“Being a part of my family is a lot,” he said slowly. “Now that Baruch is free of that… What can I say? I’m jealous of him.”

The guys were waiting outside the shul for him.

“We need better AC, Frankel,” Koffman said. His atarah gleamed in the sun.

Levine thumped him on his very solid shoulder. “Or maybe you’re just overheating, Koffman.”

“Or maybe he’s just pregaming,” Akiva said, and the guys laughed.

Of course Koffman was pregaming; Kehillas Shimon had the best kiddush in town.

Akiva knew he should be inside for the rav’s speech, but he’d been restless lately. Ever since Baruch texted him after the barbecue, the words, “even for a Frankel,” they’d been playing on repeat, driving him crazy.

“Frankel?”

He turned to find Levine looking at him.

“You okay?

Akiva blinked. “What? Yeah, sorry, tired.”

Koffman rolled his eyes. “I’d also be tired if I’d flown to Italy for pizza last night.”

Akiva mentally shook off the cobwebs. “What? I didn’t fly to Italy for pizza. I flew to accompany the new sefer Torah my father donated to a shul in the Jewish Quarter.”

Levine grinned. “But tell me you got pizza.”

Akiva laughed. “Of course I did. But Americans do it better.”

“Ahem.”

Akiva closed his eyes, only Daddy cleared his throat that loudly.

He turned to see his father standing in the entrance of the shul, face expressionless.

“Akiva, come, I bought you Chazak.”

Why did he suddenly feel like he was 13? He shrugged at the guys and followed his father back inside just as Binny came over and asked if he could go to the park.

“No,” Akiva snapped, aware of his father’s eyes on him. He instantly felt bad.

He handed his son a marshmallow twist from his tallis bag and winked. Binny stuck it in his pocket without smiling and walked away, little shoulders hunched.

Great, Akiva thought, just great.

He sent a telepathic message to his father. “I’m 34. It’s none of your business where I am or what I’m doing.” But he said none of it.