by Amy Pine
“Oh God,” Gabi said. “You’re not thinking—”
“About my penis?” T.J. said, still on his counter perch, and the two women realized he was not part of the animated conversation happening between the remaining kitchen occupants.
“No!” Gabi insisted.
But Miriam simply shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’ll probably forget about it by the time the turkey is carved.” She turned back to Gabi. “I’m so honored that you want me to do this, but you and Ethan and those two lovely folks who found it within their hearts—and other parts—to give you life are going to have to go out there now and tell everyone. I think it’s best if Wonder Dick and I give you a minute before you have to break the news. Plus, I want a front-row seat.”
T.J. hopped off the counter and threw his arm around Miriam’s shoulders. “You’re going to introduce me to everyone out there as Wonder Dick, right?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Miriam quipped as they made their way through the swinging doors and out into the melee of grandparents, future in-laws, and rabbis.
Gabi clapped her hands together. “Okay. Mom? Dad? How about you warm up the crowd maybe by telling them how much you support me and Ethan to make our own decisions about the wedding. You know…soften the blow before Ethan and I lay it on everyone that there will be a Jewish officiant but not necessarily a rabbi?”
Gabi’s mom and dad narrowed their eyes at her and at Ethan, then looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Gabi looked at Ethan. His furrowed brow matched her own.
“What?” she asked them when their synchronous laughter tapered to a few quiet giggles. “Are you two drunk because I thought that was the job of your Gen Z guests?”
Gabi’s mother shook her head while her father pressed his palms firmly against the island as if he needed to keep from falling.
“I tried telling your grandmother,” her mom said. “When she walked in with Rabbi Becker, I tried.”
“And I haven’t even had a chance to confront my parents yet,” her father added. “And now Ethan’s parents?” He scrubbed a hand over his bearded jaw, another laugh escaping his lips.
“I don’t get it,” Gabi said. “Why is this funny?”
Her mother held out her hands as if to say Ta da! “This is it!” she said. “Welcome to marriage.” When Gabi’s father shot her mother a glance, she cleared her throat before continuing. “Or—combining families, I should say. You might think it’s all about the two of you and how much you love each other and your lives together…and a lot of it is.”
“But it’s also about running interference,” her dad chimed in, like the two of them had this whole speech prepared ahead of time. Gabi wouldn’t be surprised if one of them threw open a laptop and launched a slide presentation to accompany. “Especially at family gatherings. Do you want to know why the host never actually has a second to sit down and eat?”
“Because we’re putting out fires everywhere,” her mom said. “But guess what, sweetheart?” She rounded the corner of the island to approach her daughter, pressing a palm to Gabi’s cheek. “And Ethan. Sweet Ethan.” She covered his cheek with her other palm. “I might be the host tonight, but all of those little fires out there are yours.”
Gabi swallowed. She heard Ethan do the same. And then together, in their own unplanned synchronicity, they both said, “Shit.”
“Here,” her mother said, grabbing a half-empty bottle of red from the counter and topping off their glasses. “You took a ride share from the train, right?”
Gabi and Ethan both nodded.
“Good,” Alissa said. “Then drink up, let that liquid courage sink in, and get on out there and put out some fires!”
Gabi’s father raised his glass. “Cheers to the happy couple! To Gabi and Edward!” Alissa elbowed him in the ribs, and he coughed. “Gabi and Ethan,” he amended. “Tough crowd.”
Ethan let out a nervous laugh. “You’re really sending us out there alone?”
“To tell everyone we’re not having a rabbi at the wedding before they’ve even eaten?” Gabi added.
The kitchen’s saloon doors swung inward, and Miriam popped her pink head through the opening. “Y’all need to come quick!” she said, her cheeks flushed. “There is a rabbi tug-of-war going on that you do not want to miss.”
T.J.’s head appeared above hers, like they were two-thirds of a snowman. “And also,” he added, “I think the two younger ones are on the verge of either making out or killing each other. Whichever one it ends up being, hurry!”
