Page 28 of One Night, Two Holidays

It’s not my first time spending the holidays with Jack’s family, but it’s the first time in three years that our holidays are overlapping again—this time, with Christmas Eve on the first night of Hanukkah. Only the fifth time in the last one hundred years. His parents invited my parents to join us this year, and the blended families seem to be working out as well as our blended holidays.

“I think the eggnog is ready, and so are the latkes,” Jack says, brushing his lips against mine.

“Mmm.” I slip my arms around his neck and bring his mouth back to mine. My lips part, and when our tongues meet, I feel the same spark I felt after our first kiss.

It’s crazy, thinking back on everything that’s happened in the past three years. Our first few months together were a little tricky—Jack was so busy at the hospital, still finding his footing as a resident. But we made it work, even if it meant sneaking in a quick shower together after his overnight shifts and before I had to rush off to work. On the plus side, it forced us to slow things down, to build a solid foundation from the beginning.

A year after we started dating, both my roommates moved out—Amanda with her fiancé and Julie, into a high-rise with an in-unit washer/dryer and a pool—so Jack moved in. That made it even easier for us to support each other—I helped him through the rest of his residency, and he supported me through an unexpected job layoff. Jack graduated last summer (he was voted Resident of the Year, no surprise to me), and I found a position at a new agency I love. And a few months ago, Jack landed his first “real job” as an attending at a nearby hospital and we moved into a much nicer apartment in Lincoln Park.

And to think, none of it would’ve happened without that snowstorm.

“I’m so glad the power went out and you got stranded in Chicago that Christmas,” I say, snuggling against him.

He chuckles, kissing my forehead. “Me, too. Though I’m sorry I even considered leaving you—I’ll never forget how awful I felt when I came back and saw that you’d been crying.”

“I’m actually glad you left.”

Jack huffs, surprised. “What?”

I roll over, propping myself up on my elbow so I can look at him. “Sometimes staying is the path of least resistance; it’s a passive choice. But leaving and coming back? That was an active choice.”

Jack rests his hand on my hip, drawing slow circles with his thumb as he pulls me closer. “I will always choose you. Because I love you the most.”

“No way,” I tease, grinning. This is my favorite argument of ours. “I loveyouthe most.”

His eyes sparkle, and without warning, he rolls on top of me, pinning me against the mattress. I laugh, squirming beneath him.

“Sorry, no,” he says, dead serious. “I love you more than anyone has ever loved any other person in the entire history of the universe and that’s an actual fact—don’t argue with me; I have citations.”

My heart swells as I look up at him. I can see all the love in his eyes, all the work we’ve put into building what we have together—and everything I’m looking forward to in the future.

“Fine,” I whisper, surrendering. “You win.”

Then he captures my mouth in a deep kiss and quickly makes me forget that we’re supposed to be joining our families soon.

“JACKY!” His mom’s voice breaks through our perfect little bubble, and I groan. “THE LAT-KEYS ARE GETTING COLD!”

Jack smiles, giving me another quick kiss before folding the comforter back. “We can’t have cold latkes. And by the way—it looks like my mom is a sour cream goy.”

“No,” I gasp, shaking my head in mock disappointment. “And your dad?”

“Applesauce.” He grabs my hand and leads me down the hall.

Downstairs, the living room is the best kind of chaos. My heart swells as I take it all in, the fire roaring in the fireplace, and the sound of laughter and Christmas music filling the air. My dad is on the couch, next to Jack’s sister Nic, her husband Eddie, and her two kids—10-year-old Gabrielle and six-year-old Sammy. The kids’ heads are bent in concentration as they take turns trying to spin the dreidel.

“Auntie Nessa!” Gabrielle shouts. “I got a Gimmel!”

Jack catches my eye and grins—neither of us can look at a dreidel without remembering what our first game led to— and I swallow a laugh. “Good job, bud!”

“Come play!”

“Later,” Jack’s mom says, popping her head out of the kitchen. “Latkes are ready, and then we have to light the candles.”

“Birthday candles?” Sammy says.

Gabrielle shakes her head at him. “No, Hanukkah candles, dummy.”

Sammy’s lower lip starts to quiver, but Unca-Jack swoops him up and carries him to the kitchen, saving the day. “Let’s see what kind of goy you are…”

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