by Lauren Rowe
I want Kat to be my bride.
Fuck my father.
Fuck the past.
Fuck being scared of what tragedy tomorrow might bring.
Whatever might happen tomorrow—whatever it is—I want Kat by my side to experience it with me, good or bad.
“Repeat after me, Sarah,” the officiant is saying.
I steal another look at Kat. She’s still watching Jonas and Sarah, completely unaware that my head and heart and body and soul are all exploding simultaneously like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“Jonas, with this ring, I promise to be your faithful and loving wife...” Sarah is saying.
Yes, I want to declare my eternal love to Kat in front of our family and friends and God and I want her to take my name. I want to make a life with that demonic-devil-woman. I want to be her husband—her family. “This is my beautiful wife,” I want to say when I’m introducing Kat at a party. “Oh, you haven’t met my wife yet? Well, here she is—Katherine Faraday.”
Sarah slips a ring onto Jonas’ finger and he exhales a loud, shaky breath.
“And now it’s your turn, Jonas,” the officiant says. “Repeat after me.”
I look at Kat again to find her blue eyes trained on me.
“Sarah, with this ring, I promise to be your faithful and loving husband...” Jonas is saying.
My eyes are locked with Kat’s.
My chest is tight.
Jonas slides a sparkling ring onto Sarah’s shaking hand and she squeals with glee, making everyone in the audience chuckle, yet again.
“And now, by the authority of the state of Washington, I pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declares. “Jonas, you can now officially kiss your lovely bride.”
Jonas swoops Sarah into his arms and plants a passionate kiss on her lips to raucous applause.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you—for the very first time—Mr. and Mrs. Jonas Faraday.”
The place erupts with cheers.
I clap and cheer, too—of course—but I’m distracted.
My eyes are still locked onto Kat’s.
My heart is pounding in my ears.
There’s no doubt in my mind—I want to make that beautiful terrorist my wife.
Jonas and Sarah link arms and bound happily down the aisle together, waving and fist-pumping as they go, and Kat and I link arms and follow them, exactly as we were instructed to do during last night’s rehearsal. But tonight’s walk down the aisle with Kat feels completely different than last night’s dry run. Because tonight, for the first time in my entire life, I finally know what I need to be truly happy in this one and only life: I need to make Katherine Ulla Morgan mine, all mine. Forever.
One Hundred Ten
Josh
“Go Henny! Go Henny!” Kat shouts, and the crowd around Henn on the dance floor joins in on the chant, goading him on.
How much has Henn had to drink tonight? He’s always entertaining, but this right here is a gift from the comedy gods. I can’t tell if he’s trying to break dance or if he’s going into cardiac arrest; but either way, I’ll never forget the sight of him as long as I live.
I look up at the band as I dance with Kat. The horns players are swiveling in synch as they play. Two women in fringed dresses and go-go boots are shaking their asses and singing their hearts out at center stage. And the guitarist is totally laying it down. I don’t know who was responsible for finding this awesome band, whether it was Jonas or Sarah or Kat—but whoever it was, they deserve a medal. I’ve never had so much fun dancing in all my life. Even Jonas has been dancing all night long.
The band begins playing a new song—“Uptown Funk” by Bruno Mars—what else would a wedding band play these days?—and Uncle William grabs Kat’s hand and steals her away from me, twirling her around.
Kat doesn’t know this, but during dinner, while Kat was chatting with Sarah, I pulled my uncle aside and told him the news about my impending fatherhood—and also about my nascent plan to ask Kat to marry me. It was the first time I’d told anyone my intention to make Kat my wife, having only formed the idea two hours earlier—and my uncle’s reaction was better than I could have imagined.
“Hallelujah! The Faradays are multiplying!” Uncle William exclaimed, hugging me enthusiastically and patting me on the back. “This is the second best day of my life.” And then he poured me a tall glass of fifty-year-old Scotch from the bottle he’d brought with him from New York—a bottle of Glenfarclas 1955, exactly like the one he’d given me for Kat’s dad—and we clinked glasses.
