He stepped out into the snowy street and came toward her. When he was a few feet away, he stopped. “Listen, Anna, I know things got really complicated with us and that we didn’t start off on the right foot. But the thing is... I really like you. I can’t stop thinking about you. The first time I saw you, it felt like I’d known you forever. That hasn’t changed. You’re kind, you’re generous, you’re sweet and funny—plus, you’re smart, a good friend, and an even better person, and honestly, I could go on all night. I’ve never met anyone like you. When I heardyou talking to Nick earlier, I couldn’t help but think you deserved so much more than what he had to offer you. And when I heard you mention me... I realized I couldn’t let you go without trying to give us one more chance. So say you’ll have dinner with me? An official first date, a fresh start, and maybe a new beginning?”
Anna stood stock-still, every rational thought flown out of her brain. She opened and closed her mouth, painfully aware that she probably looked like a confused goldfish in what was otherwise the most romantic moment of her life.
“Now that you know who I am, and I know who you are... what if we took a night to be us, together?” He tilted his head and smiled the adorable, crinkly-eyed smile she liked so very much, and she began to come to her senses. “Plus, I made brisket. And latkes. And once I get my mom on the line and ask her for her recipe, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be able to whip up a chocolate Yule log cake, too.”
“Who in their right mind would turn an offer like that down?” Anna managed, walking with him into the restaurant.
He took her coat and hung it up as she surveyed the scene: the lights were low, and a table in the center of the room was set with plates, cutlery, and wineglasses, and lit with candles. “Just as long as you don’t serve ranch dressing with the latkes!”
He laughed. “Hey—don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!”
—
Josh told Anna he didn’t need help cooking—that she should just sit on a barstool at the large kitchen-pass window, chatting with him and watching him work while enjoying a glass of rich,spicy Italian Syrah. The wine went to Anna’s head immediately—and she let it, feeling deeply at ease as she took bites of pillowy, salty, soft sourdough bread dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar between sips while watching Josh prepare their feast.
Anna smiled as she watched him drag the phone around the kitchen after calling his mom for baking advice—her name, he said, was Reggie. The phone was attached to the wall by a long curly cord, and he twisted it around the kitchen as he held the receiver to his ear and listened intently to her instructions. “Yeah, Mom,” Anna heard him say quietly, his body angled away from Anna. “It is someone special. No, you’re right, I’ve never cooked for anyone before. Yes. I hope so, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, too. Say hi to everyone for me. See you soon. Bye.”
He brought the brisket out of the oven to rest—it smelled divine, like so many of Anna’s holiday memories—popped in the Yule-log-shaped cake, and set to work frying the latkes. Soon the smell of crispy golden potatoes and onions filled the air, and Anna pushed away the bread, wanting to save room.
When all was prepared, Josh set the platters of food along the kitchen window, then handed Anna an empty plate. “Go ahead, you first,” he said, touching her waist as he moved past her. His touch sent shivers up and down her body.
He brought the wine bottle to the table and refilled her glass, then sat across from her, plate piled as high as hers. Anna took a bite of the brisket first, and moaned. “This is incredible,” she said before dipping a latke in sour cream and bringing it to her lips. She couldn’t help but think of all the meals out she had had with Nick—most of them haute cuisine, with foamsand essences and various and sundry forms of molecular gastronomy. The meals had always left her hungry enough to eat a cheeseburger afterward. She knew that wasn’t going to be the case tonight.
Josh put down his fork and lifted his glass. She lifted hers, too, and looked into his eyes. “To fresh starts,” he said. “And second chances.” She tapped her glass against his and smiled.
“So, should we start right from the beginning?” Anna asked. “Who exactly do I find myself dining with here tonight at this fine establishment? Tell me about yourself...”
“Josh,” he said, staring into her eyes. “My real name is Josh.” He put down his glass and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. Again, she felt a pleasant tingle from his touch and squeezed back, feeling like a current was running back and forth between them. “I was born up in Toronto—ever heard of it?”
“Sure have,” Anna said, nodding enthusiastically. “What was young Josh Tannenbaum like?”
“I don’t remember telling you my last name... Are you a spy?” He winked.
“Lucky guess. So go on, answer my question.”
“I was the shyest, dorkiest kid in my class, always had my head in a book, and I wanted to be a writer—but once I got contact lenses, I was spotted by a casting director at a mall and got my first commercial.”
“I cannot imagine you as nerdy. And by the way, I think you look great in glasses.”
“How would you know?” He raised an eyebrow. “Have we met before?”
“We-ell, I did see you in that great movie you did,One Night at Christmas?”
“Oh, right. That was my first big break—or so I thought. A nice Jewish boy doing a Heartline Channel Christmas romance. Once I started doing commercials, I decided I wanted to be a serious actor, but the roles I was getting... weren’t exactly serious. So I decided to act the hell out ofOne Night at Christmas. And it did get me noticed—I got a few other roles, most notablyCaptain Eagleman, which perhaps I should have foreseen was going to be the worst Hollywood flop ever—”
At this Anna held up her hand. “No, wait—it was not as bad asHoward the Duck.”
“Okay, fine,Howard the Duckbeing the only other flop of the same stature.” He sighed and leaned back. “So, anyway, one bad movie led to a few other mediocre roles, led to me deciding to work my ass off trying to get taken seriously as a true ‘artist.’ All the while, I had a feeling something wasn’t right—like maybe I wasn’t on the right path. Then I decided to go back to my original dream: writing. I wroteMoonlightand it did well—but I started being really hard on myself and thinking that in order to be truly successful, I had to be good ateverything, as if I could make everyone forget all about any of my failures by somehow becoming this perfect version of a movie star. Things became a real whirlwind after that, and I was on the wrong path. I finally got the spotlight I thought I had been craving to shine on me. Only, once that happened, I realized I hadn’t ever really focused on what was right for me—I had just focused on trying to be the best at what I was doing in every moment, and never on being real.”
“Is that so bad?” Anna asked. “Trying to be the best at what you do? I still think you’re being a bit hard on yourself.”
He put down his fork and thought for a moment. “Maybe not. I think ambition is great. But ambition for the sake of ambition—just to tick off boxes? Well, it can come at a cost. Fame is no joke. Even the small taste of it I’ve had has proven that. I’m just not sure I’m cut out for it. I miss writing.”
“Wow,” Anna said, sipping her wine. “This is a deep dive for a first date.”
“There’s just something about you that makes me feel like I know you. Sure we haven’t met before?”
Anna shook her head. “Never. I have one of those faces, though. People think they know me.”
