by Allison Parr
* * *
We landed in SFX at three-fifteen, Pacific Time. I liked the Millbrae airport because there were always dogs in it. And, okay, those dogs were German Shepherds trained to sniff out bombs and stuff, but still. Giant puppies! It always felt calmer in SFX than it did in JFK.
Also, we had palm trees.
Abe lifted my carry-on down from storage, and then shouldered his duffel bag. We slowly started shambling down the aisle and then up the connector. I summoned my sternest look. “Okay. From here on out, we play it safe.”
He delivered an absolutely bone-melting grin. “I never make safe plays.”
That alarmed me slightly. “Now you do.”
“Oh, I think we have it good until we’re on the other side of security. Until then, I don’t think I have to play it safe at all.”
I frowned at his mischievous expression. “Abraham—”
His duffel bag landed on the floor with a resounding thump. Streams of people parted and closed around us as he stopped and took my face in his hands. His eyes were light and heat and all the stars so far away. “Unless you want safe?”
Mutely, I shook my head. My eyes drifted shut.
He kissed me until the heat had spiraled out of control, and then, when I thought I might spontaneously combust—or that the airport guards might wrench us apart before we crossed the line of public decency—he raised his hands from my body and stepped back. A satisfied grin crossed his face. “There. Now I won’t touch you for the rest of the week.”
I tried to swallow, so turned on I found it difficult to think. “Well...I’m not sure...”
He laughed, scooped up his duffel and started on his way.
Damn him. With my carry-on trailing behind me, I followed. We passed through the security gate and out into the open, and headed down to baggage claim. We hadn’t checked any luggage, so we stepped outside.
I sucked in a breath at the familiar balmy weather. It was somewhere in the mid-sixties, which wasn’t unheard of in New York this time of year—but seemed to be a rare and somewhat miraculous occurrence. Here, our weather stayed level—sane, if you will—and every afternoon the fog would burn off and leave the skies sunny.
Since my dad was scheduled to pick us up, I shot him a text, and felt warmth grow in my chest when the familiar old Prius rounded the corner. We crossed the lane to the passenger car pickup line, and it came to a pause before us.
To my surprise, the passenger door opened and Abe’s dad came out. Abe let out a whoop and hugged him. They were about the same height, though Abe had more hair and muscle.
Mr. Krasner let go of his son after a moment and smiled my way, folding me into a softer embrace. “Hi, Tammy. How’s it going?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Still surprised at this turn of events, I blinked and smiled in befuddlement for a moment before my own dad came out from around the driver’s side. “Daddy!”
He hugged me tightly, and I could’ve sworn I saw a hint of tears in his eyes. “How’s my tough New Yorker?”
“I’m great. I missed you.” I hadn’t really realized it until now, but there it was.
Dad opened up the back and loaded in our things, while Mr. Krasner smiled at us. “So. Surprise! We thought we’d all go out for dinner. Your mothers have all gone ahead.”
We sat in the backseat of the car. I felt like I’d fallen through time and we were teenagers all over again, except this time Abe really didn’t fit in the backseat.
We headed to Green’s for dinner. Located on the waterfront, it served some of the best fare in San Francisco, and God, I was glad to have it.
Don’t get me wrong. I liked New York food. New York food was fine. I didn’t even have a problem with their pizza, despite them having some overplayed grievance with ours. (I figured it was part of the New York mentality to enjoy having grievances.) But there was nothing like sitting down at one of Alice Waters’s restaurants, and the delicate, fresh tastes of her entrees. Butternut squash and goat cheese and quinoa, pumpkin seed cilantro salsa... Mom had mesquite-grilled brochettes, and we all split polenta with herb butter. My taste buds could die and leave my tongue senseless, and I would be happy.
Of course, after my mom finished grilling me about every new roommate and job development, she had to go and ask, “Met any interesting boys?”
Abe turned to me brightly with brows lifted. The corners of his lips rose with ill-concealed entertainment.
