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After we hang up, I remain standing against my door for several long moments, attempting to sort through the muddle of thoughts in my head. I love Ollie. I’m actually going to do this. In one way or another, Alana and I will be fine, and I’ll be a werecanine before the end of spring.
A frisson of excitement shoots down my spine, curling my toes.
Wow.
Wow.
I can’t…
Really?
I am going to learn how to shapeshift soon.
Alana and I will be fine.
Is she going to be fine?
How can I do this to her?
Am I really allowed to choose something I want if it hurts someone I care about? No matter what I choose, it will hurt someone I care about…so…can’t I choose the path I want?
Trolley problems help no one, after all. The responsibility lies not with the person deciding whether to pull the lever but with whoever decided to tie all those people to the tracks.
On wobbly limbs, I toddle back out of my room and to the kitchen, finding my plate of chicken feet replaced with a grilled cheese. Ollie catches my eye, pulls a bowl out of the cabinet, then pours tomato bisque into it. Dropping his headphones down around his neck, he asks, “Everything okay?”
I stare at the sandwich and soup when he sets the bowl beside the plate. “What happened to…the other stuff?”
“A faerie took the other stuff away, so I made a replacement for you.”
“Oh. Was it one of your friends?”
Ollie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sunshine, I’m a faerie.”
Oh. Yeah. Sinking into my seat, I lift one half of the grilled cheese. It’s cut in triangles. As it should be. “I guess I’m a little frazzled.”
“Understandable.”
“Two more weeks is a really short amount of time, when you think about it.”
“In the grand scheme of things, it is.”
I take a bite and add another thing to my pro list of staying with Ollie, forfeiting this world, and living happily ever after elsewhere. The pros are overwhelming at this point. Knowing he makes a mean grilled cheese wasn’t exactly a required addition, but I’ll take it. “I suppose I should put in my notice tomorrow.”
Ollie freezes halfway through pulling out his chair. “What notice?”
“Two weeks’ notice. To quit my job. I won’t need it anymore, right? I’m going to join the quest guild and do all the fancy board tasks. Is there a ranking system?” I gasp. “Better question: does Prince Cael have a secretary who knows how to use Excel? I could totally see myself helping him streamline the task intake for the quest board in a spreadsheet.”
Ollie lifts a brow. “That is unnecessary, and…you don’t love spreadsheets.”
“I like when they work properly.”
“You don’t need to already be plotting ways to be useful through assessing the skills you have experience in. You’re supposed to approach these life-altering decisions selfishly. Faerie is open to you, whether you work for it or not.”
I set my sandwich down. “I can multitask. Personally, I find it very selfish to not have already blindly charged forward. It’s an insult to everyone who has to pay rent. I should have dropped to one knee the second after I received the information that Cael’s world doesn’t include rent. Speaking of rent, we should start planning where we’re going to live. I like this house, but I like the idea of a cabin better. Especially a cabin in the middle of some magical woods. The ones that don’t eat people, like you said before. Can we go plot shopping soon? Because, yes, I also like the idea of planning our house together. It needs a music room. And a personal theater. Can we have movie nights at our house sometimes, or is that not going to work? I don’t know if Netflix offers inter-dimensional streaming. Should we call customer support and ask?”
“Whoa. Okay, take a breath…please…” Ollie stares at me, eyes wide. “I thought…” He presses his lips together. “You were crying just a moment ago.”
“Crap.” I lift my hand to my cheek. “Is that a kind way of saying my makeup ran?”
