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“Glad you think so.” He was quiet for a moment. “They really liked you, you know. They weren’t faking it.”

Well, I hadn’t been worried they were faking it before, but I was now. Then again, what did it matter? It wasn’t like I’d ever be seeing them again after this trip. I tried to ignore the pang that thought made in my chest. “Okay. Cool.”

We were quiet for a moment. It was almost companionable. Seth and me against the world, assuming his parents were the world.

And then he had to ruin it. “By the way, when my mom said that thing about how I thought you were cute.” His words came out in a rush, so fast I thought they might drown me. I turned away from him, focusing on the ceiling. For some reason, I couldn’t handle seeing his face right now. “I don’t mean to—”

“I know what you meant.” My words came out so loud they might have woken up Bev and Benjamin. I lowered my voice as I went on, still studying the ceiling. A line ran through the plaster above me, hopefully not meaning the place was going to collapse on my head. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take it seriously. I know you were just trying to make our relationship seem real.”

I’ve always been someone who’s appreciated a good silence—why fill up a calming, soothing quiet with unnecessary babbling or background noise?—but I couldn’t take the one that fell after my words. I felt like if I didn’t fill it up, I might hear something I didn’t want to hear. “It was good thinking, actually,” I said. “Me coming here totally out of nowhere might make them suspicious. Of the truth. That this isn’t an actual relationship and we have no actual feelings for each other.”

Seth was quiet for a long moment. Again, quiet usually settles me, but this one tied my stomach into a knot. “Right,” he said finally. “Sure. You’re right. I’m glad you’re not weirded out or anything.”

“Nope, all good here,” I chirped, still staring at the ceiling. “Good night.”

“Good night, Abby.”

It took a while to fall asleep, and once I did, I kept waking up to the sounds of cars honking and ambulances blaring sirens outside. At least I didn’t wake up wincing or clutching my lower back, unlike my fake boyfriend, who the next day led the way into the kitchen bent over like an old man. He straightened up when he saw his dad already in there, eating a bowl of what looked like plain oatmeal. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Benjamin said gravely. To be fair, he said everything gravely. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“I was thinking I’d take Abby downtown to check out some of the Hanukkah pop-ups,” Seth said. He didn’t specify that we’d be looking at them for my own Hanukkah festival, which made me wonder if he’d told his parents about that. “Where’s Mom?”

“Her barre class,” Benjamin said. “But don’t let that stop you. Go have fun just the two of you.”

I copied what Seth was having for breakfast—some Greek yogurt and fruit with granola—and then we were off. It was lucky I’d brought my winter gear with me, because the wind outside was so chilly it would’ve burned right through my wool pea coat. Of course, my warm winter coat and cozy hat made me sweat on the subway, so I was relieved when we climbed the steps and emerged somewhere in the Village.

I was glad to see that the years hadn’t totally erased the Village’s charm; glossy bank chains and Duane Reades alternated space with small, grubby, quirky stores that looked like they didn’t make enough rent to pay for a square foot of their space: a place that made custom rubber stamps; one that sold dollhouse furniture; another with a display of antique teapots in the window. Christmas lights were strung on the streetlights, making glittery stars over the dirty sidewalks; every time a store door opened, a tinkle of holiday music poured out. “I always liked it down here,” I said, breathing in deep the smell of pine as we passed a Christmas tree stand. “Though I didn’t come much.”

“Yeah, it takes a while to get here from Riverdale.”

We walked by a fancy-looking restaurant that proudly proclaimed in its window that it served modern twists on traditional Jewish food. I slowed to take a look, but Seth kept moving. “I’ve been there with my parents and it’s great, but not why we’re here,” he said. “Besides, we definitely couldn’t afford to have them cater the festival.”

I caught up with one more wistful look over my shoulder. Babka beignets sounded amazing. “We’re here to scout people who might want to come do a booth for the festival?”

“Exactly,” said Seth. He stopped so short I almost walked right into him. “That reminds me. I made up a Google Doc with other people you might be interested in talking to about the festival: the guys I know who perform the Hanukkah story in schools and at synagogues; the company that rents out the giant blow-up menorahs; some of my mom’s friends or my friends or synagogue connections who sell various Hanukkah-related things or Judaica. Let me share it with you now before I forget.”

My phone buzzed with the notification. “You’re not worried I’m just going to take the info and run?”

Seth gave me a lopsided smile. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know?” Even though I had no idea where we were going, I started walking again. “I got what I wanted. Why bother continuing the charade of being your girlfriend?”

He didn’t break stride beside me. “Because you’re a good person and you wouldn’t not keep your agreement.”

“That’s idealistic,” I said as we stopped before what appeared to be the facade of an old Jewish deli. “What’s this?”

Seth swept his arm out, narrowly missing hitting a pair of tourists wearing I ♥ NY T-shirts and taking photos of pigeons eating a discarded slice of pizza. “This whole area used to be pretty Jewish. My great-grandparents actually grew up around here when their parents brought them to America. But in recent years most of the Jewish delis and businesses have closed. This one among them.”

I studied the big picture window, beyond which throngs of people were crowded before a counter. “Doesn’t look closed to me.” I left out the fact that some of my great-great-grandparents had come to New York, too, back when they’d immigrated from the old country, narrowly making it out before the Holocaust. They’d been part of this great American machine, building this city and this country into what it was now.

“Right. The building was just sitting empty, so this pop-up took it over for a few weeks. Are you looking only for kosher food for the festival?”

I shook my head. “Not only. I definitely want to have some kosher options for the more observant visitors, but everything doesn’t have to be kosher. Lots of things don’t even have to worry about kosher laws as long as they aren’t meat or dairy. Like we don’t have to worry about kosher latkes, I don’t think, as long as we’re careful with toppings.”

“Good. Because most of the pop-ups we’re going to aren’t strictly kosher.”

We stepped inside the former deli and were blasted in the face by doughnut steam. Every spa should have a doughnut steam room. “I see we’re starting with dessert.”