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

by Lauren Rowe

  “Aw, come on, Lambo,” Ryan teased when Josh failed to guard against one of Ryan’s many goals. “You can do better than that.”

  “Eh, you got lucky, Captain,” Josh shot back easily.

  My heart stopped. I looked at Dax, ready to share a look of pure elation, but Dax’s gaze was fixed squarely on Josh.

  “I thought you said you actually knew how to play this game, Hollywood,” Dax zinged at Josh. “Pfft.”

  Josh laughed. “You best not be talking any smack, Whippersnapper—or else it’s gonna come back to bite you in your rock-star ass.”

  And that was that. My brothers had made their feelings about Josh crystal clear—and Josh had returned their affection in no uncertain terms. Just like that, it was two Morgans down, four to go (or, rather, two Morgans down, three to go, since we all know Keane’s vote doesn’t matter).

  And now, having finished our two foosball games, the four of us are walking into the family room, laughing and teasing each other as we go, joining Dad and Colby (and Colby’s boxer Ralph) on seats around the TV.

  “Oh, yeah!” Colby shouts at the television. “Come on, baby! Come on!”

  I settle myself onto Josh’s lap in a big armchair and glance at the TV, just in time to see the center fielder for the Twins run back, back, back—and then watch helplessly as a long-ball disappears over the center-field fence.

  “And that ball is gone, baby,” Ryan says.

  Colby and Dad shout with glee and the camera cuts to... Cameron Schulz, the All-Star shortstop for the Mariners, rounding second-base and fist-pumping the air.

  At the sight of Cameron, I stiffen on Josh’s lap and look down, hoping against hope he’s somehow, through the grace of God, not looking at the TV right now.

  “And Cameron Schulz smashes a three-run homer to put the Mariners ahead of the Twins three-two in the bottom of the third,” the TV announcer says, just in case Josh isn’t paying attention to what’s happening onscreen. “That was Cameron Schulz’s twelfth homer of the season after a ten-game drought.”

  At the mention of Cameron’s name on the TV, I glance at Josh to find him shooting me a look that can only be described as homicidal.

  I bite my lip.

  “Schulz is sucking ass this season,” Dax says. He flashes me a snarky look, clearly reminding me he knows Cameron’s penis was once lodged deep inside me.

  I shoot Dax a look in reply that unequivocally warns him not to say or do a goddamned thing to give my secret away or else I will cut him.

  “Yeah,” Ryan says. “The guy’s having a shitty-ass year. Glad he finally did something to earn his big, fat paycheck.”

  Dax opens his mouth to say something but I shoot him daggers again, and he shuts it—for a nanosecond, that is—and then he opens it again. “I heard the guy’s juiced up,” Dax says, smirking at me. “I bet he’s got a tiny little peepee.”

  I squint at him.

  “Well, if that guy’s on ’roids, he should fire his dealer,” Ryan says, swigging his beer. “Because they’re definitely not working.”

  Josh laughs.

  “Totally,” Dax says. “The Mariners should trade him.”

  “They’re not gonna trade Cameron Schulz,” Colby says. “He’s a franchise player.”

  “Poor guy’s just having a bad year,” Dad pipes in. “It happens to the best of ’em. Give him a break.”

  Josh’s face is mere inches from mine. His eyes are smoldering. He touches the cleft in my chin, a gesture I interpret to mean I’m his and only his (and definitely not that asswipe Cameron Schulz’s)—and goose bumps erupt all over my body.

  Josh licks his lips and I know he wants to kiss me, but he doesn’t—a show of restraint around my family, I suppose. Instead, he leans back in his armchair, his eyes burning holes into my face, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into him.

  “So how’s the album coming, Dax?” Josh asks, stroking my hair. “You were about to start recording when we first met at my house.”

  “Oh, it’s going great,” Dax says. “We’ve already got three songs in the can.”

  “You’ve got three songs finished?” Dad says. “Wow, that was fast.”

  “Yeah, we still might tweak the mixes, I’m not sure,” Dax clarifies. “But, yeah, all the instrumentation is recorded.”

  “Did you wind up using the violinist and cellist you met at my house?” Josh asks.

  “Yeah, and they slayed it. Total game-changers on the songs.”

