With the long line of tourists also eager to see the incredible building, with its art deco style, she and Gabe had plenty of time to talk.

“I love the concept of your men’s grooming stores, how did you start the business?” she asked, unable to hide the eagerness in her voice.

His lips twitched with amusement. “I come from a long line of barbers. My father was one and my grandfather too.”

Her eyes widened with interest. “Really?”

He leaned casually against the wall, his jacket threaded through the crook of his arm. “My family originally came from a small town in Southern Italy. Things became difficult in the 1930s, we were sponsored by a family member and my grandparents immigrated to America before the war.”

“Your family was lucky.”

“They were.” A grateful look crossed his eyes before he nodded slowly. “They came to New York and settled in the lower east. My grandfather was fortunate to get a job as a barber, which was his trade. Eventually, he got his own business and his son, my father, became a barber too, taking over the shop.”

“Is it still there?”

Laughter lines creased around his eyes and lips. “Yes, it’s still there and it’s like a time warp, you go in and it’s the same as it’s been for years. The clients prefer it.”

Curiosity made her head tilt to the side. “You didn’t take over the shop?”

“No.” He shook his head. “My parents wanted me to go to college and I got in on a scholarship. One night when I was up late studying, I came up with the idea of a men’s grooming salon.” He squared his shoulders. “We started with one shop.”

“And now you have twenty shops.” Her words rushed out.

“And now I have twenty shops,” he repeated, his eyes sparkling with self-assuredness and conviction.

Warmth tingled her limbs and she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. “You’re pretty relaxed about what you’ve achieved.”

He shrugged with indifference but she could see that despite his off-hand and relaxed manner, the smile tugging at his lips said a lot. He’d worked hard to accomplish success.

Her finger pressed against the firm muscle in his arm. “You’re the American dream. I bet your family is proud of you. Are you close?”

“Yes and yes. We’re a typical American Jewish family but who also speaks Italian and eat a lot of Italian food.”

She could see genuine delight in the way he spoke about his family, his love for them matched her own for her family. Her tummy became like melted chocolate, their family backgrounds were virtually identical. No wonder they had connected so quickly.

Her wayward heart wished that he was also feeling the emotional spark between them and she’d see him again.

Her chin jutted out and she said in a voice full of bluster, “If my mum met you, she’d have us matched in a heartbeat.”

“You too?” His loud groan, full of dramatic effect, made her like him a smidgen more. Even more in common with each other.

“For sure.” She nodded. “I love my family but they drive me nuts. I’m twenty-eight and because I’m not married they think the world is coming to an end.”

He nodded with compassion and understanding.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said in a determined voice. “I’m thirty-one and my nonna is still trying to match me up. So tell me what you did in Australia?”

“My family runs a kosher café in Melbourne. It’s very popular with the senior crowd.” She made quotation marks in the air when she said senior crowd. “While I’m at the front making coffee, my parents cook and prepare the food. We have staff and it can be really busy.”

His forehead creased with interest. “You went from finishing school to working with your parents?”

“Yes,” she said, a tightness stretched across her chest. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, but I’m surprised that you’ve gone from one barista job to another. Don’t you want to do more with your life?”

“Not all of us can be entrepreneurs,” she snapped at him. Guilt and annoyance at her rudeness wove through her when she saw the frown marring his forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so…defensive.” She apologised with sincerity.

He rubbed his hand through his hair. “You work with your family, which is great, but you’ve not made time for yourself. Why work so many hours at the Helping Hand? There are plenty of volunteers who can do what you do.”

A silence fell between them before they were bumped by people behind them in the line. A voice sang out, “Can you move along?”

They shuffled forward before she cleared her throat and confessed, “I wasn’t academic at school but I love working with people. I took a year off, went to Israel, studied and did a lot of voluntary work. When I returned to Australia, I just didn’t know what I wanted to do. I’d always helped in Mum and Dad’s café and I started back as a ‘fill-in’ so to speak.” She took a deep breath, realising for the first time she’d lapsed into complacency. “I just never left and I haven’t found anything else that I love doing more.”

He nodded slowly, not interrupting her.

She nibbled on her lip, contemplating how a casual job eight years before had stretched into a full time career. A zip of hurt stabbed her belly; if she’d been so complacent with her work, had she been complacent in her relationships? Was that why he’d cheated on her? She shook her head to clear out the stupid thoughts. He’d bedded someone else, not her. Turning back to Gabe she added, “I love what I do but I just fell into it.”

He slid his hands into his pockets. “So why did you suddenly decide to come to New York?”

She looked away and gritted her teeth as remorse and annoyance washed over her. Telling him would spoil their date. Bad enough to be the centre of gossip in her community back home without Gabe also looking at her and wondering why she was so unlucky in love.

