by Amy Pine
“Yeah,” she admitted. “You should probably drop me back at the house.”
She’d take care of business, clear her head, and then figure out how to break the news to her twenty-two-year-old daughter that she was about to not only get married but also lose her status as only child.
Piece of homemade red velvet cake—with cream cheese frosting on top.
She hoped.
Chapter Eight
Surprise!” Ethan said as he and Gabi approached the already occupied table at Batter and Berries, his sister’s favorite brunch spot in the city.
Gabi had taken a step back, camera at the ready.
“I want to capture this moment for you,” she’d said on the walk over from his condo, and although he’d smiled at her gesture, there was something pained behind it she knew he didn’t want her to see.
Without warning, a young woman Gabi assumed to be Ethan’s sister Nora sprang up from her chair and wrapped her brother in a huge hug.
“You’re here! Welcome home, little bro!” She squeezed him tight as Gabi watched the reunion from behind the lens.
She let him go, and Gabi stood there, aiming her camera at his parents, who hadn’t left their own seats. In fact, they hadn’t even smiled.
It took several seconds, but Gabi finally lowered the camera, letting it hang around her neck as she stared along with Ethan at two people who simply looked at him like he owed them an explanation. Which she was guessing now that he did.
Ethan slipped his hand into Gabi’s, giving her a reassuring squeeze. They were going to like her, right? How could they not be happy that their son had come home after months in Ireland in love with a nice Jewish girl he wanted to marry?
“Ethan,” his father said stiffly as he stood and shook his son’s hand.
“Ethan, oh my goodness!” his mother added, and Gabi was relieved to hear the joy in her voice. “What a wonderful surprise. You really caught your father off guard!” His mother rose, tucking her salt-and-pepper chin-length hair behind one ear as she smiled warmly. She threw her arms around her son, squeezing him tight.
“I was afraid you were never coming back,” she whispered, but Gabi still heard the words—and the tremor in his mother’s voice.
“Mom,” he said with a laugh. “I was always coming back. I just needed a reason.”
Ethan’s mom finally took a step back, her eyes locking on Gabi. “Who’s your friend? And…What’s the champagne for?” Her smile morphed from warm to wary as soon as the last word left her mouth.
Gabi’s palm grew cold and clammy against his.
“Nora, Mom, Dad, this is Gabi Bloom, my fiancée.”
Nora squealed and threw herself at Gabi with even more exuberance than she had Ethan.
“Oh!” Gabi said as Nora welcomed her with unrestrained zeal. “Um, hi? Nice to meet you?” Her words came out as a mumble into his sister’s long, dark hair.
“Gabi.” Mr. Harris extended a hand. “So nice to meet you. Had we known you two were coming, we would have gotten a bigger table.”
“Nonsense, Robert,” Mrs. Harris said. “We can fit five. We just need to ask for extra chairs and place settings.” She flagged down a hostess. “Can we have another chair, please?”
In a matter of seconds, all five of them were seated, and Nora had put in an order for a carafe of orange juice to turn their champagne into mimosas.
“So,” Ethan’s mother said. “I understand you needing some distance from home, but we barely heard from you for more than six months. We worried about you. And now you spring a fiancée on us?” She raised her brows and glanced at Gabi. “No offense to you, dear. You seem lovely. But surely you know Ethan’s mental health suffered after the accident. It’s a wonder we let him get on that plane to Ireland in the first place let alone put up with him cutting us off for half a year.”
Gabi opened her mouth to respond, but what could she say? She had no idea what the woman was talking about.
Ethan gave her a pleading look and squeezed her knee under the table. Then he turned his attention back to his mother.
“I called every other Sunday and texted on the ones I didn’t.”
She sighed. “And I labored with you for thirty-six hours with no epidural only to have an emergency C-section because you went and wrapped that cord around your neck. I swear, you’re always getting yourself into these situations from which you need to be rescued.”
Ethan groaned.
