The Consummation: Josh and Kat Part III (The Club Book 7) Page 10

“You wanna swing by Starbucks before I take you back to your car?” Sarah asks, starting her engine.

  “Great,” I say. I look at my watch. “After that, I think I’ll head back to the hospital to check on Colby again.”

  “Can I join you? ” Sarah asks. “I’d love to give Colby a big hug.”

  “I’m sorry. I think you should visit Colby after he’s home. Honestly, he’s been pretty depressed lately—he doesn’t really wanna see anyone but family.”

  “Poor Colby,” Sarah says. She pulls her car out of the parking lot and heads toward the restaurant where my car is parked. “Hey, don’t forget,” Sarah says, “before you send that video to Josh, delete your apology at the end.”

  I don’t reply.

  “Kat. You don’t owe Josh an apology for being pregnant with his child—he made that baby right along with you.”

  “I know he made the baby with me, but he didn’t intend to take the heightened risk he did. If a girl tells a guy, ‘Yes, I’m on the pill,’ then she’d better be on the frickin’ pill to the best of her ability.” I shake my head. “Plus, I was pretty harsh with him in the hospital. You know how I get when my panties are in a twist.”

  Sarah makes a face that tells me she’s well aware of how I get when my panties are in a twist.

  “But now I realize Josh was just doing his best in a difficult situation,” I say. “Oh, Sarah, I want him so much. I don’t care about marriage. I don’t care about the magic words. I just want Josh to be mine—I want us to love each other completely.” I let out a long, tortured exhale and put my face in my hands. “Sarah, I think I might have lost him forever.”

  Sarah scoffs. “No.”

  “Yes. He’s totally pulled away from me this past week. I think he might be done with me for good.”

  “No, honey. Josh isn’t done with you—not even close.”

  I look at her, tears in my eyes. “I love him, Sarah. I love him like I’ve never loved anyone before. I’m so scared I’ve lost him.”

  “Aw, honey.”

  “I want to give him everything but he’s always holding back. He’s always got his guard up. He never lets me in completely.”

  “Sounds like the Faraday twins are more alike than meets the eye.” She smiles sympathetically and touches my hand. “Jonas was the same way and look at him now. He couldn’t be more ‘all-in.’ Just be patient. Josh just needs time.”

  “I don’t know how to be patient.”

  “I know, honey—but maybe it’s time you learned.” She purses her lips. “It’s really too bad you can’t get yourself stabbed by a Ukrainian hitman in a bathroom at U Dub. I really think that would do the trick.”

  “Damned grape spoils everything,” I say. “I’d totally get myself stabbed if it weren’t for the damned grape.”

  Sarah laughs.

  “And Josh meeting my family is off the table, too, at least for a while. At this point, that would be a recipe for disaster.”

  Sarah makes a sympathetic face.

  “So other than those two ideas, what other ‘external event’ could I arrange to make Josh realize he loves me and finally wants to go ‘all-in’?” I ask. “Obviously, me being pregnant with his spawn didn’t do the trick.”

  “I dunno,” Sarah says. “It’s gotta be something that makes Josh realize you love him completely—like, you know, unconditionally. If you can convince him he’s completely safe with you, no matter what, then maybe he’ll feel like he can finally let go and love you the same way in return.”

  “Good idea in concept,” I say. “But I have no idea what that ‘something’ would be.” I bite the inside of my cheek and look out the car window. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm,” Sarah agrees. “Can you think of something that would make him feel—”

  “I’ve got it.” I sit up in my seat, adrenaline flooding me. “I know exactly what to do.”

  “Well, that was fast. What is it?” Sarah asks.

  A demonic smile spreads across my face.

  “What?” Sarah asks. “Oh my God—what?”

  “I can’t tell you,” I say. “It’s too personal. But trust me, it’s something that’s gonna make Josh realize I’m one hundred percent all-in—and also that I’m the woman of his dreams.”

  “You’re smiling devilishly,” Sarah says.

  “Because I’m thinking something devilish.”

  “Gimme a hint,” Sarah says.

  “Oh, little Miss Sarah Cruz, you couldn’t handle it, trust me—your head would explode.”

  Sarah makes an adorable face. “God, you scare me,” she says.

