Page 158 of Say My Name

“The initial figures have problems,” she says.

“Problems you can fix.”

“Yes.”

I wait, giving her the chance to add something. She doesn’t.

Two weeks ago, I would’ve asked again. I would’ve stepped closer and lowered my voice until the conversation belonged only to us. I might have reminded her that I know what she looks like when a problem is financial and what she looks like when it’s personal.

I can’t ask her to respect the distance I created, then cross it whenever I’m worried.

“If anything changes your recommendation, come to me,” I say.

“Of course.”

“And if the workload becomes unreasonable, ask for more time.”

A flicker of something—annoyance, maybe even humor—crosses her face before she flattens it. “It won’t.”

“I assumed you’d say that.”

The corner of her mouth moves, then she looks down and closes the portfolio.

“I’ll send the preliminary model by Friday,” she says.

“Thank you.”

She opens the door and walks away.

I watch until she turns the corner, then make myself return to my office.

Cliff calls after ten that night.

I’m home because Evan stood in my doorway at seven and watched me pack my briefcase. I brought three files with me, which means his victory is mostly theoretical, but I’m in my apartment instead of the office.

The Thai food on my kitchen counter is still warm when my phone rings.

“What did you do?” Cliff asks as soon as I answer.

I set down the container. “Hello to you too.”

“Elena called me.”

The carton of pad thai slips in my hand. Every other thought disappears. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.”

He repeats the word with deliberate irony. “She’s ‘fine.’ The kind of fine she says three times in a row when she wants you to stop asking.”

“What happened?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. She called to check on Rachel and the kids, which would’ve been normal if she hadn’t spent the next ten minutes assuring me that everything in Chicago is fine.”

I pull out a chair at the kitchen island but don’t sit. “What did she say?”

“Work is fine. She’s sleeping fine. You’re fine. Then she mentioned a new acquisition, got weird about it, said it was fine twice, and asked whether Theo still hates soccer.”

The meeting returns in pieces. I see Elena’s fingers tightening on the pen. The strain when I assigned her to the identity-release call.