“You got yourself a knockout with that one,” Uncle William said, looking at Kat across the room. “She looks just like your mother.”
I swigged my Scotch rather than reply.
“And don’t you worry, Joshua,” Uncle William continued, taking a long sip of his pricey liquor. “I’ll make sure Kat’s dripping in diamonds for you every bit as much as Sarah was for Jonas today—you can be sure of that.” He winked and leaned into me like he was telling me something confidential. “Like I always say, we Faraday men always keep our women dripping in diamonds.”
It was a truly bizarre statement, given that, one, I’d never heard Uncle William say a damned thing about women and/or diamonds before, and, two, I have no idea who “our women” would be in relation to “we Faraday men.” But, still, the fact that my uncle was so effusive about my news and immediately wanted to spoil my future bride every bit as much as he’d spoiled Sarah today sent electricity shooting through my every nerve ending.
“Fuck yeah, Uncle William,” I said, clinking his glass. “Cheers to that. That’s how we Faraday men keep our women—dripping in the biggest fucking diamonds the world has ever seen.”
“Fuck yeah,” Uncle William replied, making me laugh.
It was an unexpected (and supremely ridiculous) conversation, to say the least, and so fucking awesome, I’ll never forget it as long as I live. And now, on top of all that awesomeness, Uncle William’s dancing with Kat like a madman, laughing with her and throwing his hands up every time the singer in the band commands everyone to “hit their hallelujah.” Best night ever.
I look to my left on the dance floor, and there’s Jonas, sweating like a pig, smiling from ear to ear, dancing with Sarah like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Jonas dance before tonight—but if I have, I’ve certainly never seen him dance like this. He’s the epitome of that old saying, “Dance like no one’s watching.”
Through the dancing bodies on the dance floor, I glimpse Kat’s parents at the back of the restaurant, sitting all alone at an otherwise empty table, and I realize now’s my chance to steal a private moment with them. I glance over my shoulder at Kat, and she’s still happily cutting a rug with Uncle William, so I move quickly off the dance floor toward the back of the restaurant, taking a brief detour at my uncle’s table to pour two tall glasses of his rare Scotch.
“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan,” I say, sauntering up to their table. “Can I hang out with you for a bit?”
“Thomas and Lou, remember?” Kat’s mom says warmly. “And, of course.”
Louise pats the chair next to her and I take a seat.
“I brought you a present, Thomas,” I say, putting one of the glasses of Scotch in front of him. “It’s a Glenfarclas 1955 from my uncle’s private collection. Fifty years old.”
“Oh my God,” Thomas says. “Really?”
“You want to try it, Lou?” I hold up the second glass to her.
Louise crinkles her nose. “No, thank you. I’m not a big Scotch drinker. I’ll just take a little sip of Thomas’.”
“How about some more champagne, then?”
Louise’s face lights up. “Ah, now that I’ll happily accept. We’re staying at the hotel across the street, so I’m really letting loose tonight.”
I flag down one of the roving waiters and grab Louise a flute of champagne and she takes a greedy sip.
“Okay, Thomas.
Ready to have your taste buds ruined for any other Scotch?”
Thomas lifts his Scotch in reply and we both take sips at the same time.
“Oh my God,” Thomas says, his eyes bugging out.
“Amazing, right?” I say.
“Damn. That stuff should be illegal.”
“My uncle’s somewhat of a connoisseur,” I say. “He’s got an amazing collection.”
Thomas takes another sip. “Wow. So smooth.”
I’m about to tell Thomas I’ve actually got a bottle of this exact stuff for him at my house—the bottle Kat wouldn’t let me give to him a week ago—but in light of what I’m about to ask the guy, I refrain. Now’s definitely not the time to make Kat’s father think I’m trying to buy his affection.
I take a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you both privately,” I say. I look over my shoulder to make sure Kat’s not nearby and quickly spot her on the dance floor, still whooping it up. “I want you to know I love your daughter—she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Louise makes an adorable face.
“And now that I’ve met the two of you and your incredible family, I’m realizing what marriage and family can be.” I take a deep breath. “So, what I’m trying to say is I’m planning to ask Kat to marry me and I’m hoping you’ll give me your blessing.”
