Chapter Twenty

Two hours later, Levi watched Gaby drive away, kicking himself for not inviting her in. Not that she would have accepted. Her scowling face as she drove off was enough of a ballbuster; he didn’t need to seek out more shit. He dropped his bag in his foyer and moved into the living room where he collapsed onto the couch, fisting his hair. What a fucking mess. He reached for his phone and forced himself past her thread to Meyer’s.

Levi: Back home. Take my advice and never, ever, pose as someone’s fake date.

Meyer: Wait, I thought you said you liked her?

Levi: I do.

More than he ever thought possible.

Meyer: So, what happened? The sister out you?

Levi: I think so. Didn’t matter. She caught a text from Monica. Major explosion. Duck and run for cover.

Meyer: LOL. Better you than me.

Yeah, only, the thought of Gaby with Meyer instead of him made Levi want to strangle the phone. He rubbed his aching chest, unsure how he got in so deep so quickly, but there it was, a gaping hole in his heart.

Meyer: Did you at least get Monica off your back?

Levi: Not yet, still have to help her out with her parents.

A thing he needed to tackle headfirst and get it over with. He’d started to switch threads when Meyer sent a response.

Meyer: Are you fucking kidding me?

Meyer: No. Absolutely not. You do that, and the next thing you know, you’ll be married with 2.5 kids, a dog, and a picket fence.

Meyer: Abort mission, ABORT!

Levi rolled his eyes.

Levi: Monica doesn’t want me like that. She just wants the funding for her business.

Meyer: You so sure about that? Don’t make me say I told you so when you’re knee-deep in dirty diapers.

Levi: I’m sure.

Meyer: Shame the fake date couldn’t get you out of that one. Entire weekend and nothing to show for your efforts.

Levi gripped the phone tight.

Levi: You finished being an asshole?

He tried to go back to Monica’s thread when Meyer interrupted again. Or perhaps he let the interruption come.

Meyer: Touchy, what’s got your panties in a twist?

Levi: I hurt her.

Meyer: Monica?

Levi: Gaby.

Meyer: You mean you really like her? A hearie?

Levi: She’s picking up signs quickly.

Or was before she shut him out.

Meyer: Wow. OK. Come over. Passover Seder 2.0 is poker. We’ve got beer.

Levi: Shouldn’t you be at the actual Deaf Seder?

Meyer: Poker. Besides, you know I hate crowds.

Truth. He got up, ready to grab his keys and head over. But he had one more thing he had to do first. He switched threads to Monica’s.

Levi: What do you need to get your parents off your back?

…

Fifteen minutes later, Levi picked up his cards, barely seeing what he had. Around the table, his friends chatted. He wanted to enjoy being off the spotlight, off his entire life, but the situation with Gaby had burrowed deep in his bones, and he hadn’t a clue how to shake it.

The table banged. He glanced up at Meyer, whose long hair was pulled into a weird tail/bun thing that even Meyer didn’t understand—he just needed it off his face. He slid a beer across the table. “You look like you need more than one of these.”

“The fiancée busting your balls?” Becker asked.

Meyer shook his head. “No fiancée, not anymore. She’s just leading him on until she gets that damn loan.”

“Sucks to be you.”

Levi flipped them off and figured, what the hell, and popped the lid, before taking a long swallow. “This kosher for Passover?”

Meyer raised a single eyebrow. “Do I look like I give a shit about following Passover?”

Becker waved his hands around the room. “No matzah here. No matzah at home, either. Hate that crap.”

Point taken. Levi usually tried to be better, but sometimes life called for selective following. He took another gulp.

“Wait a minute,” Alana signed, flipping her short hair to expose the shaved section. “You normally keep kosher with me.”

He shook his head and took another gulp. “Long weekend.”

“It’s Saturday.”

Meyer banged the table. “I thought we were playing?”

“Sorry.” Levi put his beer down and returned his attention to the poker game, namely his piss-poor hand. He took in the ante and the eager faces around him and then folded.

“We waited five minutes for you to fold?” Becker said.

“Wimp,” signed Alana.

