Page 20 of The Hanukkah Hoax
The act had been as natural as blinking, a common occurrence when he visited his brother.
But he wasn’t with his brother, and the woman whose soda he’d just tasted wasn’t his actual girlfriend.
“Shit. I’m sorry about that. Force of habit when I’m in the States. I don’t tend to spend much time with people outside Cal. Not since . . .”
There was something inherently wrong about letting Phoebe invade the space between them, a space that had become a war room infused with basil, oregano, and the pleasant yeasty aroma of hand-tossed dough.
All kissed by a lingering sweetness where Marisa’s mouth had been that he couldn’t quite put a name to.
And he’d gone and soured it all already. Wonderful.
“Let me get you another.” Alec rose to go to the fridge, but Marisa stopped him.
“There’s no need. Like you said, if we want this to be believable, we need to start acting the part, right? Couples share drinks all the time.”
“Right. Sure.”
Alec had never been more grateful to have a middle-aged man’s belly almost push him into a wall of windows. “Here you are, babe, for you and your friend. Now, eat these first,” Enzo said, pointing to the slices he’d placed in front of them. “The undercarriage isn’t going to stay that solid for long.” Then he plopped down a plate of garlic knots and marinara that Marisa hadn’t asked for but beamed at seeing regardless. “The knots gotta get eaten, too. They’ve been sittin’ a bit.”
Marisa stood and kissed Enzo’s cheek. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably eat more of that fast food shit.”
Marisa grabbed the Parmesan, then clarified, “Enzo believes the only true types of fast food are pizza or Chinese. Everything else deserves the shit designation.”
Alec smiled. “Well, he’s not wrong.”
“See?” Enzo said, tossing a greasy thumb at Alec. “I’m not the only one who knows what’s what. By the way, your mother stopped by and told me about the party.”
Marisa halted a marinara-coated garlic knot inches from her lips. “She did?”
“Hand delivered us invitations and everything. Don’t worry. My brother and I won’t embarrass you by showing up. I got teenagers. I know the drill. But I didn’t know your birthday fell on Hanukkah this year. Let me know if your mother wants to borrow some more cannoli tubes again. Last year, she wanted to fry her own and try those out instead of the doughnuts, but she backed out for some reason.”
“That was probably because of my Aunt Gail. She always likes to be involved in the holidays,” Marisa said, twisting her lips in distaste.
“Ah. All kosher then?”
“Yup.”
“Cool. Let me know if you need anything.”
Marisa held up her garlic knot in mock salute. “Will do.”
Turned out, Alec needn’t have worried about his earlier cock-up. All that awkwardness itching beneath his skin had been steamrolled by the even larger embarrassment of his incorrect holiday assumptions.
“It’s a Hanukkah party we’re to go to,” he said, wishing he could have kept the surprise out of his voice. “And your birthday. That’s the combined party you were talking about.”
“Again, guilty,” she said, wiping her fingers on a napkin, doing all that fidgeting fluff he was used to seeing her do whenever she was uncomfortable.
Bloody hell. That was the last thing he wanted her to feel, especially around him. It’d never crossed his mind that she might be Jewish and celebrate a different occasion altogether.
“It’s my thirtieth,” she added into the shameful space of his overly loud thoughts. “Yes, it falls on Hanukkah this year, and my family is using it as an excuse to express their disapproval over both my career choice and lack of significant other this far into adulthood by setting me up with my aunt’s neighbor. It’s going to be absolutely awful”—Marisa took back her soda and fiddled with the can—“except for the fact that I told my mother I had a boyfriend and was going to bring him to the party.” Then she pinned Alec with a battle-hardened gaze that would have been better served in a combat zone instead of a pizzeria. “This is our first mission. And while we’re there, we’ll take tons of photos, post them to social media, and start getting people excited for who and what we’ll be offering at the Crystal Christmas Ball.”
That warbling echo of hope rang through her again, and damn if Alec didn’t want to capture that sound and keep it safe from being stomped into silence.
Even if he was the lumbering oaf who’d nearly crushed it to begin with.
The only problem was that he knew as much about Hanukkah as the average American knew about rugby. It couldn’t be that hard to learn the basics, though, especially if he were to put on a show of dating Marisa.
