Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Libby stood at Talia’s parents’ kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, hair in a bun, expertly shaping kasha knishes.
The Katz house in Westchester smelled like hot oil, onions, and a dozen different grandmothers’ childhood memories.
Libby was responsible for at least six of those delectable aromas because keeping busy calmed her nerves.
“Those are perfect,” Talia said, peering over her shoulder.
Libby allowed herself a tiny eye roll. “Thanks, Chef.”
“I mean it. If you ever want to come to the savory side of the kitchen, I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, but first I’ll have to work out the next two years of my fully booked schedule,” she said dryly.
Talia snorted and bumped her hip. “Fully booked schedule plus one. I’m not waiting two years to get married, and you’re making my cake.”
“Damn right I am,” Libby said.
“And my mother says you have to bring donuts every year now. I think she hid two of your raspberry ones for tomorrow.”
“Donuts are the tax I pay to enter your parents’ home,” Libby said. “I accept these terms.” She tried for breezy. It came out…thin.
Because it was almost sundown.
She’d come clean about what had happened with Micah in the group chat that morning. Starting with Palm Beach and ending with the fact she’d basically thrown the best man she’d ever met out of her apartment because he’d panicked under the weight of his entire identity collapsing in real time.
They all knew the assignment now: welcome Micah like family.
“Come look at the table,” Talia said. “I need your eye.”
They moved into the dining room, where the long table was already dressed in blue and white.
Dishes were set out and labeled so that everyone could help get the food on the table fast and hot.
The menorah sat at the end of the table, ready to be lit and then moved to the sideboard with the desserts, so no one would cause a catastrophe while passing the latkes.
“Missing anything?” Talia asked.
“It looks incredible.”
“It will look even better when the gang gets here.” Talia’s smile softened. “You gonna make it?”
“Who, me?” Libby wiped a nonexistent smudge off a plate. “Totally fine. If I’m going to do scary, vulnerable, potentially life-changing shit, it might as well be where there’s enough fried carbs to smother me if it goes sideways.”
The front door opened.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
But it was only Leah and Avi, carrying ice. Nora and Beck were right behind them with wine. Rebecca and Jay brought up the rear, holding flowers.
“You’ll be fine.” Talia handed her a glass of wine. “Micah’s posts are a definite green light.”
She nodded, glancing into the living room, where a wrapped gift sat on an end table. It was a rush-order print of the group photo from the Matzo Baller in a simple gold frame. She’d written on the back:
To Micah, already one of us.
Love, Libby
Her second gift was stashed in her tote bag in the coat room—something private, meant for later, if the night went the way she hoped.
She gulped her wine. “I’m going back to my knishes.”
Jay poked his head into the dining room. “Front and center, Sugarman. Your boy just pulled up.”
The room went oddly quiet under the general chatter, a collective, subtle inhale.
The doorbell rang.
Libby froze. Of course, he wouldn’t just walk in like family, not yet.
Talia’s mom bustled toward the door, calling, “Come in, come in!”
Libby wiped suddenly damp palms on her navy blue wrap dress and focused very hard on not looking like she was watching the door, starved for the sight of Micah.
“Rabbi Micah!” Talia’s mom sang out. “Welcome! And you must be—”
Libby’s gaze snapped to the doorway.
Micah stepped into the living room, shrugging out of his coat. He wore dark slacks and a soft blue sweater that made his eyes look delicious. His navy kippah gleamed under the hall chandelier behind him. When he saw her, his whole face changed.
Joy.
Relief.
Light so bright, it turned her nerves to ashes.
His arms opened, just a little, like he wasn’t sure it was the right move, but he couldn’t stop himself.
She launched herself across the room, her feet moving before her brain registered the plan. He caught her like he’d been ready for impact, his arms wrapping around her, solid, warm—and home.
“Hi,” he breathed, sounding as wrecked as she felt.
She buried her face in his shoulder. “Hi.”
He rocked her back and forth, seeming in no hurry to let her go.
She pushed back, just enough to see his face.
Words tumbled out, messy, fast, and real.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I am so, so sorry, Micah. You were panicking, and instead of being there for you, I made it a hundred times worse. I made you feel alone, and I’m sorry.
I thought caring about someone meant losing my freedom. ”
His gaze was steady on hers, warm, and aching.
She swallowed. “So I built barriers, and I didn’t let anyone into my life.
