The Consummation: Josh and Kat Part III (The Club Book 7) Read online

  Kat sniffles again. “Impossible. I could never get sick of you. Ever.”

  My heart squeezes.

  “Okay. Well. I gotta go,” Kat says. “I’m gonna hang up and sob my eyes out now.”

  “Okay, babe. Have fun. Call me later.”

  “I will,” Kat says. “I can’t wait to see you.”

  “I can’t wait to see you, too. I miss you so much, babe.”

  “I miss you, too—so, so, so, so much.”

  “Don’t be sad anymore, Kat. I’m here now—and I’m not going anywhere.”

  She starts bawling on the other end of the line and my heart shatters at the sound of her wails.

  “It’s okay, baby,” I coo. “I’m right here. Don’t cry, beautiful. I’ll see you really soon.”

  “Okay. I gotta go,” she murmurs, obviously still crying. “I’ll call you later after I pull myself together.”

  “Wait, baby. Don’t go,” I say. “Don’t leave like this. You’re crying.”

  “No, I’m okay. I gotta go. I wanna have an ugly cry on my own.”

  “Okay, baby,” I say. “But call me again soon.”

  We hang up and I sit, staring at my phone for a long moment. Oh my fucking God. I love her. I love Kat with all my heart and soul. And I’m gonna tell her so on Thursday—the way I should have told her at the hospital if I’d had an ounce of sense.

  Kat was absolutely right to turn me down at the hospital. Actually, I never should have proposed in the first place—I know that now. I have no genuine desire to get married—I was just trying to appease the ghost of my father—get his absolution from the grave. But fuck that. My father’s not here to disown me anymore, and even if he were, I’d tell him to fuck off. Okay, fine, I’ve got a hot baby-momma-girlfriend. So fucking what? It’s not the end of the world. We’ll figure it out. The most important thing is that I love her—I know that now. I love Kat. And when I see her on Thursday, I’m gonna tell her exactly how I feel, no holds barred—and I don’t need a fucking ring and the promise of a stupid piece of paper from the government to do it. I’ll tell her straight from my heart and soul. Oh shit. I’ve suddenly got a brilliant idea. Oh my God, I’m a fucking genius. I close my laptop and leap up from the table, a surge of adrenaline flooding me. “I’m going out, T-Rod!” I call to Theresa in the back of the house.

  “Hang on,” Theresa’s voice calls from another room.

  “Gotta go!” I yell, bounding toward the front door. “I’ve got something important to do!”

  “Hang on a sec,” Theresa says, entering the room breathlessly. She’s holding a cardboard box.

  “Sorry, T-Rod,” I say, striding toward the front door. “I’ve got something I’ve got to do.”

  “Just take a quick peek at this stuff, Josh.” She holds up the box. “The movers were about to load this stuff onto the truck and I thought you might want to pull a few things out to take with you on Wednesday.”

  “No. Whatever that stuff is, they can load it onto the truck.”

  “But the truck’s gonna take four or five days to get to Seattle. Is there anything here you want to have with you the first night in your new house—you know, something to make it feel like home on your first night there?”

  I’m exasperated. A house is just a house, for fuck’s sake—there’s no such thing as a home. But, fine. Anything to make Theresa happy. I peek inside the box and half-heartedly rummage through its contents for half a second. “Nope. Nothing I care—” I shut my mouth. Oh. Yep. There’s one thing I care about. A whole lot, in fact. I pull it out reverently. “Just this,” I say. I run my fingertip over the three smiling faces gazing back at me from the framed photo. “Don’t let them load this onto the truck—I’ll take it with me in my bag.”

  Theresa nods. “I’ll put it into your carry-on—inside pocket. Don’t forget it’s there, okay? You don’t want it to break.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Of course.”

  I turn toward the front door again. “Hey, T-Rod,” I say, turning back around to face her. Why don’t you give yourself a raise? Maybe, I dunno, twenty-five percent?”

  Theresa smiles. “Thank you. Very generous of you.”

  “And, hey, can you do something for me?”

  “It’s my reason for living, Josh.”

