Page 89 of A Fae in Finance

“This valuation is terrible.”

I pondered the appropriate response. My choices were:

I know, I’ve been tied up with the client and Kayla did it all

I know, it’s a work in progress

No, it’s not

I’m sorry

I, of course, went withD.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“How on earth did you think that this was acceptable to share with me?” he asked, disregarding the fact that I hadn’t sent it to him.

I didn’t think this was acceptable to share with you

It’s a work in progress

It is acceptable to share with you

I’m sorry

“I’m sorry,” I said, ever a consistent test-taker.

“Stop apologizing and actually do something useful, Miri,” he snapped. “I don’t even know why I go through you. It would be faster to just talk to the analyst directly.”

“Kayla.”

“What?” He sounded like a blood vessel had just popped in his forehead.

“Her name is Kayla,” I said.

“Miri, I’m giving this task to Corey since you’re clearly not capable of it. We’ll have a longer conversation later.” He hung up.

I looked at my phone and thought about my mother. I’d been avoiding her calls. If she asked me one more time whether “the Prince/King/Duke/Baron” had “shortened the timeline” I would hurl my phone into a faerie dance circle.

I thought about Thea and Jordan, too. I still hadn’t told them where I was. Jordan’s latest text to me just said,Are you alive?

In the end, I didn’t call anyone.

Weeks five and six went quickly.

My mother and I talked on the phone for three minutes every morning.

Jeff sent Kayla back to her old team. No one said goodbye. I called Corey and chewed him out for not making more of an effort to help her learn. He told me not to be such a busybody.

I called my grandma and told her I missed her. I called Thea and listened to her immensely distressing story about going on a date with a man who had a bedroom full of female Funko Pops and absolutely nothing else.

“We live inNew York City,” she said, her tone a mix of glee and horror. “His apartment was probably five hundred square feettotal.”

I don’t live in New York City.The words caught in my throat. “Sounds dedicated,” I said instead. “Maybe he’d be a dedicated boyfriend, too.”

“Miri, he had a hundred square feet of Funko Pop dolls. They wereall girls, Miri. He could never commit to me. His attention would always be divided.”

We both cackled.