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The Eight Dates of Hanukkah
Tropes: Instalove, Hanukkah. M/F
The line to talk to Santa Claus snaked out of the tiny pocket park and around the corner. If the organizers had the line going the other way, Libby Kim could have been window shopping at the shoe store instead of shivering in the wind on a blustery December day in San Francisco.
A tug on her coat sleeve brought her back to the moment. She was here for Sarah, not shoe shopping. “Aunt Libby, why is Santa staring at you?”
The line had looped back so they were even with the spot where Santa sat, flanked by some kind of hyperactive elf. “I’m sure he’s not—” No, he totally was. Well. “I think he’s just looking at the line, sweetie.”
“He likes you. He likes you likes you.” Her niece was seven going on seventeen.
Libby said, “Impossible. He hasn’t even met me.” But now she was staring.
There wasn’t much to see other than his kind eyes and the way he leaned in and listened as each child sat on his lap and rattled off their wishlist while the elf pretended to take notes—no, the elf was really taking notes, then slyly handing the list to the adult when the child wasn’t looking. That elf was way too into his role.
The man playing Santa was obscured by the suit, fake beard, bushy eyebrows, and red hat. But there was something in his gaze—because Sarah was right, he really was staring at her—that grabbed Libby and wouldn’t let go.
“If Santa was your boyfriend, would you have to live at the North Pole?” Sarah had recently developed a poker face. She had to be joking. Didn’t she?
Libby bent down and whispered in her ear so the boy picking his nose ahead of them and the toddler in the stroller behind couldn’t hear. “You know Santa isn’t real, right?” She didn’t believe in letting children trust fairy tales.
Sarah’s face melted and her voice wobbled. “There’s no Santa? Noooo!” Libby’s heart dropped to her toes in the second before her niece grinned and said, “Psych!”
Deep breath out. “Okay, so if you don’t believe in Santa, why are we standing in this long line to talk to him?”
Sarah grinned and nodded toward the elf. “Because he’s going to give you a list of all the presents my parents won’t buy so you’ll know what to get for me.”
Libby put her hands on her hips, exasperated. “Just tell me.”
The girl shook her head. “This way it’s official and you can’t talk me out of it.”
This was Sarah’s way of getting Libby to buy gifts her moms had vetoed. “I’m not getting you that American Girl—”
Sarah put a hand up. “Plus, Santa wants to meet you.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
Libby knew when she was beaten. She could never say no to Sarah. It was her job to spoil her niece. Plus, she had to be Sarah’s favorite aunt, and her other aunt owned a horse farm, so the competition was fierce.
She pulled out a bag of sugar cookies they’d bought at the patisserie down the block. “Want a snack?”
“I want the other one. The ruga…” She finished the word with a sound like she was hawking up a loogie.
“Rugelach.” Libby pulled a bag out of her other pocket. The new bakery that had opened a few months ago was going all-out for the holidays.
She tried to focus on the dense, cinnamony pastry and Sarah’s increasingly impossible questions about how buildings are built, but her attention kept getting pulled back to the man in the Santa suit. By the time they reached the front of the line, her heart was beating a jittery, uneven tattoo.
For no reason. She was focused on her career. Not interested in dating. She could hear her sister’s voice in her head, saying, Translation: you’ve given up on the dating scene. It was true and she didn’t regret it. There were only so many disappointing first and second and third dates a person could go on before she needed a break.
Plus, this guy could be anyone. He could be a criminal who’d steal all her…well, she didn’t own anything valuable. But she didn’t know him, so the flutters in her stomach were undoubtedly due to the rugelach.
“Ho ho ho. What’s your name, my dear?” Sarah sat on his lap, but Santa’s gaze was fixed on Libby. She looked at her shoes, not sure what to do with herself.
“Sarah.”
“Have you been naughty or nice, Sarah?” Libby looked up and heat arced between her and…Santa.
Ridiculous.
“Very, very nice.” Sarah leaned toward the elf and loudly recited her list, including the American Girl doll she was definitely not getting.
Then she cupped her hand and said something Libby couldn’t hear while Santa leaned in. Santa whispered to her and Sarah whispered back.
He hadn’t done that with any of the other kids.
Libby had always found fake Santas slightly creepy. What kid wants to sit on the lap of some strange man with bad breath? Her parents had taken her and Leah every year, thinking it was a treat. She’d pretended she needed to go to the bathroom to “accidentally” miss her turn.
