The Josh and Kat Trilogy: A Bundle of Books 1-3

by Lauren Rowe

  “I miss you, too,” he finally says, his voice cracking. “So, so much, babe.”

  “I thought you hated me,” I whisper.

  “Of course, not. Never.” He pauses, apparently collecting himself. “Are you feeling any better today?”

  My heart is physically aching. I want to reach through the phone line and kiss him and tell him I love him desperately. “Yeah,” I manage to reply. “I figured out Saltines and ice-cold ginger ale take the edge off my nausea a little bit.”

  “Good.” He pauses. “So what are you up to today?” he asks softly.

  Oh. We’re gonna have a routine conversation? We’re not gonna talk about his proposal or this past week? No talking about our feelings? Okay. I can do that. I clear my throat. “Well, I visited Colby in the hospital all morning. And now I’m meeting Sarah for lunch to go over wedding stuff. She and Jonas got back from Greece yesterday—oh, duh—you probably heard that from Jonas. But, anyway, since the wedding’s happening so soon—in just twenty-six little days, courtesy of your impatient brother—I pulled together some ideas for Sarah these past few days while she was finishing up her trip.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that quick turnaround thing. Classic Jonas.”

  “I guess some people in this world just, you know, really want to get married.”

  Josh exhales.

  Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. That was a decidedly terroristic thing to say. Shoot. “So, anyway,” I continue, trying to deflect attention from my apparently pathological need to strap bombs to my chest. “So now I’m sitting in a restaurant with a stack of bridal magazines, waiting for Sarah to arrive.”

  “Are you gonna tell her about the pregnancy?”

  “No. I think we should wait to tell Jonas and Sarah until after the wedding. They’ve got plenty to think about ’til then.”

  “I agree.”

  “Plus, you never know. It still might not stick. So, anyway, continuing with my exciting agenda for the day, after lunch, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment.”

  “A doctor’s appointment? You mean for the baby?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have flown up for it.”

  “Flown up for a doctor’s appointment?”

  “It’s my kid, right?”

  I bristle.

  “Shit. That came out wrong. Kat, please don’t freak out. I meant, ‘Hey, it’s my kid, right?’ Not, ‘It’s my kid... right?’”

  I can’t help but smile. “I know exactly what you meant. It’s okay. But, bee tee dubs, it’s your kid, Josh.”

  “Yeah, I know that.” He pauses. “Well, the point I’m making is that I plan to be there for my kid, right from the start. Doctors appointments and everything. I’m gonna be a real father—not just a wallet. So tell me about appointments, please, and I’ll always try to make them.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me to tell you about today’s appointment—we haven’t exactly been chatting each other’s ears off this week.” I clear my throat. “But I’ll be sure to tell you next time.”

  “Please do.”

  “I will.” There’s a beat. “So how’s your day going, Josh?”

  “Fine. I’m just trying to finish this huge report. It’s the last thing I’ve got to do for Faraday & Sons and then I’m free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I’m free at last. And the other thing I’m doing is sitting here watching moving guys put all my shit into a humongous truck.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, considering what’s going on with you and the baby and everything, I decided to move into my new house a couple weeks early,” Josh says.

  My heart leaps. “Really? When will you be up here?”

  “Really soon. A matter of days. I’ll let you know when I get the moving schedule confirmed.” He lets out a pained exhale. “Shit. Fuck this, Kat—I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been going out of my head this whole week, dying to tell you—”

  “Kitty Kat!” It’s Sarah, standing at the edge of the table, holding out her arms for a big hug. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

  Ninety-Four

  Kat

  “Hang on, Josh—Sarah’s here,” I say into the phone, cutting him off. I leap up from the table and give Sarah a huge hug. “Welcome home! Ooooph, I missed you, girl. Let’s see it.”

  Sarah shows me the humongous diamond on her hand.

  “Oh my God!” I shriek, ogling Sarah’s rock. “It’s so huge! And sparkly! Oh, Sarah! That’s the most gorgeous ring I’ve ever seen. To die for! What girl wouldn’t kill to get a ring like that?”

