The Ex Talk(66)

Marlene purses her lips and returns to her desk.

I spent far too much time debating what to wear to work this morning. I wanted to strike the perfect balance between professional and don’t you want to see me naked again? Ultimately, I went with something not much different from what I usually wear: my favorite dark-wash jeans, ankle boots, and a fitted black blazer over a V-neck blouse. It’s still NPR, after all. And Dominic said he likes what I wear to work.

I was so on edge I couldn’t even listen to the radio in the car. One of my hangnails got so bad that I have two Band-Aids wrapped around my thumb, and the multiple orgasms I had with Dominic may have ended my drought but only deepened my sexual frustration.

And the box o’ dildos isn’t helping.

“How was the weekend?” Ruthie asks as we sort through the boxes, grouping items into two piles labeled safe for npr and fcc lawsuit. Dominic’s not here yet, and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved. “Did you guys bond?”

I avoid her gaze, worried my face will give away all the ways in which we bonded. “He and my dog did.” I hold up the lube-of-the-month subscription box. May’s flavor is key lime pie. “Can we talk about lube on NPR?”

“My gut says no,” Ruthie says. “But the corn shoes are kind of cute, right?”

When Dominic arrives at a quarter past nine, there are no more adult toys on his desk. “Morning,” he says to me as he drops his bag by his desk and pulls out his chair. “Morning, Ruthie.”

“Morning!” Ruthie chirps before returning to typing.

My words get stuck at the back of my throat. I’m not sure I can utter a basic good morning now that I know how his hands feel on my skin, between my legs. What he looks like on the verge of orgasm. What is proper etiquette the day after you hook up with the fake ex-boyfriend you’re doing a radio show with? I would honestly love a podcast about that.

Dominic doesn’t look at me, which gives me a chance to watch him unpack. He’s clean-shaven this morning, weekend stubble gone, wearing a red plaid shirt and black jeans. It’s not normal, is it, for me to be able to smell his soap from a full desk away? And I know there’s something wrong with me when him tossing the Koosh ball up and down doesn’t even annoy me.

He’s the one who said he didn’t think he could do casual. Maybe he has no idea how to handle this, either.

Even if nothing that happened on Saturday felt casual at all.

I try my best to focus on my Monday to-do list instead of imagining his fingers on my skin again. We’re doing a guest appearance at ten o’clock on the podcast Thanks I Hate It, which is hosted by Audrey and Maya, two stand-up comedian best friends who talk about millennial dating culture and adulting. They’re pretty popular, and they have a book coming out next year. I was over the moon when their producer reached out to Ruthie last week, but today I have to force myself to concentrate on the interview.

Ruthie engineers the interview for us in Booth A. Fortunately, Audrey and Maya are easy to talk to, even if I feel myself tense up when Audrey introduces us as “America’s favorite exes.”

I don’t know if the weekend made Dominic and me more awkward or less awkward, but we manage to make them laugh plenty of times. By the end of the interview, though, I can’t remember a thing I’ve said.

Kent is waiting for us in the hall after we finish recording.

“Great stuff, really great,” he says. “That in there—that’s exactly what I was talking about. You two felt much more natural. Guess the weekend away worked wonders, huh?”

Huh indeed.

“Guess it did. Thank you,” I say. Then, since Kent’s in a good mood, I decide to try something again. WWAMWMD, I remind myself when I’m worried I might chicken out, and I charge forward. “I wanted to run something by you.”

“Sure,” he says with a glance down at his watch. “I’ve only got a few minutes, though.”

I’m extremely aware of Dominic next to me and positive my face is the color of his shirt.

“My grief show. I know I brought it up at sort of a weird time last week, but it’s important to me, and I think we could do a lot with it.”

He turns icy almost instantly. “I thought we discussed that.”

“A little bit, but I’ve been thinking about it, and—”

“I’m just not sure it’s the best path for the show right now,” Kent says, cutting me off. “Too dark. We want to keep things light, keep things fun. Dom, you agree with me, right?”

“Actually, no,” Dominic says, straightening to his full height, much taller than Kent. “I think it would be fantastic radio. I don’t think there’s any reason we need to box ourselves into one type of show.”

Kent taps his chin, deep in thought for a moment. I’m too warm in my blazer, unsure where this conversation is going. “Well, I trust you,” he finally says. To Dominic. “I trust both of you. Go ahead and get the ball rolling.”

I’m still gaping when Kent disappears down the hall.

“Did you—you realize what just happened there, right?” I manage to ask Dominic. Another entry for the Kent O’Grady misogyny playbook. I’m more positive than I’ve ever been that that’s what it is.

“Fucking prick,” he says under his breath.