“No.” I shake my head, no clue.
“A cantor is like a special singer who sings the prayers and songs in the temple. My sister was living in LA, and she had arranged for my dad and me to sing in her synagogue that night.”
“Oh no …”
“Oh yes.” Rafe runs a hand through his hair. “I was too stoned to perform. I forgot the words and started laughing.”
“Your dad must have been so mad,” I say.
“Actually, no,” he smiles wryly. “He was pretty cool. My mom was pissed, though.”
“Yikes,” I say. “Is that why she hates Lorelei?”
“No,” he laughs. “This story gets worse.”
“Really?” I can’t imagine the next part, but I’m all ears. “She forgave Lorelei for getting you stoned?”
“Shh … she still doesn’t know that it was Lorelei who got me the joint.” Rafe shakes his head. “But she did know Lorelei got drunk on kosher wine at my family’s Passover Seder the next night. She puked all over my sister’s brand-new, white carpet.”
“Wait, what’s a Passover Seder?” I ask.
“Oh, sorry,” Rafe apologizes. “I should have said. A seder is like a special dinner Jewish families have on Passover, when they retell the story of Exodus. It’s customary to drink four glasses of wine, but I think Lorelei put away a bit more than that. Poor girl. She was a skinny, little thing. I can only imagine the hangover.”
“Wow,” I say. “Celebrity kids … they’re just like us.”
I can still recall the first time I drank too much. I’d been fifteen, and Georgia and I had gotten into Uncle Stavros’s ouzo. Her mom and my uncles decided our epic hangover was probably the best punishment, but we’d both been grounded for three months. Rafe is looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to share my story. But I change the subject instead.
“So, you were in a boy band?” I ask.
“Let’s never speak of it again.” He reaches out to shove my chair and stands up, leaving me swinging.
“Anyway, my mom is getting in late tonight, and all things considered, I was going to suggest a spa day for her tomorrow. How would you feel about the three of us all going together?”
“I thought you said your mom hates me.” I dangle a leg to steady myself, but nothing feels steady right now. There is no solid ground here.
“That’s an exaggeration. My mom might not have been Lorelei’s biggest fan when we were kids, but she’s fine with Lorelei now. And she’s still good friends with Lorelei’s mom.”
Interesting. Lorelei doesn’t speak to her own mom, but Rafe’s mom does?
“Look, we’ll probably all be in our own treatments, so it’s not like you have to interact with her. But I thought we might drive over together. I can handle checking us all in, and you won’t have to worry as much about anyone figuring out that you’re not Lorelei.”
“Wait a minute. Are you just doing this to keep an eye on me?” I ask, suddenly suspicious of all this solicitousness.
“Maybe.” Rafe gives my chair another shove before turning to go. “And maybe not. Maybe I just want to get to know you, Ken-NA,” he says. Again with the low, intimate tones. Again with the way he says my name. Again with the way my whole body melts when that happens. Caramel core.
We pause the conversation when we hear the blip-blip sound of Tabitha’s remote unlocking her car. A minute later, we hear tires spinning out on the gravel.
“Oh, thank goodness she’s gone,” Rafe says. He leans forward, surprising me with a kiss on my cheek. Feather light, smoking hot, and spicy as hell, if you describe hell as a look-but-don’t-touch kind of environment. It leaves me dizzy with the impossibility of even wanting more.
“Don’t forget to ask around for a trainer for Princess,” he calls over his shoulder as he jogs back toward the main house.
lorelei
“Order up!”
The cook passes a bagged order through the galley window.
“It’s for Georgia,” he says. “She should be here in about twenty minutes.”
