.

“I understand from office gossip that Elliot is the father. It’s none of my business who you sleep with, Trish, but when it starts disrupting things around here… well, I need to take action.”

“How exactly are things being disrupted?” I ask quietly, trying to contain myself.

“Look, believe it or not, I’m doing this for your benefit. Elliot won’t leave you alone, everyone is watching, and you must be finding it harder and harder to concentrate on work. Also, if I’m brutally honest, the only work you have left is dull as shit since you handed most of the juicy stuff to Mark.”

How dare she! I’m so furious right now, I don’t know if I want to yell and throw something or burst into tears.

Tash holds up a hand as if sensing I’m about to lose it.

“Before you tell me to go fuck myself, take a second to think about what I’ve said.”

“I don’t know how I managed to work with you,” I growl.

“Trish, you’re one of the best, if not the best employee I’ve had. Work has been your entire focus and I could give you any project or client no matter how challenging and be confident you’d nail it. But work can’t be your sole focus now. The sooner you accept it, the happier you’ll be. Trust me.”

“How the hell would you know?” I mutter, not caring if she fires me on the spot.

“Because I’ve been where you are and I fought it – fought till the day I gave birth.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Tash looking vulnerable. Her eyes are watery and her voice has changed pitch. One cheek is shaking and she keeps having to bite down on her lip.

“I never slowed down,” she says. “And I paid the price.”

I had no idea she was pregnant. “What happened?”

“I had severe hypertension. The symptoms were there but I ignored them: heart palpitations, sweaty, short of breath. I thought it was work stress.” She takes a deep breath. “My son was born four weeks premature and he only managed to breathe for two minutes before he died of a stroke.”

I put a hand over my mouth. “Oh, God,” I mutter. “Tash, I’m so sorry.”