Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Libby had barely slept.
Which was frankly rude, because exhaustion was supposed to knock a girl out, not tuck her in, whisper you fucked up, and then toss her around all night.
Leah and Avi’s housewarming last night had been rough. Skipping it would have raised more eyebrows than showing up looking like hell, but of course they’d done that thing only true friends did: zeroed in on the precise cause of her misery.
Rebecca had pounced first, guilt clear on her face. “I am so sorry,” she’d whispered. “I never should have suggested putting the cookies in the auction. I feel terrible.”
Before Libby could absolve her, Jay had appeared. “I feel like shit, too. Micah was a lifesaver last night. Can I help? I know a lot of people in Manhattan.”
Nora and Talia had flanked her next. “Did you at least find a new favorite position before the shit hit the fan?” Nora’s filthy grin had instantly made her think of her couch, and her heart broke all over again. “Maybe we should ask Micah…where is he? You brought him, right?”
All that before she’d even gotten her coat off.
It had gone downhill from there.
When she’d told them Micah wasn’t coming and that they shouldn’t expect to see them together again, the whole gang had frozen in silence, staring at her with varying degrees of what the fuck.
She’d held up a hand and said, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Not because of what they might say—her people didn’t judge, but because she needed a safe place to think, and she didn’t want to go home yet.
They’d respected her wishes. Leah had nodded and ushered her into their beautiful kitchen, where she’d handed her an enormous glass of wine.
No one had said a word about it for the rest of the night, but she could feel their concern, and the worst part was that she knew it wasn’t only for her.
They liked Micah, and they were probably worried about him, too.
Surrounded by her couple friends, it was easy to see how well he’d fit in with her found family.
She’d left as soon as she could get away with it, only to lie awake in her guest room, wondering what it would have been like to attend that party with Micah.
He and Avi, with his conservative Jewish upbringing, would have a lot to discuss.
At some point, Micah had mentioned his mother played Mahjong, and Leah would have pumped him for details so she could design a custom set of tiles for her.
Jay and Rebecca were now huge Micah fans, although even before last night, she vaguely remembered mentions of the “cool new rabbi” at their temple.
Talia and Nora would have gently teased him about Palm Beach, while Asher and Beck pretended to be horrified but subtly egged their women on.
She’d left right as Jonah was arriving, but she knew he had probably stockpiled a few rabbi jokes just to make conversation. And Micah would have been a good sport.
The cherry on top of her crappy day? As soon as she arrived home, Jonah had posted a picture to the group chat: the whole crew on deck just after Asher proposed.
They were all beaming with the menorah in the background.
Libby stood to the side, with Micah’s arm around her, her head resting on his shoulder like it belonged there.
Sylvie was the first one to heart it and add a reply
Love this. But I’ll be back behind the lens next year!
The “could have beens” tormented her all night like the ghosts of Hanukkah Not Gonna Happen.
Wrung out and miserable, she got up, dressed, and went into the bakeshop, not to work on an order, but because she needed to think, and the best way to get her brain in gear was to get her hands in butter, sugar, flour, and eggs.
And today, yeast.
She’d been tapped to bring sufganiyot to the Katz’s annual Eighth Night party tomorrow night.
Talia and Jay’s parents went all out with their yearly feast. Usually, Talia did most of the cooking and baking, calling on her Jewish Grandma resources to deliver everyone’s favorite dishes.
For Jay, that meant kasha varnishkes, although no one understood why he was so addicted to buckwheat and noodles.
Avi loved rugelach, but Leah would bring those.
Talia and Libby refused to make them after tasting her incredible recipe.
Jonah always wanted whitefish. There would be three different kinds of kugel for Nora and matzo ball soup for Libby.
Eli was the donut lover of their bunch, and Sylvie always asked to be surprised.
Everyone had a favorite, and they would all be on the table tomorrow night.
She wondered which Jewish dish Micah loved most and wished she’d asked him last night. She’d bet on sufganiyot, judging from the way he’d devoured hers in Palm Beach, licking sugar from his fingers like it was his job. He’d actually moaned when he’d reached the homemade raspberry jam in the middle.
She’d give her last jar of jam to hear that sound again.
As she kneaded the dough, she wondered how he was doing. She’d purposely stayed away from social media. The last thing she needed in her current frame of mind was to doom scroll, but the desire to reach out to Micah was overwhelming.