  We take our seats, both of us giggling and glowing and cooing at each other like we haven’t seen each other in twenty years.

  “Hello?” a compressed voice says through my phone on the table.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp, picking up the phone. “I’m so sorry, Josh,” I say. “I totally forgot you were there.”

  “Mmm hmmm. Gosh, it sure sounds like Sarah’s ring is big and sparkly, Kat.”

  I smile demonically to myself. “Oh, you heard all that? I’m sorry. Yeah. It’s gorgeous.” Sarah smiles at me, oblivious to what’s been going on between Josh and me this past week. “You should see Sarah,” I say to Josh. “She looks so happy. Hang on.” I hold the phone out to Sarah. “Say hi to Josh, Sarah—tell him how happy you are.”

  Sarah giggles and takes the phone from me. “Hi, Joshy Woshy. Thank you... . Hey, that’s right, brother.” She squeals. “Hellz yeah, I will, you silly goose... Yep. Smart thinking... I love you, Joshy Woshy.” She giggles again. “I will. Bye.” She hands the phone back. “Here you go.”

  I put the phone to my ear, but Josh is gone. “He hung up,” I say, feeling deflated.

  “He told me to tell you goodbye. He said he’ll talk to you later.”

  I stare at Sarah, stunned. “You told Josh you love him.”

  “I sure did, because I do. I loooooove him. Josh is gonna be my brother—isn’t that awesome? I’ve always wanted a brother.”

  “And what did Josh say in reply when you said that?” I ask.

  “He said, ‘I feel the same way about you, my dearest sister.’” Sarah giggles. “Oh, the Faraday men. Gotta love ’em.”

  “Yeah. Gotta love ’em.”

  Oh my God, that should have been me saying “I love you” to Josh. I love him more than I knew I could love. I love every part of him, even the douchey parts. And I’m dying to tell him so. I already knew it, of course, but this week without him has made me realize I truly can’t be happy without him.

  “Hello, ladies,” the waitress says, standing at the edge of our table. “Can I answer any questions about the menu for you?”

  “Oh, gosh. I haven’t even looked at the menu yet,” Sarah says. “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no rush. Let me just tell you about our specials today.” The waitress rattles off several specials, all of which sound like they’d make me hurl. “What can I get you to drink while you decide?” the waitress asks.

  “I’d love a glass of white wine,” Sarah says. “Maybe a Pinot Griggio?”

  The waitress nods. “And another ginger ale for you, Miss?”

  “Thank you.”

  Sarah looks at me funny. “I’ve never seen you drink ginger ale before,” she says. “Does it have tequila in it?”

  I shake my head. “I was feeling a little queasy for some reason—thought ginger ale might help.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Kat. Are you sick?”

  “No, I’m fine. Although I must admit I’m totally jealous you just told Josh the exact three words I’m dying to say to him.”

  “You two still haven’t said ‘I love you’?”

  I shake my head.

  “Why don’t you just tell him, Kat?”

  “Sarah, please. I’d never say it first in a relationship. Come on. I’m lovesick, but I’ve still got at least a shred of self-respect.”

  “Well, I just said it first to Josh and he seemed
quite receptive.”

  “Not quite the same thing, honey.”

  “I know.” She giggles. “So you’re in luuuurve, huh?”

  “Completely-totally-I’m-in-physical-pain-lurve.”

  “Aw, just tell him. I’m sure he feels the same way. How could he not?”

  I sigh loudly. “Things are a bit complicated right now.”

  “Well, I think everyone should tell everyone else in the whole wide world ‘I love you’ all the livelong day,” Sarah says effusively, glancing down at her huge rock.

  “It’s like you’re high on crystal meth,” I say.

  “That’s how I feel—or so I’d imagine—I’ve never done crystal meth, of course.”

  “No offense, but you’re the last person’s advice I should be following about saying ‘I love you’ to anyone. You’re so high on Jonas-crack right now, you’d swear your undying love to the bag lady on the corner.”

  Sarah giggles. “As a matter of fact, I believe I did exactly that on my way into the restaurant. I grabbed that bag lady by her Iron Man T-shirt and I said, ‘I love you, bag lady!’ And then I French-kissed her.”