He nudged her gently with his elbow, encouraging her to confess. “Lisa?”

How to avoid his questions? What if she told him the truth and he laughed? Gabe was gorgeous, charismatic, an entrepreneur, while she was an everyday gal who worked with her parents and made coffee. Would he still find her interesting after he learnt how she’d been the source of much gossip in the Melbourne Jewish community?

Avoiding eye contact she said, “I don’t want to tell you. It’s embarrassing. Enough to say, I needed to get away for a while.”

They shuffled forward before he whispered in her ear, “My nonna would have you singing like a canary.”

Cringing with unease she said, “I don’t doubt that. Please don’t invite me to any family functions, I’m not up to any interrogation.”

Looking up she caught the gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Rat-bag.” She then stuck her tongue out at him.

He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

The banter eased the tension in her neck muscles and she asked, “What does your family do for Chanukah?”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know, I’m going to Florida for one week. I do this every year.”

Astonishment made her jaw drop. “What? Miss Chanukah? Why?” Why would he leave his family, which he obviously loves, and miss such a joyous festival?

“There are things that I need to do.” The stiffness in his voice didn’t tell her much and she wondered what was so important to have him fly out to Florida, when his business revolved around New York.

The tight skin around his jaw and the stern look in his eyes swayed her from asking anything else so she pushed her meddling thoughts away before they were herded into the lift. Sandwiched between other tourists in the lift heading skyward, there was little opportunity for private conversation.

She looked at her watch. “We’ve been waiting awhile, I’m sure it will be dark outside.”

He nodded in reply.

Out of the lift, they stood against the wall donning their jackets, gloves, and beanies.

Holding out his hand he said, “Ready?”

She nodded, and they walked out into the cold air and Lisa gasped at the beauty of the city lights sprawled in front of her. “The view is amazing, thanks, Gabe.” Her eyes took in the scenic beauty of the city and she gasped with delight.

Then a wave of guilt hit her with the force of a tsunami. Why had it taken her so long to do something so fun and touristy? She mentally hit herself for avoiding it. Gabe had hinted at it but she’d been too stubborn to see it. Here in New York City with so much to offer, she’d stupidly spent weeks “hiding away” like she was still in Melbourne, avoiding the gossip that had circulated around the community.

She could’ve still helped out at Helping Hand and do sightseeing. Angry tears blurred her vision and she leaned against a nearby metal post, her heart heavy with anguish. Anguish that had been self-inflicted and in hindsight, totally idiotic.

“Lisa? Lisa, are you okay?” Gabe’s voice was filled with concern and she closed her eyes for a moment’s reprieve to hide her tears.

“I’m fine, I just need a moment.” She tried to dismiss his attention with a wave of her hand, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Lisa, tell me what’s wrong?” The concern in his voice made her feel even worse. Only a few hours ago, Gabe had been a stranger to her yet in a short time he’d shown her compassion and helped her see things she’d been blinkered to. What a fool she’d been.

Her heart stilled before she opened her eyes and saw his dark eyes so close to hers filled with obvious worry.

She rubbed her nose with the back of her gloved hand. “I’m okay, just having a moment. I just need a minute.”

“Sure.” He guided her to a bench and she sat. The beautiful view was gone, obscured by her tears of self-pity. After placing his arm around her shoulder, she leaned her head against the strong muscle of his shoulder and took comfort in his physical strength. And for a moment, she pretended that she was just an Aussie gal on holidays, having a date with a gorgeous guy.

Moments passed, or it could’ve been minutes, before she straightened and looked at him. “Sorry, that was embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” he said in a serious tone. “Embarrassing is going on a blind date and being set up with your ex-girlfriend.”

A burst of laughter erupted from her lips. “No way! I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,” he said with such sincerity that she itched to know more.

“How did that happen?”

“A plethora of circumstances is probably the best way to describe it,” he said gravelly, his eyebrows coming together. “You feeling better?”

His smile made her tummy dissolve into chocolaty-goo again. “I am, thanks.”

“Want to talk about it?” He tapped her shoulder with a gentle touch.

Yes! No. “Maybe later?” She gave him a wink before moving away from the warmth of his comforting embrace and stood. “Come on, I need to see this amazing view and take some pictures.”

They spent the next half hour taking pictures and selfies of each other, laughing as they walked around the observation deck admiring the sprawling mass that was the vibrant city below them.

Gabe then pointed to the spire. “Next week, it will be blue and white, with the antenna a flickering candle for Chanukah.”

Her heart leapt with interest. “Really?”

“Yes, for the eight days of Chanukah and then the following week when it’s Christmas, they change it to red and green.”

