The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2) - Rosie Danan Page 0,10
“Blame Einstein.”
“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” Her words were flinty, testing his speed to spark.
He let them smolder and die.
“Einstein wrote, in 1930, ‘To know what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive forms—this knowledge, this feeling is at the center of true religiousness.’”
Naomi shook her head. “You memorized that?”
“Those words made sense to me when nothing else did,” he said, thinking of standing in the rain at his father’s funeral. “The idea that there was so much in the universe I would never understand, never unravel, no matter how much I studied. The knowledge that my life wasn’t a problem I could ever solve let me focus my energy elsewhere. Those words felt like freedom.”
She stared out at the dark courtyard. Probably cataloging all the overgrown weeds.
“So,” Naomi said, as if choosing her words carefully. “You’re saying Einstein helped you discover that ignorance is bliss?”
“More like faith,” he corrected, his voice light.
“Tomayto, tomahto.” The hint of teasing in her tone shot pleasantly up his spine.
Well, that was inconvenient.
“I’ve always wanted answers.” He used to make himself sick over the lack of them, actually. “Both my study of physics and my study of the Torah started in pursuit of understanding the infinite mysteries of an interconnected universe. Both are continuous study. Man’s search for meaning. Judaism offers a ladder to being a better person that I never have to stop climbing.” Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “I just realized how idealistic it sounds when I say it out loud.”
Naomi let out a gentle scoff. “If idealism is the worst of your traits, you’re the best man I’ve ever met.”
He was grateful that the twilight provided some cover for the way that half of a compliment went straight to his head.
“I bet you’re a big hit at services,” she said, throwing her arm across the back of the bench and shifting a few inches closer to him. “Young, handsome, smart.” She wrinkled her nose, alarmingly mischievous all of a sudden. “Good with your mouth.”
Ethan swallowed hard, shifting to survey the door of the synagogue even though he knew they were alone.
She laughed gently. “I meant this whole scientist-meets-man-of-God spiel you’ve got going on. It works. Or I mean, I assume it works on people who are interested in that kind of thing. You don’t need me here to act as bait.”
“I’m not looking for bait,” he said, frustration bleeding into all the ways he found her charming. “Look, if I can convince you to do this seminar series, and that makes Judaism accessible to new people, maybe I can appeal to a wider base. Keep the religion of my ancestors from fading into oblivion. Faith and science, at least in my definition, are fluid. They flex and adapt, bend and evolve, just like people, to survive. It’s a thoroughly logical proposition.”
“That,” she said, slowly, “is a very fancy and complicated justification for attempting to hire a former porn performer to bring young people to your synagogue.”
Ethan ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he needed a haircut. The overlong strands brushed the back of his neck, but he didn’t feel particularly inclined to give up anything that he could hold on to at the moment.
“You don’t have as good a read on me as you think you do.”
She turned to look at him more directly. “How do you know?”
“Because you keep trying to catch me in a lie.”
She shrugged, the movement too fluid by half. “I’ve met a lot of liars.”
“I want to hire you because you’re magnetic.” The truth came out too soon, too unguarded. Stark enough to hit them both in the face. For a long moment, no one said anything.
“I mean”—Ethan began to course-correct—“obviously you have unique expertise. Besides,” he rushed to add, “you want to teach, and you deserve a classroom.”
Her mouth kicked to the side. “Did you memorize that speech too?”
“No.” He wiped his thumb across his lips. “But I would have put something together,” he said, “if I’d known you were going to show up here tonight.”
Ethan hadn’t been able to get Naomi Grant out of his head. There was something refreshing about her. Grit wasn’t the right word. Everything about her outward appearance was polished to a high shine. She just seemed . . . tough.
Naomi was what his synagogue needed. He hadn’t exactly planned on offering prospective congregants