  I laugh. “You’re so freaking weird, Sarah.”

  “I’m just so happy, I can’t contain myself.” Sarah giggles for the millionth time since she waltzed into the restaurant. “Once I started saying ‘I love you’ all the time to Jonas, I can’t seem to stop saying it to everyone. I’m addicted. I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you. See? I can’t stop. I love you, Kat!”

  The waitress approaches our table with Sarah’s wine and another ginger ale for me. “Are we ready to order?” she asks.

  “I love you!” Sarah says to the waitress.

  “Oh, wow. Thank you. I love you, too.”

  “See, Kat?” Sarah says. “Easy peasy.”

  “Forgive my silly friend,” I say to the waitress. “She just got engaged. She’s out of her head.”

  “Oh, congratulations. Did you get a—whoa! Oh my god. Look at that ring. Wow.”

  Sarah giggles and puts her hand down.

  “That’s quite a ring,” the waitress says, her cheeks flushed. “Spectacular.”

  “Thank you. But it’s not nearly as spectacular as the man who gave it to me.”

  The waitress and I exchange a look like, “Lucky bitch.”

  Sarah picks up her menu. “I still haven’t looked at the menu. I’m sorry. I’m a babbling fool.”

  The waitress laughs. “Understandable.” She flashes me another “lucky bitch” look. “Take your time. Sounds like you’ve got a lot to celebrate.” She walks away.

  “So, hey, what did Josh ask you?” I ask.

  “When?”

  “On the phone just now. When you said, ‘Hellz yeah, I will’?”

  “Oh. He asked if I’ll be taking Jonas’ name. He said if I take the Faraday name then I’ll ‘single-handedly increase the number of Faradays roaming the earth by 33.33 percent.’” She smiles. “So I told him, ‘Hellz yeah, I will, you silly goose!’” She squeals with unadulterated joy.

  “It’s like you’ve been sucking on nitrous oxide.”

  Sarah laughs.

  “And what did Josh say in response to that?” I ask.

  “He said, ‘Good. I think it’s best for everyone in our family to have the same last name—that way we’ll never be turned away when visiting each other in the hospital.’”

  My stomach flips over. “So enough about Josh,” I say. “I’m dying to hear everything about Greece.”

  “Oh my God, I can’t wait to tell you. But lemme figure out my order first so the waitress doesn’t kill me when she comes back.”

  I watch Sarah study her menu for a moment, my heart going pitter-pat with love for her. She’s so damned cute. And so damned happy. God, I’m thrilled for her—I really am—but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wish I were in her same shoes, wearing a rock on my finger from Josh. Actually, no, on second thought, I don’t even care about the marriage part so much as I just want Josh to want me, totally and completely, without reservation, the way Jonas so obviously wants Sarah.

  Sarah looks up. “Salmon burger with a spinach salad. Boom.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, even though the thought of anything fishy turns my stomach. “Okay, now spill, honey.”

  Sarah launches into telling me every swoon-inducing detail about Jonas popping the question, stopping only to chomp on her salmon burger when our food arrives. And when Sarah’s done telling me every last thing about Jonas’ incredible proposal, we begin poring over the huge stack of bridal magazines I’ve brought, formulating ideas for the wedding of the century a mere twenty-six days from now (oh my God!).

  “Okay,” I finally say after almost an hour of brainstorming. I look down at the lengthy list of questions and ideas scrawled on my notepad. “Do you want me to go with you to your meeting with the wedding planner tomorrow?”

  “No, I know you’re busy getting your new business up and running—I’ll handle everything from here on out.”

  My stomach clenches. God, I hate keeping anything from Sarah. It makes me feel even more like throwing up than I already do. “Sarah, I’m the Party Girl, remember?” I say. “I live for parties—and weddings are just the granddaddy of all parties. Plus, I’m the maid of honor, after all—let me help you pull it all together.”

  Sarah beams a huge smile at me. “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “I must admit I’m a bit overwhelmed. Jonas says he’ll pay for everything and show up, so I’m kind of on my own here.”

