“You don’t have to,” said Liana, rubbing her sleeve where Ari hit her. “And no smacking the bride. Now go talk to him.”
“No.”
“Okay, well, then stay and talk to him.”
“Wha—”
“Hey, Liana, Ari. Mazel tov.”
Ari spun slowly on her heel, and suddenly, there he was, looking obnoxiously handsome in a thin navy sweater that made his eyes look even bluer than usual, the collar of a white button-up peeking out the neckline. He even smelled good, an unfamiliar scent she couldn’t help wondering if Mira had picked out.
“So glad you could make it,” Liana said, giving him a warm smile that made Ari scowl. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my fiancé.”
“Subtle,” Ari muttered.
“Not really trying to be,” Liana sang back as she disappeared into the crowd of well-wishers.
And then it was the two of them, alone in the crowd. Ari waited for him to make an excuse to disappear, maybe to reclaimMira from wherever she’d gone off to, but instead he said, “Get a drink with me?”
She shrugged and followed, because a drink sounded pretty good right then.
The room off the kitchen that held the drink table was quieter, but Ari wasn’t sure it was a positive that she could finally hear herself think. Mercifully, Judah broke the silence first.
“Seems shortsighted that there’s no grenadine. I thought she was your best friend.”
“You know brides—always thinking of themselves.”
The quirk of Judah’s mouth calmed her a little, and he poured them both plastic cups of moscato. “To Gideon and Liana,” he said as they clinked cups, and she didn’t think she was imagining that he was watching her lips as she drank. Lord knew she was watching his. And his throat. And his—
“Where’s Mira?” she blurted.
“Probably leaving me bad reviews on Yelp,” Judah said with a shrug. He cocked his head. “News travels slowly, huh?”
She blinked. “You broke up?”
“We did.” He took another sip of wine.
“When?” She cringed at the sharpness of her voice. “I mean, sorry, that’s none of my—”
“Lag Ba’Omer.”
“Lag Ba’Omer?”
“Yep.” He smiled grimly down into his glass as he swirled the wine around. “So it is, in fact, kinda your business.”
“Oh.” Judah Klein had been single for three weeks. She had no idea what to say to that. “Why?”
He looked up and pinned her with his midnight blue eyes. “Because five weeks wasn’t enough, as it turns out.”
The affection and desire mingling in his gaze made her breath catch in her throat, but she swallowed it down, letting her anger take center stage. “And yet somehow two days were?”
Judah winced, and it felt good, after everything, to finally land a hit. At least until he said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the one who specifically suggested we get with other people?”
Okay, so she had said that, but it had been at the beginning of the week, when neither of them had any idea how it would go. It was the kind of naive thing you said when you were sure you’d get bored after a couple of days, or you expected the entire week to be nothing but making out and heavy petting. The rules changed when you’d touched and kissed and tasted every inch of someone’s body, when you’d cooked them dinner and sung to them during a storm and held them in your arms all night.
Didn’t they?
“Yeah, well, you did it, so congratulations. Or not, I guess.” Suddenly she felt very, very tired. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me, but booty call week is over. These legs are closed until further notice.”