  “Arrange a romantic dinner-for-two at my new place in Seattle for Thursday night. Seven o’clock. I’m talking a top-rated chef, a waiter in a tux, flowers everywhere, candles all over the place—the whole nine yards. You know, a five-star-dining experience, but right in my own dining room.”

  “No problem. But the truck won’t be there with your furniture until Saturday. I’ll have to rent some furniture for the night—at least a table and chairs.”

  “Great. And as long as you’re renting stuff, would you rent me a pool table for a couple nights? I might wanna play pool before my table arrives—it always helps me relax.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, and rent me a really comfortable bed for Thursday night—a really nice one. Pillow-top mattress. Silk sheets. You know, the whole nine yards.”

  “Josh, just a little tip: you never need to say the phrase ‘the whole nine yards’ to me. I know when it comes to you there are only two gears in everything you do: zero and ‘the whole nine yards.’”

  I laugh.

  “Speaking of which, what do you think about a violinist to play during dinner?”

  “Ooh. I like that. Do it.”

  “I’ll set it up,” Theresa says.

  “Just do whatever you have to do to make me look really good, T.”

  “Don’t I always, Josh? Speaking of which, I just bought you three new Anthony Franco suits from his new collection, already tailored to fit you to a tee. Do you want them loaded onto the truck or sent in a garment bag with you on the plane?”

  “Is one of them blue, by any chance?”

  She grins. “Of course. Sapphire blue to match your eyes.”

  “Garment bag for the blue one, truck for the others. I’ll wear the blue one Thursday night.” I wink. “Gotta look sharp for my big night.”

  “Oh, it’s a big night?”

  “It sure is. I’m finally gonna talk about my fucking feelings—to a girl.”

  “To a girl? Ooooh. Wow. That is big.” She beams a huge smile at me. “Lucky girl.”

  “That’s what I told her.”

  Theresa laughs.

  “I’m not kidding, unfortunately. That’s exactly what I told her.”

  Theresa grimaces.

  “Yeah. So now I’ve got my work cut out for me to get myself out of the doghouse.”

  “Ooph. I think we’d better add a cellist. Sounds like an emergency.”

  My smile broadens. “Thanks, T.”

  “You’re very welcome, Josh.”

  “I mean, you know, thanks for everything.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “Hey, how about we make that raise thirty percent? Sound good?”

  Theresa makes a “meh” face. “Well, thirty percent is certainly good. Nothing to sneeze at—believe me, I’m grateful for your generosity. But you only live once, right? Why not ‘go big or go home,’ I always say?”

  “Ah, you want ‘the whole nine yards,’ huh, T?”

  Theresa laughs. “You’ve rubbed off on me, I guess.”

  “Okay. Forty percent. But that’s my final offer.”

  Theresa nods. “I think that sounds about right.” She winks.

  I laugh. “Okay. Forty it is—until the next time you squeeze me, that is.” With that, I turn around and waltz out my front door, a spring in my step and a gleam in my eye for the first time in an entire fucking week.

  Chapter 16

  Josh

  “Six-ball in the side pocket,” I say. I bend over the pool table and sink my shot with a loud clack.

  “Kat turned you down?” Jonas says, incredulous.

  “Third worst day of my entire life,” I say. “She hit me with a mean left cro
ss followed by a crushing right hook. Bam! Right on the chin.”

  “I can only imagine. Sounds horrible, Josh.”

  “Four-ball off the bumper, ricochet off the seven-ball into the corner pocket,“ I say. I line up my shot carefully, whack the white cue ball with confidence, and sink the four, exactly as described. “Damn, I’m good,” I say.

  “Pretty impressive.”

  “My life may be falling down around my ears, but I can still sink a goddamned billiard ball, motherfucker.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t here for you when all this shit was happening. Sounds like you took it pretty hard.”

  “No worries, bro. ’Twas merely a flesh wound. I’m over it now—back in the saddle. Two-ball in the far corner—straight shot.” I bend down over the table and take my shot, but I’ve miscalculated the angle by a hair and the ball rebounds off the bumper. “Shit,” I say. “Goddammit. I always miss the easy ones.” I motion to Jonas. “Okay, go ahead and run the table now, bro. I’ll just sit down for the rest of the game.”