I directed disapproval at my mother. “Mom.”
She gestured widely with her fork. “What? They don’t mind.”
Abe propped his chin in his hand and gave me Bambi-eyes. “Well.”
“I’m doing fine,” I said repressively.
Sharon, thank God, saved me. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re out there, pursuing your dream.”
“Thanks.”
“And you?” Abe’s dad said to his son. “You’re being good? Showing her the sights?”
I almost choked on my cube of squash. Oh, yes. All the sights.
Abe smiled brightly. “Giving her all the best tours.”
Oh my God, this was so awkward and they didn’t even know it.
The rest of dinner went as well as could be expected when you’re engaged in a clandestine relationship that you’re attempting to keep from two sets of parents, and I gave a sigh of relief when it was over. I didn’t like separating from Abe, bidding him good night like I didn’t wish I could climb into bed beside him, but we pulled it off. He squeezed my hand quickly, and then we were in different cars headed back to the same town.
* * *
The next morning, I walked down to the high school track for the Turkey Day 5K. We weren’t scheduled to show up to the Krasners’ until one, and this way I had time to meet with Gabi and Cindy.
Gabi actually ran, while Cindy and I leisurely walked arm in arm. “So how is it? New York.”
We were the kind of friends that had grown up together, who had been each other’s sounding boards during the terrors of adolescence, who had suffered acnes and embarrassments. We’d been together through the moments when the world opens up and each sunset is a marvel and life could be wonderful and horrible in the same minute.
I still didn’t know exactly how to broach the topic of Abe to her. “It’s...interesting.”
“Cold.”
I let out a huff of breath. “Yes, that.”
We took another few steps. “Interesting how?”
“Um... You know that Abe lives there.”
She groaned. “Oh, please no.”
I stopped and twisted toward her in surprise. Cindy had always displayed more patience with my crush than Gabi had, though I’d known she wasn’t always convinced it was my healthiest move. “What?”
She looked a tiny bit uncomfortable as she shrugged. “You know. I don’t want you going down that path again.”
“I didn’t,” I said automatically. “I mean—not the, um, unrequited infatuation.”
She tilted her head warily. “What does that mean?”
I swallowed. “We’re sort of...dating.”
She stared at me, eyes wide and dark behind her glasses. Then she turned and bellowed across the track. “Gabi!”
I winced. Most of the other runners and walkers glanced our way. Gabi, a third of the track behind us, immediately cut across the grass and was at our side in seconds, barely breathing hard. “What?”
Cindy pointed at me.
I raised my hands in defense. “Nothing.”
Cindy scowled. “Tamar.”
Oh, fine. “I just mentioned that it’s possible that I may be kind of dating Abe.”
Gabi stared, and then leaned her head back and groaned. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“What?” I swiveled between the two of them. Guilt and irritation and a roiling uncomfortableness bubbled up inside me. “Why is this bad? Why not good?”
“Abe?” Cindy said. “Kind of dating?”
Gabi nodded. “He comes to you with a ring
, then we’ll be happy.”
“Wait.” I held up my hands. “Isn’t a ring getting ahead of ourselves?”
“You’ve spent ten years hung up him. I don’t think so.”
Cindy frowned. “Maybe she’ll get him out of her system?”
Gabi sighed. “Impossible.” Then her eyes widened. “Wait, are you two actually sleeping together?”
Why were my cheeks so hot? “Yes.”
“Oh my God. Wait, so are you actually dating or just hooking up?”
“We’re dating.”
Gabi let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I love you, and I like Abe. He’s a great guy. But do you really want to do this to yourself again? Honestly?”
I stared at them. “Yes.”
“Well, what about you reporting on the Leopards and him playing for them?” Cindy’s tone was the vocal equivalent of wringing her hands. “That has to be messy.”
“It hasn’t been that bad. His teammates seem pretty good at keeping their private lives private, and at work...it’s been okay.” Tanya’s face rose in my memory, crafty and considering. I’m not going to fire you. I’m going to use you.
