Chapter Twenty-Eight
Judah took a quick glance at his watch as he waited for his favorite dry cleaner to return with his clothes.
Liana had texted him, asking if they could have a quick video chat to discuss the wedding, and he needed to be back home in ten minutes.
But the wedding was in three days, and he also needed his favorite tux as armor if he was going to face Arielle Becker again.
Thankfully, the cleaner returned a minute later with the plastic sleeve of suits and shirts, and Judah headed back around the corner to his building, wondering what Gideon and Liana would want to change this close to the ceremony.
He sat down at his laptop with a minute to spare.
“Hey,” he greeted them as soon as they popped into view. “Did you change your mind about ‘Im Eshkachech’? Do you want to go with the older tune?”
“I want to go with a happy maid of honor,” Liana said firmly. “You’ve been back from LA for days now. Why the hell haven’t you called Arielle?”
“For the record, I do not condone luring you into this conversation under professional pretenses.” Gideon gave Liana a look, which she promptly ignored.
“Also for the record, I’m … working my way up to it.” Judah scratched the back of his neck, contemplating ending this call immediately. He probably would, if he weren’t performing at their wedding in less than a week. “For now, I’m trying to give her the space she asked for.”
“Okay, she has had enough ‘space,’ and I say that as someone who’s been surrounded by her best friend’s quiet misery for weeks. No, wait, it’s worse—surrounded by her pretending to be happy and cheerful about my wedding while stewing in quiet misery.”
“Have you considered she’s actually just happy and cheerful about your wedding?”
“Ari wouldn’t be this happy and cheerful about her own wedding.
” Liana rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I know her. And she’s hurting.
And she’s missing you. Her pride has taken a serious beating, and she’s not going to be the one to reach out.
Arielle Rose Becker is not a fish you reel in and throw back, Judah.
Don’t catch her unless you’re ready to keep her. ”
“Lee, you do know that when you keep the fish you catch, you’re—”
“Not now, Gid.” Liana huffed out an impatient breath in her fiancé’s direction. “Perhaps you should go to another room for the advice portion of the conversation.”
“On the contrary, I’m curious what he has to say,” said Judah as his gaze shifted to Gideon. “Surely you have thoughts on how spectacularly I’m failing at this.”
“Gideon never has thoughts.”
“Oh, he sure did the night we got beers. Come on, man, I know you’ve got something to say.”
Liana eyed her fiancé curiously. “Do you?”
“I like to leave these matters to the experts.”
“You sounded pretty expert that night,” Judah reminded him. “And what you said about my career … you might’ve been right about that. I’ve spent the week putting it to the test, anyway. So if you have any more thoughts, I’m listening.”
Gideon sighed. “Fine, but after this, I’m keeping my mouth shut and you’re on your own.”
Judah nodded.
“My thought is that you’re both so head over ass in love with each other—and so wildly clueless about relationships—that you’ve each classified a real relationship with the other as an unattainable fantasy.
I swear to God, I’ve never seen two people more skilled at getting in the way of their own happiness.
Given your last date, I don’t blame her for needing you to make the move, so either step the fuck up and prove to her you see a future, or you’re going to lose your chance at a happily ever after that’s almost as good as ours. ”
The words hit Judah like a slap to the face, and he knew every single one was spot-on. Judging from the hint of a smug smile on Gideon’s lips, he knew it too. Meanwhile, Liana was simply gawking at her fiancé as if she’d never seen him before.
“Am I wrong?” Gideon pressed.
Judah huffed out a breath. “You know you’re not. Does she really think she’s a passing interest for me?”
“In her defense,” Liana said wryly, “she’s been treated as such by a whole bunch of people in her life, including you.
So if you’re in this for the long haul, you need to tell her that in a way she has no choice but to hear.
I refuse to believe that someone we’re paying this much to sing at our wedding doesn’t know how to use his voice where it counts. ”
Suddenly, the beginnings of a plan crept into his brain. “Okay, I may have an idea, but—”
“Will it get you and Ari together?” Liana cut in.