  “You never know,” Jonas says, rubbing chalk on the end of his stick. “I haven’t played in months—I might be rusty.”

  “Mmm hmm,” I say, leaning against the wall. “You’ve never been rusty at anything in your life.”

  Jonas walks around the table, surveying his first shot. “I’m thinking the seven-ball off the bumper right here and then off your two-ball into the side pocket,” Jonas says.

  “Pfft. Good luck with that—tough angle, bro. Just do the three. The three’s a clean shot.”

  “No, the three’s a red herring. If I sink the seven first, then I’ll have my whole table set up for me like clockwork.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Oh, I do.” Jonas bends over, takes his complicated shot, and sinks it with ease.

  “Goddamn, you.” I roll my eyes. “I hate playing against you. Against everyone else, I’m a fucking beast.”

  “I’m sure you are. So how far along is she?”

  “Almost ten weeks.”

  Jonas whistles. “Wow.”

  “Last week, the baby was the size of a grape. This week, it’s already the size of a kumquat.” I can’t help smiling to myself. The Kumquat’s carrying a kumquat.

  “Good to see you smiling about it.”

  I pause, surprised. “It’s actually kind of amazing how fast a guy can adjust to a new reality when there’s no other option,” I say.

  “Happiness depends upon ourselves,’” Jonas says.

  “Gosh, thanks, Plato.”

  “Aristotle. You want Plato?”

  “No,” I say.

  “‘There are two things a person should never be angry at: what they can help, and what they cannot.’”

  “Incredibly profound,” I say. “I feel magically better now. Hey, you wanna see something wild?” I pull out my phone and show Jonas the sonogram video Kat sent me the other day.

  “Sarah was there?” Jonas asks at the sound of Sarah’s voice asking the doctor to explain the image on the sonogram screen.

  “Yeah. Kat blabbed to her at lunch right before her doctor’s appointment. I guess Sarah didn’t wanna steal my thunder by telling you—she thought I should break the news to you.” I put my hands out like ta-da! “‘Hey, Jonas—you’re gonna be an uncle!’” I say with faux excitement. “There, I told you.”

  Jonas shakes his head. “I’m impressed Sarah was able to keep such a big secret.”

  “Kat couldn’t keep a secret to save her life,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Actually, I wouldn’t have minded Sarah telling you. I wish I could crawl under a rock and not have to tell anyone, to be honest.”

  “You’re not jumping for joy about your impending fatherhood, I take it?”

  “Pretty much shitting a brick.”

  “So when’s the baby due?” Jonas asks. He calls another shot and sinks it with ease, yet again, and I place my stick on a rack in the corner in utter resignation.

  “December second,” I reply. “Sagittarius.”

  “Sagittarius?”

  “Just like Henn.”

  Jonas laughs. “Oh, shit. That’d be funny if you had a kid just like Henn.”

  I can’t help but join Jonas laughing. That really would be funny.

  “So do you believe all that astrology stuff?” Jonas asks.

  I shrug. “Sort of. Kat’s kind of made a believer out of me, actually.”

  Jonas surveys the table, lining up his next shot. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be a father, Josh.”

  “So I’m told.”

  Jonas stands upright from the table and assesses me for a long beat. “You’re gonna be a fantastic father.”

  My cheeks feel hot all of a sudden. “You really think so?”

  “I know so. You were born to be a father, Josh—more than anyone I know. It’s in your DNA—you got it from Mom. You take care of people—it’s who you are—who you’ve always been.”

  “Wow. Thank you.”

  “It’s the God’s truth. That’s one lucky kid.”

  I bite my lip. “Thanks, Jonas.”

  Jonas leans over the pool table again, assessing his next shot. “Can you even imagine what Dad would be saying right now? ‘I’ll disown you faster than that gold-digger can demand a paternity test!’”

  “Dude, stop, please. I don’t have to imagine it—I’ve been hearing Dad’s voice screaming in my ear since Kat dropped the baby-bomb on me.”

  Jonas calls his next shot and sinks it with ease.

  “Mr. Faraday?”

  I look toward the door. It’s the violinist Theresa hired for me, a petite Asian woman in a black dress.

  “The cellist and I are all set up in the dining room,” the woman says. “Do you want us to stay hidden in the kitchen until your signal, or... how do you wanna play this?”

