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

by Lauren Rowe

  My eyes lock onto T-Rod in the back, standing in front of a mammoth wall of white flowers, talking to a woman in black holding a clipboard. I smile to myself. Six years ago, when I decided to dive headfirst into launching the L.A. branch of Faraday & Sons, I hired Theresa through a temp agency, thinking I was gonna need someone a few hours a week (at most) to organize my life and possibly run a few errands for me. I never in a million years thought, six years later, Theresa would be my faithful ‘woman behind the curtain’ for the Wise and Powerful Oz.

  Holy shit. There’s Miss Westbrook—Mrs. Santorini now—sitting with three kids, including a teenage boy who must be her son Jonas, the one she named after my brother. I smile to myself. Sarah Fucking Cruz is a force to be reckoned with, I swear to God. Apparently, she’s hell-bent on “healing” my brother’s tattered soul, through any means (and people) necessary, God love her.

  My eyes continue drifting over the faces in the crowd and finally lock onto Kat’s parents, seated in the farthest row. Kat’s mom is in the process of whispering something into her husband’s ear and he’s smiling and nodding. Man, they’re a handsome couple. Especially Kat’s mom. Damn. She’s a knockout, even at fifty-something, especially in that sparkling gold dress. Holy shit, it blows me away how much Kat looks like her mother. It’s like Louise is a crystal ball, showing me exactly what her hot twenty-something-year-old daughter’s gonna look like thirty years from now: a hot fifty-something-year-old.

  As I’m spying on her, Louise rests her cheek lovingly on her husband’s shoulder—the exact same move Kat always uses on me—and all of a sudden, I feel the world warp and buckle around me, like I’ve slipped through a gap in the space-time-continuum. Suddenly, I’m no longer looking at Kat’s parents awaiting Jonas and Sarah’s wedding, I’m seeing Kat and me, awaiting our son or daughter’s wedding, thirty years from now.

  Whoa.

  I quickly shut the door, my heart pounding in my ears, and turn around.

  Uncle William’s just finishing tying the knot on Jonas’ tie.

  “There we go,” he says, patting Jonas’ chest. He grabs Jonas’ shoulders and turns him toward me like he’s a preschooler on picture day. “I used a Windsor knot the second time. Does that meet with your approval, Master Joshua?”

  I survey my brother from head to toe. “Yeah, he looks absolutely perfect now. Good job.”

  Jonas beams a huge smile at me. “I’m right here—you can compliment me directly.”

  “You look absolutely perfect, Jonas.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m gonna take my seat now,” Uncle William says. He hugs Jonas and pats him on the cheek. “I’m happy for you, son. Sarah’s a great girl. Be good to her.”

  “I will. Always.”

  “I know you will. You’re an exceptionally kind-hearted person, Jonas. Always have been.” He pats the side of Jonas’ neck. “She’s a lucky girl.”

  “I’m the lucky one.”

  “Be happy, Jonas,” Uncle William says softly, emotion warping his voice. “That’s all I’ve ever wished for you, son.” His voice cracks.

  Jonas swallows hard. “I will be. I already am.”

  The emotion on Uncle William’s face is making my eyes water—I’ve never seen him look quite like this before.

  Uncle William turns to go.

  “Hey, Uncle William?” Jonas says.

  Uncle William stops and turns around.

  “Thank you for letting Sarah wear Sadie’s necklace. It means a lot to me that you did that for her. Sarah was absolutely thrilled. Thank you.”

  “Oh, I’m glad you mentioned that,” Uncle William says. “When I gave the necklace to Sarah last night, she seemed so excited to make it both her ‘something old’ and her ‘something borrowed’ for the big day, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was giving her the necklace and not just loaning it to her.” He chuckles. “I figured I’d tell her after the ceremony. So when I drink way too much Scotch at the reception and forget to tell Sarah the necklace is hers, will you make sure to tell her for me?”

  “Oh, wow,” Jonas says. He looks at me, astonished—but since I’ve never seen the necklace they’re talking about, I can’t return his expression. “Sarah’s gonna be shocked as hell. Are you sure? She’s not expecting that at all.”

