Page 105 of Pick-Up
“No,” I admit. “Not really. I dated one guy. For one month. But then he wore the ugliest shoes, and I just couldn’t.”
“Ah.” He nods knowingly. “Well, at least your values are intact.”
“Look. Attraction is attraction, man. And I can’t date a guy in Tevas.”
“Teva actually brought on new creative directors,” he says. “The shoes aren’t terrible.”
I stare at him for a beat. “Oh, okay. My bad. You’re right.” I point my thumb over my shoulder. “You want me to go find that guy I was dating? Give him a second chance?”
“No.” Ethan shakes his head, hands up. “I’m good.” He rolls over and runs a hand down my arm, props his head on his other hand.
“What about your wife?” I say. Just like that, he rolls away from me back onto his back.
“Ex-wife.”
“Right.”
“Is this when that never-talk-about-an-ex-on-a-date rule kicks in?”
“This is still not a date.”
“What is this, then? An all-hands meeting?”
“Ethan! Does she date? Your ex?”
He sighs. “Kaitlin? Well, I assume you mean aside from the guy she had the affair with?”
Everything stops.
If Ethan continues talking, I don’t know, because there is a roaring in my ears like a conch shell hooked up to an amp. I am dizzy with horror. Did he just sayKaitlin?
Ethan is repeating my name. “Sasha. Sasha. Are you okay?”
It finally jolts me out of my k-hole.
“Ethan,” I finally manage, sitting bolt upright. Even the light outside has darkened, the sun ducking behind a cloud. “Your ex-wife is… Kaitlin? Like Kaitlin Lafferty?”
“I mean, technically, she changed her name to Jones when we got married,” he rambles, oblivious, “but she never really used it, and I’m sure she’s not using it now.” Only then does he look at my face. Like really look at it. “Wait. Did you not know that Kaitlin was my ex?”
I drop my head into my hands and shake my head. What the fuck have I done? Am Ithatmom? How could I have assumed that I could somehow keep this thing with Ethan separate from real life? That there would be no repercussions?
“You really are the world’s worst cyberstalker. Can you even use a computer?” He’s joking, but my mood has changed.
“Sasha, it’s okay,” he says. “It’s not like you guys are close friends.”
“I know,” I mumble into my hands. “But I know her! Or I knew her. A little bit. And she’s a VIM!”
“What’s a VIM?”
“Never mind.”
“So you knew each other as kids—who cares? It’s not like you’re friends now.”
I look up at that. Ethan genuinely appears unconcerned, leaning back against the headboard. He glistens. Not a care in the world.
“Youknow? That we know each other from growing up? And you never mentioned anything?”
This is starting to feel like a trend to me. And the dark clouds in my head are moving in like a storm front. He didn’t mention the job opportunity. He didn’t mention that I once had sleepover parties with his ex-wife! What else isn’t he mentioning?
