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

by Lauren Rowe

  “Well, you know what I meant—I’m just saying I didn’t mean to make you mad. Your father and I will never bring up the topic of marriage ever again. I swear. You two kids do whatever’s right for you and we’ll support you. Our lips are sealed. In fact, please don’t get married. Blech. Marriage. Ew. Horrible idea.” She mock-shudders.

  Thomas touches his wife’s arm again, glaring at her.

  “Sorry,” Lou says, giggling. “I’ve had a little bit to drink. I won’t bring up marriage again—that’s all I’m saying.” She locks her mouth and throws away the key.

  Thomas glares at his wife for a long beat. “As your mother said, we support you kids, whatever you decide.”

  Kat nods. “Thank you. Josh and I really appreciate that.” Kat smiles at me and my heart aches at the blatant expression of longing reflected in her eyes.

  How, before tonight, did I not understand how much Kat wants the fairytale? And how the fuck did I not want to give it to her?

  There’s a loud cheer from the dance floor.

  “Let’s hear it for Hannah!” the bandleader shouts into her microphone, and everyone on the dance floor cheers.

  Kat glances over her shoulder toward the commotion behind us, and when she sees Hannah triumphantly holding up Sarah’s bouquet, her face falls for the briefest moment. “Like I said, all this hoopla just isn’t for us,” she says, her jaw setting with resignation.

  Kat’s parents and I share another look.

  “We completely understand,” Thomas says evenly.

  Louise nods like a bobble head doll. “We sure do. We all know how much you hate hoopla, Kitty Kat.” She snorts.

  “Louise.”

  Kat’s mom laughs like a dude and clamps her hand over her mouth again. “Sorry.”

  I put my arm around Kat’s shoulder, demonstrating my faux solidarity with her. “Thanks for understanding,” I say to Kat’s parents. “As Kat said, we’ve talked about it and marriage just isn’t for us.”

  “We understand,” Thomas says.

  “Good,” Kat says, jutting her chin. “Now enough about that. Let’s celebrate Jonas and Sarah’s happy day—and never speak of the whole marriage-thing again.”

  One Hundred Eleven

  Josh

  “Looks really good,” Jonas says, looking at the spreadsheet displayed on my laptop screen. “I’d like to get our costs down by two percent over the course of the first year, ideally—especially as we start funding our designated charities—but as initial operating costs, I think these numbers crunch pretty well.”

  Sarah and Kat burst into a collective sob in the other room and Jonas and I exchange a smile. Just over an hour ago, the girls went into one of the bedrooms of our shared hotel suite to watch a chick flick on my iPad while Jonas and I got a little work done in the main room, and it seems the walls of this Venezuelan hotel are paper-thin.

  “Anything else you need me to look at?” Jonas asks.

  “No, I think Kelly and Colten have things well under control until we get back,” I say, referring to the two regional managers we’ve hired to manage day-to-day operations of our initial twenty gyms. “I’ll send them your notes and set up a meeting for the week we get back.”

  “Good. Thank you. And how about the grand opening?”

  “I’ve got T-Rod overseeing the final details with an event planner. We were originally gonna have a DJ, but the band at your wedding was so awesome, I hired them to play the event. Go big or go home, right?”

  “Well, cost-wise, I’m not sure if we really need to—”

  “Jonas, I’ll cover the band personally if you think the cost is excessive. I wanna kick things off with a bang—you know how much I love a good bang.”

  Jonas smirks. “Yeah, I’m well aware, Josh. Okay, thanks. Now what about the conference call with the sales team? We should get their numbers in advance of the call so we can—”

  I shut my laptop with gusto. “Nope. No more work allowed for you for the rest of your trip.”

  Jonas opens his mouth to protest.

  “If anything else comes up this week, I’ll handle it. You’re on your honeymoon, bro—erase work from your mind.”

  “Well, yeah, but you’re on vacation, too.”

  “A honeymoon trumps a pre-baby vacation every time. Besides, Kat’s been sleeping a ton lately—she gets pretty wiped out these days—so I’ll have plenty of downtime in Argentina whenever she’s napping to address anything that might come up.”

  Jonas exhales with relief. “Okay, cool. Thanks, Josh.”

  “Just enjoy your honeymoon, man.”