  “Of course. It’s my wedding gift to Sarah—my way of welcoming her into our family.” He looks wistful. “Sarah reminds me of Sadie, you know. Same spirit. Sadie would have been thrilled to know her favorite necklace will be worn again, especially by someone as beautiful as Sarah, rather than sitting and collecting dust in a vault for another thirty years.”

  “Thank you so much. Sarah will be thrilled. I’ll be sure to tell her.”

  Uncle William grins. “Now go get married to your dream girl, son.”

  “Yes, sir. With pleasure.”

  When Uncle William is gone, I take a good, long look at my brother from head to toe and marvel at the joy wafting off him. I’ve never seen him look so damned happy before. Hell, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Jonas look happy at all before Sarah came along. Maybe every smile and laugh before Sarah was nothing but a dress rehearsal, a dry run preparing him for true happiness.

  “You ready?” I ask my brother.

  “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life,” Jonas replies.

  I hug Jonas and kiss his cheek, and as I do, my eyes tear up. I pull back from our embrace, wiping my eyes, intending to turn my back on him, but Jonas grabs my neck and forces me to stay put.

  “Josh,” Jonas says softly, his palm on my neck, his forehead against mine. “You’re the best brother a guy could ask for. I thank God for you every single day.”

  My body twitches with the emotion I’m stuffing down. What the fuck is happening to me? I’m a fucking wreck. I swallow hard, successfully forcing down the huge lump in my throat.

  A woman with a clipboard pokes her head into the room and saves me from myself. “You gentlemen ready?” she asks.

  Jonas nods. “Just give us a minute.”

  “Okay. Take your positions in the courtyard whenever you’re ready. We’ll cue off you.”

  “Thanks.” Jonas takes a deep breath and smiles at me. “You need a minute?”

  I nod.

  “Take your time, Josh,” my brother says, grinning. “They can’t start this shindig without me.”

  I look up at the ceiling for a moment, and once I’ve got complete control of my emotions again, I fix my eyes on Jonas’ face. “Jonas, I’d be lost without you,” I say quietly. I rest my palm on his broad shoulder and take a big gulp of air. “Seeing you happy is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I swallow hard. “I love you.”

  Jonas’ lip trembles and his face contorts like he’s trying to keep himself from crying. But it’s no use. His eyes fill with water. “Fuck, Josh,” Jonas says, sounding pissed. He wipes his eyes. “What are you trying to do to me, motherfucker?”

  “Sorry.”

  “I was fully prepared to cry like a baby at the sight of Sarah walking down the aisle—that’s to be expected—but I wasn’t prepared to cry with you, just standing here, talking about our fucking feelings, for Chrissakes. Come on, man, leave me a shred of dignity on my wedding day, would you?”

  “Sorry, bro. How’s this? ‘Hey, fucker. Congrats on bagging an awesome babe. Hope you have a fucking awesome life, you cocksucker—now fuck off.’”

  “That’s much better. Jesus. You scared me. For a minute there, I thought you were going soft on me.”

  “No chance of that,” I say. “I’m the emotionally stunted asshole of the two of us—you know that.”

  Jonas grins, his eyes sparkling.

  “Okay, motherfucker,” I say warmly. “Time to bag yourself a wife and me a sister.”

  “Fuck yeah, it is.”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  We smile at each other.

  “I’m so happy for you, Jonas,” I say softly.

  “I’m so h
appy for me, too,” he says. He takes a deep breath. “Okay. Enough yapping—it’s time for me to get married to the divine original form of woman-ness, the goddess and the muse, the magnificent Sarah Cruz.”

  Chapter 27

  Josh

  Jonas and I take our positions in front of the audience, standing to the left of the wedding officiant. The distinctive scent of gardenias—my mom’s favorite flower—blasts me all of a sudden. I turn around to glance at the spectacular wall of white flowers towering behind us—and, yes, although there are certainly roses and lilies and all sorts of other unidentifiable white flowers comprising the blooming wall, gardenias are by far the most prominent. Did Sarah do that on purpose? Did Jonas tell her how Dad always said Mom loved gardenias?

  I look at Jonas and he’s gazing anxiously toward the back of the room, his cheeks flushed, his breathing labored. I can almost hear his heart beating from here. Or maybe that’s my own heartbeat pounding forcefully in my ears. Why the fuck am I nervous? I’m not the one getting married.

