The Ex Talk

“I don’t understand what you’re asking of us, then,” Dominic says, once again proving he has more courage than I do when it comes to our boss. He makes no attempt to curb his frustration, while I’m always eager to please Kent any way I can. Is it because he’s been Kent’s favorite since the beginning? Why, then, did Kent text me about this meeting and not both of us?

“This is what we’re gonna do,” Kent says. He gestures to the two of us, though we’re the only two in the room. “You two are going to spend the night together.”

I practically leap out of the chair. “Excuse me?”

“The weekend together, actually. Clear your schedules. This is urgent. We rented an Airbnb for you on Orcas Island, all on the station’s dime. You’re going to spend the weekend together, and you’re going to figure this shit out. You’re going to make me believe you spent three blissful months as a couple. I want you to know how the other person brushes their teeth. When they replace the toilet paper, if it’s hanging over or under. If they snore. What they look like when they first wake up in the morning. I want you to know every fucking thing about each other so we don’t get into another mess like this.”

His words render me speechless. My jaw doesn’t just drop to the floor—it hits the basement parking garage. Kent returns to his tea, deadly serious. He’s always been a take-no-prisoners kind of boss, but one with a considerable amount of empathy. This . . . this is something different entirely.

I’m afraid to even look at Dominic, let alone spend a whole weekend with him.

“I assume all expenses will be covered?” Dominic asks.

“Within reason,” Kent says. “You’ll both have your company cards.”

“Good. Because I tend to get really hungry on weekends. Thirsty, too.” He stares Kent down. They look like two lions about to fight over a gazelle, though I’m not sure what exactly the gazelle is in this scenario.

“As I said, the station will cover it within reason.” Kent stands. “Emma will give you all the information. I have a meeting with the board. I trust we’re done here for now?”

“Actually,” I say, because some part of me thinks that if I give in, if I make this weekend mess easier, then maybe he’ll give me something I want in return. “Hey, Kent, while I have you.” I feel the weight of his gaze and Dominic’s, and I try to power through my anxiety. “I wanted to talk to you about this Ex Talk idea I had about, um, about grief and loss. Ruthie wanted me to run it by you, since it’s sort of a heavier topic for the show—”

“This really isn’t the time, Shay.”

A swift kick to my chest. It’s the first time Kent has outright dismissed me. I’ve always assumed he liked me, or at least respected me.

It makes me wonder what he would have said if Dominic had suggested it.

“I—okay,” I say, wishing Dominic hadn’t heard me get shut down. “I guess we’ll just go to work, then.”

Kent smiles. “Good plan. And enjoy the weekend, really. You should probably head out this afternoon if you want to beat traffic.”

My legs stop working as soon as we leave Kent’s office.

“I was going to go to a cake tasting with my mom this weekend,” I say, crumbling against the wall. “And—and I’d have to take Steve, but he’s never been on that long of a car trip with me, and I’m not ready to leave him with someone else yet. I—” I suck in a deep breath. My lungs are tight. Panic mode. Shit, shit, I don’t want him to see me like this.

“Shay.” He stands in front of me, placing strong hands on my shoulders. I don’t like what my name in his mouth does to me, and I like even less the way his palms settle so naturally into the fabric of my blazer. “This sucks, I know. I’m just as pissed as you are. But it’s one weekend. We can do it. We do this, and maybe we can take some short days next week, and you can be with your mom. It’s for the show, right? Neither of us wants to see this show go down.”

We’re not supposed to touch like this, and we’re not supposed to take elevators together or long car rides or spend an entire weekend on an island together. Distance. Professionalism. That was supposed to be my strategy.

“Besides,” he says with a half smile, “I want to meet your dog. Also, how many cases of beer do you think is ‘within reason’?”

I roll my eyes, but his reassurance makes me feel a little better.

Except it’s not going to be easy to avoid him while trapped in a house together all weekend.

I pray to my radio gods, the ones who act cool and collected in even the most hostile of interviews. If Terry Gross survived her nightmare interview with Gene Simmons, then I can do this.

Terry Gross, Rachel Martin, Audie Cornish—give me strength.

19

Three hours in Friday rush-hour traffic. One and a half hours on a ferry. Eleven minutes waiting for Dominic to pick the right snacks at the island mini-mart. Another half hour in the car. Twenty minutes arguing over the Google Maps directions telling us to swim across a body of water that would have taken us into Canadian territory.

That’s how long it takes for Dominic and me to get to the Airbnb house the station rented for us on the northern tip of Orcas Island, a little horseshoe-shaped piece of land in the northwest corner of the state.

This is also when it starts raining.

“Gotta love the Pacific Northwest,” Dominic mutters as we shut the car doors and make a run for the house with our luggage.