“And here I thought Gigi would have her rabbi leading a meditation circle,” Alissa mused. “Can’t imagine how it all went wrong.” This time Gabi’s father gave her mother a soft elbow to the side.
Miriam and T.J. were still positively giddy while Gabi thought she might actually throw up. She couldn’t decipher anything being shouted from the living room, but simply from the volume that continued to crescendo she knew it couldn’t be anything good.
Ethan drained his glass and set it firmly down on the island. Then he set his stormy blue eyes on Gabi. She’d never seen him look so—so fearless when he was sure to get his ass kicked. Emotionally speaking, of course.
“I’ll do it,” he said with hearty conviction. “I asked you to marry me. I started all this. The only part that mattered to me was that you said yes. And you did, which means I can do this. For us. Because—”
“Oh for the love of karaoke. I’m not letting you go out there alone,” Gabi said, and Ethan let out a relieved breath. It was really sexy—and sweet—that he’d offer to go to battle for her. But her parents were right. This was marriage or blending their families or whatever they wanted to call it.
It was the two of them.
Together.
“Thank fucking hell,” he said with a nervous laugh.
Gabi finished her wine as well, then grabbed her fiancé’s hand.
“Come on!” Miriam beckoned from the door, T.J.’s maniacally grinning face still perched above hers.
“Avengers Assemble!” Gabi’s parents called out, once again in perfect unison.
She rolled her eyes at them, but the corner of her mouth curled up. Because she did feel a little invincible with Ethan by her side.
“You ready, Green Lantern?” she asked, grinning at the man by her side.
“Hell yes,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “But we have got to work on your superhero references.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alissa and Matthew were playing the part of the two-thirds snowman, her poking her head through a just-wide-enough opening in the kitchen doors and Matthew’s peeking out just above hers.
“Should we go out there?” he whispered.
“Shhh!” Alissa whispered back, then added, “No!” She tilted her head up, trying to get a look at him like he was in the Brady Bunch square above hers, but it was no use. This was not the optimal arrangement for a serious conversation—or any conversation for that matter. “If Gabi’s grown up enough to get married,” she continued, “then she’s grown up enough to do the uncomfortable grown-up stuff that grown-ups have to do.”
Matthew chuckled above her. “When did we turn into grown-ups?”
Alissa sighed. “I’m still not sure we have. Look at them out there. They’re doing way better than we ever did.” She heard Matthew take a breath, likely to respond, but she shushed him again. “Wait! Gabi and Ethan are talking.”
“…want to thank you all for wanting to contribute to our special day. It means the world to us,” Ethan was saying.
“But,” Gabi continued. “Because it’s our special day, we want the person who marries us to be someone who’s a special part of our lives, which is why we’ve both asked my maid of honor and my very best friend, Miriam, to marry us.” Miriam stepped up to Gabi’s side, the two young women linking hands.
“But—she’s not a rabbi,” Matthew’s mother said.
Gabi shook her head. “No. She’s
not.”
“Is she some sort of minister or judge?” Matthew’s mother added.
Gabi shook her head again. “Nope. She’s neither a minister nor a judge, last I checked.”
“Will her hair still be pink at the wedding?” Ethan’s mom tossed out for good measure.
Miriam barked out a laugh. “Of course not,” she said. “I thought a deep blue might go better with my dress.”
It was quiet enough that it might have gone undetected amid the murmur of the living room crowd, but Alissa saw her father’s shoulders shake as he chuckled next to his wife. Then he shook his head, took a sip of his wine, and somehow caught Alissa’s eye across the distance.
He winked at her, and Alissa’s heart squeezed.
“Actually,” Rabbi Becker said, joining the conversation, “they can have a Jewish ceremony without a rabbi, at least in the eyes of our congregation. All you need are the rings and two witnesses for the signing of the ketubah. I think it’s lovely you’d want someone who’s been such a special part of your life to officiate.”
