The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2) - Rosie Danan Page 0,113
last meeting.
“The board made it clear they don’t want me there. Not in any way that I can abide.”
Naomi arched a brow. “Look, I’m the queen of not asking for approval. I could write a book about carving out a home for yourself outside the norm. But even on the outskirts, there’s community. There’s accountability. And there’s trust. I don’t know if you heard that whole speech you just gave—not bad, by the way, for a first time—but if you thought you were just talking about our breakup, you’re out of your mind. I’m great, don’t get me wrong. But ours is not the only relationship in your life worth fighting for.”
He should have known Naomi wouldn’t be easily deterred.
“You really think I should go back?”
Naomi had her hands on her hips, full warrior pose. “The real question is, do you want to?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I’m still hurt. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” she conceded. “I am. But I’ve realized that life allows for those multitudes. Our actions, the future we choose—more often than not, it all comes down to one simple question. What are you gonna let win—your love or your pain?”
Like so much else, Naomi made something so complicated, so fraught, effortlessly clear.
Ethan nodded. Whatever it took, he would find a way to convince the board to trust him again.
“That’s what I thought.” Naomi wound her arms around his waist, bringing their bodies together. Her smell, warm and lush, surrounded him—soothed him.
She spoke quietly in his ear. “No less. No more.”
He brushed her hair back from her face. Ethan would have given her anything in that moment.
“Okay,” he said, voice artificially amplified, as Naomi stepped back and ushered him toward the crowd. She’d switched his mic on again. Minx.
The bar’s occupants graciously returned their attention, eager for Morey’s promised conclusion.
“I’m sure most of you had a lot of questions the first time you heard about a Modern Intimacy lecture series sponsored by a synagogue. Maybe it didn’t make sense to you—the overlap between ancient practice and contemporary courtship. Honestly, maybe even after seven lectures it still doesn’t make sense to you. But for me, the connection has always been clear: I wanted us to learn, together, how to be good to one another. The course isn’t called Modern Love or Modern Sex, though I know some of you—Craig—occasionally forget that.”
Craig waved away a burst of whooping at his expense.
“Judaism’s enduring theme is the pursuit of a good life. ‘To do that which is right in the sight of man, and good in the sight of God.’ And you know, before this seminar series started, we talked about the love of God every day at Beth Elohim, but we weren’t reaching enough people. We weren’t reaching all of you.”
He wouldn’t exchange his ragtag, sometimes smart-mouthed new congregants—new friends—for anything.
“It’s easier to share behavioral ideals, to have them take root—especially in people who haven’t grown up with a firm commitment to practicing Judaism—through concrete, everyday examples. In other words, it was my hope that in helping you find connection with each other, I might introduce you into the wider community of our synagogue. That love of man might beget love for God.”
Ethan had always known that he wouldn’t succeed in winning over everyone who came to Naomi’s lectures. He’d considered it, like so much in his life, a great experiment, another chance to learn and grow, not only for the participants but for himself.
“I would like to say to all those members of Beth Elohim who didn’t join our course—for whom, perhaps, my ways of living and working and loving seem strange and unfamiliar—I hope that you will find comfort in the assurance that our course was built on the same foundation as the synagogue you hold dear, and my commitment to our shul and our congregation remains—whether I am your rabbi or not.”
There was no obvious cue for applause. So Ethan offered a lame “That’s all I wanted to say. Thanks for listening, and uh . . . Jimmy”—he waved at the bartender—“I’d like to buy everyone a round.”
At that, there was a clear cheer as everyone turned away from Ethan at once.
He gave Naomi a shrug. He’d done his best off the cuff.
She raised her chin at something over his shoulder.
“Ira,” Ethan said, shocked to find the board member making his way through the throng toward him. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
Naomi answered, “I might have added the board members to the Modern