  I look out the window of Sarah’s car again, my skin sizzling and popping with electricity, a happy smile dancing on my lips for the first time in a week. Yes. I know exactly what to do to coax Joshua Faraday to finally let go completely. I’ve just got to make him see he’s absolutely safe with me, in every conceivable way—that I love every little molecule of him, no matter how perverted.

  My smile broadens.

  They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But in the case of my beloved sick fuck, Joshua William Faraday, I’m quite certain the entry point into his tortured heart is through an organ just a tad bit lower on his anatomy.

  Chapter 15

  Josh

  I think Kat was put on this earth to torture me.

  Goddammit, I don’t just want her. I don’t just miss her. I crave her like a drug.

  I look up from the report I’m writing on my laptop and rub my forehead. Fuck, I can’t concentrate worth a shit. I should have finished this stupid report three days ago, but I can’t seem to trudge through it. I peer at my screen, just to see if whatever the fuck I’ve been writing for the past hour makes a lick of sense. For all I know, I’ve been writing, “Goobledoobledabbah” over and over. Fuck me.

  I lean back in my chair.

  Why’d I have to give in to my addiction and call Kat two hours ago? I thought hearing her voice would make me feel better, maybe take the edge off the pain I’ve been feeling all week, but all it did was torture me and make me crave her even more.

  I blame 3 Doors Down, the bastards. “Here Without You” came on just as I was texting with Kat about how depressed Colby is, and the next thing I knew, I was texting Kat she could bring a smile to any man’s face, and then, right after that, hastily pressing the button to call her, stupidly throwing an entire week’s worth of self-imposed Kat-rehab out the fucking window.

  “Theresa,” I say, looking at my longtime personal assistant across the room. She’s standing in my kitchen, cataloging a bunch of stuff that’s about to be loaded onto the moving truck out front. “You got any Ibuprofen?”

  “Of course.” Theresa rummages into her purse and hands me a couple pills and a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Make it four,” I say.

  She hands me two additional pills.

  “Thanks.” I swallow the pills and look down at my computer.

  “You’ve got a headache?” Theresa asks.

  “I’m fine,” I say. But I’m a liar. I’m not fine. In fact, I’m a wreck. And I’ve been a fucking wreck all week long, ever since I dragged my sorry, rejected, confused ass out of the hospital and onto the next flight back to L.A. I was so shattered by Kat’s rejection of me that night, so overwhelmed at the bomb she’d dropped on me, I made a decision that very night to quit her once and for all. If she’s my addiction, I thought, then I’ll just send myself to motherfucking rehab.

  Of course, I knew it’d be hard to quit a fucking unicorn, especially a unicorn tinged with a delicious streak of evil—a unicorn who happens to be the most exciting and incredible woman I’ve ever been with—a unicorn who sets the gold standard for turning me on—a unicorn who laughs like a dude and thinks like a terrorist and has a sexy little indentation in her chin that drives me wild. But I truly thought I could do it. I’m a fucking Faraday, after all, and, as my dad always used to drill into me, “Faradays never fucking quit.” (Other than when they
blow their brains out or drive off a bridge, I guess).

  “Josh, sorry to bug you,” Theresa says. A couple movers walk between us holding one of my black leather couches, and she pauses to let them pass before speaking. “The interior designer asked if we could move our consultation at the new house from Wednesday to the following Monday? She’s got a family emergency.”

  After six years of running my life, Theresa surely must know what I’m going to say in response to her question. But, okay, I’ll say it anyway. “If I happen to be in town on Monday, I’ll be there,” I reply. “If not, handle it for me. Just make the house look the way I like it—masculine, sleek, expensive, and in good taste—like it popped out of a glossy magazine.”

  “Okeedoke,” Theresa says. “Gotcha.”

  I look down at my laptop again.

  “Just one more thing,” Theresa says.

  I look up, annoyed.

  “Your cars won’t arrive at the new house until Tuesday at the earliest. So I went ahead and rented you a Ferrari 458 until then. It’ll be sitting in your garage when you arrive in Seattle. Keys on your kitchen counter. I’ve arranged a limo to pick you up from the airport.”

