Chapter 8
Chapter eight
As they walked down the street towards his apartment, the sky lit by the early autumn sunset, Will laced his fingers with Naomi’s.
He continued to be amazed that even though it had been three months since he had turned around in the drink line to see her standing behind him, each time he touched her, it felt as exciting as the first time.
And yet, he also felt a connection with her that seemed to span a lifetime, rather than only a handful of weeks.
With his busy schedule, they hadn’t seen much of each other during that time—at least not as much as he would have preferred—but with each passing moment in Naomi’s presence, his heart grew more deeply entwined with hers.
Naomi glanced up at him, her cocoa-colored irises sparkling as her lips curved into a smile, small endearing crinkles appearing around the corners of her eyes. He squeezed her hand lightly in response and felt her fingers curl even tighter around his.
When they arrived at his apartment door, he released her hand and reached into his pocket, fishing for his keys.
As he unlocked the door, he turned to look at her.
"I realize we never discussed after-dinner plans.
I was hoping you'd come in. Stay the night?
Maybe the weekend? I'll have to work some, but you're welcome to stay here. "
"I'd love to stay," she told him. "But I need to get ready for Rosh Hashanah."
“Wait, don’t tell me.” In the last twelve weeks, he had taken a self-guided crash course in Judaism. He knew a big holiday was coming up, and he searched his memory for the right one. “That’s the … Jewish New Year. It starts on Sunday, right?”
“Yep, at sundown. But back in college, Abby and I started our own tradition. We call it Nosh Hashanah. It’s kind of like …
a Jewish Friendsgiving. Basically, a few days before Rosh Hashanah starts, all our friends get together, bring snacks and treats and hang out before heading home to see our families.
It started with us bringing whatever we could afford from the dorm vending machine, but has gotten a little fancier over the years. ”
"Sounds like fun," he said.
“It is, except for the part where it’s tomorrow and I’m hosting, but I haven’t so much as looked at a recipe or attempted to get any decorations out of storage. I keep meaning to, but I’ve been a little … distracted.” She gave him a mischievous grin.
The smile left him no choice but to lean in and kiss her. “Do you want me to come over beforehand and help?”
“I thought you weren’t going to be around, which is why I didn’t mention it. Aren’t you flying out to Zagreb tomorrow to help some countries that are doing something important?”
“You could steal my job, the way you summed up covering the final negotiations for a trade agreement between the EU and the Balkans that could change regional stability across Europe.”
She laughed. “What can I say? It’s a natural-born talent.”
“It’s an overnight flight that leaves around midnight.
If your party starts at sundown, that leaves me plenty of time to come by.
And not to brag, but I’m a pretty mean cook.
Mean like the kind of food Gordon Ramsey makes, not the kind of person he is on TV.
Or I could help set up. My mom hosted Christmas dinner every year so, I’ve got quite a few years of decorating under my belt.
” The words came out faster than his brain could stop him.
Even though it had been three months of something so perfect and comfortable, it felt like the memory foam of relationships—it had still only been three months.
That was when you started leaving a few things at their place.
Not when you invited yourself over to be part of their inner circle for a holiday.
“Or, like, I could do some shopping for you and drop it off. Or whatever.” He tried not to wince at the blundering attempt to back out gracefully.
To his surprise and pleasure, though, she didn’t let him. “I think that would be great. You don’t need to help, but I’d love for you to come. It’d be really nice for you to be able to meet some of my other friends and spend some more time with Abby and Riley and Becca outside of, you know …”
“Yeah.” He knew.
The last time he had seen them, he’d also seen a side of Freya he still couldn’t make sense of.
The Freya he knew, the Freya he’d spent more hours with than away from since he started this job, that Freya had composure and control as immovable as a face full of Botox.
The Freya he saw around Abby was like Godzilla, breathing fire and laying waste to cities.
He wasn’t religiously inclined, much to his Presbyterian mother’s chagrin, but seeing the unrecognizable look in her eyes was the closest he’d come to considering demonic possession as a viable explanation.