“I think twenty-three years is the statute of limitations for having to apologize for what I did as a fetus. As for rescuing, I meant what I said when I left for Ireland. I am grateful for all you and Dad have done for me this past year, with letting me take my time to come to terms with my injury. But I’m okay, Mom. I’m better than okay. And Gabi is not a situation I need to be rescued from.”
Mrs. Harris turned to Gabi. “So you know what happened?”
“Mom,” Nora said. “Can’t we at least get a nice buzz going before you put poor Gabi on the chopping block?”
“It’s okay,” Gabi said, even if the words came out shakily. “I—I don’t know what happened. And I’m guessing I probably should.”
She’d asked, hadn’t she? That first night? But he’d kissed her instead, and she hadn’t objected. But she also hadn’t asked again because of their rule—the stupid rule that she’d made up, and now she was in the dark, suddenly feeling like she knew next to nothing about the man she’d fallen in love with.
“There’s not that much to tell,” Ethan finally said. “I went to school on a soccer scholarship. I actually had a shot at going pro—until I tore my ACL at an early-season game last September.”
Gabi sucked in a sharp breath. “That was it? The end of your dream?”
Ethan nodded, and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “The surgery and recuperation took me out for the rest of the season. The fallback was always going to be working at my dad’s accounting firm, eventually becoming a CPA. I like numbers, so it’s not so bad. And now that I’m home, that’s what I’ll do.”
Ethan’s mom crossed her arms. “What about the depression? And the…” She leaned close and whispered so that only those at the table would hear. “The medication?”
Ethan blew out a breath. “Jesus, Mom. Talking about antidepressants isn’t like swearing in synagogue.”
She scoffed. “Your sister was six when she did that, and she still maintains you put her up to it.”
“He totally did,” Nora said with sly grin.
Ethan held his hands up in surrender. “And I maintain I was too young to have seen Die Hard and could not have known the phrase Yippee ki yay mother—”
“Ethan!” his mom softly shouted.
He and Nora laughed. Gabi forced a smile, trying to take advantage of the levity, but she was still reeling from having just learned about a very painful part of Ethan’s past.
Ethan’s mom sighed. “You’ll be a parent one day,” she said. “And then you’ll know. The worry never ends. From the positive pregnancy test until you take your last breath, it never, ever, ends.”
He draped an arm over his mother’s shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “Can we also not talk about taking last breaths today? If no one is dying, I don’t really think we need to go there.”
“Fine,” his mother agreed. “Is she Jewish?”
“I’m—right here,” Gabi said, reminding them. “And yes…I am Jewish.” At least that was a win, right?
Ethan groaned. “Yes. But that’s purely coincidence. I’d have fallen in love with her anyway.”
He kissed her hand again, and Gabi started to relax.
“What about your children? Will my grandchildren be bar or bat mitzvahed? Will they swear at Yom Kippur services?”
“Mom…We just got engaged yesterday. Can we put the bar mitzvah on the back burner? We haven’t even discussed whether or not we want kids yet.”
“Thirty-six hours of labor, and this is the thanks I get? No grandchildren?”
Scratch that. There w
ould be no relaxing at brunch today. At least, not until the bubbly began to flow.
* * *
Gabi’d had her share of alcoholic beverages throughout her college experience, but somehow she’d missed out on the glory that was the mimosa. So when their server brought her French toast flight—because yes, Batter and Berries had a freaking delicious French toast flight—and her glass was empty, Nora sprang up from the table.
“There’s a Walgreens on the corner. I’ll grab another bottle. Thank goodness for BYOB, amiright?”
She was gone as quickly as she’d stood.
“She likes her mimosas.” Ethan laughed.
But Gabi knew that her sister-in-law-to-be had probably realized that one bottle among five people was hardly enough to cut the tension between Ethan and Gabi and his parents.
She directed her attention toward Ethan’s father. “So, Mr. Harris, I’d love to hear about your accounting firm.”
Accounting was probably the last thing Gabi wanted to talk about right now, but she would do whatever it took to get on Mr. and Mrs. Harris’s good side—and to truly get to know the man she was going to marry.
