Page 48 of Say My Name

“I know.”

The elevator closes behind her. We stand alone in the corridor. She’s already reestablished ten feet of careful, professional distance between us; Her entire posture is a closing argument. The office begins to wake around us, a low hum of activity that gives her an excuse not to look at me.

She adjusts her grip on the portfolio. “The revised Northbridge projections came in last night. Maya circulated them to the transaction team.”

“I saw them.”

“I’ve flagged three assumptions we need to challenge before the next meeting.”

“Send them to me.”

“I will.”

She walks into the conference room without mentioning the barbecue or acknowledging that she spent last night gripping my shirt while I kissed her against her car.

I follow her inside and take my usual seat at the head of the table. Elena chooses the chair two places to my right instead of the one beside me.

People begin filing into the room. The meeting starts, and Elena becomes the analyst everyone else knows. She sits forward, pen poised, and her gaze on the lead analyst is level, unimpressed by a title she knows is no substitute for competence.

She dismantles one of the Northridge assumptions in less than three minutes.

“They’ve projected a twenty-eight percent increase without identifying the contracts expected to support it,” she says. “Either the revenue exists and they haven’t disclosed the source, or it doesn’t. They’re asking us to price optimism as though it’s an asset.”

The lead analyst flips through the deck. “They cited anticipated market expansion.”

“That explains why they want the number. It doesn’t explain how they’ll achieve it.”

“What do you recommend?”

“Remove the unsupported growth from the model and request the customer pipeline.”

I watch the analyst make the change. She’s right. She usually is.

Elena glances at me. “Unless you disagree.”

“I don’t.”

She looks at me one beat longer than necessary, her expression unreadable. I’m searching for a crack in the composure, some acknowledgment of last night, but find nothing. She turns away.

I let her leave with everyone else after the meeting. Calling her back or summoning her to my office would turn my position into pressure, and I won’t do that to her.

Late that morning, she appears in my doorway on her own.

“I have the updated projections.”

She enters and places a folder on my desk. Her fingers remain on it while I open the file.

“You were right about the revenue,” I say. “The pipeline report came in twenty minutes ago.”

“And?”

“They can support nine percent.”

“That’s generous.”

“It is.”

She nods as though we’ve concluded the only conversation she came here to have, but she doesn’t leave.