Chapter Three
The First Few Drops
Four months before the wedding of Judith Nachman and Asher Mendel
It was one a.m. and cold in Manhattan; Naomi Nachman was pacing the sidewalk outside the bar where her friend had held the party.
Crying.
About the caterer who’d pulled out of her cousin Judith’s wedding. Her sister was…busy, clearly, and as she ended that call, she felt like she’d destroyed a moment between her sister, Liv, and Liv’s boyfriend.
Instead, Naomi continued to pace the streets of the city, with a party just on the other side of the door, alcohol turned to acid down her throat and in her stomach, the cold no longer her bitter enemy.
She needed…someone. Something.
And because she was a chicken who didn’t want to stay by herself, she called Jason.
He was busy, she knew. And if nothing else, if he didn’t answer, she’d take it as a sign and move on.
Ring.
Ring.
“Naomi…happy new year?”
She didn’t know what she was doing, except within two seconds of hearing his voice, she lost it. Phone against her ear, she sobbed.
“Where are you?”
She sent him the address against her better judgment; not because she didn’t want him there, but because she didn’t want to drag him away from his party, the one he’d wanted to go to, the one he’d talked about attending for weeks.
If she were being honest about the situation, she’d admit only to herself, that she’d agreed to attend the party thrown by her college friend because Jason had secured a sought-after invite to the New York Jewish Culinary Association’s New Year’s Eve Gala…and she didn’t want to distract him.
“You’re not far,” he said, his voice bringing her back to reality and comforting her in ways she didn’t want to think about. “Wait for me.”
“I…” don’t want to be alone. Not that she’d ever tell him that, but slightly inebriated, convinced her cousin’s wedding to his best friend was going to fall apart, was the closest she’d gotten…until the words got stuck. “I’m alone,” she finally continued, hoping he’d get the message.
“I’ll stay on the line as long as I can,” he said. “I’ll be there soon. I promise I won’t hang up.”
She nodded, moving under a streetlamp close to the bar and the partying going on outside…
*
“Hi,” he said. “I’m here.”
Jason Greenblatt was unmistakable.
Dark brown eyes, a huge fluffy curl to his hair when he let it go, strong shoulders. A strong jaw.
And arms she’d always seen as a safe place.
“Jason,” she managed, the words sounding strange to her own ears. “I’m…”
Instead of trying to speak further, Naomi relaxed into the arms Jason held out for her. The warmth of his embrace started to defrost the fear that had settled into the depths of her stomach. “I don’t know what to do,” she half whispered into his chest.
He held her closer, and she could feel the outline of his chest through his winter coat by touch. “Come on,” he said. “Let me take you somewhere.”
She nodded; she didn’t tell him she’d follow him anywhere.
*
Naomi Nachman.
One call from her and he raced to her side.
He’d always come when she called. Especially when she sounded like this. Defeated, her voice scratchy from tears this superwoman never cried. She was beautiful; long dark hair, hazel eyes that called him home, and a body that he considered a work of art.
But even in the light of the dying streetlamp, he could see she’d been crying; if he hadn’t heard the evidence, seeing her eyes all red and the dark smudges from her ruined makeup, drove the point home.
Seeing Naomi like this—defeated, upset, disheveled—wrenched Jason into pieces. She was one of the strongest people he knew, the rock he could count on in his darkest hours. She’d been his shoulder so many times that he’d almost forgotten who he leaned on before that fateful day five years before.
What could he do? How could he bring her comfort aside from continuing to hold her?
And then he knew. Naomi needed to be fed to distraction. That meant a place she hadn’t tried yet, where she’d be fascinated enough with the food in a way that would let her discuss what was making her hurt so badly.
And cry.
On a night like this, where she’d called him knowing what he was doing, where she’d been vehement about him doing it. That meant they were headed to one place.
He put his arm around her, making sure she stayed with him. Side by side, they walked the familiar streets of Greenwich Village to the slightly larger original location of La Poutinerie, the one that got expanded after the Empires won the cup. Partly on the back of the nephew of the shop’s owner.
They’d be busy in the early morning hours of New Year’s Day, but when you help out at the back of a food truck during a cup championship celebration, or pop in every once in a while to help in the kitchen or behind the counter, you get a table.