Libby took a picture of Sarah with Santa and accepted the piece of paper the elf pushed into her hand as her niece slid off Santa’s lap. It was over.
She took Sarah’s hand and turned to go. She was slightly disappointed her staring contest with the man in the red suit was over.
A hand on her arm stopped her. The elf. “You’re next.” He gestured toward Santa, who held up a hand to stop a couple trying to hand him their toddler. He waved her up.
“I can’t. Santa is for kids.”
Sarah gave Libby her trademarked Sarah Stare. “Please. It would make me happy.”
Libby bent down. “I’m going to get you for this, kiddo.”
Sarah giggled and pushed her toward Santa. She climbed the step up to his chair and tried to perch at the edge of his lap. He put a firm hand on her waist and pulled her closer.
He didn’t have bad breath. In fact, he smelled like pine. She leaned back to look behind him.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a low voice. Different from the fake bluster of his Santa voice. Rumbly and pleasant and doing things to her insides.
“Looking for the Christmas tree air freshener.”
He laughed. A real belly laugh, looking right into her eyes. Then his gaze flicked to the line of expectant kids and he flipped into Santa mode. “Ho ho ho, young lady. What do you want for Christmas?”
“Aren’t you going to ask my name?”
He leaned close to her ear and spoke softly. “Sarah told me your name. Liebe.” That was her birth name. Liebe—love. But everyone called her Libby. She was surprised Sarah even knew this fact about her.
“Did she tell you I don’t celebrate Christmas? Because I’m Jewish.” This was her standard rebuff to all things Christian and it was half-true. Hers wasn’t a religious family, but oddly, though neither of her parents grew up celebrating Christmas, they were both very invested in the holiday for their daughters and now their granddaughter.
Santa’s eyes sparkled. He had nice hazel-brown eyes, sharp in the shadow of the fake eyebrows. “Can I tell you a secret? Me too.”
She drew back in surprise. “Santa is Jewish?”
He smiled, and even with the fake beard that didn’t move with his mouth, she liked his smile. “Like Jesus,” he said.
Ha. Santa made her laugh.
He leaned in again. “What I want for Christmas is—”
“To get out of here before you get peed on?” She finished his sentence for him.
He laughed. “Too late for that.” She bounced off his knee, and he pulled her back down. “Kidding. Kidding. What I want is to see you again. Tomorrow. Cinnamon Roll Bakery. Eight a.m.”
That should be creepy. Was it creepy? She was here with a kid. He could be hitting on a married woman.
As if he’d read her mind, Santa said, “Sarah told me you’re single.” This was all she needed—a seven-year-old yenta.
“Smile,” Sarah called out.
She turned toward Sarah, confused, as her niece took a photo of her in Santa’s lap. Embarrassing.
“I don’t know,” Libby said, slipping out of Santa’s grip. He grabbed her elbow when she forgot the step and almost fell, and then she was free and walking away and feeling all sorts of strange things she didn’t want to feel.
“Come on, Sarah. Let’s get a gift for your mom.”
She would definitely not go to the Cinnamon Roll Bakery tomorrow morning. Probably. Almost certainly.
Nathan Mendel didn’t believe in love at first sight. It was stupid.
But he thought a lot of things were stupid and still did them. For example, spending the day alternately sweating and freezing in a dumb Santa costume because his roommate Drake was insanely obsessed with Christmas. Nathan didn’t care about Christmas, but he cared about Drake, so here he was.
The procession of strange kids sitting on his lap, breathing on him with their milky, pasty breath, weirded him out, honestly. He imagined it was even stranger for them, but other than two criers and one fussy dad, things had gone smoothly all morning.
Then he saw her. She had straight, dark hair that fell in front of her face when she bent down to talk to the little girl. When she looked up, her face shone in the clear light of winter and it did something to him. Something he couldn’t explain or ignore.
The girl must have said something because she turned and caught him staring. He should have been embarrassed, looked away, pretended he wasn’t staring. He did none of that. He wanted her to know. He saw her. The way she straightened her spine as if preparing for battle, the intelligence in her thoughtful gaze, the way she met his eyes without flinching.
Nathan was in love. Well, not in love because he hadn’t technically met her yet. For all he knew, she was married. The girl she was with looked enough like her to be her daughter.