  “Well, let’s hear what you’ve got,” Dad says.

  Dax looks at me for nonverbal guidance.

  Normally, Dax would reply to Dad’s question by saying, “Not ’til the songs are one hundred percent finished, Dad”—because that’s just the way Dax is. I’m the only one Dax ever lets hear his works in progress (and, in fact, he emailed me MP3s of his three new songs last night, swearing me to secrecy). But Dax refusing to play his new songs right now with Josh sitting right here would be a felony-stupid thing for my brother to do. What if Josh loves the songs (and there’s no doubt in my mind he will)? Josh might very well offer to forward them to his best friend Reed, without me ever saying a word about it.

  I nod encouragingly at Dax, telling him he should play the songs.

  “You can listen to ’em right now, Dad,” Dax says. “I’ve got ’em on my laptop in the back room.” He hops up and disappears into the hallway.

  “Louise!” Dad calls excitedly to Mom in the kitchen. “Get in here! Daxy’s gonna play three songs from his new album.”

  There’s a clatter in the kitchen. “Oh my gosh! I’m coming!” Mom calls—and in a heartbeat, she appears in the family room, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed, a glass of red wine in her hand. “I’m so excited.” She plops herself down on the couch next to Dad and puts her head on his shoulder (her patented move), and Dad clasps her free hand in his.

  I glance at Josh and I’m not surprised to observe he’s absolutely transfixed by my parents and their easy show of affection. That’s right, Playboy, I think, warmth gurgling at my core like molten lava. Watch and learn how it’s done.

  Dax returns with his laptop and hooks it up to the sound system and a few seconds later, his first song fills the room.

  “Oh, your voice is gorgeous, honey,” Mom coos. “Smooth as silk.” She pauses, listening. “Oh, and that guitar—I love it.” She pauses again. “Oh my gosh, those lyrics—so clever. Beautiful. Oh, Daxy.”

  “Ssh, honey,” Dad says gently, stroking Mom’s arm. “Listen.”

  I glance at Josh again to find him still mesmerized by my parents. Damn, I wish I could read his thoughts.

  The song ends and everyone enthusiastically praises it.

  “How do you record a full song like that with all those instruments?” Colby asks, scratching his beloved dog’s head. “Did everyone in the band stand in a room and play the song together?”

  “No, recording a song’s not like playing it live,” Dax says, and then he goes on to explain in detail how songs are recorded in a studio, each instrument and vocal methodically recorded one at a time onto separate tracks, and then layered, one on top of the other. “It’s like putting together a giant Jenga tower,” Dax explains.

  “That’s so cool,” Colby says. “Well, however you did it, the song turned out great.”

  I shoot Mom a relieved look about Colby and she returns it. Colby’s been staying at my parents’ house to recuperate, and this is by far the most engaged and upbeat I’ve seen him in all the times I’ve come over to hang out with him.

  Dax plays his second song, and when it’s over, we all agree it’s a great song, no doubt about it. But when Dax plays his third song, the room catches fire. And I’m not surprised. When I heard Dax’s third song on my computer last night, I instantly became obsessed with it. And hearing it today over a nice sound system has only heightened my love affair with it. The song is ear candy and soul candy all rolled into one, one of those songs you hear to the end and immediately play again. />
  After everyone in the room has praised the song up and down, Dax tells Josh that all those stringed instruments we just heard on the track were nothing more than those two musicians Dax met at Josh’s house, each woman playing on about ten separate tracks to simulate an orchestra.

  “Oh my gosh, those violins absolutely make the song,” Mom gushes. “I was mesmerized.”

  “I guess it was kismet I met those ladies at Josh’s house when I did,” Dax says. He looks at Mom and Dad. “Kat asked me to deliver a dinner invitation to Josh at his house—she’d planned a surprise dinner for him at a restaurant, even though, unbeknownst to her, Josh had planned a romantic dinner for her at his house on the same night. When I got there, Josh had a violinist and cellist all set up to play for them during dinner, so I got the musicians’ phone numbers.”

  I shoot a grateful smile at my baby brother, nonverbally thanking him for calling my note to Josh a “dinner invitation” in front of our parents.

