Free I'm So Happy for You by Lucinda Rosenfeld

Daphne. The Arab-Israeli conflict was one of the few
     subjects that made her feel as if she really
was
a politically engaged creature, as opposed to one who cared mainly about celebrity baby gossip. “Honestly?” she said, turning
     to Jonathan in a burst of anger and excitement. “I get so tired of people bringing up the Holocaust to justify Israel’s occupation
     of the West Bank. Yes, the Palestinians have done some really odious things. But why should they have to pay for the crimes
     of the Nazis?” Feeling simultaneously triumphant and terrified, Wendy turned to Adam, who squeezed her thigh approvingly.
     Then she glanced back at Jonathan, whose face revealed further amusement. Finally, she looked at Daphne, whose eyes appeared
     in danger of popping out of her head. Guilt and embarrassment quickly replacing giddiness, Wendy swatted at the air and announced,
     “Anyway, enough politics for the night.”
    “Wendy is an editor at
Barricade
magazine,” Daphne said to Jonathan.
    “Not that old commie rag,” Jonathan said, chuckling.
    Again, Wendy felt fire in her chest. But Daphne’s brow was now so deeply knit that a cleft had formed between her eyes. Wendy
     took a deep breath and said, “So, are you guys already planning for the holidays?”
    “Well, Jonathan’s family has a house up near Stratton,” Daphne said quietly. “And I think we’re going to go up there and do
     a little skiing. Or”—she laughed quickly—“in my case, sitting around the fire drinking hot chocolate and reading
Shopaholic
novels. Anyway, I think we’re going to be there the whole time.”
    “Fun!” said Wendy as enthusiastically as she could manage. “And your family doesn’t mind you missing Christmas?” As far as
     Wendy could remember, the Uberoff family Christmas, which took place in Daphne’s hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan, was a fairly
     big deal. Never mind the fact that Daphne’s mother, Claire, was in a wheelchair with late-stage multiple sclerosis.
    “Well, we’re going to do Hanukkah this year instead,” Daphne said, turning to Jonathan with a demure smile, which he reciprocated
     with a proprietary arm around her squirrelly back.
    A surge of rage toward Jonathan Sonnenberg pulsed through Wendy. Politics was one thing. Religion was another. Surely, Daphne
     wasn’t going to give up her heritage for a man she’d met less than two weeks before. (While there was reason to believe that
     her maternal grandmother had been part Jewish, Daphne was essentially Presbyterian.) Or was it none of Wendy’s damn business
     what religion Daphne did or didn’t practice? And why did Wendy even care? Wasn’t the important part that Jonathan seemed to
     make Daphne happy?
    Bangs reappeared with their drinks, including a Sam Adams for Jonathan, which she plunked down before him, spilling some in
     the process. He didn’t say thank you, and she didn’t say sorry. She flipped opened her notepad and said, “To eat?”
    Adam ordered the hamburger, Jonathan the steak frites, Wendy the coq au vin, and Daphne, as she always did, two appetizers.
     (Daphne always claimed to have had a “huge snack” just before she left the house.)
    While they waited for their meals to arrive, Wendy struggled to keep the conversation going. Politics and religion were now
     off-limits. Jonathan didn’t know any of the same people that Daphne and Wendy did. Wendy had already asked him about his job.
     And he seemed utterly disinterested in finding out anything more about Wendy or Adam than he already knew.
    “So, have you guys been watching
Iron Chef
?” asked Wendy during one uncomfortable lull.
    “What channel is that on again?” asked Daphne.
    “The Food Channel,” said Wendy.
    “Oh. I’m not sure if I get that.” She turned to Jonathan. “Do I get the Food Channel?”
    “Beats me.” He shrugged. It was his last contribution to the general conversation. He spent the rest of the evening nuzzling
     Daphne’s neck, whispering