But would a woman who was in love with someone else look at him as if she were trying to develop X-ray vision so she could see under his Santa suit?
In a word, no.
Nathan Mendel was a man who went after what he wanted. The thought popped into his head out of the blue, but he immediately realized the rightness of it. He’d applied to grad school to be a social worker after two weeks of working in a high school as a VISTA volunteer, and he didn’t regret it. He’d decided to take Drake on as a roommate after chatting with him for five minutes, and he didn’t regret that. Most of the time.
His roommate poked him with the obnoxiously long pen he was using to write gift lists. “Hey, Santa, get your head out of the clouds.”
“Do not touch me, elf,” Nathan said, getting into his role as the boss of Christmas.
Drake straightened his cap and shot him an indignant look. Then he turned to the next child in line, his smile back. That was the thing about Drake—he didn’t stay mad. He was the happiest person Nathan had ever met, which could be wonderful or annoying, depending on the day.
Today it was wonderful. When he told Drake about his plan to meet Libby at the bakery the next morning, Drake was all in, even helping Nathan pick out the best pair of jeans and hoodie to wear—the only choices, since Nathan’s wardrobe consisted exclusively of jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies.
“And wear clean underwear.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” Nathan said. “We’re going to breakfast. On our first date.” But he did put on his new black boxers and check himself out in the mirror before he left.
He arrived at the bakery 10 minutes early, which was fortunate because the place was already hopping. By 8 a.m., Nathan was waiting for the two women chatting over empty coffee cups or the student who had long ago polished off a plate of Russian teacakes to leave so he could snag a table. Five minutes later, when the women left, Libby still wasn’t there, but that was okay. It gave him time to wipe down the table and order an assortment of baked treats.
What if she didn’t like sweets? Should he have gotten something savory?
Nathan started to sweat. When another 10 minutes passed and Libby hadn’t shown up, relief mixed with disappointment.
Who was he kidding? Nathan Mendel wasn’t a man who knew what he wanted and boldly went after it. He was the fool who chased after the impossible woman and got smacked to the pavement for his troubles. Again.
He ate one of the nutty teacakes. It was possibly the best thing he’d ever eaten. “At least we have each other,” he said to the next teacake before popping it in his mouth.
“What?”
She was there. She’d come. And caught him talking to baked goods. Oy.
“I’d say sorry I’m late, but it’s more like lucky I’m here.” Libby sat primly in one of the bakery’s ornate vinyl and wrought iron chairs.
Nathan wanted to ask what she meant by lucky she was there. He wanted to say hello and I’m glad you’re here. But his mouth was full of cookie. He closed his lips and nodded at her.
He tried to swallow the rest of the cookie, but he’d put too much in at once when he thought she was a no show and there was no going back. He opened his mouth to speak. No sound came out.
Libby gave him a funny look then burst out laughing. She got up and left the table.
He was pretty sure he’d blown it.
But then she returned with two tiny cups of water. He took several sips and regained the power of speech, and the world turned right-side up again.
“Why am I lucky you came?”
“Why did you stare at me and ask me to sit in your lap yesterday?” She gave him a defiant look that made his heart speed up and his cock stand up.
“Because you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
She snorted. “How many women did you say that to? And how many times did you give out your number?”
“Only you and zero.”
She pulled a piece of paper out of her bag and handed it to him. It was one of the wish lists Drake had handed out. It was a list of toys like all the others, but at the bottom was his phone number with “Please call Santa!” written under it in his roommate’s fancy script.
He really, really liked Drake. The guy might be his best friend.
Nathan smiled. “I didn’t write that.”
“Okay, how many times did your elf give out your number?”
“I don’t know. Just one, I hope. Is that why you almost didn’t come?” Nathan reached across the table and slid his hand over hers. It was too soon, but he had the feeling he was running out of time to convince her to give him a chance. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else from Santa’s village to have my number. But I’m glad you do.”
She turned her hand palm up and wrapped her fingers around his. “Me too.”
He never wanted to let her hand go. He wondered if she could feel how fast his pulse was racing just being near her.
He barely knew Libby, but he adored the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how she sat up straight when she felt challenged, how she talked with her hands when she was passionate about something. She was easy to talk to. He wanted to know everything about her.