” Her voice wobbled. “And then you came along, with your breathtaking paintings. We were so good together, and I freaked out because suddenly I started seeing my life in relation to yours. I wanted to make room for you. Like, real room. Room on my calendar.”
A shocked murmur ran through her friends standing behind her. Someone whispered, “Calendar room is serious.”
She huffed out a watery laugh. “I’ve been telling myself that making time for you would somehow mean less time for me, and I used that as an excuse to push you away when you needed me the most. But I get it now.
Making room for you doesn’t limit my freedom—having no boundaries does.
And boundaries don’t have to be walls. They can be…
” she gestured around helplessly. “…open doors.”
His gaze shone.
“I want you in my life,” she said simply. “I asked Jay to invite you tonight because I wanted you to see the best parts of me—my friends, my family, and to know there’s a place for you here. If you still want it. If you still want…me.”
Silence blanketed the room, thick and suffocating.
Her heart stopped beating.
“I do,” he said. “Absolutely—and I’m incredibly sorry for using words I knew would hurt you. I will do better. I’ll show up for you as my true self, my whole self—always. Please forgive me, Libby.”
Her heart gave a hard bounce against her sternum and then ping-ponged around inside her ribs. “Yes, of course I forgive you.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I have a lot to share with you, too—so much. Good things. But first…” He pulled back with a chuckle, his eyes gleaming. “I’d like you to meet my family.”
Only then did she see the three people standing behind him in the hallway, an older couple with warm eyes and matching expressions of amused curiosity, and a woman with long curly, brown hair and Micah’s eyes, biting her bottom lip and grinning.
She hid her face in his chest. “Oh God. Oh no—please tell me you’re joking.”
“Libby,” Micah said, turning slightly but keeping one arm firmly around her waist, “This is my mom, my dad, and my sister, Shiri. Mom, Dad, Shiri—this is Libby Sugarman, the woman who changed my life.”
His mother stepped forward, eyes shining. “We’ve heard so much about you.” She pulled Libby into a warm hug.
His father shook her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Shiri just waggled her fingers and stage-whispered, “I have pictures of his bar mitzvah. We’ll talk.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
Talia appeared in the front hall with a tray of fried kugel ravioli. “Did I miss something?” She winked at Libby, who mouthed a silent, heartfelt “thank you” to her.
“Who needs a drink?” Asher asked.
Micah’s family handed their coats to Jay and followed Asher and Talia toward the kitchen
Libby pressed both hands to her cheeks. “I’m never going to live this down. I didn’t even let your family get their coats off before I made a total ass of myself—”
He silenced her with a kiss. It was soft at first—like the snowflakes falling gently outside the front door. Then it deepened, the world falling away in a roar of distant cheers and one piercing wolf whistle that had to be Jonah. When had he arrived?
Micah’s lips were warm and certain, and when his tongue brushed hers, she felt sparks kindle in her center and burn through her limbs, lighting up every inch of skin.
When they finally broke apart, she was breathless, dizzy, and absolutely, unequivocally sure.
Boundaries, yes. Barriers, no. Not anymore.
She slipped out of Micah’s hold, just far enough to grab the framed package off the end table. Her hands shook, but this time it was with anticipation.
“Happy Hanukkah,” she said softly.
His thick brows lifted as he unwrapped it. The tissue paper fell away, revealing the photo. Asher and Talia in the middle of the pack. The menorah behind them. Micah’s arm around her, her head on his shoulder.
“You look good with my crew—like you belong,” she said.
“Thank you.” His lips curved. “I love it, and I have something for you, too.”
He bent to pick up a square package wrapped in Hanukkah paper leaning against the door frame. He handed it to her with a hesitant smile.
She ripped through the paper, wondering if he was gifting her the painting of her lighting the menorah, but that canvas had looked larger.
She caught sight of flowers gasped.
Forget-me-nots.
Close and lush, painted on the curve of a surface she definitely recognized, the colors and highlights all rendered with unmistakeable M. Waterman intensity and signed with his familiar flourish.
He met her gaze. “For your wall,” he said quietly. “So you never forget that you are the reason I stopped hiding.”
Her vision blurred.
“Micah,” she whispered.
He stepped closer, the painting held between them like a promise. “I can’t promise I’ll never be scared again,” he said. “But I won’t let fear divide my heart. I’ve spent the last two days realizing how much more I want to share with my community, the world—” His eyes burned into hers. “And you.”