No Kissing Allowed

Epilogue

Epilogue: The Battle of Wills

"We have five chocolate rugelach, a can of tuna fish, and 437 packets of soy sauce from every sushi restaurant on the Upper West Side."

Cora returned from her inventory of the kitchen and crawled back into bed, cursing herself for her failure to go grocery shopping before the storm struck. She'd been too distracted by the reunion show's fallout, too mortified at the thought of being recognized by her fellow shoppers to fill her basket with more than a few pastries.

Now, she brought her precious supply of chocolate rugelach back with her to bed and placed it on the pillow next to Jamie. He lay sprawled on his stomach with his hair in disarray and his long limbs contoured beneath the sheets. Three days had passed since he'd convinced her to give their relationship a chance. Seventy-two straight hours, stranded in his company by the flood waters outside, and she hadn't grown weary of him yet. On the contrary, the sight of Jamie in her bed made Cora's breath catch inside her chest.

He stretched and sat up, exposing his bare chest and abs, with the covers dangling precariously across his lap. Cora's cheeks flooded with heat as she pretended not to notice that way that sheet highlighted his V lines.

"What's a rugelach?" Jamie picked up the pastry bag and peered inside. "Is that like a babka?"

"No, but I'm impressed you've heard of babka." She patted his thigh through the covers.

"I've seen Seinfeld." His voice rose an octave as he put on a nasal American accent, gesticulating wildly with his index finger. "Cinnamon takes a back seat to no babka, Elaine! The lesser babka? I think not!"

Cora bit her lip. Off he went, quoting things again. His impersonation of Jerry Seinfeld was spot on, but it only served to highlight the stark difference between Jamie and the last man who'd occupied her bed—the one who'd grown up eating all the Jewish comfort foods that Cora (and the characters of Seinfeld) took for granted. Steven could have been the owner of that voice, although Jamie didn't know it.

Cora pushed the thought away, banishing all ghosts of boyfriends past. She'd turned a new page, remember? Started on a new story. "Babka is a coffee cake," she explained, adopting the schoolteacher tone that never failed to get under Jamie's skin. "Rugelach are these flaky little layered pastries with filling inside. See?"

Jamie sniffed the contents of the pastry bag. Thankfully, he dropped the Seinfeld impression and resumed in his normal British accent. "Five of them? This is all the food we have?"

Cora ticked off their remaining inventory on her fingers. "This, tuna, soy sauce, a little bit of olive oil..."

"...And you," Jamie finished. He underlined his statement by tugging at the satin tie of Cora's robe. She allowed him to pull the bow loose and slide his hand inside, gathering her against him by her waist.