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

  “What part?”

  Josh’s smile vanishes. He clears his throat. “Medina,” he says evenly, apparently trying to make that word sound as ho-hum as humanly possible.

  I glance around, gauging everyone’s reactions to the revelation of Josh’s hometown—and it’s immediately clear everyone fully understands the implication: it means Josh Faraday could use hundred-dollar bills to wipe his ass every day for the rest of his life and still afford to buy himself mansions all over the world. Surely, my family must have at least suspected Josh has cash to burn when he drove up in a freaking Lamborghini—but now they know Josh could buy an entire fleet of Lamborghinis if he wanted.

  “Oh, Medina’s very nice,” Mom says politely, but it’s plain to see she’s flustered. “Some of the homes there are spectacular.”

  “Was Bill Gates your next-door neighbor growing up?” Dax asks, going straight for the jugular as only my baby brother can do.

  My stomach clenches. Shoot. It didn’t even occur to me to tell everyone to refrain from asking Josh questions about his childhood.

  “No. Bill Gates lives about three miles from where I grew up,” Josh says.

  “Where did you go to school?” Mom asks.

  “St. Francis Academy.”

  “Oh,” Mom says, obviously surprised. “Catholic school?”

  Josh nods. “Yeah. I went there from grade school all the way through high school. Sixty-two people in my entire graduating class. After that, I couldn’t wait to get to UCLA. A student population of thirty-five-thousand sounded awfully good to me.”

  “Oh, I bet,” Ryan says.

  “I had total anonymity for the first time in my life—I absolutely loved it.”

  Of course, I know Josh landed at UCLA immediately after the death of his father and institutionalization of his brother—which means it might not have been the best of times for him, despite the way he’s portraying it right now. But my family certainly doesn’t need to know about any of that.

  “Are you a practicing Catholic?” Mom asks.

  Josh smiles from ear-to-ear like Mom’s said something highly amusing. “No,” he says simply without elaboration. He takes a huge bite of his food. “This is so good, Mrs. Morgan.”

  “Louise.”

  “Louise. Thank you. This is delicious.”

  Mom beams a huge smile at him. “Thank you. Actually, feel free to call me Lou.”

  My heart stops. Only family and very close friends call my mom Lou. I rub Josh’s thigh under the table. Three down, two to go, I think.

  “So before you decided to open rock-climbing gyms with your brother, what did you do for work?” Dad asks.

  Josh proceeds to politely tell everyone about Faraday & Sons—a topic I’m sure he has no interest in, since he’s never once talked about it with me. As I listen to him, I learn a lot I didn’t know, actually—and also realize, hey, Josh is pretty damned smart. But my attention span quickly evaporates and, while Josh is explaining something horrendously boring, no offense, I steal a glance at Colby. He’s studying Josh intently, listening to every word he says, nodding occasionally. There’s color in Colby’s cheeks, I notice—a sparkle in his eyes. In fact, Colby looks remarkably close to his former self—as good as he’s looked since the roof so horribly caved in on him, literally and figuratively, four weeks ago.

  “So your father started the business, then?” Mom asks. “He’s the ‘Faraday’ in ‘Faraday & Sons’?”

  Josh’s thigh tenses under my palm. “That’s right.”

  “And do your parents still live in Medina?” Mom asks.

  Josh’s thigh twitches under the table and I squeeze it.

  “Mom, Josh doesn’t wanna talk about that,” I intervene.

  “No, it’s fine,” Josh says, patting my hand under the table. He clears his throat. “My parents have both passed away.”

  There’s a palpable shift of energy in the room. Instantly, the air is thicker—heavier—and every member of my family, without exception, suddenly looks some variation of ashen, somber, or flat-out devastated.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mom says.

  Everyone follows Mom’s lead and mumbles some form of condolence.

  “It’s okay,” Josh says. “It’s been a long time.”

  “How old were you?” Mom asks. “Did they die together in some sort of accident?”

  “Uh, no, not together. My mom died when I was seven. She was murdered in our home by an intruder. And my dad died when I was seventeen.”

  Josh’s last sentence hangs in the air. Clearly, everyone is waiting for Josh to identify the cause of his father’s death the way he identified his mother’s—but Josh doesn’t say another word.