  “I plan to. We’re going to Belize next.”

  “Ah, back to the scene of the original crime, huh?”

  Jonas’ face lights up. “Yup. A tree house in the middle of the jungle, surrounded by howler monkeys—my idea of heaven on earth.”

  “Sounds awesome.”

  “So how’s Kat doing? Is she still puking?”

  “Yeah, but not as much. She’s mostly just really tired. Apparently, it takes a lot of energy to incubate a mighty Faraday spawn. The good news for me is that, when Kat’s not sleeping or puking, her pregnancy hormones are through the roof.” I snicker. “It’s like my unicorn permanently strapped a jet engine between her legs.”

  Jonas laughs. “Excellent.”

  “Oh, yeah. I highly recommend pregnancy hormones.” I kiss the tips of my fingers like a French chef blessing his masterpiece.

  “Good to know. Hopefully, Sarah will have the same experience when it’s her turn to incubate a mighty Faraday spawn.”

  “Oh, you and Sarah are thinking about having kids?”

  “Definitely. Not any time soon—but yeah.”

  “Well, don’t wait too long,” I say. “My mighty Faraday spawn’s gonna need another mighty Faraday spawn to boss around sooner rather than later.”

  “Oh, please. Your spawn’s gonna be my spawn’s little bitch,” Jonas says.

  I laugh. “Bullshit, motherfucker. My spawn’s gonna kick your spawn’s tiny ass.”

  “Ha! My spawn’s gonna make your spawn cry like a little baby.”

  We both laugh.

  “So how was New Zealand?” I ask.

  “Fucking amazing,” Jonas says, leaning back in his chair. He gives me a summary of his and Sarah’s exciting Kiwi-adventures over the past week. “We stayed at the coolest place,” he says. “I’ll get you the info so you can take Kat.”

  I scoff. “I think it’ll be a while before I take Kat rappelling down cliffs and bungee jumping off bridges.”

  “Oh yeah.” Jonas grins. “I guess you’ll be laying low for a while on stuff like that, huh? How far along is she?”

  “Fourteen weeks.”

  “When the fuck will she actually look pregnant, by the way? She looks exactly the same as she always has.”

  I shrug. “Hell if I know. I’ve never done this before.”

  The girls let out a tortured wail in the other room—and then immediately giggle together—and Jonas and I laugh.

  “I think there’s a good chance the two humans in that bedroom have vaginas,” I say.

  Jonas nods his agreement. “God, I hope so, or else I’ve been seriously duped. So how was Brazil?” he asks.

  “Un-fucking-believable.” I give him a brief synopsis of Kat’s and my travels through Brazil and show him a few photos on my phone. “In Rio, we stayed at this bungalow right on the beach. This is the view from the deck out front.”

  “Whoa,” Jonas says, looking at my photo. “Send me the info on that place, would you? Maybe I’ll take Sarah to Rio later this year.”

  “Oh, you should take Sarah for Carnival,” I say.

  “Oh, good idea,” Jonas says. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  I tap out a quick text to Theresa on my phone. “I’m texting T-Rod to send you the info on where we stayed in Rio. She’ll hook you right up.”

  “Thanks,” Jonas says. He gets up and ambles to the bar in the corner of the suite. “
You wanna beer?”

  “Yeah. Hit me with some Venezuelan cerveza I’ve never heard of before, bro.”

  Jonas opens the fridge. “Hmm. Looks like we’ve got something called Cardenal?”

  “Perfecto, mi hermano.”

  Jonas hands me an opened beer and sits back down.

  “Gracias,” I say.

  “De nada,” Jonas says, swigging his beer. “Con mucho gusto, mi hermano estupido.”

  “You did really well talking to Mariela today,” I say. “I was impressed.”

  “Yeah, Sarah speaks Spanish to me all the time,” Jonas says, grinning. “She’s so fucking sexy.” He sighs happily. “But my Spanish was already pretty good before Sarah came along. I guess it’s just burned into the deep recesses of my brain from when Mariela used to talk to us as kids.”

  “Well, maybe it’s burned into the deep recesses of your brain, but it’s certainly not burned into mine. I couldn’t understand a fucking word Mariela was saying all day besides gracias and mi hijo and amor.”

