Page 36 of PS: I Hate You

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Page 36 of PS: I Hate You

We were both sloppy drunk. He wasn’t supposed to remember anything. Not me lamenting my distaste for hotels. And certainly not me kissing his candy-coated lips.

My stomach roils again, and I realize that I’m going to break my silent vow within a minute of making it. Without a word to Dom, I charge into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me, latching it tight, and whimpering in relief when I see a bottle of air freshener on the shelf and a small window that slides open easily.

A few minutes later, I exit the bathroom, pretending like it wasn’t weird for me to have turned on the shower yet have my hair completely dry.

“Well, come on then.” I stroll past where Dom’s leaning his too-tall body against the kitchen counter. “Let’s go.”

“Not yet. We have a reservation.”

My feet slow. “What do you mean? How could we have a reservation? Josh didn’t know when we were going to places.”

“I made it.”

Fury threatens to freeze the blood in my veins. Or turn it to lava. “You opened the letter without me?”

Dom gives me a look like I spoke to him in a foreign language.

“Of course not. I searched the coordinates. When I found the destination, I looked up the website and saw you needed to make a reservation. It’s the Dismals Canyon. You’re supposed to go at night. I figured we’d eat, then go.”

I swallow my anger and pause my plan to fill Dom’s socks with shaving cream.

“Fine. We’ll get dinner. But only because you’re entirely unbearable to be around when I’m hungry. And especially whenyou’rehungry.”

Dom frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You’re infamous for getting hangry.” Giving Dom shit for potentially being in a bad mood is hypocritical, seeing as how I am a perpetual bitcharound him now. But there’s this deep-seated craving in me to get a rise out of him. To rattle his calm demeanor the way he does mine by just existing in my vicinity.

“I don’t get hangry.”

“Yeah, you do. Why do you think Josh, and the twins,”—and Rosaline—“and I always had snacks on hand for you?”

Now he’s the one rolling his eyes. “I don’t think chucking bags of Cheez-Its at my head and telling me to stop being ‘Dom the Dick’ qualified ashaving snacks on hand for me.”

I shrug. “You secretly love Cheez-Its. And you always ate them.”

He grumbles something I can’t hear. Probably some irresponsible words, which I count as a success.

“Look at that,” I taunt. “You’re already pissy. Time to eat dinner.” I stride past him and out the door, breathing easier in the late afternoon air that doesn’t hint at his cedar cologne.

The idea of carpooling is too much for me, so we drive separately to a nearby diner. When we sit down at a booth, I fish Josh out of my bag and place him next to me, on the tabletop.

“He’s eating with us?” Dom’s eyes flick from the Rubbermaid of ashes to me.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Dom opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off with a raised finger.

“What’s that, Josh?” I tilt my head toward the remains. “You think Dominic Perry should keep his opinions on his side of the booth? What a good point. I agree.”

Dom frowns.

“Oh, sorry.” I bend even closer, until my ear is pressed against the airtight lid. “Could you say that again? I’m having trouble hearing you over the pulsating vein in Dominic’s forehead.” I barely suppress a smile when the man smooths his fingers over his temple. “Ah, you were saying that Dom must keep buying underwear a size too smallto give him that constantly pinched expression? Well, I wouldn’t know, but it’s a good theory.”

Dom stops massaging his brow, dropping his hand to the table and tapping out an annoying rhythm.

“Is this going to be a regular thing?” he asks, voice dry.

Me talking to my brother and pretending he responds? Probably. I’ve found myself conversing with Josh a lot when I’m alone in my apartment these past few months. I don’t know why I do it. Florence didn’t impart any kind of religion on Josh and me, and I’ve never put much stock in an afterlife. The idea of ghosts mildly intrigues me, but I can’t definitively say I believe they exist.




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