  “Well, that was sweet of you, Josh,” Mom says, putting her hand over her heart. “What a shame you put in all that effort and Kat never saw any of it.” She shoots me a scolding look like I somehow purposefully fucked up Josh’s big plans.

  “How was I supposed to know he’d planned a romantic dinner?” I ask.

  Josh laughs. “It’s okay. My brother Jonas and Sarah wound up enjoying the dinner I’d arranged, and Kat and I had a lovely meal elsewhere.”

  I force myself not to snicker at Josh’s use of the phrase “lovely meal” to describe what we wound up doing with Bridgette that night.

  “And, anyway,” Josh continues, his eyes shifting to me, “I’d only planned all of that stuff so I could tell Kat I love her for the first time—which I did that night, regardless.”

  My heart stops. Oh my God.

  “Because I realized,” Josh continues, his eyes darkening, “‘Hey, I don’t need violins and a private chef to tell Kat I love her—I can do that anywhere, anytime.’ So that’s exactly what I did.”

  Oh my effing God. I just had an orgasm, right here in front of my parents. And, apparently, so did my mother—she literally just made an unmistakable “O” sound, God bless her.

  For a brief moment, there’s an awkward pause in the conversation as Mom and I flutter and twitch and coo and then giggle uproariously at how much we’re completely embarrassing ourselves—all while the male members of my family exchange looks that say, They’ve definitely got vaginas.

  In the midst of my momentary meltdown, I glance at Dad. He’s smiling at me—a full smile that reaches his eyes.

  I glance quickly at Colby and he’s looking at me with twinkling eyes—the first time I’ve seen light dance in his eyes since the accident.

  And then I look into Josh’s beautiful eyes mere inches from mine—the eyes of the man who just declared his love for me in front of my entire family (minus Keane, but he doesn’t count), and I’m instantly home—even more so than inside the physical walls of my beloved childhood house. This beautiful man is my safe place. He’s where I belong. Always.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  “I love you, too,” Josh whispers back, almost inaudibly.

  I kiss him on the cheek, my crotch burning, my heart fluttering, my very soul soaring around the room.

  Mom clears her throat. “Well, that was very sweet of you, Josh.” Oh, man, her cheeks are flushed. Get that woman a cigarette. “Very, very sweet.”

  There’s another awkward silence, which Colby rescues by redirecting the conversation back to Dax. “That third song blew me away, Dax. By the end, it sounded like you had an entire orchestra playing behind you.”

  “That third song’s my favorite of anything you’ve ever done,” Mom says.

  “Mine, too,” I say. “And you know how much I love everything you’ve ever done.”

  “Hey, I don’t know if Kat’s mentioned it to you,” Josh says to Dax, “but my best friend from college owns an independent record label. I’d be happy to forward your songs to him if you’d like. He’s always scouting new talent.”

  Holy fuckburgers. Jackpot.

  Dax’s eyes immediately dart to mine, and there’s no mistaking the elation in them. And I’m right there with him. I’m literally jiggling on top of Josh’s lap, unable to contain my excitement. Not only will Dax’s songs find their way to Reed, exactly as we’d hoped and schemed, but Josh, not me, is gonna give them to him. And, best of all, it was completely Josh’s idea, with no prompting by me. This is truly the absolute best-case scenario.

  “Wow,” Dax says, somehow managing to keep his composure (sort of). “That’d be amazing, Josh. Thank you.” Oh my God, he’s practically hyperventilating. “You think I should wait ’til I have all ten songs recorded on the album or send these three now?”

  Oh God, I can see Dax’s chest constricting from here.

  “It’s up to you,” Josh says calmly. “I’ll forward whatever you want, whenever. Just lemme know.”

  Dax looks at me, obviously trying to keep his eyes from bugging out. “What do you think, sis?”

  “Send these three now,” I say definitively. “Reed won’t need ten songs to know you’re amazing. Strike while the iron is hot.”

  Dax’s face lights up. “Awesome. Thanks, Josh. I’ll send you all three MP3s now. What’s your email address?”

  Josh gives Dax his email address, just as a timer goes off in the kitchen.

  “Oh,” Mom says, hopping up. “Everyone up, up, up. It’s time to eat!”

  Chapter 24

  Kat

  “Kat didn’t exaggerate, Mrs. Morgan,” Josh says. “This is the best spaghetti sauce I’ve ever had.”

