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

by Lauren Rowe

  He’s shaking. “I love you, Kat.”

  “I love you, too, baby. Don’t you worry about a thing. We’re gonna be happy forever and ever. You’ll see. We’re gonna be a family—a happy family. It’s gonna be better than your wildest dreams. I promise.”

  He’s calm now. His breathing is regular. He’s stopped shaking.

  “Okay?” I ask.

  He nods into the crook of my neck. “Okay.”

  I kiss his cheek and continue stroking his back. “I love you, honey. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. If you fuck up, so what? I’ll be patient. And when I’m insane, you’ll be patient with me. And if you don’t know what to do, then I’ll teach you. No big whoop. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I kiss his cheek again. “I’m gonna love you and take care of you forever, baby. You’ll see. You won’t need to overcome a goddamned thing. Those days are over, baby. I got you. I promise.”

  Chapter 41

  Josh

  “Hey, Uncle William, will you tie Henn’s bowtie?” I ask. “I’d do it, but I’m so nervous my fingers won’t function.”

  Uncle William laughs. “Sure thing. Come here, Peter.”

  “If this bowtie were a motherboard,” Henn says, “I swear it’d be my bitch.”

  “It’s hard to tie a bowtie,” Uncle William reassures Henn. “Much harder than it looks.”

  “See, Reed?” Henn says. “It’s not me that’s the problem—it’s the bowtie.”

  Reed laughs. “Keep telling yourself that, man.”

  “All the chairs are filled,” Jonas murmurs quietly. He’s peeking out a crack in the bungalow door toward the beach. “Everyone looks really excited.”

  “Gah. Don’t tell me that,” I say. “I’m nervous enough already.”

  “What do you have to be nervous about, Faraday?” Reed asks. “You’re marrying the greatest girl, ever.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m nervous. I don’t wanna fuck this up for her. Hey, Jonas,” I call to him at the door. “Were you nervous right before you went out to marry Sarah?”

  Jonas shuts the door. “Oh, yeah, I was shitting.” He glides toward the group, absently twirling his wedding ring around his finger. “I wasn’t nervous about getting married—I was just freaking out I was gonna fuck up my vows.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “What if I spontaneously start spewing gibberish up there? Or pass out? Or, worst-case scenario, what if I spontaneously shart in front of everyone?”

  Everyone bursts out laughing, except Uncle William.

  “What’s sharting?” Uncle William asks.

  “When you think you’re gonna fart, but you unexpectedly shit instead,” Henn explains.

  Uncle William laughs and shakes his head. “Joshua.”

  “Well, let’s look at this logically,” Reed says. “When was the last time you sharted?”

  “Hmm,” I say. “Maybe when I was ten?”

  “Okay, then, realistically, the odds are extremely low it will happen within the next thirty minutes for the first time in twenty years,” Reed says.

  “God willing,” I say.

  “Unless, of course, it’s been so long, you’re now statistically overdue,” Henn says.

  “Not helpful, Henn,” I say. “In what universe would you ever think that’s a helpful thing to say?”

  “Sorry.”

  Jonas puts his hand on my shoulder. “Josh, you got this. If I can say my vows without sharting, then you most certainly can.” He flashes me a warm smile and I’m struck, as I often am these days, by how genuinely happy my brother seems.

  “You know what, Jonas?” I say. “You should wear black-tie more often, bro—it suits you. You’ve got this Thor-meets-James-Bond thing going on.”

  Jonas scoffs. “I feel more like I’ve got an Idiot-Brother-meets-Dancing-Monkey-thing going on.”

  “All done,” Uncle William says, patting Henn on his shoulder. He turns Henn to face me. “Acceptable, Joshua?”

  “Suave perfection,” I say. “You’re Cary-Grant-meets-Steve-Jobs, Henn.”

  Reed sidles up to me with a bottle of Patron. “A little something to calm the jitters, Faraday?”

  “Just a little sip,” I say, grabbing the bottle. “Any more than that and I might spontaneously shart from being too relaxed.” I take a quick sip and then pass the bottle around.

  “Pretty good,” Uncle William says when the bottle makes its way to him. “But at the reception, we’re all drinking my Scotch.”

