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Emily’s soft auburn hair brushed his cheek. “She has very strong feelings about latkes.”

“And Hanukkah food in general.” Leo grinned and typed back, Got it, thanks. So I’m guessing Cronuts in place of doughnuts is also a no?

Typing bubbles arose, then fell away, then arose again, then disappeared again. Probably because it was hard to type while your head was exploding. She finally responded with You’re dead to me.

“Period and all. Harsh,” Emily commented over his shoulder, but her tone was light.

Leo lowered his phone, grinning. “Shira takes her food very seriously. You know, a couple years ago, we broke into a bakery together and stole doughnuts.”

“What?” Emily spun to face him, her wide green eyes shocked. “And here I had no idea that I was about to move in with a career criminal.”

“It’s good you found out now.” Leo strove to keep his tone light, to match hers. “You can still back out.”

Emily plopped down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Just call me Bonnie,” Emily said. When he stared blankly at her, she clarified. “As in Bonnie and Clyde. I’ll call you Clyde.”

Leo snorted. “Leonard is bad enough.”

Emily smiled up at him. “I’m going to start calling you Leonard in bed.”

“Then I’m going to start calling you Aemilius,” he said. “Which is where the name Emily comes from.”

She rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “Have you thought more about the offer from Tiny Elephant?”

He immediately tensed and pulled away. “No.”

“I’m not trying to get you to go one way or the other, you know that,” she said. “But you’ve got to respond to them. You don’t want to snub one of the biggest gaming studios in the country.”

He groaned, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “I’m not trying to snub them. I genuinely don’t know the best thing to do.”

“There’s no right or wrong,” she said. He felt her fingers stroke through his hair, and immediately relaxed into the couch like chocolate melting in the microwave. “Do you want to sell your game to them and become its head developer there, or do you want to keep doing it on your own? I know you’ve been stressed lately.”

“I’m living the dream,” he said automatically, because he’d learned that was what people wanted to hear. He’d made it. That was what they all thought.

He couldn’t help but think of Shira every time he said it. How people got that same admiring and slightly jealous look in their eyes when they spoke with him now, and how it made him a little uncomfortable because he knew he was a fraud. She’d gotten addicted to it, though, and who could blame her?

“Well.” Emily kept stroking his hair, turning him into butter on a hot piece of steak. Okay, continuous food similes meant he was ready for dinner. “You’ve got time. Sleep on it. And if you really don’t want to get back to them, maybe that’s an answer in itself.”

Maybe. Maybe not. Leo drew her forward for a kiss, and that was better than any chocolate or steak. Work situation, whatever, at least he had this figured out.

14

The menorahs were set up in places of pride near the front windows. The caterers were bustling in and out, setting up their steam trays and crisping up some latkes on portable griddles. The bartender Leo had hired was practicing his pours in the den. Neptune was trotting around, his beagle ears scrunched about his face in confusion, probably wondering why all these people were in his peaceful home and also if he could snatch a latke off the griddle without burning himself.

Leo was ready to take a nap. He was barely doing anything on his own—Emily had yoinked the task of decorating from him after she’d seen the few sad garlands he’d picked up from the dollar store—but just getting everything done and organized had really taken it out of him. He stood in the corner of the living room, taking direction from his girlfriend about what to hang where. Hold this here while she tapes it up, help her straighten this paper dreidel tablecloth.

At least he wasn’t the only one hovering around: He had his dad for company. Leo had insisted he sit, though, and not worry about helping with the decorations. “Exercise is good for me, you know,” his dad kept grumbling. “You’re going to send me to an early grave.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Emily chided.

Leo’s dad smiled absently at her as she stood on her tiptoes to place a Mensch on a Bench on the highest shelf of their bookcase, ready to startle anybody tall. I like her, she’s very nice was what he’d told Leo after they’d met for the first time. She’s not Jewish, is she?

Leo had no idea if he was saying that in a positive or negative way. A few years ago, he would have assumed the worst and picked a fight. A couple of years ago, he would have just rolled his eyes and not asked any follow-up questions.

But now, he felt free to ask No, but what do you mean by that?

His dad was evasive with the follow-up. Nothing. I just always thought you’d end up with someone Jewish. Which didn’t even make sense. Technically, according to Jewish law, Leo wasn’t considered Jewish himself, since his mother wasn’t Jewish. Reform Judaism considered him Jewish, but Leo didn’t belong to a synagogue. Truthfully, he felt more Jew-ish than Jewish.

Though being around Shira had always made him feel like part of the tribe. She’d never treated him like anything less, even though he didn’t think she’d grown up Reform.