  Mom’s face bursts with joy. “Thank you, Josh. I simmer for ten hours and put red wine in the sauce—oh, and a little dash of nutmeg, that’s the secret. And, please, call me Louise.”

  Josh’s smile is absolutely adorable.

  “Mom, Josh has been to Italy, so if he says it’s the best sauce ever, that’s a huge compliment,” I say.

  Mom is positively beaming. “Well, thank you. Where in Italy have you been?”

  Josh shifts in his chair. “Pretty much all over.”

  “Oh, how nice. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. I think I was Italian in a past life.” She grins. “So Kat tells us you’ve just moved back home to Seattle?”

  Josh has just taken a huge bite of spaghetti, so he simply nods in reply.

  “Josh came home to start a new company with his brother Jonas,” I say. “Rock climbing gyms.”

  “Wow, cool,” Ryan says. He asks Josh several questions about Climb & Conquer, which prompts Dad and Colby to chime in and ask a few, too, and Josh answers every question with obvious enthusiasm.

  “How wonderful to start a business with your brother,” Mom says. “Is Jonas older or younger?”

  But, once again, Josh is scarfing down a big bite of spaghetti just as Mom asks her question.

  “Jonas and Josh are twins,” I say. “Fraternal.”

  “Oh. Sorry, Josh. I keep asking you questions right after you’ve taken a bite.”

  Josh swallows his food. “No, I’m sorry. I’m acting like a caveman. I can’t control myself. This is the best spaghetti I’ve ever had.”

  Ryan chuckles. “Oh, man, Josh. You just bumped Keane out of the number one spot.”

  “I don’t have a number one spot,” Mom says defensively. “You’re all in the number one spot—except for you, Ryan, for saying that.” She scowls at him.

  “And if she did have a number one spot, it certainly wouldn’t be occupied by Keane, for crying out loud,” Dad adds.

  We all burst out laughing—Dad never joins in on razzing Keane.

  “Nice one, Dad,” Ryan says.

  Mom wags her finger at Dad. “That’s not funny, Thomas. Don’t encourage them.” She addresses all of us kids. “You guys stop picking on Keane all the time. He’s more sensitive than he lets on.”

  We kids all roll our eyes.

  �
�He is,” Mom insists. “He used to write me poetry when he was little.”

  Ryan laughs. “What was it? ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, but enough about flowers and shit, Mommy, let’s talk about me?’”

  Everyone laughs, including Mom.

  “‘And, by the way, can I borrow twenty bucks?’” Dax adds to the poem.

  Everyone laughs again.

  “Mom, Peen asks for it and you know it,” Ryan says. “A guy can’t act like he does and not expect to get razzed for it. He’s made his choice.”

  Mom’s expression is noncommittal, which is tantamount to admitting Keane deserves every bit of razzing he gets.

  “Mom,” Dax says, “I love our penile brother more than anyone in this family, probably, and I still think he’s an idiot.”

  Oh, now he’s crossed a line—but not because he called Keane an idiot. “You don’t love Keane more than anyone,” Mom says, scowling. “I’m his mother—which means I love him more than anyone. That’s the very definition of ‘mother.’ ‘She who loves the most.’”

  I put my hand on Josh’s thigh under the table.

  “Really?” Ryan asks. “That’s what ‘mother’ means? You mean, like, in Latin or something?”

  “No. That’s my definition—I made it up.” Mom sighs reverently. “She who loves the most.”

  Ryan chuckles.

  “And just to be clear, I love all my kids the most, not just your penile brother.”

  Everyone laughs, even Dad. Mom’s never called Keane a penis before. Could it be my darling mother’s already well into her third glass of wine?

  Mom shoots Ryan a scolding look. “See what you did? You dragged me into the muck with you. No more referring to penises at the dinner table for anyone—and that includes me. It’s just not nice.”

  We all laugh again.

  “So anyway, Josh,” Mom says, pushing a lock of her blonde hair away from her face like she’s just kicked someone’s ass in a street fight. “Sorry about that. We’re a bunch of hoodlums in this family—completely out of control.” She takes a sip of her wine. “So Kat says you’re originally from Seattle?”

  Josh is smiling from ear to ear. “Yes.”