  “What happened to your father?” Dax asks after a moment.

  Mom puts her hand on Dax’s shoulder as if to quiet him. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it, honey,” she says, her voice awash in tenderness. “We totally understand.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Josh says. “Uh. My father suffered from severe depression after the death of my mother.” Josh bites his lip. “He never got over losing her.” He presses his lips together and leaves it at that.

  For the first time, I’m seeing exactly why Josh once told me he hates telling people his life’s story. Everyone suddenly looks at me funny when I tell them, he said. Like they think I’m “laughing through the pain.”

  And now I see exactly what Josh meant. Of course, I know my family members are looking at Josh with nothing but deep sympathy, but I’d shut the hell up over time, too, if people constantly looked at me the way my family’s looking at Josh right now.

  “Well,” Mom says definitively. “I’m very sorry for your losses, Josh.”

  “Thank you,” Josh says. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”

  “Please know you’re always welcome here. Any time.”

  “Thank you,” Josh says. His cheeks are red.

  There’s an awkward silence. Mom looks like she’s gonna cry.

  Josh shifts in his chair and then, almost like a turtle burrowing himself into his shell, he takes a huge, conversation-ending bite of spaghetti. “This really is the best sauce I’ve ever had,” he mumbles between chews, filling the awkward silence.

  Mom’s face is bursting with compassion. “I’m glad you like it—especially since it’s your turn for extras.”

  We all exchange looks, nonverbally acknowledging our shock.

  From the look on his face, it’s clear Josh doesn’t understand the gift Mom’s just bestowed upon him.

  “Whenever Mom makes her spaghetti sauce or chili or lasagna,” I explain, “two or three of us get to take home a huge portion of leftovers to put in our freezer. We call it getting extras.”

  “It’s always Keane plus someone else,” Ryan adds.

  “It’s not always Keane and someone else,” Mom says defensively. “Sometimes, I don’t give extras to Keane.”

  “Mom, it’s always Keane and someone else,” Dax says.

  Mom looks to Colby for support, but Colby nods in solidarity with Dax.

  “Well, Keane’s not here tonight, is he?” Mom sniffs. “So that means he doesn’t get extras this time.” She pauses, smirking. “If your penile brother would rather dance in his underwear for a bunch of screaming women at a bachelorette party than eat dinner with his dear mother, well, then, that’s his choice, isn’t it?”

  Every single person at the table, including Mom and Dad, simultaneously lose their shit.

  “You think I don’t know what Keane’s been up to?” Mom says, laughing hysterically.

  But Colby, Ryan, Dax, and I can’t compose ourselves enough to reply to her. We’re like flopping fish on a riverbank, incapacitated by our laughter.

  Mom shrugs and takes a long sip of her wine, her eyes full of pure evil. “Let this be a lesson to all of you kids: in the age of smartphones, don’t even try to get away with something devious—your mother will always find out.”

  My brothers and I can’t s
top screaming with laughter.

  “Who ratted him out?” Ryan finally asks, clutching his stomach.

  “One of my friends from Bunco. Her daughter Deanna went to a bachelorette party the other night, and apparently a certain male stripper showed up to entertain the ladies with some gyrating dance moves.” Mom rolls her eyes. “I must say the photo I’ve got of Keane dancing around in his underwear is definitely one for my memory book—I’m gonna put it right next to the one I have of Keane dancing around in his diapers.”

  Everyone laughs again.

  “Oh my God,” Dax says, holding his sides. “Best day ever.”

  “So, anyway,” Mom continues, “the point is you guys gotta actually show up for dinner in order to get extras—it’s how I bribe you to come home occasionally. Which means Keane’s extras are now Josh’s.” She smiles sweetly at Josh and takes a long sip of her wine.

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t take Keane’s extras,” Josh says politely, but even I can hear how much he’s hoping she’ll insist.

  “I insist,” Mom says, right on cue, much to my joy and relief.

  Josh’s thigh jiggles under my palm.

  “I coddle Keaney way too much, anyway,” Mom continues. “It’s time for that boy to get off the teat.”