  “Did you bring the good stuff?” I ask.

  “Of course. I brought several different bottles to be shared at the party, plus I’ve got bottles of some forty-year-old stuff for each of you boys to take home.”

  “Bottles of what now?” Henn asks, his face perking up.

  “Scotch,” I answer. “From my uncle’s private stash. Whatever it is, it’ll change your life, I guarantee it.”

  “Well, don’t mind if I do,” Henn says. “Thanks, Uncs.” He pats my Uncle on the back.

  Uncle William laughs. “You’re very welcome, Peter. Do you boys know anything about Scotch?” he asks, and when Henn and Reed both admit they’re fairly clueless, my uncle proceeds to school both of them on the topic.

  “Hey, Jonas?” I say. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  We move to the corner of the bungalow.

  “You okay?” Jonas asks.

  I nod. “Just a lot more nervous than I expected to be.” I shake out my arms. “It’s taken me a lifetime to get here. I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

  Jonas looks at me sympathetically. “Just take a deep breath. It’ll be over soon.”

  “No, not the ceremony. The marriage. I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

  “You won’t. You never fuck anything up.”

  I scoff. “We both know that’s a load of complete bullshit. Got any advice for me?”

  “Just imagine everyone naked,” Jonas says. “Except Sarah. Definitely don’t picture Sarah naked or I’ll have to punch you in your pretty face.”

  “No, don’t give me advice about saying my vows—gimme your best advice for a happy marriage. You’re the happiest married guy I know.”

  Jonas shrugs. “Well, I haven’t been married all that long—but, yeah, I guess I already know the secret. Put her happiness ahead of your own every single day and it’ll come back to you ten-fold.”

  “You sound like a fortune cookie.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, just add ‘in bed’ to anything I say.”

  “Thank you, Jonas,” I say. “That’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll worship her every fucking day.”

  “In bed,” Jonas says. Emotion washes over his face and he hugs me. “I’m so happy for you, Josh. You’ve been my rock my whole life, and I don’t know what I would have done—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, pushing him away. “Bro, we just did this exact thing mere months ago at your wedding. Do we really need to talk about our fucking feelings again so fucking soon?”

  Jonas laughs. “But, Josh—talking lets the feelings out.”

  We both laugh.

  “Honestly,” I say, “I love you, bro, I really do, but I don’t have a pressing need to articulate every warm and gooey feeling I have about you more than, say, once a year?”

  “Fine by me,” Jonas says, shrugging. “Once a year sounds good. And, by the way, I love you, too.”

  “Gah. Stop. What’d I just say? Once a year, bro. How ’bout we do it on our birthday?”

  “Great. I’ll mark it on my calendar: ‘Remember to tell Josh I love him today and that he’s the best brother a guy could ever hope for.’”

  “I think you just did an end-run around that one-year thing,” I say.

  Jonas winks. “I’m smart like that. Remember? I’m the smart one, and you’re the good-looking one.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s how things got divvied up. You’re the smart one and good-looking one, Jonas. I’m the charming one.”

  “And we’re both the
happy ones,” Jonas says.

  We share a huge smile.

  “Did you ever think life would turn out like this for us?” Jonas asks, shaking his head.

  I join him in shaking my head. “Never. Like, literally, never. Things weren’t looking too good for the Faraday brothers for a while, but we’ve pulled victory out of the jaws of defeat, haven’t we?”

  “Definitely.”

  The wedding planner pokes her head into the bungalow. “We’re ready for you gentlemen now. Time to take your positions on the beach.” She looks at her watch. “We have to time this with the sunset, so you’ve got to be in position in five.”

  “Thanks,” I say to her.

  Jonas and I hug.

  “Congratulations, Josh,” he says.

  “Couldn’t have done it without you, bro—you showed me how to do it.”

  Jonas flashes a huge smile.

  “Thank you, Jonas.”

  Jonas nods. “My pleasure.”

  I take a deep breath and turn toward the rest of the guys. “Ready, men?”

  Everyone says they’re ready and raring to go.

  “Reed, hand me that tequila one more time.”