  The music shifts to a Mozart-Beethoven-type thing, a pleasant piece of elegant music I’ve heard a thousand times at various black-tie events, and Kat appears at the back of the center aisle.

  My heart skips a beat at the sight of her. Holy fuck, she’s absolutely stunning.

  “I’m getting fat,” Kat said yesterday when she tried on her bridesmaid dress to make sure it still fit. “I should have had the tailor leave a little extra room through the midsection—my belly’s totally pooching out.”

  I laughed. There was literally no hint of a pooch in the dress—which makes sense because, despite our kumquat in the oven, there still hasn’t been even the slightest change in Kat’s figure since the day I first laid eyes on her in Jonas’ living room.

  “Babe,” I said to her yesterday. “You’re not showing at all. Like, literally, not at all.”

  “You’re blind, babe,” Kat said. “Look.” She pointed at the perfectly smooth midsection of her dress. “It’s like I’m hiding a volleyball under there.”

  “Do you have body dysmorphic disorder?” I asked.

  I grabbed her shoulders and moved her in front of the full-length mirror on the other side of our bedroom, and then I stood behind her, staring at both our reflections in the mirror, my palms resting on her smooth, bare shoulders.

  And that’s when I completely forgot whatever the fuck I was gonna say. I’d meant to drag Kat in front of the mirror to prove my point she’s not showing yet (and that she’s batshit crazy, too, which certainly isn’t news to me), but for some reason, staring at us together in the mirror, looking at her in that blue dress—even with her hair in a ponytail and her face completely bare of makeup—she took my breath away.

  So, of course, I proceeded to get my Party Girl with a Hyphen the fuck out of that dress and myself inside of her.

  But that was yesterday.

  Today, Kat in that same blue dress isn’t merely taking my breath away—she’s stopping my heart, too. The dress fits Kat the same way it did yesterday, of course—like a glove. But, today, she’s not just wearing her bridesmaid dress as she glides down the aisle, she’s strutting in it like a peacock—or, rather, I suppose, like a peahen graced with a peacock’s tail. (Thank you, Jonas.) And Kat has every reason to strut like she’s on a catwalk—lord almighty, does she ever. Her golden hair is falling around her shoulders in perfectly formed tendrils. Her skin peeking out of her sweetheart neckline is glowing. Her sky-high heels accentuate the glorious length of her lithe frame. And, oh my God, Kat’s gorgeous face, always radiant, always mesmerizing, is downright spectacular today. It’s the face that could launch a thousand ships, bring a grown man to his knees, make a man believe in God. And at this moment, lucky me, the blazing eyes lighting up that supernaturally beautiful face are trained on me.

  By the time Kat reaches the end of the aisle and takes her position to the officiant’s right, my heart’s bursting, my cock is tingling, and my brain is utterly scrambled. I beam a huge smile at Kat and she winks.

  The musical selection changes and everyone in the audience stands.

  For a moment, I can’t identify the song the musicians are playing. I know the melody, but it’s not a song normally played by a harp, cello, and violin, so I’m having a hard time placing it. Oh, wait. I’ve got it. It’s “Melt With You” by Modern English. Great song—cool arrangement. I glance at my brother. He’s about to burst into a trillion tiny molecules and scatter into the sky.

  I fix my gaze at the end of the aisle, my heart in my throat, and there she is—our beautiful bride for the occasion. Our George Clooney. Jonas’ handler. My brand new little sister. The great love of my brother’s life. Sarah Fucking Cruz.

  I glance at Kat to find her lower lip trembling and her eyes filled with tears. I look at my brother again and my breathing hitches at the unabashed demonstration of joy and love on his face. Oh my God, Jonas is clearly on the verge of crying.

  Keep it together, man, I think.

  But, really, I should be using all my keep-it-together mojo on myself. For fuck’s sake, I’m shaking like a leaf as I try to contain the emotion welling up inside me.

  I take a deep breath and successfully force it down.

  Sarah glides down the aisle slowly, her eyes fixed on Jonas, her smile as wide as I’ve ever seen it. Wow, she’s beautiful. Simply stunning. Glowing from the inside-out. And not only that, she’s a sexy little thing, isn’t she? Hot damn. I knew my brand new sister was a hot tamale and all, but Jesus Fucking Christ—she’s scorching hot. Are brides supposed to be this sexy? Good lord. Sarah’s strapless, white gown hugs every curve of her body leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, and then fans out mid-thigh, accentuating her hips to full effect. Holy hot damn, that’s quite a dress. I’m guessing Sarah picked it especially for Jonas—my brother always has been an ass-man.

