Page 58 of The Dating Contract

“What?” Aaron glared at him, and Samuel felt the exasperation come off his brother in waves. “Miracles?”

He nodded. “Miracles. We’re getting to know each other again,” he said, staying as close to the line as possible. “And I think more than that is a miracle, even though, yes, that is what I want.”

The expression on Aaron’s face went from exasperation to disappointment in two seconds flat. The sigh went internal as opposed to the gusty outside sigh, and the muscles that had tensed loosened, as if there wasn’t any more fight in his brother.

“What?”

Aaron shook his head. “I just don’t get you.”

Which was a far deeper comment than he was prepared to handle. But all the same, he was there, with his brother. So he went for it; rather, he allowed the door to open. “I guess we’re having this conversation?”

“You clearly haven’t told her about what’s happening with you,” Aaron replied, running right past whatever conversation Samuel thought they were going to have into some kind of interrogation or something else of that nature. “You’ve probably introduced her to a bunch of people, and let her dance through your professional life like you do, without the actual work of all of it, right?”

“I’m not following,” he managed.

“The expo, comic con. The gala. You’re doing professional things, but she’s a brilliant person. Do you trust her with your professional dilemmas? Do you trust her with any of your dilemmas?”

“I trust her,” he said. “I do, But she’s a really busy person who doesn’t have time to deal with her own stuff, let alone my dilemmas.”

“My God,” Aaron said, his voice cutting through the thoughts that raged in Samuel’s brain. “Samuel. You’re refusing to reach for what you want, and your insistence of shoving yourself down in front of her makes it look like you don’t trust her. You nincompoop.”

“I’m not a nincompoop.”

“I’m your brother,” Aaron said. “I’m the official department in charge of determining that you are, in fact, a nincompoop. Because the way you’re acting is going to cost you.”

“I don’t want to make the wrong decision, and I don’t want to make her feel like it’s her responsibility to solve my problems.”

“Well, there are many things wrong with that statement,” Aaron said. “We’d be here all day and miss the fun things we had planned if I went through all of them. But don’t ever wait till things are perfect to share, because people might thing you’re either hiding something, or that you don’t trust them, okay?”

As he sat, letting Aaron’s words digest before heading out on the family outing to the Manhattan Museum of Jewish History, aka the MMJH, Samuel tried to figure out what to do. More importantly, what he wanted to do.

*

When she gotback from Briarwood, in the privacy of her own apartment, whether it was because the sound of his voice ringing in her head was driving her up the wall, or because she couldn’t help herself, she texted Samuel.

Except she didn’t want to stop texting him. Granted it was late and it was possible he was heading to bed, and would drop off a potential conversation easily and quickly, she got into bed, plugged in her phone and texted him.Good day? Bad day?

There wasn’t a very long pause before there was a reply.

Family outing, so good day, laundry and cleaning filled night. You?

She laughed as she texted him back.Same. Taking care of the aftermath of a family day back in the suburbs.

My sympathies.

She laughed.Not as bad as all that. Liv was overseeing something and everybody else came along for the ride.

There was a familiarity with talking to Samuel that she appreciated, even though she didn’t want to start examining why, or understanding it.

Aaah. Aaron and Tommy wanted to go museum hopping, so I came along for the ride.

Which sounded very similar, if she translated what she knew of Samuel’s family, to her own outing.Sounds good.

It was a nice exhibit at the MMJH. You’d like it.

We should go.

She found herself sitting there, wanting to take the text back, and thinking she’d made a mistake in sending it. She wondered if she could unsend it, and hoped he’d gone to bed, closed his eyes. But right as she was about to put the phone on her night table and go to bed, the light started blinking again.

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