Gabe has never heard Ezra sound quite so harsh with Rivi, so accusatory
Awinter frost has settled over the house, so chilly that it bites at Gabe’s skin. Ezra talks to Rivi in low tones in the kitchen, but it’s loud enough that Gabe and all the kids, arrayed in pajamas, can hear it. “Right here? Now?”
“It sounded important,” Rivi says, stiff and breakable as fired clay. “He isn’t the kind of client I can say no to — it’s all ego with him, and I can set boundaries, but he’ll ignore them.”
“You should have said no to him in the first place,” Ezra snaps, and Shimmy lets out a little whimper. Gabe has never heard Ezra sound quite so harsh with Rivi, so accusatory. Ten minutes ago, he had been singing Hamalach with the twins, at peace. Rivi was so stressed, he’d said to Gabe, his eyes awash with sympathy and affection. I thought a dinner with Eliana would be perfect.
That’s Ezra. Always quick to forgive and forget when he senses someone suffering.
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