Chapter 22 Twelve Days till Christmas
22.
Twelve days till Christmas
The next day, Rafi called a meeting of the Black Hearts Club.
He was waiting in the wine cellar with a plate of freshly iced gingerbread cookies when his sisters rolled in. Liz was amped from another productive writing day with Violet, and Birdie was giving her shit about when they were going to hook up already. “How’s it knowing you literally could throw a hot dog down her hallway,” Birdie drawled, uncorking a bottle, “because you’re sharing the same hallway? That’s a joke about your rooms upstairs, not about the fact you both have vaginas.”
Liz gave her a look, selecting a star-shaped cookie. “Not all of us hook up with our friends.”
“Friends make the best lovers.” Birdie poured the wine. “Until it all goes horribly wrong.”
Rafi choked out a cough, reddening.
Birdie handed him a glass. “What’s on your mind, little bro? Breakup blues?”
“Not exactly.” He double-checked the cellar door was securely shut. “It’s about Ash.”
Birdie hopped up onto a stool, munching one of her free-form cookies. “Because of the glow-up? He ditched the frumpy frocks and ponytail and now you’re jelly as hell because he’s a ten and you’re a seven?” She squinted at him. “A six.”
Liz laughed, then covered it with a frown.
“Fuck you, and no,” Rafi replied, trying to keep his voice reasonable. “Things between us have just been a little…” Heat crept up his neck. His pulse was picking up. “I’m definitely not sure, but I’m kind of thinking maybe I…” His hand tightened around his wineglass. “I know this sounds really weird, but it’s possible…” Rafi ran out of words, hoping his sisters would catch on.
They stared back blankly.
Rafi had no choice but to spell it out. “Maybe I’m realizing Ash is…sort of…hot.”
“Of course Ash is hot.” Birdie finished her cookie, licking crumbs off her fingers. “That’s seventy percent of his brand.”
“Sixty percent,” Liz argued. “He’s a great editor. That series on the paradox of fashion and sustainability was really—”
“As in,” Rafi cut in, “a vibe ?”
Birdie blinked a few times, unsure. “As in a vibe vibe?”
“Between you and Ash?” Liz squinted uncertainly. “You’re vibing…together?”
Rafi shrugged helplessly. “Maybe?”
Both sisters’ mouths fell all the way open. In their eyes were stunned disbelief and a good pinch of horror.
“Wow.” Liz arranged her face into a don’t-freak-out-I’m-freaking-out expression. “Okay. Wow.”
Birdie’s voice was squeaky. “You and Ash ?” She started shaking her head. “Uh-uh. No way!” She gagged. “That’s like kissing your brother!”
“I don’t have a brother, I only have two very annoying sisters.” Rafi explained the moment of tension on Monday, when he’d almost fallen into the fire after a lot of whiskey, and how last night, they’d watched both movies with their legs touching.
“ Wow, ” Liz said, exercising one of two words she now used exclusively. “Okay.”
“Not sure whether to laugh or throw up,” Birdie mused, before closing her eyes and grimacing. “Oh god. I’m imagining you kissing. I am scarred for life.”
“Are you sure about this?” Liz stared at Rafi with should-we-call-a-therapist eyes. “You do have a history of reading things wrong. I mean…Sunita.”
“I know!” Rafi exploded. “I’m not sure at all. I don’t know if it’s all in my head or if something’s happening. I keep telling myself I’m totally deluded, but then he’ll just sort of look at me and suddenly, I’m swooning. Over Ash. ”
Birdie was massaging her temples, eyes still closed. “Fuck me. I’m at you-have-a-time-share-together-in-Rhode-Island-and-you’ve-adopted-a-poodle-named-Barbra-Streisand. I am not okay.”
“Well, are you attracted to him?” Liz sounded like she couldn’t believe the words leaving her own mouth.
“I don’t know!” Rafi gestured with his wineglass so emphatically some sloshed onto the floorboards. “I’ve never thought about him that way!” He replayed Ash getting changed in his bedroom: the hard shield of his stomach, the muscular curve of his butt. “I mean, obviously he’s attractive, ” Rafi allowed.
Birdie cracked an eye. “Dude makes Greek gods look weak.”
Rafi’s pulse was spiraling. “But we’re friends. Best friends. And best friends don’t go there. Right?”
“No!” Liz exclaimed. “Never!”
Birdie raised both palms. “To play devil’s advocate, two words: Bert. Ernie.” She shrugged. “They made it work.”
Rafi was too wound up to laugh. “Well, what do I do? Do I say something…?”
Both sisters spoke as one. “ No. ”
Liz shook her head, eyes the size of basketballs. “Take some time. A lot more time. If you still feel this way down the road, maybe, maybe, it’s a conversation.”
“How far down the road?” Rafi asked.
Liz nibbled her cookie, considering. “A year or two?”
Rafi choked out a laugh. “Not exactly my style.”
“Right, and the leap-before-you-look tactic has been working so well.” Birdie clamped a hand on his shoulder. “How many of your co-workers were there when you proposed? All of them, right?”
“Fuck off,” Rafi said, but she had a point. “So, I do nothing?”
“ Nothing, ” Liz emphasized. “You can certainly feel your feelings, but if you’re wrong, saying something will make things really awkward. Change things permanently. Raf, it’s Christmas! Maybe all the mistletoe’s messing with your head?”
These were all fair points. “Birdie?” Rafi turned to her.
“Making an ill-advised romantic move is certainly dumb.” His sister swirled her wine like a connoisseur. “But might also be fun?”
“Birdie!” Liz was horrified. “ Please, ” Liz begged Rafi, “for the love of Christmas— don’t do anything rash.”
“Or,” Birdie countered, “do.”
Liz and Birdie began bickering. Rafi tuned them out.
Liz was right: this wasn’t worth risking their friendship over, especially as there was a very good chance Rafi was completely wrong. He’d heed his oldest sister’s warning and continue quietly and slowly feeling things out. He could manage that. Couldn’t he?