The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2)(45)

“A good-natured one. I bet women fall in love with you every day,” she said, more to herself than to him. “They come to your office and you listen to them, and we all know getting a man to listen is an accomplishment in and of itself. Then you probably share a story, something equal parts relatable and inspirational, and they want to pay attention, but at the same time they can’t stop themselves from watching the way your mouth moves.”

Her tone was completely matter-of-fact, but her breathing was a little ragged.

“It’s so easy to imagine those lips running across their skin. Your teeth against their neck.”

Ethan was pretty sure he was choking. He coughed, trying to bring reluctant air into his lungs. “I don’t . . . I would never.” He’d thought he’d done a better job of hiding his attraction to her—and worse, his longing—but if she thought he was entertaining women in his office like that, she obviously felt he was some kind of indecent seducer.

“Oh, I know. That’s the fantasy. Making the good rabbi lose his concentration. His control. Creating a craving so undeniable, propriety is forgotten.” She pressed her tongue against her teeth. “But you probably wouldn’t want a woman like that anyway.”

“I’m not sure that what I want matters that much.”

Not anymore. Therein lay the problem. What mattered most was finding someone who didn’t see his occupation, his religion, as a burden. He could only hope that one day love and his religion wouldn’t be mutually exclusive.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you. Nothing about my life has followed a plan. I’ve landed in situations and been surprised off my ass and tried to make the best of them.”

“So,” Naomi said, “the question at the center of my efforts then becomes, can I find someone who surprises you?”

No, he wanted to say. The question is, can you find someone I want more than I want you?

Naomi had a list of people who deserved to find love, but Ethan was too afraid to ask if her name was on it.





Chapter Fifteen


ETHAN WAS IN the middle of reassuring a nervous thirteen-year-old that she would not in fact forget her entire Torah portion in the next twelve hours when Ira, one of his favorite members of the board of directors, hurried over to interject.

“We’re running out of seltzer,” Ira explained, with the kind of gravity one might employ to express a matter of global importance.

“What?” Ethan struggled to hear over the din of conversation in the synagogue’s social hall.

“Seltzer,” Ira practically shouted. “There’s only a few cans left, and they’re all vanilla.”

“Shira”—Ethan ducked down so they were eye level—“you’re going to nail it tomorrow, I promise. I’m so confident in your singing skills that if I’m wrong, I’ll watch an episode of that Below Deck show you’re always telling me about, okay?”

She gave him a watery smile.

Ethan followed Ira toward the refreshments spread.

“We’re really running low already?” He checked his watch. Oneg Shabbat had barely started. “We’ve still got iced tea, right?”

Ira nodded.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll talk to Cheryl about doubling the seltzer order for next week.”

“It’s pretty nice, huh?” Ira nodded toward the crowd. “I’ll admit, I was a little nervous about having so many young people show up all at once, but it feels good. The synagogue seems . . . perkier.”

Ethan smiled at that description. He had a feeling Naomi would appreciate it.

“They came thirsty.”

Ethan followed his companion’s gaze across the ravaged buffet table in the center of the room to the various card tables set up for people to mingle at during the late Friday evening social hour. Now that he could see them spread out, the crowd was considerable. Definitely more than usual. Several faces from the seminar series jumped out at him.

Craig, holding out a chair for Mrs. Horowitz. Molly, laughing as Morey pantomimed what was either fishing or something decided less PG. A cluster of women who always sat together at the JCC, lingering by the beverages table.

“Hey, come with me for a minute. There’s some people I want you to meet.” He steered Ira toward Craig.

Turnout at various synagogue events, including services, had risen gradually over the past few weeks since the seminar series started, slowly enough that Ethan almost didn’t notice the influx right away. But tonight, the increase in both diversity and volume of congregants was clear.

Oneg Shabbat provided a weekly cornerstone for many in the congregation. A chance to catch up with friends and begin unwinding after a long week. Ethan knew the seminar participants could have been anywhere at nine on Friday evening—bars or clubs or the beach—but they came to Beth Elohim. Hope sprouted in his chest at the sight.

“Ira, this is my friend Craig, one of the Modern Intimacy seminar participants,” Ethan said by way of introduction. “Craig, I’d like you to meet Ira, one of our board members.”

“Nice to meet you, young man. Glad you could join us for services. Is this your first time at Beth Elohim?”

Craig finished swallowing a big mouthful, gesturing in apology with a plate full of cookies.

Finally he came up for air. “Hi. Sorry. Yeah, this is my first time. I don’t usually come to synagogue unless I’m, like, with my parents or something, but a bunch of us decided to show up after this week’s lecture.” He pointed to where a couple of his friends stood. “Pretty good time. Rabbi C, you’re no slouch at singing, huh?”