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All of it.
My sister let out a low whistle. “So what happens now?”
I pulled my knees up to my chest. “I don’t know. Hell, I guess it would be better if we just forgot about that awkward interlude and moved on.”
She snorted. “Bullshit.”
“Is that a Zelda Fitzgerald quote?” I asked, knowing my sister’s fondness for the iconic 1920s flapper.
“No, it’s a Lucy Cruz quote. You need to talk to him, Mel.”
“Well, I kind of have to talk to him, Luce. I work for him.”
Lucy was quiet for moment. “Look, kiddo, I’m going to be square with you. Once I watched you make a big mistake in the aftermath of another kind of heartbreak. And then, after everything went wrong with James, you kind of retreated from the world with only your cats for company.”
“That’s not true,” I objected. “I’ve gone out plenty.”
“Really? When?”
“Well, a little more than a year ago, I dated this narcissistic guy named Kyle for like seven weeks. Oh, and I recently went out to dinner with a former coworker who tried to molest me at my front door. On second thought, it seems I might be better off just staying on the sidelines of the dating pool for the rest of the decade. I really don’t seem to be a very good swimmer.”
Lucy chuckled softly. “It’s okay to admit that you’re lonely, Mel. But don’t shy away from giving anyone a chance just because you’re afraid of getting hurt again. I don’t know whether this Dominic guy is right for you, but you’ll never know either if you don’t put yourself out there instead of just getting by every day. Don’t close yourself off. Don’t just live. Love first, and live incidentally.”
“Ah,” I said, “now that is a Zelda quote.”
“Naturally.”
After talking to my sister, I felt better, braver, empowered. I imagined the bold blood of trailblazing women coursing through my veins, and I decided that I should just drive down to the restaurant. He’d likely still be there, because Dominic Esposito didn’t need time off for sleeping or fun or anything else.
He worked.
And worked.
And then he worked some more.
So I’d bust right through the doors of Espo 2, confront him in all his smoldering, brooding glory, and say in a clear, confident voice, “Dominic, I think about you. I don’t care that you’re my boss. I want you. And I know that you want me too.”
“You’re right, Melanie,” he would say with a dangerously sexy smirk, “I want you so bad I can’t fucking think straight.”
Then he would drop his pizza peel, strip off his shirt, and carry me into the office to have his way with me on the wide mahogany desk where I processed payroll and brainstormed marketing campaigns.
I could see it all as if it had already happened. I jumped to my feet with a plan to hunt down my keys and get out the door before I had a chance to think twice. Then I sat down again because I was more than halfway drunk and didn’t want to commit a crime.
“How about you guys drive?” I asked the cats, but they’d become bored with me and curled up together on the offending chenille pillow I’d tossed across the room earlier.
I thought about calling a cab. Or Uber. But no, that didn’t fit in with the script in my head. As the seconds ticked by, I lost my nerve anyway. I ended up devouring the rest of Dominic’s pizza, chasing it with the last beer in my fridge, and returning to the couch to watch a Star Wars movie marathon. Somewhere in the middle of The Empire Strikes Back, I nodded off and dreamed of pizza. And New York. And fire.