When he opened the door, he heard her exhalation even over the noise from the restaurant.
“How did you know I wanted to come here?”
He smiled. He’d guessed correctly. “Lucky guess,” he said with a laugh. “Come on.”
She still looked meek, still seemed upset, but also looked as if maybe after a dish of poutine she’d be able to tell him what was bothering her. And that was the improvement he needed.
*
Three bowls of poutine later, Naomi felt she’d calmed down enough to tell Jason the reason she’d been sobbing: the unedited version she wouldn’t offer anybody else. And when she’d finished telling him, she took a long swallow of her lemon drop.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s a lot. What do you think Judith and Ash are going to do?”
Which is when she realized she had to make something clear. In that moment, he hadn’t been her confidant; he’d been the best man. So, even while exhausted, having another drink, on New Year’s Day, she had to set boundaries. Immediately. “You can’t tell him,” she said. “You can tell nobody.”
There was a long second, where he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Not tell Ash?”
“Nope. Not a word to him.” And then she paused as she let it sink in. But there was something else she needed to make clear—the boundaries weren’t just for him. “I’m not telling anybody…except you.”
Which might have been a bit too far, but this was New Year’s right? Second best time, right behind Purim, to make ridiculous confessions that were just on the wrong side of friendship, to the person she told everything to.
Once again, there was a long second where she didn’t know what was going to happen.
“I can’t let Judith find out,” she said after reaching for the right words to fill the space.
“At the slightest hint of trouble, my cousin will try to take over, and that will cause trouble with Ida because Ida wants her ‘special touch’ on the wedding of Jacob Horowitz-Margareten’s project manager to the founder of the JHPA, and I can’t deal with that. ”
Eventually, he smiled, and she knew she was going to be okay.
The fact that she couldn’t stop staring at the cheese on the corner of his lip was a problem she’d have to deal with another time; she wasn’t reenacting an animated movie starring lovestruck dogs.
“Whatever I can do to back you up and get you a new caterer who isn’t me,” he said, breaking her concentration and the reverie, “you’ve got it.”
Her ability to rely on him made her calmer than usual about the losing battle to keep her cousin’s wedding away from Ida’s meddling fingers. But there was something else sitting deep in the level of his words. What was it?
Of course, that was when she realized two things.
First, she’d been holding his hand and not even trying to break his grip.
And second? The conversation was on hold because she couldn’t get the words out. “Thank you,” she finally said, leaning in to the touch. “But what’s up with you? Because there’s something there.”
She would have to eventually deal with her reaction to his smile. And his touch.
“I’m going to be away for a bit,” he said, once again bringing her back to reality. “I won’t go until you’re seeing a clear light through the tunnel. And I’ll be back before the wedding. But that’s all I know.”
The details, the timing of the trip made her feel better. But the fact that he was actually taking it? The fact that he was actually doing this?
That made her really excited.
“Did you made the connections you wanted to at the party?”
He nodded. “I did.”
Even in the haze of her New Year’s Day buzz, she remembered the conversation they’d had where she’d floated the idea of the trip, and how he’d done his best to balance his desire to leave against the guilt tied to the business his brother was auditioning to take over.
Now he was doing it.
And she couldn’t be more…proud. Which felt weird. But there it was.
She wasn’t going to say she was proud of him; that would be weirder. In fact, she had better, more encouraging words to say. “I’m so glad you’re spreading your wings.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m excited. Obviously, I’ll tell you what I’m doing and in what order once I know.”
“You better, “she said, smiling up at him.
“But,” he said, taking her other hand and clasping it with his free one. “Until I go, you have all of my support. And whatever time I have.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But more importantly?”
“Yes?”
The expression on his face, full of excitement and anticipation spurred her on. “Happy new year, Jason.”
“Happy new year, Naomi.”
And when he leaned toward her, she met his lips with her own, the feeling pouring out of her, from emotional to physical just for that moment.
He broke the kiss, and instead of jerking away, he did something he’d done many times before. She watched as he moved his stool to her side of the table, sat down and put his arm around her, pulling her close.
It felt…perfect.
And for some reason, she didn’t want to let him go.