  We all burst out laughing, yet again. Oh my God, when Mom gets a little tipsy, she’s truly hysterical.

  Mom leans toward Josh, her eyes sparkling. “You’re in the line-up now, honey, whether you like it or not. Ask the other kids—when it comes to extras, what I say goes.”

  “Yup,” Ryan says. “And not just about extras. Mom runs a tight ship all around. Don’t let that pretty face fool you—she’s a barracuda.” He winks at Mom.

  Josh beams a huge smile at Mom. “I think I see where Kat gets her backbone.”

  Dad and all three of my brothers simultaneously express agreement with that statement.

  “Thank you very much,” Josh says. “I’m thrilled and honored to be in the extras line-up.”

  “We’re thrilled to have you,” Mom says—and my heart skips a beat at the smile she flashes him.

  Oh my God, this night is going better than I could have dreamed. I rub Josh’s thigh under the table and I swear I can feel an electric current buzzing just underneath the denim of his jeans.

  Mom turns her iron-butterfly gaze on Ryan. “You get extras tonight, too, Rum Cake.”

  “Yesssss,” Ryan says, fist-pumping the air. “Thank you, dearest Mother.”

  “Enjoy, honey. Thank you for coming to dinner—I know you’re busy.” She takes a deep breath and wipes her eyes, betraying the emotion she’s actually feeling, despite her outward swagger. “So, it’s settled: Josh and Ryan get extras; Josh is welcome here any time; and Keaney’s a male stripper. New topic. How’s the planning for Sarah’s wedding coming along, Kitty? Seems like you’ve been running all over town like a chicken with your head cut off.”

  It takes a moment for me to regroup—I kinda feel like Mom just gave me mental whiplash—but I somehow manage to reply coherently—sort of—about everything I’ve been doing to help Sarah pull off the wedding of the century in such a short amount of time. But, honestly, though I’m speaking coherently—sort of—my mind is engaged elsewhere—namely, with Josh and his beautiful, damaged heart. Not to mention the palpable electricity I feel buzzing underneath my fingertips as my hand rests on his muscular thigh.

  “Well, it sounds like you’ve been an exceptional maid of honor,” Mom says. “Sarah’s lucky to have you.”

  “You’ve been doing all that stuff for Sarah and still coming to help me every day, too?” Colby asks. “I had no idea, Kat. I’m sorry.”

  “Colby,” I say. “I’ve wanted to help you. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

  “Thank you—I just didn’t realize you were so busy.”

  “It’s no big deal. I’m unemployed, remember? I’ve had all the time in the world to help my two favorite people.”

  “Hey,” Dax says. “I thought I was your favorite person.”

  “Ssh,” I say. “Let Colby feel special just this once—the dude’s got broken bones, after all.”

  “No need to make me feel special,” Colby says. “I’ve been feeling a lot better.”

  “Yeah, but you’re still on the mend, Colby,” I say. “It’s a slow climb—you can’t overdo.”

  “How much longer ’til the wedding?” Colby asks.

  “Six days,” I say.

  “Okay, then, in six days, you’re officially gonna be done with both your maid-of-honor and Florence-Nightingale duties. Starting a new company’s hard work, Kumquat. If you’re gonna get your PR company off the ground, you’re gonna need to focus all your time and energy on that. I’ll be fine.”

  My stomach somersaults. Ooph. I feel sick all of a sudden. I hate letting Colby (and my entire family) think I’m still chomping at the bit to start my own PR company when, in actuality, I put that sucker on the backburner the minute I saw those two little pink lines.

  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to lying to my family—I’ve told them plenty of whoppers throughout the years. But telling lies to my family about how many martinis I’ve had or whether I’ve studied for an Algebra test or saying I spent a hundred bucks on a pair fringed boots when I actually paid two isn’t quite the same thing as sitting here impliedly telling every member of my family (except Keane, of course, but he doesn’t count) that I’m planning to launch a new PR company when in fact I’ve got What To Expect When You’re Expecting sitting on my nightstand at home—oh, and, by the way—fun fact!—my “home” these days is actually Josh’s gorgeous new house.

  “Just go on your trip with Josh and have fun,” Colby continues, “and when you get back home, start focusing on your own life for a while.”

