Page 32

CHAPTER 32

EMILY

T his is so awkward. I’ve never been to Shabbat dinner before, so I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t a candlelit dining room with only four chairs, a private chef, and a personal waiter. Yet here we are. Andy and Jenn, and Simon and me. It’s too damn cozy, and I want to go home, but I know if I fake another migraine, Andy will get suspicious.

When I showed up, I was left speechless from the house alone. Andy isn’t just rich. Andy is rich , rich. A four-story brownstone on a tree-lined street in Park Slope—this place is ridiculous. I stepped into the grand entry hall, taken aback by the art on the walls, the fresh flowers literally everywhere. Pure opulence.

As I gave Andy my coat, Jenn walked me up the stairs, which is when I saw Simon standing there looking every bit the handsome off-duty doctor, wearing a cashmere sweater and khakis. I said hi, indulged him with a hug, but then when I looked around, ready to introduce myself to the other guests, I realized there were no other guests. It was just us.

“How has your week been?” Simon asks, smiling as he takes a sip from his wine .

I swallow my mouthful of challah, washing it down with some wine. “Um, it’s been good. Busy.” I smile tightly.

“Busy?” Jenn shrieks. “I hope Andy isn’t working you too hard, sweetie.”

I look across the table to see Jenn swat her husband’s arm playfully with her napkin.

“It’s the week before holidays, honey,” she chides Andy playfully.

“ Honey ,” Andy says almost mockingly. “With playoffs fast approaching and trade deadlines coming up, this is one of the busiest times in the industry.” He offers me a contrite smile.

“How has your week been?” I ask Simon, not that I really care. But I feel the need to change the subject away from Andy and sports and the possibility of bringing up his clients. Specifically of the six-foot-four, green-eyed type who’s had his tongue deep inside of me.

“Busy, too,” Simon answers with a nod. But that’s it. He’s not much of a talker… no wonder he can’t find a woman.

I wish Dallas was here. At least he isn’t boring.

As the conversation shifts to some benefit Jenn is organizing on behalf of one of the many boards she’s on, my mind drifts to Dallas, and my heart lurches in my chest because it’s only then that I realize I miss him. Like really miss him.

We haven’t spoken much since our FaceTime call went from literal phone sex to me confessing about tonight and it ending with an obvious weight hanging over us. Since then, we’ve shared text messages, but it’s been strained, even in text form. I know he’s been busy, and I also know he might not be too happy considering they’ve lost all three games they’ve played this week, but I miss him and I just wish I could see him. But he arrived back in town this morning, and it’s not lost on me that I haven’t heard from him.

I try to conceal the forlorn sigh that racks through me as I eat my soup, offering the occasional smile as Jenn continues talking, but we’re suddenly interrupted by the sound of what I can only assume to be the doorbell chiming the tune of “Joy To The World.” Again, rich people.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Andy asks Jenn quietly, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“No.” Jenn shakes her head. “Unless it’s an Amazon delivery then… guilty as charged.” She playfully holds her hands in the air with a light giggle which makes me smile.

“They do deliver at all times during the holidays,” Simon says and I almost roll my eyes because there’s just something so condescending about him.

The waiter enters the dining room, looking at Andy. “Shall I answer it?”

“Oh, yes, please.” Andy smiles.

The man exits the rooms, his footsteps disappearing down the stairs.

“So, Emily—” Jenn looks at me with a big smile. “What are your plans for Christmas?”

“I’m heading home to my parents’ house in Staten Island, and we’ll probably stay there for a few days.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Jenn swoons. “I love a family Christmas.”

I glance around, noting the decorations that hang about. “Do you… celebrate… Christmas?” I don’t want to come across as rude, or worse, ignorant, but I’m not aware of Jewish people celebrating Christmas so much as Hannukah.

Jenn and Andy look at one another, sharing a knowing smile. “Our families are more traditional, but we celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas. The kids love it.”

“I like that.” I smile.

“Mr. Hoffman, sir?”

We’re interrupted by the waiter appearing in the doorway, his smile wavering a touch. The man steps aside and I drop my spoon, causing my soup to slosh over the sides of my bowl when I catch sight of Dallas standing there, his big frame filling the doorway, dressed down in jeans and a New York Thunder hoodie .

“Dallas?” Andy pushes up from his chair, brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Dallas scans the room, moving from Andy to me, to Jenn, to Simon, back to me, that well-versed dimpled grin firmly in place. I shrink a little in my seat.

Looking back to Andy, he throws his hands in the air with a laugh. “Since when do I need an invitation to stop by?”

Andy clears his throat, glancing at me before looking to Jenn. “We’re just having dinner...” He indicates the table.

“What are we eatin’?” Dallas steps inside, assessing the dishes on the table.

“Shabbat,” Simon answers a little too abruptly for my liking.

“Enough for one more?” Dallas arches a brow.

“I mean…” Andy grits his teeth. “You’re not really dressed the part.”

“Oh…” Dallas’s gaze meets mine across the table before looking at Simon and seemingly sizing him up. “Well, you can just give me one of those little hat thingies.” He indicates the top of his head and I press my lips together, averting my gaze down to the table, mortified on his behalf.

“Why don’t you and I just go out and grab some lunch tomorrow?” Andy suggests, his smile obviously forced.

“Oh… okay…” Dallas’s shoulders fall, along with his boyish grin, and I think I feel my heart crack. “I’ll just go. Sorry…” He turns then and heads for the doorway, and I swear I’m on the verge of pushing up from my chair and following him out. But thankfully, before it comes to that, Jenn steps in.

“Andy!” she chastises, standing from her chair. “Dallas, honey. Don’t leave. There’s more than enough to go around.” She rushes over, stopping Dallas.

“I don’t want to impose,” he says.

“Don’t be silly. You’re a part of the family,” Jenn assures him.

With a hopeful smile, Dallas turns back around, allowing Jenn to guide him around the table, offering him her seat conveniently across from me. And as Andy hops up to rearrange the seating, Jenn turns to the sideboard and rifles through the basket of yarmulkes, and Simon disappears into the next room to retrieve another dining chair, all while Dallas takes his place at the table, and I don’t miss the conspiratorial wink he flashes me the moment he sits down. And I blanche. This was all some sort of plan?

Shaking my head, I bite back my smile because what a dirty, little liar. But then, as Simon reappears with a chair, and as Andy returns to his place at the table, and as Jenn carefully pins a yarmulke in place on Dallas’s head, I feel a sneakered foot touch mine under the table, ankle linking mine, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek, forcing my gaze downwards.

As everyone returns to their places, Simon smiling at me and scooting even closer while Dallas’s ankle is entwined around mine, I can’t help but finish the rest of my wine with a few big, very uncouth gulps because this night just turned a whole lot more interesting and a hell of a lot more dangerous. I think I’m going to need all the wine I can get my hands on without causing a scene.