He continues staring ahead for a beat, all that mirth and levity that’s lined his face for the last hour temporarily muted. “My parents are great ...” He stops. “But I think they’re gonna make too big a deal of me being home.”
“If it makes you feel any better, my family’s a tornado that can’t notice anything I do. So maybe the grass is always greener.”
“I’d love to be in a tornado where no one’s asking about me.”
“Well, maybe we should buffer each other’s families,” I joke, laughing at the absurdity. But when I look back over at him, his expression has turned thoughtful. “What?”
“It’s not a bad idea,” he says, and I can feel the fizz of that one glass of champagne bubbling through me as my pulse suddenly speeds up.
“What’s not a bad idea?”
“I can stand up for you with your family on Hanukkah, and you can distract my family on Christmas.”
I fully turn toward him, to try and see the hint of the joke, yet there’s nothing but that impish smile back, as though this ridiculous suggestion might befun. And after that hint of sadness, I find myself wanting to keep the fun for him as long as possible.
“You’re serious?”
“Well, I’ve been dreading sitting around Charleston with nothing but time on my hands. It sounds like it would help you, and be entertaining for me. Besides, I live in New York. Everyone in New York should know more about Hanukkah.”
“Well, the first step is realizing Hanukkah is eight nights and Christmas is one.”
“You come with me for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and that’llmorethan make up for eight nights of hanging with a loud family.”
“I don’t even know your name,” I say with a chuckle.
He holds out a hand. “Cal Durand.”
I put my hand in his, and it dwarfs mine. My whole body feels it, a current that warms me all the way through. Maybe heislike the sun.
“Miriam Brody.”
“What do you think, Miriam Brody?”
“I think ...” I let myself imagine it: showing up with a guy on my arm after never bothering to bring anyone home. No one could baby me if I showed up with Cal. Man, would it be satisfying to surprise my family for once.
And for some reason, I trust Cal. Even after only an hour, some gut feeling is telling me that he’s a good man who, like me, needs some way to avoid the drudgery of whatever his family brings out in him. Maybe we both need a little lighthearted holiday fun.
“I think ... I’m in?” I say, and his nose crinkles with delight, like a child getting to play. “But what am I supposed to introduce you as? My emotional support giant?”
I get that boisterous laugh again and can’t help but smile. “Just say I’m your boyfriend,” he suggests with a shrug.
I can’t stop looking at his mouth. Pretending to date a man I’m wildly attracted to suddenly seems like trying to cross the street in the middle of traffic—impulsively fun but almost certainly highly stupid.
I look up and I can see he’s caught me staring, his smirk playful. “We have to set some ground rules,” I cough out.
“By all means,” he says.
“Well ... no sleeping over, obviously.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he chuckles.
“Hand-holding and like ... basic stuff like that ... I guess it has to be okay, or no one would buy it.”
He nods. “Agree.”
“That easy, huh?”
“You’re the quarterback, and I’m just blocking. Sometimes you’ve gotta hold a hand in the process,” he says.
