I turn onto Butler Street. "Would that be weird? If we went?"
"Why would it be weird?"
"Because of... us. Because it's so new."
“Nah,” she says, patting my thigh in a way that wakes up my lower half. “We’re all in, remember?”
Noa beams at me in the streetlights, and the realization hits me—the Stags had seamlessly incorporated Noa into their circle, just as her family had welcomed me. Everyone around us sees us for what we already are: a unit.
Back at her apartment, we stand before the fully lit menorah. All eight candles, plus the helper, burn brightly in her window, casting a warm glow over her face. I stand behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, my chin resting on her head.
"It's beautiful," I murmur, watching the lights reflect in the window glass. "All of them lit."
She leans back against me. "The complete festival of lights.”
Something about this moment—the culmination of eight nights, the woman in my arms, the sense of fullness and completion—overwhelms me. "Noa, I know this is fast. Probably too fast. But I think I'm falling for you."
She turns in my arms, looking up at me with those clear, intelligent eyes. "You think?"
"I know," I amend. "I'm falling for you."
She smiles, gesturing toward the blazing menorah. "You know, Hanukkah celebrates how unexpected light can change everything. One small flame that burns longer and brighter than anyone thought possible."
"Are you comparing us to a jar of oil?"
Her laugh vibrates against my chest. "I'm saying sometimes the most miraculous things begin with the smallest chance encounters. A snowstorm. A dead car battery. A book."
I kiss her then, soft and reverent, different from our earlier passionate embraces. When we part, I rest my forehead against hers. "So where do we go from here?"
"Forward," she says simply. "Together. One day at a time."
Behind us, the lights burn bright and steady, eight flames plus the helper illuminating the night—no longer a solitary ritual in a hotel room, but a shared light, a beginning.
Epilogue: Brian
Next Hanukkah…
"I told you, Tahel, the flight has to be first class. My mother has back issues." I pace the length of my office, phone pressed to my ear. I could just go up to her office, but I’ve got a lot to do today. I switch her to speaker phone. "And make sure they have a limo from the airport."
"Brian, your family is not the royal delegation." Tahel's exasperation rings clearly through the speaker. "And Newark to Pittsburgh is barely an hour’s flight."
"It's my mother's first time visiting. I want it to be perfect." I glance out my office window at the ice menorah being erected in the parking lot. "Has the fire marshal signed off on the torches?"
"Yes, for the fourth time." Paper rustles on her end. "The caterers are confirmed, the musicians know to split their time between both spaces and yes, the ice sculptor understands this needs to be 'the most impressive menorah Pittsburgh has ever seen.'"
"Good." I check my watch. "And my sister's kids?—"
"Will have appropriate Hanukkah gifts waiting in their hotel rooms, carefully selected by age and interest." Tahel sighs. "Brian, I've coordinated multi-million-dollar contract signings with less fuss. Go bother your girlfriend or something."
"Already on it," Noa announces, pushing open the door that connects my office to the bookshop. The construction that joined our businesses was completed just three months ago, transforming the vacant space between our properties into additional office space with connecting doors on both sides.
Seeing her still gives me that same jolt it did a year ago—like touching a live wire, but pleasant. She's wearing a green sweater that hugs her delicious curves and brings out the gold flecks in her eyes, her curly hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun that I know from experience will come tumbling down with one strategic tug.
"I'll call you back," I tell Tahel, disconnecting before she can protest.
"You're driving everyone crazy," Noa observes, perching on the edge of my desk. "Tahel texted me that she's considering quitting."
"She says that at least once a week." I move to stand between her knees, hands settling on her hips. "It's our first family and client event in the new space. I want it to be special."
