“No. Not that.”
“Then what?”
He stared unseeing at the sidewalk. “From the time Ilana was sixteen, I’ve watched over her and we’ve spoken at least once a day. If I didn’t hear from her, I’d call until I reached her.” It hurt to drag in a breath. “What does it say about me that I’ve barely thought about my sister in two weeks?”
Mason slipped a strong arm around his waist. “Let’s get something to eat, and I’ll tell you everything I know about who Jude Staubman is.”
Chapter Sixteen
They walked several blocks down Rivington to Orchard, and Mason was glad to see the restaurant he’d had in mind wasn’t crowded. The off-hour—three in the afternoon—was most likely the reason.
Jude gazed at the sign. “Russ and Daughters Café?”
“Where did you think I was taking you, a bar?” They entered and sat at a small table near the window. “We’re Jews. We don’t drink our problems away; we self-medicate with food. In this case, bagels and lox.”
Jude’s faint smile didn’t fool Mason. He hadn’t forgotten the painful admission he’d made—Jude honestly didn’t see the man he was, separate and apart from Ilana’s big brother and protector.
The waiter gave them menus. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I’ll take an egg cream.”
Jude’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never had one, but isn’t that also really sweet? You’re going to have a sugar overdose.”
Speaking to the waiter, Mason pointed at Jude. “Bring him one, too. And we’ll start with an order of cinnamon babka French toast.”
“Sounds good. Be back with your egg creams in a minute.”
Mason met Jude’s amused smile. “What?”
“You’re a cross between bossy man and overgrown child.” A dimple winked in the hollow of Jude’s cheek. “And very, very sweet.”
“I don’t like seeing you so confused about who you are.”
“Confused?” Jude’s dark brows knitted together. “I know who I am.”
The waiter brought over their egg creams. “Can I get you anything else besides the French toast?”
Jude gave a careless look at the menu. “Yeah. I’ll take an everything bagel with baked-salmon salad, lettuce, tomato, and red onion. Scallion cream cheese on the side.”
“Sure. For you?” The man faced Mason.
“I’ll just eat off his plate. He needs to watch his waistline.” Mason handed him the menus. “You know how it goes when you get a little older.”
Jude glowered at him. “Must you always be like that?”
Mason tore the wrapper off his straw and sucked down the cold drink with a satisfying slurp. “Mmm. I haven’t had one of these in forever. And like what?”
Jude held his straw but didn’t open it. “Like nothing matters and everything’s a joke.”
“Is that what you think? That nothing matters to me? You’re so fucking far off the mark, it’s ridiculous.” The egg cream forgotten, Mason grabbed Jude’s hand. “Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s the exact opposite. The way you’ve hidden from life is no joke. And God knows how it happened, but you matter to me. So much that it’s fucking scary. It’s like a hole opened up in my chest, in my heart, and you’ve crawled inside it, made a home, and I just want to turn out the light and hide from the world so nothing gets in our way.”
Pale and tense, Jude gazed at him. “Whoareyou?”
Surprisingly, Jude hadn’t let go of his hand. Mason liked sitting here casually, like any other couple having a late lunch on a weekend.
“I’m the same guy you knew as a teenager but with his head on straight. I know it’s hard to reconcile who I am now with that kid who used to come home drunk or got his ass thrown in jail for acting stupid, but life is all about having experiences and learning from them.” With Jude’s silence came an epiphany. “But you wouldn’t know about that.”
“What’re you talking about?”
