“Did you have a nice day?” she asked as Robin came through the front door.

“Yes.” He hung up his dour grey trench coat, shook off the dour grey umbrella she’d bought for him.

She wouldn’t look at him. “Work still going okay?”

“Great. I really like it there.” He heard the edge in her voice, knew what was coming, but the lies just tumbled out of his mouth like rain.

“So that voicemail about picking up your last paycheck must be a mistake?”

“I—”

“And the part about them not pressing charges over all those pranks? Wrong number? Or maybe we’ll just use fairy gold to pay the rent this month, is that it?”

He took a step toward her. “If we shadows have offended, think but this—”

“No!” She pressed her hands to her face. “Don’t you dare use that crap with me.”

Robin stood there watching her try not to cry for another minute, then silently retreated to the bedroom. All the stories were about mortals falling in love with the Fae, he thought sadly; they never told you what to do when it happened the other way.