“Ketubah?” T.J. asked.
“Jewish wedding contract,” Miriam answered.
“See?” Gabi said. “She’s totally qualified.”
From there the Gabi-Ethan-Miriam presentation began to better resemble a high school classroom ninety seconds before the bell rang—everyone talking at once trying to make themselves heard before the teacher made them all zip it for the following forty-five minutes.
“You’re right,” Matthew said above her. “We were never this good at adulting.”
She reached behind her and patted his knee. “Let’s give them some privacy.” Then she straightened, groaning as her back protested.
She and Matthew backed themselves into the kitchen once more.
“What hurts?” he asked, placing his hands gently on her shoulders and turning her to face him.
“My lower back,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself. “I sound like a geriatric—just like my chart says at Becca’s office.”
Matthew chuckled. “I’m already forty. What does that mean for me?”
Alissa smiled. “Maybe it means we can apply for the senior discount at the movie theater?”
“Or start eating dinner at four p.m.?” Matthew added.
“And moaning and groaning every time we get out of bed or up from a chair,” Alissa said. “Wait. I already do that. It’s just—since I’ve started showing, I think I’ve been trying to hide it not only with clothing but also with my posture, and it’s catching up with me.”
Matthew blew out a breath and wrapped his hands around her waist. “Come here.”
“What are you—?” But before she could finish her question, his knuckles were kneading her lower back, and this time Alissa moaned for a whole new reason.
Alissa let her head drop to his chest, and she wrapped her arms around his waist for purchase.
“Oh. My. God. That. Feels. Good,” she said, her words muffled against his sweater. She breathed him in, the smell of fresh soap mingling with the earthy scent of fallen leaves, like he was the walking embodiment of her favorite season—autumn.
“What happened with us, Liss?” he breathed into her ear. “I keep thinking that we’re about to get it right, but then we take, like, five steps backward.”
He was still massaging her back, which made it hard to focus, but she didn’t want him to stop. But not feeling the physical pain she’d literally been carrying with her for weeks meant she had to take stock of what it all represented—the emotional toll of not only the past several months but also the past twenty-plus years.
“It’s my fault,” she said after a few beats.
He pressed his knuckles deep into her lower back, eliciting from her a soft moan. It felt good to be taken care of, if only for a few minutes. But then he stopped, as if just now hearing her.
“What?” he asked. “What do you mean your fault? Because I’ve been walking around with this complicated mix of loving you but not feeling like I could ever fit into your life for years. You know that, right? That I’ve always loved you? It doesn’t matter where I’ve traveled or who I might have—um—spent my time with along the way. I have only ever loved one woman in my life, and that’s you.”
This was it, her opening. All she had to do was turn around and tell him that she loved him too, that she was ready to take the burden of their failed relationship off his shoulders and share it with him because it wasn’t all his fault, and it wasn’t all hers. They were kids when they fell in love and became parents, but they were adults now—at least according to the age printed on their driver’s licenses. Maybe it was time they let the younger versions of themselves off the hook and start fresh.
Her mouth was open to say the words, her head tilted back to meet his gaze, but then—his ass vibrated. Well, the left pocket of his jeans, over which her right palm had slid, vibrated. Again and again.
“I think your ass needs you,” she said with a soft laugh. “Here.” She slid her hand into his pocket. “Let me help.”
Matthew raised a brow and grinned. “I do love the way you offer assistance, Freckles.”
Her stomach flip-flopped at his use of her nickname. And then she caught a glance of the caller’s ID on his phone screen—UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO—and that flip-flop turned to full-on nausea, so much so that it rivaled her worst days of morning sickness.
His brows drew together as her expression changed from flirtation to something between fury and defeat. When she brandished the screen at him, recognition bloomed in his own expression, and Alissa knew she hadn’t overreacted.