  “I’m thrilled to do it. Anything you need, whatever it is, I’m your girl.”

  “Thanks so much, Kat. You’re the absolute best,” Sarah says. She emphatically closes the bridal magazine in front of her on the table. “So enough about me, me, me. I’ve talked your ear off this whole lunch. Tell me what’s going on with you, you, you? How’s Golden Kat PR coming? When’s the launch date, you think?”

  “Um,” I say. I bite my lip. “Hmm.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Sarah says. “What do you think about ‘Kitty Kat PR’? Too juvenile? It’s certainly memorable.”

  I don’t reply.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Probably too juvenile,” Sarah says. “So how’s the planning going? Are you having fun?”

  I take a small sip of ginger ale, trying to figure out how best to answer Sarah’s seemingly innocuous questions without unleashing the kraken on her. Shit. I suppose I should tell Sarah about Colby, but I’m certainly not gonna tell her about my accidental Faraday, not when she’s in the throes of planning her dream wedding—plus, the sonogram at my doctor’s appointment later today might reveal the accidental spawn is smoking and losing altitude, you never know. And if I’m not gonna tell Sarah about my accidental bun in the oven, then I sure as heck won’t be telling her about Josh’s so-called marriage proposal, either, or about how I’ve been crying my eyes out ever since.

  “So, come on—tell me everything,” Sarah says, sipping her wine.

  “Well...” I begin slowly, my stomach in knots. “Um.” My lower lip begins to tremble. My eyes water.

  Shoot.

  I take a deep breath, trying to quell the despair rising up inside me—and then I burst into big, soggy tears.

  Ninety-Five

  Kat

  “The doctor will be in shortly,” the nurse says, taking the blood-pressure cuff off my arm.

  I shift my weight, eliciting a crinkling sound from the wax paper underneath me. “I’m nervous,” I say softly.

  “About what?” Sarah asks. “A sonogram doesn’t hurt, does it?”

  “I’m not nervous the sonogram will hurt,” I say. “I’m nervous about, you know, what it might show—that something might be wrong.”

  Honestly, I’m shocked at how anxious I am that something might be wrong with my little accidental Faraday. Two weeks ago, when I first peed on those pregnancy tests, the baby going bye-bye on its own was all I kept praying for. But with each pass
ing day since then, I’ve surprisingly found myself more and more attached to the idea of having a baby of my own—perhaps a little boy who looks just like Josh? Despite myself, I keep imagining a dark-haired boy sitting at the Morgan Family Thanksgiving table in a little blue suit to match his sapphire eyes, or maybe throwing a football in the backyard with Colby, or learning how to play guitar with Dax? Or, craziest of all, I keep finding myself imagining Josh and me cuddled up in a warm bed with our cute little guy, giggling and whispering about how happy we are. It’s crazy, I know, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

  Sarah juts her lip with sympathy as only she can do. “Aw, don’t be nervous, honey.” She opens my dog-eared copy of What To Expect When You’re Expecting and flips to a marked page. “I was just reading in your fascinating little book here that being a barf-o-matic is generally regarded as a great sign—that it typically indicates your hormones are at high levels, which is good.”

  “Thanks, Sarah,” I say. “And thanks for coming to this appointment with me. I didn’t realize it would be so comforting to have someone here.”

  “Are you kidding? I wanna come to everything. I wish you’d told me sooner—I would have hopped the next flight home from Greece to hold your hand.”

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” I say. “So, are you gonna tell Jonas?”

  Sarah shakes her head. “I think Josh should be the one to tell Jonas he’s gonna be an uncle.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Just make sure Josh spills the beans really soon, okay? I don’t like keeping secrets from Jonas.”

  I nod.

  Sarah buries her nose in my pregnancy book again, but after a moment, lifts her head, smiling. “Hey, you wanna hear something crazy? I think with the time difference, Josh proposed to you before Jonas proposed to me.” She laughs. “Who would have predicted that?”

  “Yeah, but Josh’s proposal doesn’t really count—he was just fulfilling an obligation. It wasn’t even in the same universe as what Jonas did for you. That’s like comparing a hamster to a racehorse.”