“I can’t wait to see that,” she said before snapping a picture looking skyward. Turning to him she confessed, “Chanukah is my favourite festival, and I love that it’s celebrated here too with lights and decorations.” Instead of an encouraging smile she was surprised to see a remorseful look cross his eyes. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I don’t like Chanukah,” he said in a deadpan voice.

She gasped in bewilderment. “How can you not? It’s the best. You have sufganyiot―”

“Donuts?” he asked in a tone that implied donuts were a bad thing. “You can have them anytime.” He gave her a dismissive wave with his hand in the air.

She ignored his resentful tone and rigid stance and said in a low voice, like she was revealing a national secret, “Aaaahhhhaa, but we make them with my grandfather’s secret recipe, not just using jam but using fillings like custard, halva, and melted chocolate.”

The silliness worked and the frown slid off this face. “My mouth is watering.”

“They’re delicious. I can make you some, if you like,” she added in a playful tone.

That look of sadness reappeared, masking his handsome face. “I’m going away next week―”

“To Florida?”

“Yes, to Florida,” he clarified in a shaky voice. “But you should make them at the Helping Hand, I’m sure they’ll be appreciated.”

And just like that, she knew she’d crossed an invisible, painful boundary that he didn’t want to share or talk about. Her mouth dried and she wondered what had happened to have hurt him so much.

* * *

Gabe looked at Lisa and watched her nibble her lip. He’d hurt her with his inability to share confidences, but the pain of losing his best friend, Tom, to PTSD, still had the ability to paralyse him with such agony that he wondered if he’d ever recover from the loss. This was the third holiday season without Tom and the void was still as bleak and miserable as it had been since he’d lost his best friend.

Unable to speak about Tom’s death and the profound effect it had had on him, he’d coped by not talking about it and shunning attempts by his family to help him. It was easier to keep the throbbing pain buried in him as he did every December.

But now he’d met Lisa and she was a wonderful distraction with her creamy skin and large hazel eyes. Her long brown hair tumbled over her shoulders in soft curls and she had a girl-next-door prettiness about her that had initially attracted him to her.

Instead of working his way through the stack of emails that needed his attention, he’d hung around the centre talking to Lou and others, waiting for her to finish her shift.

They may have spent only a few hours together but he felt connected to her in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was Jewish or had a similar family background, but in the past few hours he’d felt happy. Happy in a way he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. And that scared him.

Pushing the pain of Tom and all those memories into a dark recess, he made an effort to focus on her. “Tell me why you love Chanukah so much. It’s not because of the presents, is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re joking, right?” She flung him a “I can’t believe you said that” look. “I was very close to my grandfather, in fact, I was named after my grandmother, Elisheva. We’d go to their house every Chanukah to celebrate and my grandfather cooked. He made it fun but he wanted us to learn that the festival, the chag, is not just about the presents but rather those who fill the chag with light.”

“Go on,” he said, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.

“Traditions are great. The donuts, latkes, chocolate, money, but they are instrumental in bringing the family together so we can create real experiences and memories.” The joy lit up her face and he could see real happiness.

Her voice lowered. “It’s been seven years since my grandparents died.”

“They died the same year?” he asked in a quiet voice.

She hesitated before answering. “Yes, she died of cancer and he died a few months later, I reckon from a broken heart.”

“You must miss them a lot.” He gently stroked her arm. He couldn’t imagine losing his precious grandmother, his nonna. Despite her interference and meddling in his love life, she was very special to him, having instilled a love of his heritage and Italian food.

He scratched his chin and thought about her words. “You’re named after your grandmother and it’s seven years, sheva being seven in Hebrew.”

Her eyes widened in wonderment. “How did you get that? I can’t believe you just said that.” Her hands came up to her mouth. “I needed to get away from Melbourne but it’s not easy being here, alone, when I want to do something special to honour my grandparents’ memories, especially it being seven years.”

Concern wormed its way up his spine. Something awful must have happened for Lisa to have uprooted herself from her family, to come to New York and miss a festival so special and meaningful to her. Unsure what he could do for her he said, “There are lots of Chanukah parties and festivities throughout New York next week. You could go to a different one every night for the eight days of the festival.”

“I know.” She gave him a weak smile. “It’s stupid but I’ll be an outsider, which I am. I wanted to do something with friends but my only friend here is Charlotte.”

“I’m your friend,” he added, taking her hand to reassure her.

“Yes, but you’ll be away next week when I’m cooking sufgniyot.” Her voice drifted off.

“Yes, I will be away. You should come with me.” It was a statement, rather than a question, and Gabe wondered what on earth he was doing asking a woman he’d just met, to go away with him.

This was his pain and his way of coping was to go to Florida. He didn’t need Lisa, as nice as she was, asking questions, offering comfort, and being there for him.

He managed best by being alone, shoving the pain away.

What had he done? Why had he invited her?

Stupidity, thy name is Gabe Olivari.