  I nod and look back down at my laptop. I have no idea what Theresa just said. I think she said she rented me a Ferrari, but I’m not sure. I can’t think. I can’t track. Shit. I can’t eat or sleep or breathe. I’m losing my fucking mind. Kat, Kat, Kat. She’s all I can think about. I’m drowning in an all-consuming ache. I need to see her. Touch her. Fuck her. Smell her. Bite her. Spank her. I’m dying. I actually think I might literally be dying. This week has been goddamned fucking hell.

  “Hey, Miss Rodriguez?” one of the moving guys asks. “Sorry to bug ya, but is this painting—”

  “Yes, that’s one of the items that was purchased by the new owner and will stay with the house,” Theresa says, hopping up from her stool with obvious exasperation. “Put that painting down and come with me. I’m gonna show you which artwork stays and which goes again.”

  My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I look down.

  Kat.

  My heart leaps. This is the first time all week Kat’s instigated contact with me.

  “Hi, Josh,” Kat writes. “Just finished my doctor’s appointment. Attaching a video of the sonogram. XOXO Kat. P.S. I told Sarah about the baby at lunch and she went to the appointment with me. Sorry. It just slipped out.” She attaches a blushing-face emoji. “P.P.S. I’d strongly advise you NEVER send me into war with any classified information. Oh, and Sarah says she won’t tell Jonas about the baby—she’ll leave that to you. But she says you better tell your brother he’s going to be an uncle soon—because even though Sarah’s not nearly as big a blabbermouth as me (but who is?), she’s still only human.”

  I shake my head. It’s so Kat to insist we hold off telling Jonas and Sarah about the pregnancy until after their wedding and then go right ahead and blab about it to Sarah not five minutes later. I press play on the video, still shaking my head, completely annoyed.

  “Doctor,” Sarah’s voice says, “will you explain what’s onscreen for the baby’s father?”

  My entire body jolts at Sarah’s use of the word “father.” Holy fuck. Sarah’s referring to me.

  The doctor explains what’s onscreen, including pointing out a flicker she says is the baby’s heartbeat—what the fuck?—the baby’s got a heartbeat already?—and when the doctor’s finished talking, the camera pans to Kat.

  Kat.

  Oh my God.

  My heart wrenches at the sight of her. She’s lying on an examination table, her blouse pulled up, her golden hair splayed around her head—and her eyes looking as sad and lackluster as I’ve ever seen them. Oh my God. My heart’s absolutely breaking at the pitiful, lonely, tortured look in Kat’s beautiful blue eyes.

  Instantly, all the anger I’ve been feeling toward Kat this week evaporates into thin air. I can’t get over how unhappy my gorgeous Party Girl looks—and utterly exhausted, too. Clearly, she’s not well. She’s still hot as hell, of course—she’s Katherine Ulla Morgan, after all—but I’ve never seen Kat look quite so ragged. So vulnerable. So fucking miserable. Even when she was hung-over and functioning on three hours of sleep in Vegas, even when she was scared to death to walk into a bank and impersonate a Ukrainian pimpstress, even when she found out I didn’t tell her about my move to Seattle, Kat never looked quite the way she does in this video.

  “Hi, Josh,” Kat says toward the camera, waving half-heartedly. “Well, it looks like our accidental Faraday is a stubborn little thing—surprise, surprise! I guess he or she’s decided they’re not going anywhere, after all.” Emotion overwhelms her all of a sudden. She wipes her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Josh,” Kat says, her voice wobbling.

  The video abruptly ends.

  I lean back in my chair, my heart exploding with yearning and regret and sympathy. Oh my God. Kat. My Party Girl with a Hyphen. My beautiful unicorn.

  The woman I love.

  Oh my God, yes. It’s suddenly as obvious to me as the nose on my face: I love Kat. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize it. I love Katherine Ulla Morgan and I can’t live another day without her. I can’t fucking breathe without her. Jesus Fucking Christ. What the fuck have I been doing this whole past week, staying away from the woman I love? I should have been comforting her—taking care of her—telling her we’re in this cluster-fuck of a situation together. I should have been strong enough—compassionate enough—man enough—to tell the voices in my head to shut the fuck up.