They talked about where they’d grown up (Oakland, California, for Libby, Mystic, Connecticut, for Nathan), what they did (she was an architect—impressive—and she asked all the right questions about his social work career), and a hundred important and inconsequential things.
“What are you doing for the first night of Hanukkah?”
She looked surprised at the question. “Nothing? When is it?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her now-empty water cup. A couple standing near the door eyed their table. Nathan ignored them. He wasn’t budging until Libby had to go. She said, “My mother is Jewish but not religious. My father is Korean. Also not religious. My family puts up a tree and gives gifts for Christmas, but that’s about it.”
“Come over. We’re lighting the menorah and having dinner with a few friends at my place. I’d love it if you’d join us.”
Libby pulled her hand away, withdrawing into herself again. “I’ll think about it. Can I let you know later?”
Nathan kicked himself. He was moving too fast. He couldn’t seem to slow down when it came to her. “Of course. No pressure.”
She stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “I need to get going. I’ve got a meeting I have to prep for at work.”
Nathan stood too. He wasn’t sure of the protocol. He wanted to hug her—he was a hugger—but he didn’t want to push her out of her comfort zone. He settled for a wave and stood inside the window of the bakery watching her walk down the street, wondering if he’d ever see her again.
“You should go.” Leah was being even more difficult than usual.
“I barely know him.” Libby focused on chopping lettuce for a salad. She was helping out while her sister’s wife, Betsy, was out of town. It was nice to have sister time and a chance to hang out with Sarah, but Leah knew how to push her buttons.
Leah pulled out condiments for the veggie burgers and tater tots they were having for dinner. Libby tried not to think about all the junk she’d eaten that day, starting with pastries for breakfast.
“Are you worried for your safety?”
Her physical safety? No, not really. Her heart was another story.
She hadn’t connected with someone romantically in the year-plus since her last breakup, and she was happy about that. She’d fallen hard and fast for Tyson and assumed they would have a happily ever after like Leah and Betsy. But as she got to know him better, everything about him started to irritate her. He was mostly interested in watching sports and hanging with his buddies; she was just arm candy. And he’d lost his shit when she told them they were through, which confirmed that she’d made the right decision.
No, she was going to be more careful this time. No rushing. If it felt like the most right thing in the world to hold his hand for almost an hour (!), well, that didn’t mean anything. What if he threw his dirty clothes on the floor and expected her to pick them up? What if—
Leah tapped her forehead with a wooden spoon. “What’s going on in there? No, don’t tell me.” She touched the spoon to her own forehead and closed her eyes as if receiving a message from the spirit world. “What if he leaves the toilet seat up? He might be a beer drinker or a Dungeons and Dragons player. I’d better not find out, in case he’s not perfect.”
Libby took the spoon and smacked her sister lightly on the backside. “I don’t care if he drinks beer and I’ve been meaning to learn how to play Dungeons and Dragons.” Leah raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Well, I have a concept of a thought about learning to play.” Libby sighed. “You think I was too hard on Tyson.”
“God no. Tyson was an asswipe. Betsy and I did a happy dance when you called to tell me you’d left him. But I don’t think you should use that as a reason not to get to know new people.”
“What lesson should I take from my relationship with Tyson?”
“Never date a man named after chicken,” Leah deadpanned. “But seriously, this is a chance to learn about a part of our heritage you don’t know much about. I’d love to go to a Hanukkah party.”
“You would?”
Leah shrugged. “Sure. It would be good for Sarah, too.”
“Perfect. You’re coming with me.”
As much as he wanted Libby to come to the party, he’d been dreading this moment.
“This is…interesting,” Libby said as he took coats from her, her sister, and her niece.
“I know. It looks like Christmas ate a bad cookie and threw up in our apartment. There are Hanukkah decorations in the kitchen, I promise.” Drake’s job at a Christmas store had supercharged his over-the-top Christmas spirit. The apartment door was outlined in holly boughs threaded with twinkling lights. There were icicle lights dripping from the mouldings in every room, snow globes and ornaments on every table and shelf, and a huge tree so weighted down with lights and decorations, Nathan was expecting its imminent collapse.
“I like it,” Sarah said. She turned to Leah. “Mom, can we do this at our house?”
“It’s festive.” Libby’s sister was clearly older, and her hair was cut into a cute bob, but other than that, they could have been twins. “But no.”
