Chapter Seven

Levi followed Gaby up the stairs and down the hall, too focused on her tight shoulders and stiff movements to notice anything else about his surroundings. Something had happened, and he had a feeling the dog head-butting the back of his knees had to do with at least part of it. He wanted to reach out and relax Gaby, find out what was wrong and then fix it.

Normal behavior for him, not-normal emotional need.

She turned and pulled him into a room then closed the door on the dog’s eager attempt to join them. He had planned on taking Gaby’s shoulders into his hands, massaging out whatever got into her, but forgot his ambitions when the bright and colorful room came into view. The room felt like Gaby.

Rock star posters hung on the wall next to a corkboard filled with pictures of high school aged kids huddled together. A trophy sat on a dresser; for what, he couldn’t decipher. The place was filled with mismatched items of a youth finding their footing in the world. Gaby might have felt the changes in the rest of the home, but this room was a time capsule.

Which meant they were standing in Gaby’s room. He turned to find her head buried in her phone, thumbs flying over the screen. He pulled out his own phone to wait and realized she was on a roll—he already had two messages.

Gaby: The dog is Bengi. I hope you aren’t allergic. This is the first I knew Mom even had a dog.

Gaby: Typical of my mother. No warning, just boom, here’s a dog. We never had a dog. Dad was allergic. Izzy, my sister, always wanted one. Not me. I’m more of a maybe a cat or gerbil person. That’s it.

Gaby: Oh god, you probably have pets of your own. I’m sorry. I’m frazzled. Why did I insist on coming the day before Passover? I didn’t mean to subject you to this mess.

She was still typing, but Levi put down his phone, pried hers from her shaking hands, and pulled her into a hug. Gaby’s stiff shoulders solidified, but she didn’t fight or break free of his loose grip, so he held on, knowing on some instinctual level that she needed it.

It took twelve beats of his fast pumping heart, but she relaxed, burying her head into his chest, breaths chaotic enough he feared tears would follow. He held her tighter, liking the way she fit in his arms. Liking more than he should the ability to do something for her.

When she pulled back, she wiped her eyes, but they appeared dry, and so was his shirt. She gave him a shaky smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He picked up his phone.

Levi: No apologies necessary. Family stirs the shit sometimes. No, I’m not allergic. No, I don’t have any pets. What’s your mother’s name?

Gaby held up her hands instead of texting, surprising him. “A-N-N-E.”

He nodded, and she went back to typing.

Gaby: Next problem is Mom insists we sleep here, together. I tried to get you into the guest room, but my aunt will be staying there, and Mom will suspect things if you use the couch or something.

He glanced around the room. Only a spare chair in the corner for other potential places to sleep, but he could camp out on the floor for two nights.

Levi: No problem. We’ll figure something out.

Gaby nodded and put her phone away. She stood awkwardly, as if she didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t help her there; he was the guest, after all. She pointed to herself then the hall and walked out, leaving the door open behind her.

He didn’t know if he should follow or not, but there wasn’t much for him to do here. He stepped into the hall, noticing pictures of Gaby and her sister over the years, a family of four and then a family of three. He caught a diploma for accounting that had to be her father’s, and below that, Gaby’s diploma, for the same career. His chest tightened at how simple and obvious the loss was, and how he’d taken for granted his own family. He pulled out his phone and sent them a group text. He wanted to type more, explain where he was. But Monica had his hands tied, and not in a kinky, good way.

Levi: Sorry I couldn’t be there for Passover. Chag Sameach.

To his surprise, his phone vibrated a few seconds later with a response from his brother.

Manny: Chag Sameach! Strange to have Monica here and not you.

They hadn’t dated that long. Surely someone had paid enough attention to know they weren’t destined to stick. But if his little brother didn’t, then no one did. Another part of the reason he wasn’t there—he couldn’t lie to them anymore, and Monica wasn’t ready to reveal their breakup.

Levi: Life happens.

Of course, his brother probably pictured him at home, working on grading papers, not standing in a hallway surrounded by pictures of his fake girlfriend’s family.

Manny: You sure you can’t sneak away? You could be Elijah coming for his wine. I’ll pull out a seat for you.

He smiled. Elijah was a prophet foretold to one day join in on the Passover Seders.

Levi: So we’re playing musical chairs now?

Manny: Got the bass cranked up high enough for you, brother. We take away a seat for each of the plagues.

Levi: Loud enough the wine vibrates?

Manny: I grew up with a Deaf older brother. That’s the only way to listen.

Manny: Miss you.

What was Monica saying that his brother turned on the feelings?

Levi: Miss you, too. Everything okay?

Manny: Fine. Good health. Hard to practice my ASL when you don’t even video call.

Levi: Next time I’ll video chat and put up with your face.

Manny: I’m practicing the one eyebrow thing. You can grade me, oh teacher.

Levi: Deal.

He returned the phone to his back pocket, warm familial feelings stirring inside. He wanted that chat, and worried Monica would force him to push it off. He’d check in with her, but later. For now, he ventured out to help Gaby in any way he could.

…

Gaby held one end of the large dining room table, trying to figure out how she was supposed to communicate with Levi at the other end. Both their hands were busy with the table, but there was a bit of a trick to separating the ends to add the insert, sort of a pull-push-angle-pull type of thing.

He watched her, those biceps not struggling at all with the heavy wood. She really needed him to do the tricky maneuvering, as her own biceps were screaming, “You hate us!” Best to get it over with. She gave him a nod, and he started pulling, much faster than when she did this with her mom or Izzy. She quickly tried to adjust for the trick, but he pulled with enough force that her sudden pushing meant the table scooted down a foot and retained its smaller size.

They dropped the table, Levi’s eyebrows furrowed low while he investigated the two-inch crack between the ends. He knelt, angling under the table, but she placed a hand on his shoulder. Her mother was in the kitchen, fortunately, so she pulled out her phone and squatted next to him.

Gaby: There’s a trick to separating the two sections. They need a slight push when being pulled to get it to release. It usually makes a sound, but I know that won’t help you.

Levi read her message, then looked under the table, investigating the ends. He pointed to something, and she crouched down lower and watched as he flipped a latch open.

Gaby’s jaw dropped low enough to catch dust. Levi shifted to the other side and opened another latch. Gaby stared, suddenly realizing how her father used to do this on his own.

She looked at Levi and pointed to herself but didn’t even know what she would say in English. Levi grinned, his eyes creasing at the corners, the two of them still under the table. He picked up her hand and brought it to her mouth, before moving it outward. Her heart beat fast but then realization dawned. He wasn’t flirting, he had her sign “thank you.”

“You bastard.” She laughed and lightly pushed his shoulder. Those blue eyes shone like a sunset over a lake, and she had the urge to lean in and mesh her lips to his. Bad idea, Gaby, bad. And yet, it somehow felt right.

They stood, and with the latches taken care of, the table moved easily to its full length. The insert was placed, the table pushed back together, and, what do you know, the latches secured it. No more random table earthquakes and falling silverware.

“Huh.” Gaby placed her hands on her hips, wondering how in eight years none of them had managed to figure this out. Levi placed two fingers under her chin, bringing her gaze to his.

He pointed to her, followed by, “O-K” and a weird bouncy finger thing at the end.

She nodded, trying to figure out what to say next, when her mother entered. “Oh, good, the table is set. I’ve got this place clean from all things yeast related, should we go out to dinner?”

Gaby turned to Levi. “Food. Out.” Or at least, she hoped she gestured out appropriately. Levi nodded, but she suspected he’d go along with the flow. Not like Tom, who needed to micromanage and analyze everything. And why was she suddenly thinking of that no-good ex of hers?

“Let’s go.”