“No, though I did try. Duke was pumped to get in the basket but there’s no way it was strong enough to hold him. My life flashed before my eyes after going ten feet.”
Maggie shuts the door behind us as I give her the abbreviated version of the last twenty-four hours. I’ve just finished and am leaning down to unhook Duke’s leash when he begins to pant at an alarming rate.
“Is he okay?” Maggie asks.
I squat in front of him, petting his neck and back in soothing strokes as I try to calm him down. “Maybe he’s not used to going up four flights of stairs after a long walk. I know he goes outside a fair bit, but I don’t know how far he usually goes.” Duke is still huffing and puffing as I nervously pet him faster. “It’s okay,” I coo. “Let’s just relax. Everything’s all right.”
“He looks like he’s having a heart attack. Do dogs have heart attacks?”
“Just get him some water before he passes out.”
Maggie scurries into the kitchen and starts swinging open cabinets. “I swear, Kara, if that animal drops dead in my apartment I will never forgive you.”
“He’ll be fine. He’s just not the most athletic guy in the world.”
Maggie sets a large bowl of water onto the floor and I keep petting Duke as he drinks it down. His breathing evens out and a minute later, he sets off on the prowl. I follow his path until he settles into the bathroom, sprawling out and looking spent. Confident that he’s now okay, I cross the room to plop down at a bar stool beside Maggie’s tiny kitchen island as she falls back onto her couch.
“Well,” she says, “you two certainly know how to make an entrance. Is life always this eventful over in the love nest?”
I pause before answering. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“I refuse to believe that you came all the way over here with no good stories. You’re not that cruel.”
“I just feel strange talking about this.”
“If you’re worried about being strange, you’re about five minutes and one obese bulldog too late.”
“Fair enough. I think...” I take a deep breath and let it all rip. “I think I might still have feelings for Ryan and I don’t want to and I need you to help me make it stop.” The words spill out of my mouth like a quick-flowing stream and Maggie stares back at me, completely deadpan.
We’re several seconds into utter silence when she says, “If this is happening, I need coffee.” She hops up and grabs her purse and keys from off the coffee table. “Will Duke be okay if we run out for a few minutes or do you think he’ll ransack the place?”
I get up to check on him and find him already asleep on Maggie’s bathroom tiles. Celine wasn’t even necessary.
“We can go but we have to be quick. There aren’t any choking hazards around here, are there?” I quickly look around to double-check, but Maggie is surprisingly minimalistic besides her multiple instruments. Knowing Duke will be safe, I set an alarm on my phone for twenty minutes. “Okay, let’s go.”
A few blocks later, Maggie and I are sitting across from each other in Frisson Espresso, Maggie’s favorite coffee house, on 46th Street. The charming shop is on the smaller side, but the white walls and colorful art make it feel chic and cozy rather than crowded and claustrophobic.
Two baristas man the lone espresso machine, creating individualized coffee that doubles as art. My mocha latte has a tulip foam design that is so intricate, it seems wrong to drink. It’s too late to know if Maggie’s iced coffee had a foam design since she’s essentially inhaling it.
We snag seats in the corner and even though the table next to ours is nearly on top of us, we’re comfortable. I take my first sip as Maggie finally comes up for air and places her coffee onto the table.
“Okay, I am now properly caffeinated. Speak.”
I suddenly wish I was drinking wine instead of a latte. “Well, like I said, I think I may still have feelings for Ryan and I need you to help me make those feelings go away as quickly as possible.”
“Yeah,” Maggie says, seeming unmoved. “I’m going to go ahead and not participate in any of that.”
“Why not? You have to help me. This is bad.”
“Why is it bad?”
“It’s bad because our past has way too much baggage, plus I’m not even sure if he’s interested in me or he’s just using me for my couch.”
“Are we back at this again? Of course he’s interested in you, Kara. How did he act this morning?” She picks up her coffee and twists it around, swirling the ice inside the cup.
I sit back in my chair. “He was fine.”
“But what was he like?”
“He was normal.” Then quietly, “He made pancakes.”
Deep silence ensues.
“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. Can you repeat that one more time?”
I pick at the edge of my cup with the tip of my finger. “I said he made pancakes.”
Maggie slams her drink down onto the table. “Come on, Kara! Everyone knows that pancakes are the international breakfast food of love. You guys are absolutely getting back together, so I don’t want to hear any more complaints. You’re losing your mind and you’re taking me with you.”
“It’s not that simple,” I try to explain.
“Ugh, fine. So you guys have a tortured, soap opera past. So what?”
“It’s not just that. How can I be with Ryan when he and I were the reason for what happened with my dad?”
“What are you talking about?” Maggie’s voice is peppered with confusion. “You and Ryan didn’t cause anything with your dad. That was just bad timing.”
I shake my head. I shouldn’t have brought that part up. That’s just for me.
“Never mind that bit. I just don’t think Ryan sees me that way.”
“Yes, he does see you that way, and I know for a fact that you can get him
