The Ex Talk

“This elevator’s been so slow lately,” I say. “Well. See you tomorrow.”

I’m heading toward the booth with the security guard, where we swipe our badges every morning, when Dominic says, “Wait.”

I turn around.

“Do you . . . maybe want to grab drinks? Mahoney’s next door has a great happy hour. Half off everything. To celebrate the top one hundred,” he adds. “It’s a big milestone. I mean—I guess we celebrated most of the day, but there’s no such thing as too much celebrating, right?” He finishes this with a sheepish laugh, a rake of his hand through his dark hair. Is he . . . nervous?

“Oh—” I start, caught off guard by the comment. Drinks. Drinks with Dominic. Dominic asked me to grab drinks with him. A friendly round of drinks between colleagues. Surely that’s all it was intended to be. He’s trying to prove we can be friends, just like our alternate-universe selves after our made-up breakup. “I, um, can’t. I have to feed my dog.”

“Let me guess, he also ate your show notes?”

I clap a hand over my mouth. “Oh my god. I just realized how that sounded. I swear, I really do have to feed my dog.”

“You just adopted him, right?” Dominic’s features soften, but I don’t feel any less relaxed. “I love dogs. My apartment doesn’t allow them.”

“Last month. We’re still getting into a routine. He’s a bit of a weirdo, but it’s like, he’s my weirdo.” Now I might start rambling. “I didn’t realize I’d love him so much, but I do, despite all his idiosyncrasies. Or maybe because of them.”

For a few seconds, I think I might want to invite him over to meet my dog.

But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? Dominic in my house, playing with Steve? That’s too strange a visual to even imagine.

“Okay—well,” he says, nodding toward the doors. “I’m off to drink alone.”

I groan. “Please, don’t make yourself sound that pathetic. I’ll feel bad.”

“You know you love it.” He waves, and I wonder if he really is going to a bar to have half-off drinks by himself, and something about that strikes me as so incredibly sad. He said he’d considered telling his college friends about our fake past relationship, but he didn’t mention any Seattle friends. Again, I find myself wondering how he spends his free time. If we’ve gained any kind of friendliness with each other, it isn’t enough for me to feel comfortable asking.

I half expect him to say something like another time, as though promising we’ll do drinks again when my dog’s dinner isn’t as urgent. But it doesn’t come, and as I navigate the parking lot maze to my car, I realize I was waiting for it.

* * *

—

I dump a few capfuls of lavender bubble bath into my tub and pile my hair into a topknot. Steve lounges on the rug in the middle of my bathroom, chewing on a stuffed hippo, and a glass of rosé is perched on the edge of the tub. It’s been ages since I took a bath, mainly because it hasn’t always been easy to relax in my house. Typically, I’d turn on a podcast, but the silence feels kind of nice. Tonight it feels like I can turn off my mind and just be. (Or, I’m trying to.)

Our show is doing well. (For now.)

My mother is happily planning her wedding. (And still on the fence about my grief show, but I’m working on her.)

Ameena’s been swamped at work, but we made dinner plans for this weekend. (And she’s continuing to advance in the interview process for the Virginia job.)

And Dominic . . .

Nope, not going there.

I’m stepping into the bath when my phone vibrates on the counter. I’d planned to leave it in my bedroom, but it’s possible I’m a little too married to it, to our subscriber numbers, to my Twitter feed.

Dominic: I trust your dog had a prompt and gourmet dinner.

I can’t help smiling at that. I send a response before sinking into the hot water.

Shay: He has a sophisticated palate. I think his kibble is even made with some amount of real chicken. Or at least they have to legally put that on the package.

Shay: How was drinking alone?

Dominic: Is it drinking alone if you make awkward small talk with the old trucker guy at the other end of the bar who may or may not have invited you to a trucker party?

Shay: Dominic. Are you at a trucker party? Do you need help?