The older man nodded once, then glanced at his son. “We crunch numbers for some pretty big companies throughout the city. Ethan’s going to be a busy man now that he’s done hiding out in Europe.”
Okay. Looked like that was all she was going to get. Maybe Mrs. Harris was the one to butter up now that Gabi was no longer getting the third degree.
“Um, Mrs. Harris, Ethan hasn’t yet told me what you do.”
The quartet of French toast slices in front of her made her mouth water, but no one had taken a single bite of their food yet. Maybe they were waiting for Nora’s return. Maybe they all subsisted on tension alone and didn’t need tangible sustenance. But Gabi was the daughter of a pastry chef. Food accompanied every occasion, and people ate the food they were given.
Her stomach growled, so she took a sip of her water instead, attempting to keep it at bay.
“I volunteer for our synagogue’s program and event planning committee,” she said. “I was a wedding planner before I got pregnant with Ethan. After he was born…He was such a colicky baby—still has some reflux and gas issues—”
“Jesus, Mom…” Ethan interrupted.
She held her hands up in mock surrender. “What? I’m just pointing out that you needed a lot of my attention when you were a baby and in your toddler years. Don’t you think these are things your fiancée should know?” She turned back to Gabi. “He needed his tonsils out, his adenoids. They had to put in ear tubes to drain all the fluid that kept giving him ear infections. He was a very needy child.”
Ethan shook his head, rolled his eyes, and tipped his already empty champagne flute against his lips.
“I’m baaack,” Nora sang as she strode up to the table with a bottle of bubbly in either hand. “And it looks like y’all need this.”
Gabi reached for one of the bottles, and Ethan’s sister handed it over willingly.
She’d never opened a bottle of champagne before, but it was amazing what you could accomplish through sheer will and a desperate need for more liquid courage.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan aiming his phone at her. She glanced at him, and he raised his brows, amused.
Great. Now he was going all photographer on her. Stealing her job. Well, that just meant she had to impress since the moment would be immortalized on a smartphone.
She took a deep breath, removed the wire that held the cork in place, and popped it with ease. She yelped with laughter, but her accomplishment was short-lived—her aim had been off, the small projectile nailing Mr. Harris directly in the throat.
“Oh my God!” Gabi cried.
Robert Harris made a choking sound—and then threw his hands over his throat in what was, of course, the universal sign for choking.
“Dad!” Nora shrieked.
Ethan said nothing. He set his phone down and calmly rose, maneuvering his way behind his father’s chair.
“I need you to stand, Dad, okay?” he said firmly. “Can you do that?”
Ethan’s mother stood, hand held over her mouth, her eyes wide. Around them, the restaurant had gone silent as Robert Harris nodded, his face crimson as he struggled and stood.
Three Heimlich thrusts later, and a mouthful of banana French toast went soaring straight into Ruth Harris’s chest.
She gasped, dry-heaving as the glob of food rolled down her torso and to the floor, and then she rounded the table to where her husband stood, stunned yet breathing, one hand wrapped around his midsection while the other rubbed the already visible bruise on his neck.
“Robert!” Mrs. Harris placed her palms on his cheeks. “Are you okay? How many times have I told you to take smaller bites?”
He cleared his throat, then narrowed his eyes at Gabi, who held the champagne bottle, its open end still pointed at its unintended target.
“She shot me in the throat.” He gritted his teeth. “And I think Ethan broke one of my ribs.” He winced.
Mrs. Harris pulled a valet ticket out of her husband’s pocket and handed it to Nora. “Have them bring our car around. I’m taking your father to the emergency room.”
Nora took the ticket and disappeared toward the front of the restaurant.
Gabi was frozen. From behind his father, Ethan raised a brow and nodded toward the makeshift weapon still in her grip.
“Shit,” she hissed, then with trembling hands set the bottle gingerly onto the table.
“Car’s here!” Nora jogged up to the table. “I’d offer to drive you, but I’m a little buzzed.”
