He was edging out of those over the next few months, at least. Instead, his agenda was mostly full of tour dates and various warm-weather events scheduled to provide an escape from the late-winter chill of the city. In fact, he’d been thinking of pulling weddings off the slate entirely for the remainder of the year until Akiva’d begged him to reconsider for his friends and roped him back in.
He was getting really freaking tired of being surrounded by romance.
They got back to the schedule, which had Judah signing up for everything from his usual Shabbos as chazan in the Hamptons to a Lag Ba’Omer bonfire to a weeklong trip to LA at the end of July with a packed itinerary. By the time Lev left half an hour later, Judah was booked for Shavuot, Sukkot, and what felt like every weekend in between.
Other singers would kill for that kind of schedule.
Once upon a time,hewould’ve killed for that kind of schedule.
And yet.
Judah picked up his guitar and idly strummed, thinking about the evening ahead and all the other weddings he’d played recently, each one running into the next in a mental blur of linen tablecloths and fragrant flowers. He’d started out playing various instruments in wedding bands when he was still in college; a few friends had started something up to keep them entertained (and paid) on the weekends while they spent their weekdays behind desks and studying accounting textbooks. At the time, he’d never noticed details like Viennese tables versus sit-down desserts or whether there were ushers to hand out programs and mints to guests as they entered the chuppah room.
But little by little, things had changed. He’d started to pick up details he liked, thoughts he tucked away with the idea they’d be cool at his own wedding someday—warm chocolate chip cookies served on the way out, place cards creatively made from seed packets or bookmarks. It wasn’t anywhere near “wedding brain,” just the background assumption that this day would be coming for him soon.
It was a lovely image, one that barely faltered through the first six months of disastrous dating. But after a particularly lousy dinner that went south when he mentioned his parents being divorced, everything started to shift. The fragrance of lilies became oppressive; the details he’d previously thought beautiful started to feel excessive. He started branching out, giving private music or bar mitzvah lessons on the side to earn extra cash, taking on bat mitzvahs and summer camp performances over weddings and engagement parties. He’d been playing a Chanukah party at an assisted living facility when the son of one of the residents mentioned he should do an album and that he “knew a guy.”
It was the kind of thing Judah would’ve normally brushed off.He still wasn’t sure why he didn’t. But it turned out that the son did, in fact, know a guy. And the rest was history.
His phone rang and he set the guitar aside, relieved to see his former bandmate Dov Bloch’s name on the screen. He might not have been looking forward to that night—to standing under yet another chuppah that reminded him he might never stand under his own—but hehadbeen trying out a new version of “Im Eshkachech,” and he was excited to get Dov’s opinion. Who knew? If he ended up with another hit, maybe he’d actually be able to make Gideon Levy and Liana Radinsky’s wedding his last.
Another point for quitting the wedding singing business?
Never again having to bump into the same infuriating bridesmaid.
He shouldn’t even have been surprised to see Arielle Becker in a satin gown. And yet, the sight of her, this time in raspberry pink, her hair returned to its curly state, made his blood run hot and cold as he watched her walk toward him down the aisle.
How was someone so unpleasant constantly chosen to stand up for these brides at their weddings? How had he stood this close to her enough times that her tropical shampoo was starting to smell familiar? Andhowdid she manage to make so many hideous dresses look so… so…
The music kicked up, and Judah was horrified to realize he’d almost missed his cue, his start the tiniest bit raspy as he sang to herald the arrival of the bride. He was relatively confident that no one had noticed, or at least thought anything of it, but when he glanced up, he immediately noticed a smirk playing at the edges of Arielle Becker’s lush pink mouth.
A seething irritation roiled through him, and he tore his eyes away from her and glanced at the women standing on either sideof her. There was something familiar about them, he thought, and then it hit him: They all had the same ocean-colored eyes. Sisters, maybe.
Lord help the entire state of New York if there really were three of them.
He focused back on the floor, only idly listening to the reading of the ketubah, the rabbi’s speech, and the sheva brachot, until finally the time for him to sing “Im Eshkachech” arrived. It was a song he always sang a cappella, always the same pretty tune, but Dovhadgiven his new version an enthusiastic thumbs-up that afternoon, declaring it was guaranteed to become a new wedding staple.
And yes, okay, it did showcase his range and talent far better than his standard version.
Without giving himself a moment to second-guess himself, he opened his mouth and let the new version fly.
He could tell right away that it was landing well; the quiet room was now at a complete hush, the kind you got when no one wanted to miss a syllable. When the song came to a close with the groom smashing the glass and the entire room bursting out in a simultaneous congratulatory “Mazel tov!” he hazarded one more glance in Arielle’s direction.
And caught her looking right back at him, all trace of her cocky smirk gone.
An unexpected little shiver danced over his skin, and suddenly, he needed to be anywhere but there. He slipped out the back door of the crowded room and turned down a couple of hallways until he found a set of double doors with one ajar. It took only a moment to realize he’d accidentally entered the bridal suite. But with everyone still dancing Aleah and Reuben to the yichud room, the space was empty, so he allowed himself a minute to close his eyes, take a breath, and reflect on what an incredibly stupid move that had been.
You’re lucky as hell that went well, he chastised himself.You hadn’t practiced it nearly enough. Why would you—
But he didn’t need to ask the obvious question. He already knew the answer; he just didn’t like it.
Whydid Arielle Becker get to him so much? She wasn’t the first attractive woman he’d ever seen, and yet, the way his body responded to her, she might as well have been. It didn’t make sense, but—
“Judah? What the fuck are you doing here?”
Oh, hell.Shewouldbe the one to find him hiding out in the bridal suite.Of courseshe would be. “Taking a break,” he muttered, already moving toward the door, bracing himself for her fruity floral scent. “I’ll get out of your way.”
She waved the hand that wasn’t wrapped around a half-drunk Shirley Temple. “Take a break if you need it; I was only coming to grab my dancing sneakers. Though I’ll point out I did just fine in these heels, thank you very much.”