Levi shook his head and checked his phone.

Monica: How about you get your ass up here, smile sweetly for the parents, I get my loan, and then you can be an ass, and I’ll dramatically give you back your ring.

Gulps weren’t cutting it, so he chugged half his beer.

Levi: I’m not in a good mood. Smiling nicely will be problematic.

Monica: I don’t care. Every minute you’re not here and I am, my loan slips further away.

Monica: Sorry, I’m bitchy because my worth is constantly determined by other factors: my hearing, my gender, blah, blah, blah. Throw me a bone, and I’ll get us both out of the doomed engagement. Please?

Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel had grown visible.

Levi: Doting ex will be there tomorrow.

Monica: Not ex yet, not to them. Play your cards right, and next week you will be.

If so, then Passover miracles still occurred.

The table rammed into his elbow, and he looked up.

Meyer pointed to his phone. “Who’s that? The fake date?”

“Ohhhh, he’s got a fake date? Tell me more.” Alana put her chin in her hands.

Meyer flexed his hands. “Hearing woman needed a fake date for Passover.”

“Love it!”

“But I thought it ended badly. She talking to you now?” Meyer asked.

Becker held up the sign for communicate and then let one hand fall to the table and bounce.

Levi brushed him off. “She’s learning a little ASL. And we communicated fine. But she’s not texting me.”

“He looks like a sad puppy who lost its owner.” Becker accentuated the sad and lost, complete with droopy ears.

Meyer waved for attention. “I was going to ask how you communicated with this hearing woman, but looking at you—you fucked her, didn’t you?”

Levi fisted his hands. “Not fucked, not that word.”

“Whoa,” Alana signed. “That’s new.”

Meyer put his beer down and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Right. So let me get this straight. You’ve got your panties in a twist because you had a fight of some sort with a woman. That’s not you. Not even with someone you had planned to marry.”

Levi rubbed his aching neck. “What’s your point?”

Becker signed a leash stuck around his neck, followed by a panting dog.

“That,” Meyer signed, referencing Becker’s description. “My point is this is new, and you should do something about it.”

Yeah, but what? “Doesn’t matter, she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Did you lose your balls?” Alana began. “What are you going to do about it?”

Levi shook his head, wishing he hadn’t folded and could pick up his cards. Would have been worth the money lost at this point. He fiddled with the tab on his beer, then brought it to his lips and chugged down the rest, yeasty residue and all. He didn’t sign a word because he had no clue what to say, no idea which way his swimming emotions wanted to go.

“You figure her out yet?” Alana’s hands held a tease, but she’d have his back if he needed it.

He shook his head.

Meyer’s grin shot up. “That’s the real problem. Figure her out, then see where you can go with it.”

Levi shook his head, but deep down, he knew Meyer was right. Before he could do anything about his wayward emotions, he had to live up to his internal promise of helping Gaby. Then he could figure out where he fit into the equation. If he fit in at all.

…

“I’m breaking Passover, you in?” Gaby held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, dumping her dirty clothes into her laundry hamper, waiting for Riley to respond.

“What happened? And is it enough to break Passover before the second sunset?”

Gaby looked out the window and squinted. “The sun’s beginning its descent.”

“Whoa, you are serious. What are we breaking it with?”

Gaby tossed her toiletry bag into the bathroom. “Don’t know. Don’t care, as long as it has yeast.”

She disconnected the call, threw her overnight bag into the closet, and collapsed face-first onto her bed. Tears welled and threatened to fall, but she wouldn’t cry, not over a fake date. Fake dates didn’t deserve tears. She hadn’t even cried over Tom.

She’d raged, and she’d blustered, but not cried. Levi took the fragmented pieces of her self-esteem and propped her back up, only to pull the rug out from under her. She should have expected it. He’d done what she had asked him to do, and moving on from Tom was a bonus. If only he hadn’t done such a good job. It wasn’t fair. But as her mother so kindly pointed out: life wasn’t fair.

…

Twenty minutes later, her buzzer rang, and she let Riley in, cracking open the door and plopping down onto her couch, huddled around a blanket. She probably looked like shit, the equivalent of a dilapidated piece of matzah sitting next to a beautifully browned challah or sourdough.