  For a fleeting moment, my deranged brain actually forms the thought: I wonder what kind of wedding dress Kat would wear for me?

  My heart squeezes. What the fuck am I thinking? Have I gone insane?

  A loud sob lurches from the front of the audience, grabbing my attention. It’s Sarah’s mother, crying her eyes out at the sight of her beautiful daughter. I can’t help but smile. I only met Gloria last night and I already love her—it seems Jonas definitely lucked out there.

  I steal another look at Kat, thinking I’ll catch her giggling about Gloria’s meltdown, but, nope—Kat’s crying her eyes out every bit as much as Gloria, completely lost in her own Cinderella-fied world. Wow. Is Kat crying like that because she’s so happy for Sarah—or because she’s despairing she’ll never get to be the one wearing the white dress?

  I peel my eyes off Kat and gaze at Sarah Fucking Cruz walking toward us. She’s almost at the end of the aisle—and now that she’s closer, I can plainly see why Jonas shot me that look of astonishment about Uncle William’s gift. Holy shit, the necklace encircling Sarah’s elegant neck is fit for a queen. I mean, I’m no expert on diamonds, but that’s got to be half a million bucks worth of them, if not more.

  It makes no sense, and I know I should be ashamed of myself for thinking it, but for a fleeting moment, jealousy rises up inside me that Uncle William gave that thing to Sarah, and not to Kat. Kat deserves to have the crown jewels around her neck, too.

  Wait. What the fuck am I thinking? If it wouldn’t be a totally weird thing to do in front of all these people, I’d slap the shit out of myself right now for my rambling and bizarre thoughts.

  Sarah glides up to the officiant and Jonas lurches over to her. He grabs both her hands and leans in to whisper something into her ear. Sarah nods and smiles and Jonas kisses Sarah full on the mouth like they’ve just been pronounced husband and wife.

  “Not quite yet, Jonas,” the officiant says, and everyone laughs.

  Jonas laughs and pulls away, but then quickly leans in and pecks Sarah’s lips one more time, like he’s literally stealing a kiss.

  Everyone laughs again.<
br />
  “Oh, Jonas,” Sarah says, beaming at him.

  “You look beautiful,” Jonas says softly.

  “So do you, love. You’ve got happy eyes.”

  “Very happy eyes,” Jonas whispers. “I love you, Sarah.”

  “I love you, too, mi amor. Te amo.”

  “I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

  The officiant clears his throat comically. “Excuse me,” he says. “Would you two lovebirds mind if I cut in?”

  Everyone in the audience laughs, yet again.

  “Would you two like to get married, or . . ?”

  “Yes, please,” Sarah says.

  “As quickly as humanly possible,” Jonas adds.

  Again, the entire place collectively chuckles.

  I steal a look at Kat and she beams at me through her tears.

  “I’m thrilled to welcome everyone to this happy occasion—the marriage of Jonas Faraday and Sarah Cruz,” the officiant begins. “Both Jonas and Sarah have told me, separately, that they believe finding the other was their life’s sacred destiny, their soul’s mission—that the other is the missing piece to their soul’s sacred puzzle.”

  Normally, this kind of you-complete-me marriage-speak at weddings doesn’t affect me any more than a speech about global warming, but this time, for the first time ever, the officiant’s words are making my heart palpitate and the hair on my neck stand up.

  After a few opening remarks and a prayer, the officiant reads from Corinthians about the nature of love. “Love is kind and not jealous,” he says—and when he says the word “jealous,” I can’t help but shoot a pointed look at Kat. She flares her nostrils and narrows her eyes in reply, making me smile. I love it when Kat gives me her dragon-lady look.

  “Love doesn’t brag and is not arrogant,” the officiant continues solemnly—and at the word “arrogant,” Kat shoots me a snarky look that tells me in no uncertain terms the guy’s talking about me.

  I bite my lip and look away from Kat so I won’t burst out laughing at her expression.

  “But love rejoices with the truth,” the officiant concludes—a statement prompting Kat and me to simultaneously grin at each other.