Page 122 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
“With you by my side, it meant I could shine at work and be a fuckup everywhere else.”
“You were never an actual fuckup. More like a… careless pinball.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”
It sounded sincere. “Thanks.”
“I’m… Even though me and Dulcy are happy… Shit, I miss you. I think I’m brokenhearted.”
For a second, she almost felt sorry for him.
Because she knew how he felt.
She just didn’t feel it about him. If grief was unexpressed love, like Naya had said, then it was official—this wild knot ofunmanageable grief in the middle of her chest proved she did love Minna. And Cordelia.
And Reno.
But not Grant.
She realized he was waiting for her to respond through the silence. “Can you give me Evie Oxby’s number?”
“Oxby? Like, her personal cell?”
“I know it’s a big ask. But we talked at your party. She won’t mind.”
“I don’t know, Bea.”
She let more silence flow down the line. It wasn’t as though she thought he owed her. Life was life, and this was where they were.
But if he believed she might think better of him for giving her the number, she’d take it.
Finally, he groaned. “Got a pen?”
Evie Oxby, unsurprisingly, was confused as to how she’d gotten her private number. “You’re who, again?”
“The elevator. Seven miracles. Then I die.”
“Oh, yeah. My lawyer’s wife?”
“Soon to be ex-wife.”
The sigh was heavy. “Soon to be ex-lawyer, too.”
Trying to shake off the feeling of foolishness, Beatrice said, “I’m really sorry, but it turns out that I’m part witch or something, and I did something really wrong, and now someone’s in danger.”
She heard Evie say to someone in the room with her, “See? This is why I don’t answer numbers I don’t recognize.” Then back to her. “You’re not part witch.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re more powerful than that. The shit you’re sending down this line into my ear is actually painful.” Evie sounded bored.
It had been a mistake to call. Evie probably said the same thing to everyone. She was probably full of it, making up everything she said. She’d probably had no experience with anything really magical—
“You want to know where the girl is.”
Could be a lucky guess.
Evie sighed as if in pain. “Holy Hierophant. You call me, but you want me to prove myself? I’m literally in the middle of making a chocolate ganache. It’s the first day off I’ve had in two months. You’re sitting on some kind of a dock, except it’s also a house. I don’t get it, but honestly, I don’t care. You recently found a matriarchal figure you thought you’d lost, and a woman who looks like she could be your twin is also looking for the same girl.”