Kat’s mom throws her arms around my neck, exactly the way Kat always does, and kisses me on the cheek. “Of course, you have our blessing, Josh. Oh my gosh, we’re thrilled. Absolutely thrilled.”
When she pulls away from me, she’s got tears in her eyes.
I look at Thomas, hoping for a similar reaction, but he’s stoic.
There’s a short beat that feels like an eternity.
Finally, Thomas lifts his Scotch in the air, inviting me to clink his glass, which I gratefully do. “Welcome to the Morgan family, Josh,” he says calmly. “We’re thrilled to have you.”
I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God,” I say, laughing.
Kat’s mom giggles—and, suddenly, it’s clear to me she’s pretty damned tipsy.
“So when are you gonna ask her?” Louise asks, leaning into my face and batting her eyelashes. “And how are you gonna ask her, hmm? What you got up your sleeve, Joshy-baby?”
I chuckle. “Um. I don’t know yet. I’ve got to get a ring first, make a plan. I’ll do it as soon as possible after we get back from our trip—I won’t have time to get a ring before we leave.”
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Oh. Well, if you need help shopping for a ring when you get back, I’d be happy to go with you,” Louise says. “I know Kat’s taste like the back of my hand.”
“Thank you, Lou. I’ll definitely take you up on that. We can make a day of it. I’ll take you to a nice lunch, too.” I motion to her champagne flute. “With plenty of champagne.”
Louise squeals—oh yeah, she’s definitely looped—and leans forward excitedly. “From now on, you can call me Mom if you want, honey. I mean you don’t have to, of course, but you can. Or Momma? Or, hey, maybe Momma Lou?” She giggles again.
“Momma Lou?” Thomas asks, incredulous. “Louise, Josh isn’t gonna call you Momma Lou. Do you think you run a soup kitchen in the South, for cryin’ out loud?”
Kat’s Mom throws her head back and laughs like a dude. “Sorry. I was thinking about what I want the baby to call me and I thought maybe Gramma Lou? Wouldn’t that be adorable? So then I guess my mind just wandered to Momma Lou.” She takes a swig of her champagne, giggling happily to herself. “Gramma Lou—isn’t that darling? Or maybe Grammy Lou?” She sighs. “Gah. I can’t wait.”
“Slow down, Gramma Lou,” Thomas says, rolling his eyes. “You’re spinning out of control, honey. First things first—let the boy ask her.”
Louise laughs heartily. “Well, anyway,” she says, poking her fingertip into the top of my hand. “The point is, Josh, as far as I’m concerned, I just now birthed my fifth son.” She guzzles down the rest of her champagne.
“Louise.”
Louise giggles. “Oh, Josh knows what I mean. All I’m saying is Josh is now one of my sons, every bit as much as the others. That’s all I meant. What’s your full name, honey?”
“Joshua William Faraday.”
“Joshua William,” Louise says reverently. She makes a trumpet sound. “Doo doo doo doo! Birth announcement! The Morgan Family has just adopted a fifth son. There’s Colby Edwin, Ryan Ulysses, Keane Elijah, David Jackson, and now Joshua William. You’re now officially a member of the Morgan family, honey. Welcome.”
Thomas rolls his eyes. “Maybe slow down on the champagne, honey.”
Louise giggles and waves him off. “Oh, you’ll benefit later, old man, so hush up.” She puts her hand on my forearm. “We couldn’t be more thrilled, Josh.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say, my heart leaping.
Louise flashes me a truly lovely smile. “No, thank you. You obviously make our Kitty Kat very happy.”
Speak of the she-devil, Kat sidles up to our table, a bottle of water in her hand, her face covered in a light sheen of perspiration. “You guys look like you’re plotting the invasion of a small country,” she says. “What’s shakin’, bacon?”
I leap up and give Kat a kiss on her rosy cheek and guide her to the seat next to mine. “Hey, babe. I was just giving your dad a taste of my uncle’s Glenfarclas 1955.”