Ethan’s mother blew out a breath and put her hand on his father’s back. “I’ll drive.”
“Fine,” Robert Harris said. “But I don’t want to stay in the city. Take me somewhere closer to home. I’m not paying for parking on top of all this.”
“Nora, honey,” Mrs. Harris said. “Come with us, will you? My nerves are shot, and I don’t want to wait alone if they take your father for any X-rays.”
Nora glanced at Ethan and Gabi and shrugged. “Sure. Yeah. Okay. I’ll find a way back to the city later.”
Ethan’s mom gave him one last glance and shook her head. “And you said no one was taking their last breath today.”
And with that, Nora and Mrs. Harris led Ethan’s father away from the table and out the door.
“I’m so, so sorry, Ethan,” Gabi said.
He didn’t look at her. He was still staring in the direction his family had gone without so much as acknowledging the amazing thing he’d done. “Don’t worry. You might have choked him, but I broke his goddamned rib. We’re accomplices now.”
Gabi winced. “You should maybe delete the photo,” she said gently.
Ethan huffed out a laugh. “It was a video.”
Oh God.
She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “Want to go back to your place and do all the things my father’s afraid we might do alone in a bed together?”
They still needed to talk about his injury and scholarship and all the things she maybe should have known before meeting Ethan’s family—before saying yes to marrying him. But right now she needed to do whatever it took to erase the most recent events of today’s brunch from both of their minds.
Ethan’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a small chuckle as he finally turned his gaze to hers. “Okay,” he said. “But on one condition.”
She nodded. “You name it.”
“Never again mention the F word when propositioning me for sex.”
Her brows drew together. “F word? Oh! You mean fath—”
“Nope!” Ethan pressed his hand gently over her mouth and then replaced it with his lips on hers. “That word is stricken from our vocabulary until further notice, okay?” he said softly against her.
She laughed, then stood on her toes so she could whisper in his ear. “Let’s get out of here, then. Because I can think of three other F words you�
�re really going to like, and it’s not legal to do them here.”
“Wrap it up!” Ethan called out to whatever server was nearby. “Taking it all to go!”
Chapter Nine
You did what?” Alissa asked her daughter. She’d put the phone on speaker and set it on the kitchen counter so she could balance on a chair next to the refrigerator, on top of which she hoped to find some unused double A batteries.
“Shot Robert Harris in the throat with a champagne cork and almost choked him. Ethan just got word that he did not break any of his father’s ribs while saving his life with the Heimlich, but oh my God, Mom. I almost killed my future father-in-law. I think I’ve ruined my marriage before even choosing a rabbi.”
Alissa grimaced at the dust on top of the fridge and vowed to clean it later. Right now all she cared about was the Tupperware container that hopefully held the answer to her latest pregnancy symptom.
She grabbed said container and lowered herself gingerly from the kitchen chair.
“Mom?” she heard Gabi say. “Are you there?”
“Bingo!” Alissa retrieved the last two double A batteries in her possession, but two was all she needed. “Sorry, hon. I’m here. Just trying to multitask. And you did not ruin your marriage. If a guy looked at me the way Ethan looked at you…” I wouldn’t be single, knocked up, and scrounging for batteries.
Gabi sighed. “I think I’m going to stay in the city for the rest of the weekend. Ethan’s going to drive me to Miriam’s parents’ place so I can surprise her as soon as Shabbat’s over.” She cleared her throat. “Unless—unless you want me to come home. I know I just got back and everything…”
Alissa missed her daughter like crazy, but it would be selfish to keep her home when she clearly wanted to be with Ethan. Sure, she had an Audrey Hepburn movie marathon ready to go, having expected weekends to go much like they had whenever Gabi had come home from school before.
But Gabi wasn’t her baby girl, home for a school break and wanting to spend every last minute with her mom. She was a woman—an engaged woman—with her whole life ahead of her, which Alissa was beginning to realize would include less of Gabi wanting to be with only her.