She felt a flash of regret at having made up a flimsy excuse to not attend Dev and Bee’s wedding, just to avoid a week in the desert with Danial. “I saw the photos, I remember those.”

“You saw me in—”

“In the parrot outfit, yes.”

“It was a psychedelic hawk, thank you very much.” His words were lighter, but his tone still felt vaguely acidic.

“A psychedelic hawk, then. Well”—she tried to move the conversation in the direction of shared nostalgia—“I’m sure your dad would have felt the same way if you got married at Burning Man. He was always such a drill sergeant.”

“Mmm.” Danial’s face went even darker, inscrutable.

“Oh, come on, you always used to complain about him. I don’t even know his name, you just called him ‘that asshole,’ remember?”

“Umm, sure.”

Alex felt on the back foot, nervous again. “How is he, by the way?” she asked, trying her best to sound genuine.

“He passed away.” He turned the radio up slightly, looking back at Sophie as if he were hoping to wake her.

“Oh, Danial,” Alex gasped, startled by the fact of his death as much as the fact that she hadn’t known. “That’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he clipped, his fingers visibly tightening on the steering wheel. “I appreciate that.”

For a moment the car went silent again, the hum of rolling tires underneath them providing a backing track to the radio. Alex shifted uncomfortably in her seat, pretending to check her phone while trying to clock Danial’s expression out of the corner of her eye. She felt terrible: not just for fumbling the conversation about his father, but for all of their conversations so far. Every time they found a good rhythm, things seemed to devolve just as quickly—and she couldn’t help but feel that it was mostly on her. When she could no longer stand his silence, she clumsily blurted out the first solution that came to her mind.

“I think we should be friends.”

“Um,” he said after a moment, checking his rearview mirror at a car merging behind them. “Friends?”

“For the trip, I mean,” she clarified, bringing her legs back down from the dashboard and assuming a more serious position.

“Friends… friends would be great.” He sounded suspicious, but unimpeachably diplomatic.

“Let’s do it,” she replied, much too eagerly. She was still facing resolutely forward, avoiding the possibility of meeting his gaze. “I mean it. We can be civil for two weeks. I know we have that in us. And it’s the right thing to do.” She cleared her throat, thinking of ways to add more emotional distance to her suggestion. “For Paul and Guy, I mean. There shouldn’t be any drama at their wedding.”