  Reed hands me the bottle of Patron and I take another huge swig—and everyone does the same thing right after me.

  I put my hand on Jonas’ shoulder. “Hey, bro, you got a Plato quote for me to think about when I’m up there, just in case I suddenly feel like I’m gonna spontaneously shart?”

  “Of course. ‘Courage is knowing what not to fear.’ And the one thing never to fear is spontaneous sharting.”

  Everyone laughs.

  “Perfect. Thank you. You’re a beast of a best-man, Jonas Faraday.” I take a deep breath. “Now let’s get out there and get me a smokin’ hot wife, shall we?”

  Everyone expresses enthusiastic agreement with that plan of action.

  “Wife on three,” I say, putting my hand into the huddle.

  Everyone covers my hand with theirs. “One, two, three. Wife!” we all shout together, and then throw our hands up.

  “I love you, Josh,” Jonas says, slapping me on the back.

  “No. Stop it.”

  “I love you, too, Joshy,” Henn says, laying his cheek on my shoulder and side-hugging me.

  “Me, too,” Reed says, laying his cheek on my other shoulder.

  “So do I,” Uncle William says, patting my cheek.

  “Look what you started, motherfucker,” I say to Jonas. I shake Reed and Henn off me and they laugh hysterically. “I love you all, too. You’re the best guys I know and I’d be lost without each and every one of you. Now, come on, guys. Quit making me say all this shit. I swear to God if I shart up there, I’m blaming all of you.”

  Everyone laughs and high-fives and passes the tequila around one final time.

  “All right. Enough fucking around. My fantasy-girl awaits. Let’s get out there and bag me a goddamned gorgeous wife.”

  Chapter 42

  Josh

  The girl walking toward me on her father’s arm is literally the most spectacularly beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on in my entire life, without exception. She’s the precise sum of parts I’d order at the Build-a-Wife store if there were such a thing. Her dress is simple and white—the bottom half of the dress cascading over her round belly and floating like a soft cloud down to the sand.

  She’s glowing from the inside-out, shining brighter than any diamond—which maybe explains why, despite all the ice I’ve recently showered her with, she’s opted to wear only two items of jewelry for her once-in-a-lifetime walk down the aisle: the ring I slipped onto her finger when I asked her to be my wife and the fucking amazing tear-drop sapphire-and-diamond earrings Uncle William gifted her from his late wife’s jaw-dropping collection. “Something old and something blue,” Uncle William said to Kat when he gave them to her last week. “But definitely not something borrowed—they’re all yours, sweetheart. Welcome to the Faraday family.”

  She’s gliding down the aisle with her father, floating like a glorious feather, smiling at people in the audience, and beaming at her father.

  And then she locks eyes with me—and every bit of nerves I’ve been feeling vanishes. Why? Because my future wife is looking at me the exact way Sarah did when she walked down the aisle toward Jonas—the exact way I’ve longed for someone to look at me my whole fucking life, not even realizing it’s what I yearned for most.

  Thomas and Kat reach me on the sand, and after kissing Kat’s cheek, Thomas gently guides his daughter toward me.

  “Make her happy,” Thomas whispers to me, shaking my hand.

  “Forever,” I murmur, taking Kat’s slender hand.

  I kiss Kat’s cheek and whisper to her: “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

  “I love you,” she replies.

  “I love you, too.”

  The officiant—a large Hawaiian guy in a white linen suit, sunglasses, and a lei—welcomes everyone and leads us through our very simple marriage ceremony. Or, at least, that’s what I presume he’s doing—I’m only half-listening. Because, seriously, what mortal man could possibly concentrate on what a Hawaiian dude in a white suit is saying while looking straight into the face of God’s most heavenly creation?

  “And now, Josh and Kat have prepared vows for each other,” the officiant prompts—grabbing my full attention. “Kat?”

  Kat takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand. “Josh,” she begins. “Joshua. You once asked me if I believe in fate—and I said, no, that I believe in kicking ass.”

  I laugh and so does everyone in the audience.