Sarah pouted for a few seconds until Drake came out of the kitchen with a plate of cookies. Then all was forgotten.
Nathan wasn’t sure if it was a good sign Libby had brought her sister and niece to the party or if it meant he’d been firmly friend-zoned. Watching her explore his home—even in its current gaudy state—gave him a warm, almost giddy feeling.
Tamp it down, Nathan. Don’t scare her off.
“The Hanukkah decorations are just as over the top, you’ll see.” He ushered them into the kitchen, where Drake and a few friends were making latkes and playing dreidel on the kitchen table.
“This is cool,” Libby said, spinning around to take it all in. Nathan’s chest swelled with pride. The room was decked out in blue and white Hanukkah decorations, which matched the tile and cabinets. The kitchen was Nathan’s favorite room in the apartment, with its retro fixtures and well-worn floor. It was a space that held decades of living. Seeing Libby here made him feel all sorts of things he was scared to examine too closely.
After they said the prayers and lit the first candle, the night passed quickly. Sarah became a dreidel expert and won the bulk of the Hanukkah gelt. Leah was funny and outgoing and got along with Nathan’s friends. Libby was quieter than her sister but seemed to be having a good time.
Nathan tried to be a good host, even though there was only one guest he cared about.
When Leah announced it was past Sarah’s bedtime, Libby got up too.
“You can stay,” Leah said. “I can take Sarah home.”
“No, I’ll go with you. Just let me say goodbye to Nathan.”
That was Leah’s cue to give them a moment alone in his bedroom, where they’d left the coats, and she took it.
Libby turned to him. “I had a wonderful time. Your friends are great. Thanks for including my family.”
He took her hands in his. “I loved meeting them. I’m glad you could all come.” He took a beat, decided it was now or never, and said, “When can I see you again?”
“You move fast, Nathan.” She was teasing him, but there was a seriousness beneath it.
“Not usually,” he said. “Only with you.”
She thought for a moment. “I can see you tomorrow, and the day after and the day after. Eight dates for the eight nights of Hanukkah. At the end—we’ll see where we are.”
“This was a date?” Nathan wanted to dance across the rooftops.
Libby laughed. “That’s what you took from that? Where to tomorrow?”
He didn’t have to think. “We start here every night and light the candles.” She nodded her assent. “Tomorrow we go on a picnic.”
She shivered. “A picnic in December. That sounds fun.”
“We don’t have to—”
“No. I’m in. Surprise me.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek.
Nathan wrapped his arms around her, trying not to be too obvious as he inhaled the tropical scent of her shampoo. “Tomorrow.”
“This is crazy.” After lighting candles at Nathan’s house, it had taken them three buses plus several blocks of walking up a very steep hill to reach their destination. He didn’t have a car and refused to let Libby drive, saying, “There’s no parking where we’re going.”
He extended a hand, his cheeks red with the chill, a smile lighting his features. “The best adventures start a bit crazy.” They turned off the street into a small park and he led her up a set of stairs (thank goodness for stairs!). “Ta-da!”
They stood at the top of a concrete slide next to a sign saying it closed at sunset, which was hours ago. Nathan grabbed two pieces of cardboard from a pile next to the slide and handed one to her. “Sit on that. It makes it easier to slide on cement.”
“But the park is closed.”
He put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. No screaming. No one will know we were here.”
“I thought we were going on a picnic.” Nathan carried a big backpack, which he now set down.
“We are. This is just a sidetrip.”
Libby tried to resist, but his joy was infectious. They went down the twin slides side by side, holding hands and it was—magical. In a life that was work, family, and eating chips on the couch while she binge-watched murder mysteries, the cold night air, the whoosh of the cardboard on the smooth concrete, the way her stomach flipped at the steep drop made Libby feel more alive than she had in a long time. She’d been missing this and she didn’t even know it.
After, he led her past a community garden and into a larger green area.
“I could totally have parked here,” she said, looking at the empty spots on the street.
“Then we would have missed the slide and I wouldn’t have had all that time to talk with you on the bus.”
Really, he was adorable.
Libby quashed that thought. Adorable men were trouble.
“Welcome to Kite Hill. One of the best views of the city.” He pulled her to his side, directing her gaze to Market Street, which pointed like an arrow toward downtown.