“If she wants it to,” said Judah.
“Perfect. We’re in. Now leave us alone so I can make out with my fiancé, because I just learned that Gideon in ‘romantic advice mode’ is super hot. Call him later with the details, and go away now.”
Judah was still laughing when Liana hung up.
Liana and Gideon’s chuppah was unbearable.
Not in the same way as Bella’s, with an overstuffed chuppah and brutally painful heels—both Liana and Ari had learned their lessons from that experience—but Ari was practically swaying on her feet all the same, listening to the heartbreaking voice of the guy who had given up on her sing her best friend through the happiest day of her life.
At least it clearly, truly was that—Liana and Gideon could not have looked more in love.
Judah’s voice was, as always, utterly flawless, though only partly to blame for the tears springing to Ari’s eyes as she watched Liana circle Gideon, not-so-subtly counting out each rotation on her fingers until she hit seven.
And when the witnesses came up to watch Gideon put a ring on Liana’s finger and proclaim her his wife, the tears came tumbling down.
Ari looked down at the engagement ring on her own finger—Liana’s simple, beautiful round solitaire, given to her as a segulah for her own match someday.
Custom dictated disseminating your jewelry to the single women closest to you for the chuppah so that the only jewelry you wore under your marriage canopy was your new ring; being given the engagement ring was the highest honor possible.
She just wished it didn’t feel so much like salt in her wounded heart.
Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot of emotion during either the reading of the ketubah or the sheva brachot, which gave Ari some time to compose herself.
But when Judah started up her favorite version of “Im Eshkachech”—the one he first sang at Aleah’s wedding—and Gideon broke the glass, the shatter took the last of Ari’s composure with it.
Everything was broken.
Living with Liana was over.
Being somebody’s Person was over.
And after tonight, she had no idea if she’d ever see Judah again.
The ache in her heart was overwhelming, but as the trumpets sounded and the cheering erupted, there was no time for her feelings.
She had a job to do, and dancing your best friend in the world back down the aisle wasn’t a task you hoped to perform twice.
She wiped the tears off her face as neatly as she could, prayed her eye makeup wasn’t everywhere, raised her fist in the air, and belted “Od Yishamah” as if her life depended on it.
It was a long walk to the yichud room, where the new bride and groom went to spend their first minutes as a married couple together in private, and on either side of her, Bella and Aliza were singing and dancing wildly enough to compensate for any lackluster moves on her part.
At one point, she caught Akiva’s eye, and he gave her a friendly wink that suggested he was having an equally wonderful time.
Liana blew one last kiss to everyone before she and Gideon shut themselves in solitude, where Ari felt reasonably certain her best friend was going to throw herself at her new husband like a baby koala.
The crowd dispersed, save for Danny and Akiva, who were serving as eidim, guarding the yichud room from any potential interlopers.
It struck Ari that this was the point in the wedding when she and Liana would run off to the bar together, but that obviously wouldn’t be happening this time around.
A quick glance around revealed that Bella was already linked back up with Zach, Noah was flirting in a corner with Emily, and Danny and Akiva had their tasks, while Ari was—
“Hi.”
She whirled around, and there was Judah, looking obnoxiously hot in a perfectly fitting tux, a Shirley Temple in hand.
In that instant, she saw it—a future in which he was Her Person who meets up with her outside the yichud room—and the way she craved it nearly knocked her off her feet.
“Hi.” The word stuck in her throat. “You were great.”
“Thanks.” He held out the drink. “Figured I’d save you ten minutes waiting on line at the bar.”
“That was sweet,” she said with uncharacteristic softness. “Thank you.” She took the glass but didn’t take a sip, opting for a deep breath to infuse her with courage instead. “Listen, I—”
“I’m sorry, I gotta run. I only had a few minutes, and I got inspired.
I have to go set up now.” His smile was apologetic, but it left her gutted.
