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‘Shabbat,’ Noah signed apologetically.
Adriano shook his head. ‘Sorry, forgot. Saturday night. After sunset.’
Noah’s smile was back, and he nodded shyly. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay,’ Adriano echoed before kissing him again. ‘Meet you at the market soon?’
Noah dug his phone out of his pocket, looked at the time, then nodded. ‘I’ll load up the car and text you when I’m on my way.’
Adriano nuzzled their noses together, kissed him again, then stepped back fully. ‘I’ll have the booth ready.’
Noah’s eyes met his, and Adriano held his breath. They were on the edge of something he was afraid to admit—aloud or on his hands—but it passed. Noah stood on his toes to kiss him one last time, then led the way back down the stairs.
CHAPTER19
Noah shieldedhis eyes against the last full rays of the low-set sun. Behind him, Adriano was hauling the bins that held most of the stuff he’d baked the night before and into the afternoon. Boxes of cookies, babka, and sufganiyot filled with an array of creams and jams. It was nothing like he’d done before but everything Bubbe would have appreciated, and he liked to think she’d be happy for him, even if she might not have fully approved that he was falling for an adult-film star with a chaotic life.
Bubbe had wanted Noah to be happy, andb’ezrat hashem, he was.
Reaching into the bin at his feet, Noah swallowed back his nerves as he pulled out the sign he’d made after Adriano left and turned toward him. He waited until Adriano was done unpacking the breads, then he gently tapped his elbow. ‘Can I show you something?’
Adriano smiled at him and stepped back toward the edge of the booth. ‘Everything okay?’
It was—mostly. Noah couldn’t shake the fear, especially now that filming was over, that Adriano wouldn’t have a reason to stay. Savannah wasn’t posh like Hollywood. It didn’t have things to do the way Adriano was used to. The people here were either tourists or locals without a lot of worldly experience.
Adriano had been relaxed that afternoon, but Noah recognized the strain of communication in him, and he wondered now how long it was going to take for Adriano to get tired of putting in all the effort. Noah couldn’t be with him all the time, and he knew deep down that Adriano didn’t want another lover as an interpreter. And frankly, Noah didn’t want to fill that role all the time either.
He’d been struck with an idea when Paxton had asked him to help with a few basic signs, and he’d run with it, but he felt fear gripping his throat and his hands felt frozen. What if Adriano was offended? What if it was a stupid idea?
Adriano brushed a touch to Noah’s cheek. ‘Noah.’
He’d never get tired of seeing his sign name on Adriano’s big hands. Licking his lips, he nodded and held up the sign. ‘I thought we could try this tonight.’
Adriano looked at him, then down at the words printed in block letters Noah had colored in with red Sharpie.
Learn A Sign, Get A Cookie
‘What is this?’ Adriano asked.
Noah jutted his chin toward the plastic bin near the front table that was full of small butter cookies. ‘I made those, and I thought we could give them out for free to anyone who learns a sign. We could…I don’t know. Teach them the basics? Hi, how are you, please, thank you, favorite animal.’ Noah couldn’t read Adriano’s expression, and he started to feel panicked. The poster board lowered in his one hand while the other signed. ‘Sorry, it was a dumb idea…’
Adriano was on him then, backing him up against the flimsy tent walls, mouth devouring his. “Perfect. Precious. You.” The words rose to Adriano’s lips, spoken against Noah’s as he kissed him.
Noah flushed and allowed it for a moment, but with all the people around, he felt his anxiety spike, and he gently eased Adriano away. ‘It’s okay?’
Adriano brushed a thumb over Noah’s kiss-swollen lips. ‘Yes. Thank you, and sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’
Noah’s flush was heavy enough to make him dizzy, but he shook his head and gave Adriano’s hand a squeeze before letting go. ‘We can take turns manning the sign booth.’
Adriano nodded eagerly and set it up on the far side of the tent, propping up the sign with tape against the wall facing the main walkway, then he took the cookies from Noah and laid the bins out in neat rows.
It was messy—nowhere near as put together as Bubbe’s—but for the first time, the mess didn’t bother him. It felt like something he’d created and not like a thing that had been dropped on his shoulders with crushing weight.
The sun dipped even lower into the horizon, and the traffic started to pick up. Somewhere in the direction of the fire station, Noah heard music start up and just above that the bleating of Will’s goats. His first customer arrived—a woman and a child he didn’t recognize. They eyed the breads, and the little girl’s hand tapped on the little plastic bin holding the chocolate filled sufganiyot.
“Are they like normal doughnuts?” the woman asked.
Noah bristled at the word normal, but he offered a smile just the same. “They’re an old Jewish recipe, so I like to think they taste better than what you find in the supermarket…but they’re similar.”