“Shit,” he hissed. “I’m sorry. Liss. I need to answer that.” He took the phone and answered the call. “Hey. Pete. Yeah. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow. Hang on while I get somewhere quieter so we can talk.” Matthew covered the phone’s speaker and looked at Alissa who, although she wanted to, could not seem to look away from him. “I’ll explain. I promise. I just—I have to take this.”
With that he backed away, toward the door at the other end of the kitchen that led to the backyard, and eventually out the door. She barely had a moment to react when she heard the kitchen doors swing open behind her.
“Incoming!” Becca said, brushing past her sister and heading toward the refrigerator. “And it’s time for more wine.”
Her sister wasn’t alone. Standing beside her at the fridge was—T.J. He grabbed various white wine bottles from Becca as she pulled them from whatever wine-bottle-shaped crevices Alissa had been able to find among all the Thanksgiving foodstuffs.
T.J. spun back toward Alissa once he was holding two bottles per hand and raised them in the air, triumphant. “No guest shall go thirsty!” he roared, then strode out the doors once more.
Becca—her cheeks flushed—followed not far behind, pausing only when she must have noticed the distressed/confused look on her sister’s face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, but Alissa couldn’t get into the Matthew Colorado situation. Not now. Not here.
“How about, what was that?” Alissa asked, nodding toward the kitchen doors.
Becca shrugged. “Glasses were empty, as were bottles, and after the no rabbi bomb Gabi and Ethan just dropped, we figured it was time for damage control.”
“We,” Alissa said. “As in you and your new friend T.J., who has your cheeks turning the color of that cocktail dress of yours you still haven’t let me borrow.”
Becca rolled her eyes. “He—he thought I was one of Gabi’s friends and not her aunt. Excuse me if I want to let my ego bask in the glow of a guy like that—or any guy for that matter—finding me attractive.”
Alissa opened her mouth to ask what the hell that meant because Becca was gorgeous, and so was Jeff, and…But she didn’t get a chance to speak as her sister pressed a palm to Alissa’s growing belly and cut her off. “And it’s not that I won’t let you borrow the dress, but you went and got yourself knocked up, and despite the great shape you’re i
n this far into the pregnancy, it’s not going to fit for a while, sweetie.”
Right. Pregnancy. Matt. Colorado. Was the room spinning out of control? Alissa braced herself against the counter.
“Knocked up?” a male voice asked from over Alissa’s shoulder.
Nope. Not the room. Just Alissa’s entire life, right here in this kitchen—out of control.
“Shit!” Becca hissed, looking up from her sister’s belly. “I wasn’t watching the door!”
Alissa’s pulse quickened, and for a second she thought she might faint but knew this time if she did she would not be able to explain it away with the summer heat. So she gripped her sister’s hand for purchase and pivoted toward the voice even though she already knew who it was. What she didn’t know was whether or not Ethan was alone.
When she saw that he was, she almost burst into tears with relief.
“Ethan,” she said, trying to calm the tremor in her voice. “We’re telling Gabi tonight. I promise. So please, please don’t say anything until Matt and I can find the right moment.”
Ethan’s eyes widened. “Gabi’s dad is the—the dad?”
The doors swung open again, Alissa’s parents barreling through this time.
“Is Matthew out back?” Evelyn Adler asked.
“I’ll help him get the turkey from the grill,” Michael Adler added, and Alissa realized that Becca was right. The rabbi thing was over, which meant the guests needed to be occupied with the main event of the evening—Thanksgiving dinner—giving Alissa approximately zero time to process that despite Matt telling her he’d always loved her and that he was here to stay, he was considering a job in Colorado.
Alissa’s father didn’t wait for her to answer. He simply kept walking toward the back door.
Evelyn Adler leaned in and whispered in Alissa’s ear. “While I’m not thrilled about the rabbi situation, Gabi said she’d invite our rabbi, Rabbi Becker, to the wedding as a guest.” Then she kissed both her daughters on the cheek and, without being asked to do so, made her way to the oven just as the timer began to beep, indicating the sweet potatoes were done.