“It’s cute,” he says with a guilty half smile.
“I’m sure it would be, but I don’t do it.”
Because our live taping isn’t until tomorrow afternoon, we check into our hotel, where the station booked two rooms for us, though of course we didn’t tell them we’d only need one. Then we spend the day exploring Austin, since neither of us has been here before. We try the city’s best barbecue, and then when we’re hungry again a few hours later, stop at another place that claims to have the best barbecue, until we’re certain we can’t look at another pork product for as long as we live.
We hold hands as we walk down Sixth Street, taking in the dive bars and historic buildings. Bands are setting up, music pouring out of live venues. I’m positive we’re not at risk of anyone recognizing us in such a big city, but we wear sunglasses just in case, and Dominic sports a Chicago Cubs baseball cap.
It feels like we’re a real couple.
We stop for a while at a bar with outdoor seating, which is much rarer—and possibly less exciting for the locals—here than in Seattle. Here, life can be less complicated. Here, I can stop thinking about not having reconciled with Ameena and her first week of work and TJ packing up their apartment. He’ll meet her in Virginia next week, and while they’ll both be back for my mother’s wedding, I’m not sure when I’ll see them again after that.
“I had this idea,” Dominic says when we’re on our second beer, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. “So the whole appeal of the show is that we’re exes. We can’t suddenly start dating.”
“Perish the thought.”
“So . . . what if we got back together?”
I pause with my glass halfway to my mouth. “Like, publicly?”
He nods. “Think about it. It would be a real testament to the power radio has to connect us. The listeners would love it.”
Of course it’s appealing. TJ suggested the same thing after I got back from Orcas.
“Shay,” Dominic says, poking my arm. “What do you think?”
“It’s a good idea. But there’s still a lie at the root of it. I know there isn’t a way around it, not at this point, but I still feel shitty about that.”
“I get it. But we wouldn’t have to keep sneaking around. I like this so much, being with you. We don’t know how long this show will realistically last, and I hate having to hide it, not being able to tell anyone. We’d still be exes. Exes who were brought back together by the power of radio and podcasting. And some shoes made from corn.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe it wouldn’t matter that we were exes before—just that we got back together.
I don’t want to have to choose between the job I never thought I’d have and the guy I might be starting to love.
“What happens if—if we break up?” The relationship still feels so new, so delicate. I’m certain we can weather a frank question like this, but I hate asking it.
He’s quiet for a few moments. “I know you’re trying to be rational, but . . . I don’t think we can possibly know that. I can’t keep thinking that far into the future. All I know is that you make me so fucking happy, and not telling anyone is killing me.”
I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. I want to believe him so badly. I want there to be a way to have this day every day.
“What if we do it tomorrow? At the festival? At the live taping?”
Dominic smirks. “Do you think Kent would lose his shit?”
“All the more reason to do it.”
“Fair point.”
“I am going to tell all our thousands of listeners how much I love the mumbling you do in your sleep.”
“Then I’ll tell them about your Beanie Baby collection.”
“You wouldn’t dare. The Beanies are sacred.” He pushes up his sunglasses, his gaze both wild and full of longing. “Come here,” he says, and I’m in his lap an instant later, wrapping my arms around him, not caring who sees us.
There’s this moment, one where my heart is beating so in sync with his that I love you almost slips from my mouth.
But every other time it’s happened in the past, that’s when it’s gotten messy. I don’t want to risk not hearing it back if he’s not there yet.
I go with three different words.