Page 25 of Finance Bros

“Please tell me you’re not gonna quit this, too.”

“I didn’t say that.” I’ve thought about it, though. I’ve been thinking about it all weekend.

“Can you ask for a new mentor? It sounds like Isla is more interested in getting laid than teaching you anything.”

Kaylin’s not wrong about that. I have no idea what I’m in for the next time I see Isla. “I’m considering asking.”

“If you think fucking her is gonna make it better—I’ve got news for you?—”

“I amnotgoing to fuck her,” I say definitively.

“But if she’s the problem…” She trails off leaving me to think things through, which is never a good idea.

I’m not sure Islaisthe problem. She’s not making life any easier, but at least I know where I stand with her.

“It’s more like I feel like a loser,” I tell Kaylin as I close the dishwasher and start the wash cycle. “Everybody else seems like they’re doing great, and I’m over here flailing.”

“Flailing is one word for it.”

“Do you have a better one?” I ask.

“I’m interested to see how you interact with Ryan.”

I groan. “It’s not even about him.”

“Are you sure?”

No. I’m not, and I hate that she can see right through me. “It’s notonlyabout him.”

“Is there something in particular you’re hoping will happen with him?” she asks.

My shoulders stiffen as I turn to face her. “What does that mean?”

She also turns, a shockingly dirty sponge in hand.

I asked Kaylin to be here for three reasons. To tell her about what happened with Isla and how I needed to take a break. To help me clean up my apartment, and for moral support. She knows the history between Ryan and me, and she can help pull me back from the edge if I find myself too close to going over. This all presupposed the theory that she’d be okay with taking a break, but since she’s not a hundred percent agreeing to it, I’m leaning into the other reasons.

The other problem is she brought her dog. It’s a Yorkie—a tiny blue and tan ball of nervous energy who’s clingy as fuck—and not with Kaylin like she should be. Withme. The dog is like velcro when I’m around. Like we’re bonded mates or something. She’s currently circling my feet, and I pick her up, tucking her under my arm so I don’t accidentally step on her. Her name is Stephanie, which is a ridiculous name for a dog, but suits her.

Today, Stephanie is dressed for a night out with a crystal collar and a little black satin bow over her right eye. Kaylin is a pretty normal person except when it comes to her dog, who has the bigger wardrobe and far more accessories.

“I mean—are you ready to clear the air and put the past in the past?” she asks.

“I told him I forgive him.”

She lifts her brows. “How’d that go over?”

“He made me feel like I’m the one who needs forgiveness.”

“He’s not wrong…”

“You always take his side,” I complain.

“We haven’t talked about him in years,” she argues.

“It’s fucking complicated, okay? Do you think I shouldmop?” I stare down at my kitchen floor. If the counter’s that dirty…

“Do you own a mop?”

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