Come to think of it, the solicitations for dinner and drinks had actually slowed to a crawl. Word about him dating Naomi must have spread since their last seminar. “Sometimes the homeless shelters get full when the weather’s bad. We turn the rec room into a place for people to sleep overnight,” he explained. “It was the congregants’ idea, actually. They do all the work. Organize the volunteers who takeshifts making sure everyone’s safe and as comfortable as possible. I don’t have to be here, and I can’t always make it”—he ran his thumb across his eyebrow, hoping she didn’t think he was posturing at nobility or something like that—“but I try to, just in case they need anything.”
“You’ve got yourself some good congregants.” Naomi folded her legs into a crisscross position on her chair. “I forget sometimes,” she said, “how many people you have to think about besides yourself.”
More guilt. Thick and sour in his stomach. “You have a lot of other people to think about as well.”
She made a little dismissive noise. “I have employees. It’s not the same. I help people because they serve my company and my interests. You just help people, full stop. Because you like them. Or no.” She pointed her fork at him. “You don’t even have to like them, do you? You just help them because you can.”
Sure, he helped strangers and his community, but what about the people closest to him? Who took care of them when he couldn’t? He hadn’t called his mom this week. Hadn’t asked Leah when she’d leave to start filming for the upcoming season. They never complained, and maybe Naomi never would either, but...
His dad would never have let his loved ones come second, not if he could help it.
“Naomi.” He wasn’t entirely sure he could get the words out. “Do you wish... do you wish I did something else? Had another job, I mean?” Ethan didn’t see himself ever giving up his calling, but he still had to know.
She put down the container of rice she’d been hunting through. “That’s like asking me, do I wish you were a different person.”
He recognized the truth. Being a rabbi wasn’t an expendable part of his identity. Emotion sat thick in his throat, crawling up his vocal cords no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. He’d made his choice after his dad had died, and he didn’t regret embracingJudaism, choosing a life of service. But running to something good was still running away.
“Do you?” He’d thought about asking his family the same question a million times. Knew they’d never answer honestly. But Naomi wouldn’t lie to him.
And she didn’t.
She got up out of her chair and crouched down next to his, reaching for his hand and placing his palm flat against her chest, above her breast, where he could feel her heart, steady and sure. It was the oddest, singularly most comforting thing anyone had ever done for him.
“No, Ethan,” she said, slow and clear. “I don’t wish you were different. No more. No less.”
With her steady heartbeat under his fingertips, her eyes devoid of pity but colored with compassion, Ethan knew what he’d been looking for in all those books. He placed his hand on the nape of her neck and brought her mouth to his, said thank you in his kiss.
The milestones in the Modern Intimacy curriculum were supposed to be spread out over weeks, or even months. But they kept diving into them headfirst, one after the other. A crash course instead of a seminar.
What if it was all too fast? If in their haste to get to their destination, they were burning all the rubber off their tires?
Ethan didn’t feel less selfish when he kissed her. Or even less afraid that he’d always hurt the people he cared about by not giving as much as he took.
But he did feel achingly present in that perfect, fleeting moment.
And for now, it was enough. Or something like it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ETHAN STILL GOTsurprised when he saw Naomi at his own synagogue, so he was completely shocked to find her coming out of Endmore Boulevard the next afternoon.
She sat on the steps of the shul, book open in her lap. Hair up and away from her face again, forehead crinkled in concentration. She didn’t notice him until he got within a foot of her, his shadow falling across her page. When she did tip her head back to take him in, shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand, her lips fell open. “Ethan? What are you doing here?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It seemed asinine to repeat her question back at her. “I’m meeting Rabbi Rosen for coffee.”
“Ah. That makes sense.” She closed her book. “I guess you’re probably wondering the same thing about me, huh?”
“I think that’s fair to say.” He dropped down to sit beside her, nudging her leg with his.
Naomi took a deep breath. “So, I’ve kind of been attending classes here.”
“What kind of classes?” He would have been less surprised if she’d said she came here to wash windows.
She flipped her book over so he could see the title.To Be a Jewby Hayim Halevy Donin. “An eight-week series on reconnecting with faith.”
“Oh. Wow.” He shifted his bag off his shoulder and placed it between his knees. “Okay. And uh... what week is this?”
Of course he supported her pursuing religious study. The idea of her with a pen between her lips, poring over ancient texts, actually made him kind of hot. But the fact that she’d kept this obviously relevant detail about her life from him still sat squirming in his gut.