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?

Shay: Related: what is a trucker party?

His replies come so quickly that I barely have time to set my phone down before it lights up again.

Dominic: I’m at home, so sadly, I may never find out.

Shay: It’s 8:30. Go out and do whatever the young folk are doing these days.

Dominic: But I’m already in my comfy sweats.

Shay: If you’re in comfy sweats at 8:30, you’re no longer allowed to make fun of me for being old.

Dominic: Fine, what are you wearing?

I choke on a sip of wine, and Steve glances up from the floor, as though to make sure I haven’t died. Not because he necessarily cares about me, but because I am his source of food. Once he’s confirmed I’m still alive, he returns to his toy.

Dominic: oh

Dominic: oh god

Dominic: I didn’t mean that the way it sounds

Dominic:

Shay: Good, because the answer would have been weird for both of us.

I’m not flirting. I swear.

Dominic: A sexy Gritty costume?

Shay: Damn it, you weren’t supposed to guess right on the first try.

He goes quiet for a while, and I return to my rosé like the millennial trash I am. Three dots appear, then disappear, then reappear. I overthink and overanalyze.

Dominic: You know what? You’ve convinced me. I’m young and sprightly. I’m going out.

Shay: No more comfy sweats?

Dominic: Comfy sweats off, party jeans on.

Shay: Ha. Have fun.

I stare down at the phone, wondering if my response doesn’t convey enough enthusiasm. I’m not entirely sure what I encouraged him to go out and do or what level of enthusiasm I should have about it. After a few more seconds of deliberation, I send a party hat emoji. That makes me feel a little better.

It’s an hour and a half later, once I’m getting in bed with a steamy romance novel and another glass of wine, that my phone buzzes again.

Dominic: have you ever wondered why pizzas come in square boxes even though they’re round

The lack of capital letters and punctuation is a dead giveaway. He’s got to be drinking.

Shay: UNSUBSCRIBE

Dominic: won’t work, I’m not asking you for money or to vote for me

Shay: Fine then. I assume it’s because it’s easier to make square boxes. And the square stops the pizza from sliding all over the place.

Dominic: so smart

I wish I could explain why texting with him makes me grin at my phone like my favorite podcast just dropped a surprise bonus episode. I probably wouldn’t like the answer. For now, I’ll blame it on being tipsy.

Dominic: Shay Evelyn Goldstein

Dominic: I am very drnuk. too drunk for autocrrect

Shay: How do you know my middle name?

Dominic: we dated for three months, of course I know your middle name

Shay: It seems as though the party jeans are really living up to their name.

Dominic: oh yeah. everything’s spinny and bouncy and beauuuuuutiful

Dominic: I’m even starting to forget where I live

This wipes the grin off my face. I’m sure it’s a joke, but I’m the one who suggested he go out. He was so in control when we were drinking at the station. Depending on how drunk he is, he may actually need help.

Shay: Where are you right now?

Dominic: the nomad in cap hill

Dominic: why, u putting on party jeans too??

I’m not going to be able to properly enjoy this romance novel or even fall asleep afterward if I’m worrying about him, damn it.

Shay: Stay there. I’m on my way.

15

“You didn’t have to do this,” Dominic slurs when I find him hunched over the bar, proving exactly why I had to do this. A few empty shot glasses are stacked next to him. He has one cheek pressed to the countertop, and I don’t want to think about how sticky his face is going to be when he sits up. God, it’s strange to see him like this outside of work, like seeing your middle school principal at the grocery with a cart full of Lean Cuisines.

“Maybe not,” I say, sidestepping a beer puddle. “But I can’t host the show alone if you fall in a ditch on your way home, so here I am.”