  Jonas chuckles. “You didn’t need to understand Mariela’s words—I think she made herself pretty damned clear with her body language.”

  “Definitely,” I agree. “It was pretty hard to misunderstand all that hugging and kissing and crying.”

  The girls squeal loudly in the other room and Jonas glances toward the source of the sound.

  “Damn, these walls are thin,” Jonas says. “Maybe I should have gotten a separate suite for Sarah and me?”

  “Meh, it’s fine,” I say. “It’s only for two nights. Plus, the four of us will be out all day tomorrow exploring Caracas—we’ll hardly be in the suite together except to sleep at night.”

  “Well, maybe you and Kat plan to sleep. But I’m on my honeymoon, man—sleeping’s not on the agenda.” Jonas snickers. “And Sarah’s a screamer.”

  “Dude, why you always gotta go there? I know you love screwing your beautiful wife, okay? I got it.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t need that visual of you.”

  “What the fuck?” Jonas says, laughing. “You just told me your unicorn has a jet engine permanently strapped between her legs, and I’m not allowed to—”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” I say, cutting Jonas off, making him laugh again. “All I’m saying is if you’ve got a problem with all of us sharing a suite, then you’ll have to be the one to move, not me. Theresa said this is the only hotel in Caracas that’s up to my standards—and there’s only one penthouse suite in the whole goddamned hotel. So if you wanna move to a ghetto room on a lower floor be my guest, motherfucker, but I’m staying right here where the streets are paved with gold.”

  “You’re such a snob, you know that?”

  I shrug and take a sip of my beer. “I make no apologies—I like what I like.”

  “Eh, Sarah won’t want to switch rooms, anyway,” Jonas says. “She insisted on staying with Kat our two nights here. She’s been going through some sort of Kat withdrawal this past week.”

  I laugh. “Same with Kat. Every little thing we did in Brazil, Kat was like, ‘Oh my God, Sarah would love this.’”

  We grin at each other for a long beat.

  “How’d we get so fucking lucky?” I ask.

  Jonas shrugs. “I have no idea. A broken clock is right twice a day, I guess.”

  “Sarah’s really sweet,” I say. “I can’t believe she even thought to arrange a reunion with Mariela, let alone pull it all together on the sly like that.”

  “That’s Sarah,” Jonas says. “She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Just genuinely kind.”

  “She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met, too,” I agree.

  “What about Kat? She’s not the sweetest person you’ve ever met?”

  I snort. “Hell no.”

  Jonas laughs. “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

  “Aw, come on,” I say. “Kat’s sweet—really sweet. Heart of gold. But it’s buried underneath a thick outer shell of evil. The woman’s a demon spawn of the highest order.” Once again, I kiss my fingertips like a chef.

  Jonas chuckles. “You always did like ’em evil.”

  I mock-shudder like the very mention of evil excites me. “And, even better, crazy-evil.”

  “Well, Sarah doesn’t have an evil bone in her body,” Jonas says. “Does she have a crazy-bone? Hell yes. A bossy-bone? Fuck yes. But an evil-bone? Not even in her little toe.”

  “Like I said, Sarah’s the sweetest person I know,” I say, swigging my beer. “Which is perfect for you—you’ve always liked ’em sweet.”

  Jonas shrugs. “I don’t think that’s a particularly weird thing to like, Josh.”

  “Bah,” I say. “Gotta have a little evil to brighten your day, I always say.”

  Jonas chuckles. “Sicko.”

  “I am what I am. So were you shocked when you got off the plane and saw Kat and me standing there—or did you already have a hunch?”

  “I was completely shocked—and then I was even more shocked when we drove up to that big ol’ house and Mariela came out. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  “Dude, me, too—I thought I was gonna keel over in shock.”

  “For so long, I always thought, ‘If Mariela passed me on the street, would I recognize her?’” Jonas says. “All through the years, whenever I’d see a Latina woman of the right age walking by, I’d think, ‘Could that be Mariela?’ But then, the minute I actually saw the real thing, there was no doubt it was her—a thousand memories instantly came rushing back to me.”

  “I didn’t recognize her physically so much as I recognized her...” I trail off, searching for the right word. “Her soul? Is that a totally Jonas Faraday thing to say?”