Maybe just one small peek at his social media, just to see how the world was treating M. Waterman…
She grabbed her phone, smudging the screen protector as she brought it to life and opened Instagram.
It only took a second to find his latest post.
Her own face greeted her.
Not the face in the mirror today with red-rimmed eyes and sallow skin, but a glowing, radiant vision, ten times more beautiful than she’d ever felt on her best day.
She pressed one hand to her aching heart and the other to her mouth as her tears started up again.
There was more.
Micah was in the photo.
And the caption began “My name is MICAH WASSERMAN…”
A sob broke loose.
The beautiful painting had all of the raw passion of his distinct style.
Even without his characteristic eroticism, it was visceral.
Sure, it was her, but since she didn’t see herself the way Micah did, she felt like she was looking at a stranger, a stranger who made her feel wonder, joy, and reverence. Somehow, she felt…lighter?
Or maybe that was just hope, trickling into her heart as tears poured from her eyes.
Micah was painting—painting her.
He was standing behind his art instead of hiding it.
His words were honest, eloquent, and authentic.
And holy shit, he’d mentioned her.
Immediately, she wanted to reach out to him.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. But texting was so impersonal.
Maybe she should call? What would she say? Way to go, Micah. I’m sorry I was such a bitch, but I’m glad you aren’t hiding anymore.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
She’d been so cold. So incredibly heartless. Sylvie was right—she’d kicked him out when he was down and then slammed the door behind him.
She tossed her phone aside and hunched over her stainless steel work table, her hands braced on the counter. Her throat tightened, but she’d done enough crying. She forced herself to breathe.
Urgency built inside her.
She had to do something—but what?
While she was thinking, she checked the comments on his post and was thrilled to discover they were mostly positive with only the occasional troll.
Holding her breath, she searched for his temple’s profile to see how they were handling the development.
They’d posted pictures from the Matzo Baller, including Micah’s caricature of Rabbi Ezra and Miriam with the hashtag #Hanukkahjoy
The urge to weep vanished.
Determination rose in its place.
If she could figure out how to deliver a three-tier wedding cake to Egypt in August without the buttercream melting into the Nile, she could figure out how to earn Micah’s forgiveness and be part of his new life.
But…maybe…she didn’t have to do it alone?
She washed her hands, wiped off her phone, and called Jay.
He owed her a favor—or ten.
And she was about to cash one in.
“Come on, Jaybird,” she muttered as the phone hit the third ring. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
He answered just as she began to plan her beseeching voicemail. “Lib? What’s up? Everything okay?” He sounded breathless. “I was worried about you last night, but I didn’t want to push when you’d hung your Do Not Disturb sign on your door, so to speak.”
What was it with her and doors? Did all her friends think she was closed off? “Have you been talking to Sylvie?” she asked.
“What? No.” He sounded confused. “Why?”
“Never mind. I need a favor.”
“Name it,” he said immediately.
Her heart swelled. “Don’t you want to know what it is before you say yes?”
He chuckled. “Nah—you know I’ll do anything for you. We all will.”
He offered that truth so easily, but it shook her to the core. “Thanks,” she croaked.
“Aw, honey, I saw you on the boat, you know. You and the rabbi looked pretty cozy last night. Are you sure you’re okay…after everything?”
“No.” Her chuckle was wet. “But I might be if you invite him to your parents’ house tomorrow night—and maybe let the gang know I’m going to need some backup?”
“Backup? What did he do?” Jay’s gentle tone turned deadly. “I don’t care if he’s a rabbi. If he hurt you, I will end him.”
“He didn’t hurt me. Well, he did, but I hurt him, too. In fact, I was a total shithead, and I may need you guys to provide character references to get him to talk to me.”
“No problem—we got you.” She heard a smile in his voice. “One rabbi for dinner, coming right up. I’ll call him now.”
“Thanks, Jay. Community is important to him, especially now. You guys are part of my family, and I want him to know he’s accepted—no matter what. He wants community? I’ll share mine.”
Jay whistled. “Big moves, Sugarman. I’m proud of you. You want me to invite your parents tomorrow, too?”
She gulped, audibly. “They’re on a cruise.” Thank goodness. She hadn’t introduced them to a date since she lived under their roof. “But maybe next year.”