I pushed that aside. She hadn’t done anything.
She wouldn’t do anything.
I was sure everything would be fine.
* * *
My parents and I showed up at the Krasners’ at quarter of one, bearing fresh fruit and pumpkin pie. Their kitchen, dining and living rooms overflowed with cousins and neighbors. Charlie, old and white but still moving, wagged his way through the chaos and made sure to come greet everyone with a sniff of his wet snout and hope in his large eyes that we bore gifts of food. I bent down to ruffle his soft head as I stood beside my parents, scanning the rooms—as I had so many Thanksgivings in the past—for Abraham.
There. He stood talking to two cousins, a high school senior and a college sophomore.
He looked up, and his eyes caught on mine. With a quick word to his cousins, he excused himself and wended through the gaggle of people. He said hello to my parents and then knelt down on Charlie’s other side, his hand going immediately to scratch his ruff. Charlie’s tongue lolled out in appreciation. “Hey.”
I smiled at him, still thrown off-kilter by my conversation with my friends. “Charlie’s getting up there.”
He grabbed the lab’s floppy ears and gently blew in his face, which made Charlie poke his snout forward inquisitively. “He’s an old boy.”
But we had no time to exchange any other words, because his dad hollered for Abe to come help with the turkey, and as soon as I’d worked my way past a few relatives who wanted to say hello and managed to wash my hands, Sharon caught my arm. “Go get the veggie platter from the fridge?”
“On it.” I slipped away, through the kitchen and down the door into the garage, where dark and coolness dominated. Bikes and skis lined the walls, and I skated by one of the cars until I reached the two extra fridges in the back. Light radiated as I opened one, and slowly tugged the veggie platter from its place on top of several pies. Balancing it on one hand, I gave the door a nudge closed.
“So.”
I jumped slightly as the door closed to reveal Abe. The extinguished fridge bulb meant the only illumination came from the windows at the top of the garage door, which let in a pale, dispersed sunlight. “Oh, hi.”
An uneasy air had settled on him. “You sounded funny earlier. What’s wrong?”
How odd, that I used to think only I could decipher facial nuances in an instant. I held the veggie plate in front of me like a shield and strove to answer in a balanced tone. “I went down to the track today. For the Turkey race.”
He waited.
I fixated on the drifting clouds seen through the small windows. “I saw Gabi and Cindy.”
“The three musketeers reunited.” He sounded warily amused. “And I take it they had opinions about us.”
“It’s like you’re a psychic.”
“It’s like I’ve known you guys for ten years.”
I sighed and moved the plate of veggies up and down between our chests. “They just don’t really get this.”
He mimicked the gesture, and his voice dropped an octave. “‘This’?”
I shrugged and nodded. “And they wanted to warn me.”
His voice tensed slightly. “And what did you have to be warned about?”
“I don’t know. You know. They’re afraid I’ll get my heart broken.”
He stepped closer to me. “They think I’m going to break your heart?”
“Well, it’s unlikely I’ll drop it on the ground by accident.”
“Goddammit.” He came down and plucked the tray from my hands and deposited it on top of his dad’s car before I could blink. Sometimes I forgot how dexterous he was, off the field as well as on. “And what about me?”
I blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“You think you’re the only one that would get your heart broken?” His hand slid around the back of my neck. “So I have the power to break your heart. Good. Because you could smash mine to smithereens if you wanted to.”
Something soft and happy unfolded in my chest even as my lips parted slightly in surprise. “Abraham...”
He pressed me against the car and kissed me.
My body responded faster than my brain, and I melted into him. “I’m not going to break your heart,” I whispered. “I promise.”
“Good. Because I don’t think I could survive it.” His hands glided under around my waist and dipped inside my jeans. His fingers were nimble and strong and they worked their magic, and his lips teased and tormented the hollow of my neck. I groaned and my head fell backward as all my strength pooled out of my bones and converted to hot desire pumping through my veins.