  I feel like the earth has suddenly broken off its axis and hurtled uncontrollably into space. Oh my God. I love Kat—and I should have been there for her this whole past week while she was dealing with Colby’s injuries and the shit-storm her life’s become, rather than sitting around moping and wallowing in self-pity and fear. Oh my God. I’m such a prick. An immature, self-involved, pussy-ass of a little prick.

  I pick up my phone, adrenaline coursing through my body.

  “Hi,” Kat says softly, answering after one ring.

  “Hi,” I reply. “I got your video, Kat—I saw the grape.”

  Kat exhales. “I’m so sorry, Josh.” She lets out a little yelp.

  My heart squeezes. “You have nothing to apologize for,” I say, emotion overwhelming me. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  “You? But I’m the one who forgot to take my pill.”

  “Kat, so what? Birth control pills aren’t one hundred percent effective in the best-case scenario. So we took a slightly higher risk than I’d originally realized. It was a fucking accident.”

  “But you trusted me and I screwed up.”

  I scoff. “Who could remember to take a pill with the schedule we were keeping in Vegas? Seriously, Kat, if the situation were reversed, I would have missed a whole week’s worth of pills, I guarantee it.”

  Kat lets out a little whimper.

  “Whatever the increased odds were after missing one pill, I’m sure I would have taken them in advance, I just wanted to fuck you so goddamned much.”

  Kat laughs through tears.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been a prick this week—I guess I had some shit to work out.”

  “You haven’t been a prick—you’ve just been extremely polite.”

  “I made you feel like you’re alone in this, and you’re not.”

  Kat sniffles loudly but doesn’t say anything for a long beat. “I thought maybe you were done with me, Josh. I was scared you didn’t want me anymore.”

  “Done with you? Are you mad? No fucking way.”

  Kat breathes a huge sigh of relief.

  “Are you done with me?” I ask, holding my breath.

  “No fucking way,” she says. “I’ll never be done with you, Josh. Never.”

  My heart lurches like a guard dog on a leash. “So, hey, how ’bout that grape,” I say. “Pretty crazy, huh?”

  “Crazy corn chowder,” Kat replies.

  “That’s a total H
enn-ism, you know.”

  “I think that’s where I got it.” She sniffles again.

  “Seeing the baby’s heartbeat made everything seem so real,” I say softly.

  “Totally,” she agrees. “This shit is real, man.”

  “Crazy.”

  “You know, it’s so weird,” she says quietly, “but when I saw the heartbeat, I started feeling protective about the grape—like I don’t want anything to happen to it, after all.”

  “Immortality through reproduction, remember? It’s evolution, baby.”

  “But I’ve never wanted a baby. I don’t even think babies are cute. They just look like tiny old men.”

  “Your heart’s answering the call of the wild, babe.”

  “But it’s so unlike me.”

  “Yeah, I guess we’re both doing things we never thought we’d do, huh?” I pause, hoping Kat will address her soul-crushing rejection of me in the hospital, but she doesn’t. “So, hey, PG,” I say, clearing my throat. “It turns out I’m moving on Wednesday.”

  “Yay,” she says.

  “I’ve got to see you,” I say, my heart racing. Fuck me. That’s the understatement of the century.

  “Shoot,” Kat says. “Wednesday’s not good for me. Colby’s getting out of the hospital and my entire family’s gonna hang out with him. Can we do Thursday?”

  “Thursday it is. I’ll text you my new address. Seven o’clock?”

  “Great. I can’t wait to see your new house.” She pauses. “I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Same here. I’ve missed you,” I say. I clutch my chest. Jesus, I can barely breathe.

  “Josh, I’ve missed you so much,” she whispers. “I’ve been feeling like I’m dying.”

  “Me, too, babe. Exactly. I’ve been in physical pain without you. You have no idea.”

  I can hear her smiling over the phone line, even as she sniffles. “Really?”

  “Hell yes. I’ve been miserable.”

  “Me, too,” she says softly. She sniffles again. “I’ll be counting the minutes until Thursday. And maybe Friday, too? Because... you’ll be living here, so . . ?”

  “Yep. Absolutely,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. “You’ll be seeing me so much, you’ll get sick of me. I promise.”