The Castro Theater marquee glowed. A thousand little lights winked at her from homes, streetlights, holiday displays. “It’s another display of lights.”
“Exactly.” He looked at her like she was a star pupil, and her heart glowed.
“Why not there?” She gestured toward Sutro Tower, perched on top of Twin Peaks on the other side of Market Street.
Nathan laid out a blanket and started pulling food containers from his backpack. “Too many people. And it’s not the same view. It’s a good view, just not the same.”
“You are strange.”
He grinned. “So I’m told.”
He’d brought a second blanket to throw across their shoulders while they ate potato salad, cheese sandwiches, and tender Satsuma mandarins. Silences flowed as easily as conversation and Libby was surprised how comfortable she felt with Nathan.
“Like an old shoe,” Libby said. The words just lipped out. This was the danger of being too comfortable.
“What?”
Well, that was awkward. “I was just thinking…I like being around you.”
He nodded, pretending to look severe. “You were comparing my company to wearing a pair of shoes you’ve broken in.”
Her face heated. “Not exactly.”
He leaned in. “I’m flattered. It’s a high compliment. I’ll be your old shoe anytime.”
That was it. She put a hand on his cheek and turned his face toward hers. Libby inhaled the fresh scent of his aftershave. That was why Santa had smelled like pine.
Nathan let her lead, and she didn’t hold back, seeking him out with her lips, sure of her desire, at least for the moment.
He kissed her back, matching her intensity, pulling her closer, stroking into her with his tongue.
Perfect. Everything about this moment was perfect. The scratch of his unshaved face as he planted kisses down her neck. The cold bite of the wind and the warmth they created under the blanket. The hungry way they roamed each other’s bodies with their hands.
If she wasn’t careful, she would fall too hard and too fast. Again.
She pulled back, trying to tamp down the fire rushing through her veins. They packed the picnic and made their way down the hill, touching now. The bus rides back were sweet and cozy, with Libby nestled against Nathan’s chest.
A girl could get used to this.
Over the next five days, Libby and Nathan visited Grant Street in Chinatown, browsing every single souvenir store and coming home with many good luck cats; walked all over downtown to see Let’s Glow, a projected art exhibit; walked the labyrinth at Grace Cathedral—Nathan insisted this was a nondenominational activity; got tipsy at After Dark at the Exploratorium; and attended a Hanukkah party one of Nathan’s friends threw on Friday.
Before he could tell her the plan for Saturday, Libby said, “Let me take you somewhere.” Nathan had lamented the Jewish culture he’d grown up with on the East Coast. She wanted to show him he could find it here.
She knew she’d done the right thing the minute they walked into Saul’s Deli in Berkeley. Nathan’s eyes grew big. “I want to order everything on the menu,” he said.
“Then we will,” she said, grinning.
They ate borsht, Libby tried gefilte fish for the first time—it looked terrible but tasted good—and the latkes were to die for, according to Nathan, the latke expert.
At the end of each date, they’d kissed, their makeout sessions growing more heated each day until Libby was ready to jump out of her skin. This night, instead of dropping him at his house, she pulled up in front of her apartment.
“Where are we?” Nathan asked when she stopped the car.
“My place.” Her mouth was dry and her breathing felt labored. “Would you like to come up?” Her voice rose to a squeak and she put a hand over her mouth, mortified.
For the first time since she’d met him, Nathan looked uncertain. Was she being too forward? She should never have listened to Leah.
She turned the car back on. “It’s late. I can take you home.”
If Nathan believed in hell, this would have been it. He’d spent most of the week wearing his one long sweater to cover his raging hard-on. He was dying to get Libby naked and find all her pleasure points. He’d found a few already—she had a sensitive spot behind her left ear—and it made him greedy for more.
But he had promised himself he’d move slowly. His heart was charging forward, but she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready, no matter what her little moans and gasps told him when they kissed. He didn’t want to scare her off.
Her hurt look when she thought he was rejecting her told him what he needed to do. He put his hand over hers on the steering wheel. “No. Please. I’d like to see your place.”
“Sure.” The word was sharp and her movements stiff as she got out of the car and put her key in the lock of her Victorian flat. He’d said the wrong thing. Damn damn damn.
Libby hung her coat on a peg inside the door and slipped off her shoes, motioning for Nathan to do the same. She gave him a brief tour, waving a hand at the living room, kitchen, and bedroom, her back to him the whole time.