My head hit something.
After a dazed second, I realized the veggie tray was sliding off the car. “Oh!”
Abe lunged and caught it before it careened down the windshield. I started giggling—and the door into the garage swung open.
I froze as my pulse went wild.
Sharon stood in the doorway, peering at us in the dim lighting. “Did you find the veggies?”
“Uh.” I nodded and slowly inched back from Abe. “Yup.”
Abe lifted up the tray as unnecessary evidence. “Right here.”
His mom looked at us strangely. “All right, bring it in then.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She vanished from the door, and at one look from Abe, we both burst into horrified, convulsive laughter. “Oh, God,” I finally managed. “Half a minute earlier and she would’ve walked in while your hand was down my pants.”
He had to support himself against the car as he laughed. “Never say that again.”
“It’s never going to happen again! Oh, God. Okay.” I patted my hair. “Do I look okay?”
His laughed slowed. “Tamar, you look perfect. You always look perfect.”
I backed away from him and took the tray in my hands. “Don’t be too cute. We still need to get through this meal.”
Chapter Nineteen
At dinner, I sat across from Grandma Krasner, who smiled beatifically, and next to Abe’s cousin Matt, who was fourteen years old. Abe sat on my other side. Every so often he would place his hand on my leg beneath the table and slowly run his fingers up my sensitive flesh. I burned hot and ready, and my pupils were almost certainly dilated more than was appropriate.
It wasn’t actually all that fun to be incredibly turned on at a family dinner.
Abraham clearly wasn’t having that problem, because he didn’t stop smiling the entire meal.
A little over halfway through, we’d slowed down our food intake considerably and finished off all the water on the table. Sharon leaned back behind some of the chairs and waved for her son’s attention. “Abe, can you go refill the pitchers?”
I leaped up immediately. “I’ll help!”
We barely made it into the pantry and deposited the pitchers by the water cooler be
fore we were in each other’s arms. Abe kissed me hard, tasting of cranberry and spices. “I don’t know that I’m going to be able to last this entire dinner.”
I laughed breathlessly. “Not just this meal. We’re not going back until Saturday, and you won’t be back from the Patriots game until Monday night. We’re not going to get a second alone until then.”
He started kissing a path along my jaw. “I could sneak into your bedroom.”
I grinned. “Or we could join the mile-high club.”
“Or we could disappear right now and maybe no one would even notice.”
“Oh, I like that idea.” But first I was going to get in one more kiss, and run my hands over his endless shoulders one more time...
A glass shattered.
We both froze. Maybe we’d knocked a glass off the counter. Maybe something outside the room had echoed oddly.
A ceramic plate lay in shattered pieces on the floor.
Above it, Abe’s neighbor cousin Emmett stood with his hands apart and his mouth open.
Which wouldn’t have been that bad, except that Emmett was eleven with a mouth as big as Texas.
And that the doorway behind him was filled with Abe’s aunt Claire, Grandma Krasner, various cousins—and Abe’s mom.
And my mom.
Well, shit. “Hi,” I said weakly.
Aunt Claire arched her brow. “Something you two wanted to tell us?”
I wanted to curl up in a hole and die. “Um...” Absolutely nothing came to mind.
Abe shrugged and threw his arm around my shoulders. “We’re dating.”
Oh my God. My stomach swooped and then sprouted wings, which, seriously, was not something you wanted your stomach doing. I stared at Abraham so hard I thought my contacts might pop out. Then down at my feet. My cheeks were hot enough they could boil water.
“You’re dating?” With my mom’s mouth open like that, she kind of looked like a fish.
I smiled tentatively. “Sort of?”
“Sort of?” Abe looked offended. “What do you mean, sort of?”
“Um.” Oh, shit. When had my life turned into a farcical comedy? I hated being the center of attention. I felt like a rabbit. A very red-cheeked rabbit.