  “But now I know I was wrong about that. You’re my fate, my love—my destiny. I truly believe that every minute of my life up ’til now was engineered by a greater power to bring me to this moment—to you—so that I could become your devoted wife.” She smiles and her eyes twinkle. “One of the things I love about you most is how you take care of everyone you love. As your wife, I vow to be the one who takes care of you, Josh. I promise to love you forever, always making sure your needs and greatest desires are satisfied beyond your wildest dreams. Every single day, I vow to make sure you wake up thinking, ‘Damn, I’m a lucky bastard,’ and every single night fall asleep thinking, ‘I can’t wait for tomorrow.’”

  We share a huge smile.

  “I’ll love you forever, Joshua William Faraday,” Kat continues. “I promise to love and honor you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, all the days of my life and never, ever leave your side as long as I’m drawing breath into my body.”

  “I love you,” I whisper to her. “Thank you.”

  “I love you forever and ever, my love,” Kat whispers. “I promise.”

  Kat looks at the officiant, signaling she’s all done speaking.

  “Josh?” the officiant prompts.

  Those nerves I felt before the ceremony slam into me again. I take a deep breath and take Kat’s beautiful face in my palms. “My beloved Kat.” I take another deep breath. “Good God, you’re evil.”

  She laughs in obvious surprise.

  I take her hands in mine. “And not just evil. Stubborn as hell, too.” I flash her a huge smile. “But you’re also hilarious. Compassionate. Honest. Passionate. Baby, you’re hell on wheels. And, most of all, you’re loving and kind and beautiful.” I stroke her golden hair. “And I love it all—every single thing about you.”

  The bottoms of her eyes fill with tears.

  “When I first laid eyes on you at Jonas’ house, you waltzed into the living room and marched straight up to me like I’d ordered you out of a catalog—and right then, I knew I was totally screwed.”

  Kat laughs along with everyone else.

  “But a man has never been so happy or lucky to be totally screwed in the history of time.”

  Kat’s face contorts with pure joy.

  I take a deep breath. “Katherine Ulla Morgan, you’ve single-handedly taught me how to love—how to be a man in every sense of the word
. You’re the answer to a prayer I didn’t even know I had. And I vow to you, in front of God and all these witnesses, to cherish you every single day—all parts of you, even the heinously diabolical parts—especially the heinously diabolical parts—to make your happiness my mission in this life. If someone hurts you, I’ll kick their ass, baby. If you’re sad, then I’ll make you laugh—unless, of course (for some reason only women can possibly understand), you don’t want to laugh, in which case I’ll simply hold you and let you cry on my shoulder.”

  She sniffles and laughs.

  “Kat, I vow to love you and take care of you and our precious baby.” I touch her belly gently. “All our babies, in fact, because now that I’ve become a part of your awesome family, I’m hoping God will gift us with an entire minivan full of them.”

  Kat’s eyes pop out of her head and plop into the sand.

  Oh, shit. I don’t know where that came from. I haven’t mentioned my recently discovered desire for a big family to Kat before this moment. Perhaps during our wedding ceremony wasn’t the optimal time for me to lay that idea on her for the first time? Oh, well, fuck it. I am what I am.

  I clear my throat and barrel ahead.

  “And, most of all, my beloved Kat, I vow to you, right here and now, in front of God and all the people we love, which includes Keane, by the way, just to be clear—”

  Every Morgan in attendance bursts out laughing along with Kat and me.

  When the Morgans have finally quieted down, I continue speaking again, holding her hands in mine. “Like I was saying, I solemnly vow to you, in front of God and all the people we love, that when I’m eighty, I won’t have a baby with a trampy twenty-six-year-old gold digger, even though she’ll be at optimal child-bearing age.”

  Kat hoots with laughter and so do I—and so does everyone watching us, even though, surely, no one but Kat and me fully understands the joke.

  I cup Kat’s jawline in my palm. “YOLO, Kat,” I whisper. “Damn, I’m a lucky bastard that I get to live my one and only life with you.” I touch the cleft in her chin. “I. Will. Always. Love. You.” I reach into my pocket, pull out a poker chip, and covertly place it into Kat’s palm. “I promise to make every day of our life together better than any fantasy, baby. Forever.”