She was mad. Nathan’s heart pounded wildly. He had to be honest with her.
Before he could speak, Libby spun around. “What do you want with me?”
He’d been wrong. She wasn’t mad; she was furious.
He blew out a long breath. “The truth?”
“Of course, the truth.” If she could have spit fire from her eyes, he would have been dead.
“I want to marry you.”
Anger turned to shock. “What?”
“Not right away. In the future. When we’re both ready.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Libby, do you believe in love at first sight?”
“No.”
He took her hands in his. “Me either. But the moment I saw you—it was like a tsunami rolled over me. I had to meet you. And you…you are more than I could have imagined.”
She made a frustrated noise. “Then why don’t you want to have sex with me?”
Nathan laughed. “Want to have sex with you? I’d donate my left testicle to have sex with you.” He lifted his sweater, showing her the unmistakable bulge underneath, and her eyes grew wide, which was a gratifying reaction. “I’ve spent this whole week with a three-alarm fire in my pants.”
Libby covered her mouth, laughing. “Me too, actually.”
He pulled her closer. “The thing is, I’m serious about you. About us. I don’t want to rush you or scare you off.”
She laughed again. “You just told me you want to marry me. That’s a lot scarier than sex.”
“I don’t want to have sex with you. I want to make love.”
She put his hand over her heart. “This is—you are—a lot. I’m…overwhelmed. But I haven’t run out the door. So you’re good. We’re good.”
She pulled off her sweater, revealing a form-fitting undershirt, which showed off her luscious curves. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she reached for the hem of the undershirt and pulled it over her head.
She was wearing a red bra. Red and lacy. Crap.
“Libby,” Nathan said, moving toward her powered by some caveman impulse he wasn’t used to, “I want to go slow and savor you, soon, but right now—” His fingers trembled as he traced the pattern of the lace over her nipples.
Her breath hitched. “Stop talking, Nathan. Just stop talking.”
One the eighth night of Hanukkah, Nathan had another party at his place. He asked Libby to invite Leah, Sarah, and Betsy, which was sweet, though she wanted him all to herself. She’d woken up that morning with his arms around her and an emotional swamp in her belly that was equal parts excitement and terror. She wasn’t ready to hear what Leah would have to say about her new…boyfriend?
Sarah marched through Nathan’s front door, saying, “I want to play dreidel.”
Libby rolled her eyes.
“It’s because she won last time,” Leah told Betsy.
“What did she win?”
“Chocolate.”
“Aha.” Betsy nodded. She knew her daughter.
Libby hadn’t decided whether she wanted to play it cool around her family and his friends, but Nathan burst out of his bedroom with an enthusiastic greeting for them and then pulled her into a heart-stopping kiss in front of everyone.
So that was that.
Leah gave her a we’ll talk later look but didn’t say anything. Through the candle lighting, games, and food, Nathan held her hand or draped an arm around her, planting little kisses on her shoulder and squeezing her hand, silent communication that he was thinking of her and glad she was there.
Libby was glad, too.
The party broke up early. When her family got ready to leave, Nathan pulled her aside. “Stay here tonight?”
“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
He grinned. “We’ll have to do something about that next time. Stay anyway?” He pressed her into an alcove that had probably once held a telephone and kissed her and…how could she say no?
“I’m staying,” she told Leah.
“Is Nathan going to be my uncle?” Sarah asked.
Libby was going to say it was too soon for that, but Nathan popped in. “Could I? I’d like to be your uncle, Sarah. Because you’re the best at dreidel.”
“Okay,” Sarah said, holding out her hand to shake.
If Leah’s eyebrows could have left her face, they would have. “Changed your mind about moving fast?”
Libby shrugged. “It just happened.”
“Nothing just happens. Lunch. Tomorrow. You will tell me everything.” Leah leaned in for a goodbye hug and whispered in Libby’s ear, “The hot dog is way better than the chicken.”
“Hot dog?” Libby looked from Lean to Nathan then burst out laughing. “See you tomorrow.”
Libby hugged and kissed everyone goodbye, then turned to Nathan.
“What would you like?” he asked.
If this new thing was going to have any chance of working, Libby knew she had to be completely honest. “Leftover latkes in bed?”
He smiled and pulled her close. “You’re perfect,” he said.
And she was.
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