  “You and Josh are taking a trip?” Mom asks. “Where to? You haven’t told me about any trip.”

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you about that?” I ask.

  “No,” Mom says. “Where are you going?”

  Josh’s palm lands firmly on my thigh under the table and I place my hand on top of his.

  “Oh. I thought I told you. Yeah, Sarah’s gonna surprise Jonas during their honeymoon by taking a short detour to Venezuela to see Jonas and Josh’s childhood nanny, Mariela. Josh and I are gonna meet them there.”

  “In Venezuela?” Mom says. “Wow. I’ve never even thought of going there. How exciting. Is it safe?”

  “Yes, Mom.” I look at Josh. “Josh and Jonas haven’t seen their nanny since they were seven, since right after their mother died. This is gonna be a really special reunion for them both.”

  Color rises in Josh’s cheeks. He nods.

  “Wow,” Dad says. “Where in Venezuela?”

  Josh clears his throat. “Just outside Caracas. Mariela just bought a new house there, and I figured as long as Kat and I are gonna be in South America, I might as well take Kat to Brazil and Argentina, too.”

  Mom and Dad look at each other, their faces bursting with excitement.

  “That sounds fantastic,” Dad says. “Wow, guys. How fun.”

  “How come Colby knew about this trip and Daddy and I didn’t?” Mom asks, pouting.

  “Because, Mom,” Colby says, “you two were at work when Kat was here, yacking my ear off about it.” Colby shoots me a smile that melts me. “I’d gladly switch places with either of you, trust me—these days, the girl never stops talking to me and I can’t get up and walk away.”

  Mom and I share yet another elated look. Yep. It truly seems our beloved Colby is back (or, at least, well on his way)—which means the rest of us Morgans can finally exhale the anxious breath we’ve been holding for four long weeks.

  Everyone at the table peppers Josh and me with questions about our itinerary for the trip, as well as about Mariela, and Josh answers each and every question smoothly.

  “Jonas and I decided to launch Climb & Conquer right after Jonas gets back from his honeymoon,” Josh says, “so I thought I
might as well travel at the same time. I figure this trip with Kat will be a nice little vacation before I start putting in eighteen-hour days.”

  “Well, it sounds like perfect timing,” Dad says. “Because Kat will be putting in long hours when she gets home, too, launching her new company.” He shoots me a proud smile that makes my stomach twist.

  “You know, Kitty Kat, that reminds me,” Mom says. “I just got some new billing software that’s super easy to use on a Mac. When you come to walk Ralph tomorrow morning, I’ll sit you down and show you how it works. I think it would work well for you, at least to start with. And don’t worry—it’s not complicated. If I can figure it out, you certainly can.”

  I can’t reply. My tongue feels thick in my mouth.

  “And if you’d like to talk to the guy at my bank about setting up a commercial account—you know, so your business can take credit card payments—I can take you over there and introduce you.”

  I nod. Sort of. Oh, God, I feel like I’m gonna barf.

  “Kitty, what’s wrong?” Mom asks.

  I look at Josh, swallowing hard. Oh my God. I gotta tell my family about the-kumquat-inside-the-Kumquat. I can’t lie like this anymore. It’s time to come clean.

  Josh squeezes my thigh under the table and I look at him, pleading with him to let me spill the beans. Josh’s jaw muscles pulse for a moment, and then he nods.

  I shift my gaze to my parents, my breathing shallow.

  “What is it?” Mom asks, her face awash in anxiety. “Is everything okay, honey?”

  I scan the faces at the table. Dax’s eyes are full of sympathy—he knows what’s coming and, clearly, he’s taking no pleasure in what I’m about to do. Ryan looks mildly concerned. But Colby’s blue eyes are killing me—he’s genuinely worried.

  I look at Mom and Dad again. “Mom. Dad,” I begin. I take a huge breath and squeeze Josh’s hand under the table. “I’m pregnant with Josh’s baby.”

  Chapter 25

  Josh

  There’s a pause, like that moment just before a tidal wave crashes onto the shore. Kat’s parents inhale sharply—and then nothing. No exhale. No words. No sounds. Just silence for what feels like forever, though it’s probably only a nanosecond.