  I look at my watch. Kat should be here in just under thirty minutes. “I think you should start playing the minute my girlfriend walks through the front door—you know, set the mood right away that this is gonna be a magical night for her.”

  “Okay, great,” the violinist says. “We’ll just stand in position and wait for your signal, then.”

  “Why don’t you start playing the minute the doorbell rings? That can be your signal.”

  “Perfect. Oh, and the chef wanted me to tell you he’s all ready, too. He has a few questions.”

  “Great. Will you tell him I’ll be right out? I’m about to get my ass whooped. Shouldn’t take too long.”

  She chuckles and leaves.

  “Wow, you’re really going balls to the wall here,” Jonas says. “Flowers. Candles. Chef. Violin. Cello. I gotta get everyone’s contact info from you—Sarah would go nuts for something like this.”

  “Email T-Rod and ask her for the info—she set everything up for me.”

  Jonas leans down and lines up his next shot. “Well, yeah, I figured.”

  “She just gouged me for a forty percent raise, by the way. The woman’s a shark.”

  “She deserves every penny.”

  I laugh. “True.”

  “Oh, which reminds me—thanks for the bottle of champagne and fruit basket you sent to Sarah and me in Mykonos to congratulate us on our engagement. So thoughtful of you.”

  We both burst out laughing.

  “You’re so welcome,” I say. “It was the least I could do.”

  “I ought to chip in for half of Theresa’s raise. Half the shit you do for me is probably her.”

  “I’m not gonna dignify that with a response,” I say, though he’s one hundred percent right.

  “One-ball in the side pocket,” Jonas says, just before sinking the shot. “So did Theresa help you pick out Kat’s ring, too? Something that’ll ‘sear her corneas’—I believe was the phrase you used when you nagged me about it?”

  “Oh, no,” I say, scoffing. “I’m not proposing to Kat tonight. I’m not a fucking masochist. I already asked her once and she practically flipped me the bird. Getting disemboweled on
ce by Kat was plenty, thank you very much.”

  “What the fuck did you say to Kat when you asked her? I don’t understand why she said no.”

  “Actually, I think her exact words were, ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last goddamned man on earth.’”

  Jonas grimaces. “Wow, that’s pretty harsh.”

  “That’s Kat for you—you never wonder where you stand with her.”

  “Josh, seriously. Why’d she turn you down? I don’t understand. You love each other, right? And she’s carrying your baby. So it should be a no-brainer—you two should get married.”

  I shrug. “I pissed her off. It’s not hard to do—trust me. And now she doesn’t wanna marry me. Which is fine because I don’t wanna get married.” I motion to the pool table. “Take your shot, bro. Kat will be here soon.”

  “But if you’re not gonna ask Kat to marry you tonight, then what the fuck are you doing with the violin and the chef?”

  I grin. “Tonight’s gonna be even better than a marriage proposal. I’m giving Kat a once-in-a-lifetime gift—and then I’m finally gonna tell her the three little words.”

  Jonas raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “You haven’t already told her you love her?”

  My stomach clenches. He’s making me feel insecure. “No. I’m gonna tell her tonight. Plus, like I said, I’m gonna give her a gift she’ll never forget.”

  “But you already asked her to marry you.”

  “Correct.”

  “I’m totally confused. You proposed marriage to Kat without telling her you love her?”

  I nod, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. It sounds so wrong when he says it in that holier-than-thou tone of voice.

  Jonas scowls at me. “You said ‘Will you marry me, Kat?’ but you didn’t also say ‘I love you more than the air I breathe, Kat’?”

  I nod. I wish he’d drop it already.

  “Josh, what the fuck did you say to Kat when you asked her to marry you? I can’t for the life of me fathom what you said if it didn’t include the words ‘I love you more than life itself and I can’t live without you.’”

  I shift my weight. I feel my cheeks flushing. “I just told her, you know...”

  Jonas waits for me to finish my sentence, and when I don’t, he shakes his head at me, bends over the table, and lines up his next shot. “Nine-ball off the ten, then off the side, and then into the side pocket.” He sinks his shot in one fluid, confident motion.