And now she wanted challah. Dammit. Could she even find challah during Passover?

The door pushed open. “Damn, what the hell happened?” Riley kicked it closed and then placed a bag on the table. “Gluten-free, aka passes for Passover, just in case you change your mind.”

Gaby peered into the bag like a snake might jump out and attack her. “Gluten-free? I needed comfort food.”

Riley pulled out a cookie and joined her on the couch. “Have I not shared this place with you yet? It’s delicious. Healthy food doesn’t have to be bad for you.”

Gaby narrowed her eyes. “I hate you right now.”

Riley shook her head, broke off a piece of her cookie, and stuffed it into Gaby’s mouth. Gaby chewed, because it didn’t taste like cardboard, and the sweet definitely not worthy of the bad rap gluten-free got flooded her taste buds.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, and Riley handed her a fresh cookie. “Why haven’t you shared this with me yet?”

“You were probably with Tom, and he thought sugar to be the devil.”

“Can we not get started on Tom?”

Riley leaned forward. “Fine with me. I’m more curious about the glow to your cheeks that states this cookie is not the most orgasmic thing you’ve had today.”

Gaby’s cheeks became an inferno, and she bit off a large piece to keep her mouth busy.

“That is all but confirmation. Is he as controlled as his workouts?”

Gaby grew even warmer, and she barely managed to swallow. “Better, until he loses control, and then holy moly.”

Riley squealed, and Gaby felt the sudden loss. She’d known she’d only get a taste of Levi, but a taste would not be enough. Much like these cookies.

“So why are we binging on dessert?”

“Because he’s engaged.” Gaby got up to collect some drinks and recapped the entire weekend to Riley. When she finished, so were two more cookies and half a bottle of wine. Non-Manischewitz.

Riley rolled back and laughed. “A bathroom at a highway rest stop?”

Gaby squeezed her eyes shut. “A family bathroom.”

Riley laughed harder, and Gaby couldn’t help the sides of her mouth from turning upward. “And then he just got out of the car and left?”

No, he hadn’t. He had sat in the driver’s seat as the seconds ticked past, until he gave Gaby such a look filled with heat and longing that she couldn’t think. But he got out and left. “He’s clearly still tangled up with Monica and lied about it, and I don’t think there’s any coming back from that.”

Only a flicker of doubt seeped in. She didn’t have the full story, that much she knew, and he’d claimed things were finished with Monica all along. Gaby needed a lot more cookies and wine.

Riley refilled Gaby’s glass. “The problem here isn’t what he’s told you, or not. The problem is you want to believe him but are afraid to.”

Gaby froze with the wine lapping at her lips. She forced herself to take a sip. “What do I have to be afraid of?” Even though the pulse at the base of her neck suggested otherwise.

“You only stayed with Tom as long as you did because he got comfortable, and leaving him meant changing your world. Now you’ve got someone new who doesn’t even speak the same language. It’s easier for you to ignore your feelings and stay in your little apartment, holed up away from the rest of us, than do something about it.”

Gaby slouched down on the couch, holding her wine in front of her like a protective barrier. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Though she feared she really did, and Riley had hit it more than square on the head. If Levi hadn’t lied and they gave this relationship an honest chance, it would involve a lot of change, more than she’d done with Tom.

“That’s your problem. Maybe you should reach out to him, give him a chance to explain himself?”

Gaby felt queasy and knew she couldn’t blame it all on the cookies and wine. “No. He lied, so the ball is in his court. If he wants to make amends, he knows where to find me.”

Riley bit into a cookie. “And if he does?”

“Then I’ll see what he has to say.” Gaby glanced around her living room, envisioning Tom shoving her out-of-place items aside. Then of Levi studying her place, not caring if her rug needed a vacuum or too much mail was piled on the table. She contemplated him staying more often, teaching her more, and her nerves kicked in. Because it would be different, it would be a challenge, and at this point, he didn’t deserve it. She collected another cookie, this one not gluten-free.