Two bottles down.
* * *
“Breakup Movers,” I say. “A moving company that specializes in breakups. We pack your stuff and move it out of your shared living space, throw away their hoodie for you, and blast empowering music.” I think about Mike. “We can also pack and move your ex’s shit out of your living space. And throw their favorite hoodie away.” I turn my head towards him, where he’s also laying on the ground next to me, his feet also propped up on the railing.
“Ten thousand dollars and fifty percent stake in the company,” he decides.
“Thanks, Mark Cuban.” I think again. “Ghosted and Roasted. A coffee shop where baristas do a dramatic reading of your old texts from people who ghosted you, then make you a custom roast based on your pain level.”
“Eh,” he says. “I’m out.”
“Fair.”
“Ex-Box,” he says, with a smile in his voice, filled with pride for his next fledgling business plan. “A subscription service that sends you mystery items your ex still probably has of yours.”
I cackle. “Fifty thousand and thirty percent stake.” I sit up and open the… fourth? Oh boy. The fourth bottle of wine. “Rent-a-Mom. For adults who need someone to nag them about wearing a jacket, remind them to eat their vegetables, and call customer service on their behalf.”
He’s silent.
I look over, and through my wine-addled brain I process that this may have not been the best business pitch, and that I don’t know what happened with Frankie’s mom. If she’s… “Oh shit… Dom?—”
He sits up, takes the bottle from my hand, and takes a deep draw. “It’s okay.”
I’m as mortified as I can be after a bottle and a half of wine. “It’s not. I’m so sorry.”
Dom collapses down on his back again. “I wasn’t totally honest on the beach last night.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid,” he finally murmurs after a long moment. “I’m afraid!” he then proclaims with gusto. I think someone should take it easy on the wine. Two someones. I don’t know though, because I’m really enjoying watching this serious and steady man get silly and loose.
I sit up to look at him. The air wobbles, or maybe I do. I look at him using only one eye. “Of what?”
“It’s not only because of Frankie that I don’t want to get involved. I’m also afraid.”
I keep looking at him.
He takes a deep breath. “I slept with Frankie’s mom once,” he says. “As in, one time. One night. Like?—”
“I know what a one-night stand is, Dom.”
He ignores me. “We met at a bar in Chelsea. I was living in the city at the time. I barely remember it. She was sexy. Loud, bright. Fun. But anyway, nine or ten months later, she buzzed my apartment. She probably remembered where I lived from that one time. I’ll never forget that morning. I was about to head out to the gym. It was a Sunday. She dumped Frankie into my arms.” He pauses again. “She was so small,” he whispers. “Six pounds and change. I had never held a baby in my life before that moment. Her mom threw Frankie’s birth certificate on my coffee table, along with a thing of formula and a pack of diapers. Then she left, and I never saw her again. I didn’t have her phone number or any means of contacting her. I only learned her last name through the birth certificate, but Google never turned up any results. I fucking panicked. I called Tita Gloria.”
This poor man. “Ohshit. That motherfucker,” is all I can come up with.
He laughs without humor. “I think that would technically be me.”
“True. I’ll allow it.” Something’s not checking out, though, knowing Dom’s usual neuroses. “You didn’t use a condom?”
He winces. “No. I was drunk, and she said she was on birth control. I really fucked up. It was just that one time, too. I’m… well, Iwas, normally really diligent about protection.” He shakes his head, some self-loathing in his eyes. “But anyway. After Frankie’s mom came Viv. We were really serious. I made sure she was okay with Frankie before getting really serious. She was. Until she wasn’t. And she was pretty involved. Until she wasn’t.”
“Uh oh,” I whisper.
He nods. “I bought her a fucking ring.”
“Oh shit.”
“Viv told me she didn’t sign up to be Frankie’s mom a few weeks after I bought that fucking ring.”