“Even though I can’t stay the weekend …” Naomi tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “I bet I can make up for lost time tonight.”
As images of all the different ways they could do that flooded into his thoughts, he practically groaned.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against a spot on her neck that he had come to learn was especially sensitive.
“I bet you can, and I have a few ideas,” he whispered, not missing how she shivered under him.
"Funny, so do I." With a playful giggle, she closed the remaining distance between them and pressed her lips against his.
He pulled her close, her body both excitingly new and becoming wonderfully familiar as his hands wandered up her back, tracing the curve of her spine through the thin fabric of her shirt.
Naomi's fingers found their way into his hair, tugging gently at the strands as she deepened the kiss.
As they fell into each other, they also fell backwards, their bodies instinctively seeking support.
They bumped against the apartment door, causing it to swing open with a creaking sound.
Their laughter was muffled by their kisses, a refusal to part their connection, as they stumbled away from the door, tumbling onto the couch, an old leather relic from Will's college days, that creaked in protest as their bodies collided onto it.
The television suddenly flickered to life, no doubt from the command of the remote tucked somewhere underneath their bodies.
He sat up and fumbled for the remote, but before he could find it, Naomi wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer, whispering four of the most electrifying words he had ever heard, "Don't make me wait. "
He didn’t.
Clothes were discarded with reckless abandon, scattered across the living room floor like remnants of a forgotten life.
Their bodies entwined, he moved with an urgency that echoed the intensity of the connection he felt every second he was with her.
Gasps and moans mingled with the soft sounds of fabric rustling and the rhythmic creaking of the worn-out sofa until at last they lay exhausted together in a tangle of limbs, sweat glistening on their skin.
Naomi rested her head against his chest as their breathing slowly evened out.
He ran his fingers through Naomi's hair, feeling the soft curls beneath his touch and then kissed her on the head, causing her to look up at him.
"What are you thinking about over there?" Naomi asked.
Will paused, his eyes meeting hers, and he couldn't help but smile. "I'm thinking about us," he replied, truthfully. "How it feels like I've always known you."
A blush crept onto Naomi's cheeks as she returned his smile. She nestled in closer, their bodies molding against each other. "I know what you mean. Have you ever heard the word beshert before?”
He shook his head.
“It’s a Yiddish word that means, like, destiny. Before I met you, I couldn't really picture myself being with anyone again. But when we met at the reunion, it felt like it was supposed to be. Like you were my … beshert," she said, tracing circles on his arm.
“You feel like my beshert too.” He pulled her impossibly closer, sure that she could feel his heart beating faster as he let the words out that he’d been wanting to say. “And I think, I … love you.”
She pulled him in for a kiss that told him he wouldn’t have to worry about her saying it back. “I think I love you, too,” she said when she broke the kiss. “Actually, I don’t think. I really do.” She laughed, a giggle of delight that made him join her.
For a long time, they lay together, basking in the sweetness of their love and shared destiny, the silence only broken by the sound of happy kisses.
“Beshert,” he whispered to her. But as he said it, her words echoed back to him.
She couldn’t picture herself being with anyone, again?
They’d hadn’t really discussed their past relationships and for a second he contemplated asking if she was referring to someone specifically.
But he decided he was enjoying this moment too much.
He wanted to stay here, with her, feeling like this for as long as he could.
He glanced at the TV, still on from before. “Can I convince you to stay right here and watch something for a while?”
“Sounds perfect.”
He patted his hand around the sofa in search of the remote. “I’ll watch anything except this,” he indicated towards the TV with his chin.
“Real Housewives?" Naomi asked. “Abby and Riley watch that show religiously. They’re total reality TV addicts as you’ll discover when you spend time with them. But this is definitely one of their top favorites.”
“I hope they’ll still accept me when they find out how I feel about it,” he joked. “It’s nothing personal—that kind of TV doesn’t do it for me. It’s about a bunch of women manufacturing drama while the whole world watches.” His fingers made contact with the remote, in between the cushions.