  Jonas chuckles. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re actually referencing Plato’s theory of forms without realizing it. Plato said when we see something in the physical realm with our eyes, we’re seeing the imperfect form of it—because nothing’s perfect in the physical world—but your soul is nonetheless able to recognize it, despite its imperfections, because it innately knows the thing’s divine original form from the ideal realm.” He pauses briefly. “I think for both of us, Mariela was our divine original form of nurturing—an ideal form of safety and affection and love—and our souls recognized her instantly, even if our eyes didn’t.”

  I smile at Jonas. There’s just no one like my brother. “Makes perfect sense to me,” I say.

  Jonas smiles.

  “Hey, did you catch her scent?” I say, taking in a deep breath through my nose. “I didn’t even know I remembered that scent, but the minute Mariela hugged me, I instantly remembered how she used to rock us to sleep in that big rocking chair—remember that?—and I’d nuzzle my nose into her neck and breathe in that flowery scent.”

  Jonas shakes his head in apparent awe. “It’s amazing what the brain retains that we don’t even realize on a conscious level.” He drinks his beer. “When Mariela hugged me and called me Jonasito today, I felt like I’d traveled back in a time machine to when I was seven years old.”

  I sip my beer and consider that concept for a minute. “Dude,” I say. “I’m thinking deep thoughts about the illusion of time and the infinite nature of love. Make it stop, Jonas. Please. My head hurts.”

  “Jesus, Josh. You can’t be thinking deep thoughts like that—you’ll fuck up the entire world order.”

  I smirk. “Okay. Phew. I’m thinking about motorboating pretty titties now. I’m good.”

  Jonas laughs. “That was a close call. God help us if you created some sort of butterfly effect and fucked us all.”

  “Seriously. That was truly scary.”

  “Don’t do anything like that again,” Jonas warns. “You’ve still got five days in Argentina with your pregnant girlfriend after this—for fuck’s sake, don’t injure yourself, man, especially if your unicorn’s on a hot streak.”

  “Hey, that reminds me,” I say. I peek toward the bedroom. This is the first time I’ve been alone with Jonas since t
he wedding—and his use of the word “girlfriend” just reminded me I haven’t told him about my plan to ask Kat to marry me. I glance toward the bedroom again to make sure Kat’s not coming out. “Hey, at your wedding, I had this epiphany that slammed me like a ton of bricks, man,” I begin.

  The girls let out a collective sigh followed by a cheer in the other room and I glance at the door again.

  “When we get home,” I say, “I’m gonna ask Kat to—”

  Sarah and Kat burst out of the bedroom, both of them sobbing, and I abruptly shut my mouth.

  “Oh my gawd,” Sarah bawls, wiping her eyes. “Best movie ever.”

  “Ever, ever, ever!” Kat agrees, tears streaming down her beautiful face. She hands my iPad to me. “Thank you, babe. Oh my gawd. I loved it.”

  “One of my all-time faves,” Sarah says.

  “Me, too. Top ten for sure. Maybe even top five.”

  “Fo shizzle pops.” Sarah plops herself onto Jonas’ lap. “Hello, hunky monkey husband.”

  “Hello, wife.”

  Kat follows suit and plops herself down onto my lap, too. “Hey, PB,” she says

  “Hey, PG,” I reply, my heart panging. Shit. If ever there was a time when our Playboy-Party-Girl nicknames felt woefully insufficient, it’s right now. Ever since Jonas and Sarah’s wedding, I’ve been chomping at the bit to call Kat my wife, and with each passing day, my desire becomes more and more urgent. “What movie were you two watching in there?” I ask. “It sounded like you were watching Schindler’s List.”

  “Oh, no, it was a romantic comedy.”

  Jonas and I share a chuckle.

  “About Time,” Sarah says reverently. “Oh my gawd. Have you seen it?”

  “Never heard of it,” I say.

  “You gotta see it,” Kat says. “The girl from The Notebook is in it. Have you seen The Notebook?”

  I shake my head.

  “Oh. Well, did you see Love Actually? You know the rock-star-British guy in that one?”

  “Dude, unless Seth Rogan or Will Ferrell or Adam Sandler is in a movie, it’s a good bet I haven’t seen it.”

  Kat rolls her eyes. “Do you know the red-haired guy from the Harry Potter movies?” Kat asks.