That was it? That was the entire conversation they were going to have?
Not even a word about how she looked in her dress?
“It was good to see you,” he added, the final nail in the coffin, and then he was gone.
She didn’t even know she could feel more alone than she had two minutes earlier, but as she stood there, the ice melting in her drink, she couldn’t even bring herself to taste it.
Arielle should’ve been having a great time, spinning in circles with Aliza and Oliver, bouncing with Liana and Bella.
But the voice behind all the music was Judah’s, and there wasn’t a single moment, even as Ari plastered the brightest smiles on her face and danced so hard it threatened to shake the floors, that she could forget it.
Finally—finally—the first round of dancing came to a close, and Ari glanced at Liana, hoping she could get away with slipping out for a few minutes to get her head on straight. Liana’s gaze was fixed on the band, and Ari turned to see Gideon standing up there, holding the mic.
“I thought he wasn’t singing ‘Eshet Chayil’?” Ari murmured to Liana, distinctly recalling her friend having been a little sad about it.
“They worked something out,” Liana said cryptically as Gideon took the mic.
“As many of you know,” he began, “I’m still pretty new to learning Hebrew, and I’m definitely new to standing in the spotlight—something I absolutely never thought I’d do until I met a woman who makes me feel like I can do anything.”
The room broke out in “Awwws,” and Ari squeezed Liana’s hand.
“That said,” Gideon continued, “one thing I unfortunately can’t do is sing ‘Eshet Chayil’ to my wife, and you’re welcome for not subjecting you all to an attempt.
” He waited until the polite laughter ebbed.
“However, Liana has always wanted to hear it at her wedding, so we decided on a very happy compromise. I’m grateful to have a pinch hitter here to help me out while I take a seat with my own Eshet Chayil—woman of valor.
” He nodded at Judah, and then joined Liana in the middle of the floor, both sitting on chairs Ari hadn’t even seen someone bring.
The room went silent as everyone waited for Judah to begin. And he did.
But not before fixing his gaze fully, completely, and unmistakably on Arielle, freezing her like a deer in headlights.
Is everyone else seeing this? her mind screamed. She looked down at Gideon and Liana, who were holding hands and swaying as if this show was entirely for their entertainment, and then back at Judah.
He was still looking at her—no, not just looking at her, but singing to her, his feet actually carrying him in her direction.
She could feel eyes shifting over to her, enough to know this wasn’t entirely in her head, enough to suspect that maybe Judah’d had too much to drink or maybe there was something in that Shirley Temple he’d bought her because it really looked and sounded and felt as if he was singing one of Judaism’s most romantic songs—the song one sings to a wife—to her in front of approximately three hundred people.
And there was no way people weren’t getting this on video.
The song was twenty-two lines—one for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet—and as it built to its climax, Ari’s entire body flashed hot and cold.
When the entire room joined in for the last two lines, she could only mouth along quietly, her heart caught in her throat.
It was only when Judah finished, his gaze locked firmly on hers, and the entire room erupted into cheers that the spell over Arielle broke.
And before she could do a thing about it, the photographer promptly called all the friends over to take a huge group photo with the bride and groom.
Arielle’s mouth stretched into the biggest smile she could manage as she crouched down, her arm wrapped around Liana’s lace-covered shoulders.
The photographers took what must have been four thousand pictures, and when they were finally done, Ari dropped her arm and straightened, scanning the floor for Judah, determined to get her explanation.
But he wasn’t by the mic. He wasn’t in the picture. He wasn’t anywhere, as far as she could tell.
He was gone.
A tug on her dress diverted her attention, and she turned to see the bride, who was gesturing for Ari to bend down.
“Listen to me, you romantic Chernobyl,” Liana growled.
“You have ten minutes in the bridal suite. If you don’t use them wisely and return punctually, I am demoting you, and also murdering you.
Got it?” Ari nodded stiffly, too stunned to speak, and Liana released her dress. “Good. Get out of here. Now.”