Kat shoots me a look of chastisement. “You just couldn’t resist, could you, Playboy?” She looks at her parents. “Josh always says I’m the blabbermouth who can’t keep a secret but look who’s the blabbermouth now. Ha!” She snorts and swigs her water. “I told him it was too extravagant, but I guess the Playboy just couldn’t control himself.”
Kat’s mom and dad look utterly confused.
“What are you talking about?” Thomas asks.
There’s a beat as Kat realizes she’s just blabbed yet another secret. “Oh. You... didn’t give my dad the bottle?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Damn,” Kat says. “Whoops.” She grins sheepishly. “Well, Dad, surprise! Josh is giving you that bottle of that Glenfarkity-fuckity-fuck-whatever. Do you like it?”
I shake my head again. “Kat, no. My uncle brought his own bottle of Glenfarclas tonight—he has several bottles of it in his collection. I just brought your dad a glass to taste from my uncle’s bottle. I’ve still got your dad’s bottle—which I didn’t tell him about and was still planning to give him later as a surprise.”
Kat’s face turns bright red. “Oh. Well, oops again.” She snorts. “Well, Dad, Josh got a bottle of the stuff for you but I wouldn’t let him give it to you because I said it was too extravagant a gift.”
“Oh, wow,” Thomas says. “Really? Thank you, Josh. But Kat’s right, that really is too extravagant.”
“Can I get all the single ladies onto the dance floor?” the lead singer of the band calls over the microphone on the far side of the restaurant. “It’s time for the bouquet toss!”
“No, Thomas, I insist,” I say. “I’ll have the bottle delivered to your house this week.” I shoot Kat a scolding look. “There’s no sense in waiting now, is there?”
Thomas looks elated, but he nonetheless says the polite thing. “No, I really can’t accept.”
“Too late. It’s yours. If you feel too weird about it, then open it for a special occasion—maybe when the baby’s born?”
Thomas beams a wide smile at me. “All right. Thank you. I accept, but only if we’re gonna open it together to celebrate the birth of my grandbaby.”
“Deal,” I say.
“And, Mom, don’t feel left out,” Kat says. “Josh got some fancy Cabernet for you, too. Some hoity-toity vintage.”
“Oh, Josh. You’re so sweet,” Louise says. “But I really wouldn’t know the difference. I’m happy with a twelve-dollar bottle of merlot.”
Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” starts blaring over th
e sound system.
“Last call for all the single ladies to try to catch Sarah’s bouquet!” the bandleader calls out.
“Too late,” I say. “I already got it for you, Lou. I guess you’ll have to grin and bear it.”
“Well, thank you, Josh. You’re so sweet.” Louise glances at the commotion happening on the dance floor. “Honey, aren’t you gonna get over there?” she says to Kat.
Thomas touches Louise’s forearm, obviously signaling his wife to shut the fuck up and she clamps her lips together, apparently realizing she’s treading into dangerous territory.
“Mom, please,” Kat says, her tone suddenly indignant. “Like I told you guys last week, Josh and I aren’t gonna get married. Deal with it. We’ve talked about it like adults and made our decision. Please respect that.”
“Oh, we do, honey,” Thomas says, pacifying his little stick of dynamite. “We completely respect that.”
“Here we go!” the bandleader says behind us on the dance floor. “Are you ready, Sarah?”
Kat looks longingly toward the dance floor for a beat and then back at us, setting her jaw. “I can understand how being at this wedding has probably made you guys dream about watching me walk down the aisle in a white dress. Dad, seeing as how I’m your only daughter, I’m sure you can’t help imagining yourself walking me down the aisle on your arm. But it’s just not gonna happen, okay? You’ve got to let it go. I certainly have. One hundred percent.”
Thomas, Louise, and I trade a long, skeptical look, all of us nonverbally acknowledging this girl’s full of shit.
Louise throws up her hands. “Well, jeez. I’m sorry I mentioned it. I certainly didn’t know I was opening a big ol’ bottle of whoop-ass on myself.”
Kat laughs. “It’s a big ol’ can of whoop-ass, Mom—not a bottle.”