Page 36 of Consummation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #3)

Twenty-Four

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.”

“What part?”

Josh’s smile vanishes. He clears his throat. “Medina,” he says evenly, apparently trying to make that word sound as ho-hum as humanly possible.

I glance around, gauging everyone’s reactions to the revelation of Josh’s hometown—and it’s immediately clear everyone fully understands the implication: it means Josh Faraday could use hundred-dollar bills to wipe his ass every day for the rest of his life and still afford to buy himself mansions all over the world.

Surely, my family must have at least suspected Josh has cash to burn when he drove up in a freaking Lamborghini—but now they know Josh could buy an entire fleet of Lamborghinis if he wanted.

“Oh, Medina’s very nice,” Mom says politely, but it’s plain to see she’s flustered. “Some of the homes there are spectacular.”

“Was Bill Gates your next-door neighbor growing up?” Dax asks, going straight for the jugular as only my baby brother can do.

My stomach clenches. Shoot. It didn’t even occur to me to tell everyone to refrain from asking Josh questions about his childhood.

“No. Bill Gates lives about three miles from where I grew up,” Josh says .

“Where did you go to school?” Mom asks.

“St. Francis Academy.”

“Oh,” Mom says, obviously surprised. “Catholic school?”

Josh nods. “Yeah. I went there from grade school all the way through high school. Sixty-two people in my entire graduating class. After that, I couldn’t wait to get to UCLA. A student population of thirty-five-thousand sounded awfully good to me.”

“Oh, I bet,” Ryan says.

“I had total anonymity for the first time in my life—I absolutely loved it.”

Of course, I know Josh landed at UCLA immediately after the death of his father and institutionalization of his brother—which means it might not have been the best of times for him, despite the way he’s portraying it right now. But my family certainly doesn’t need to know about any of that.

“Are you a practicing Catholic?” Mom asks.

Josh smiles from ear-to-ear like Mom’s said something highly amusing. “No,” he says simply without elaboration. He takes a huge bite of his food. “This is so good, Mrs. Morgan.”

“Louise.”

“Louise. Thank you. This is delicious.”

Mom beams a huge smile at him. “Thank you. Actually, feel free to call me Lou .”

My heart stops. Only family and very close friends call my mom Lou. I rub Josh’s thigh under the table. Three down, two to go , I think.

“So before you decided to open rock-climbing gyms with your brother, what did you do for work?” Dad asks.

Josh proceeds to politely tell everyone about Faraday & Sons—a topic I’m sure he has no interest in, since he’s never once talked about it with me.

As I listen to him, I learn a lot I didn’t know, actually—and also realize, hey, Josh is pretty damned smart.

But my attention span quickly evaporates and, while Josh is explaining something horrendously boring, no offense, I steal a glance at Colby.

He’s studying Josh intently, listening to every word he says, nodding occasionally.

There’s color in Colby’s cheeks, I notice—a sparkle in his eyes.

In fact, Colby looks remarkably close to his former self—as good as he’s looked since the roof so horribly caved in on him, literally and figuratively, four weeks ago .

“So your father started the business, then?” Mom asks. “He’s the ‘Faraday’ in ‘Faraday & Sons’?”

Josh’s thigh tenses under my palm. “That’s right.”

“And do your parents still live in Medina?” Mom asks.

Josh’s thigh twitches under the table and I squeeze it.

“Mom, Josh doesn’t wanna talk about that,” I intervene.

“No, it’s fine,” Josh says, patting my hand under the table. He clears his throat. “My parents have both passed away.”

There’s a palpable shift of energy in the room. Instantly, the air is thicker—heavier—and every member of my family, without exception, suddenly looks some variation of ashen, somber, or flat-out devastated.

“I’m so sorry,” Mom says.

Everyone follows Mom’s lead and mumbles some form of condolence.

“It’s okay,” Josh says. “It’s been a long time.”

“How old were you?” Mom asks. “Did they die together in some sort of accident?”

“Uh, no, not together. My mom died when I was seven. She was murdered in our home by an intruder. And my dad died when I was seventeen.”

Josh’s last sentence hangs in the air. Clearly, everyone is waiting for Josh to identify the cause of his father’s death the way he identified his mother’s—but Josh doesn’t say another word.

“What happened to your father?” Dax asks after a moment.

Mom puts her hand on Dax’s shoulder as if to quiet him. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it, honey,” she says, her voice awash in tenderness. “We totally understand.”

“No, it’s fine,” Josh says. “Uh. My father suffered from severe depression after the death of my mother.” Josh bites his lip. “He never got over losing her.” He presses his lips together and leaves it at that.

For the first time, I’m seeing exactly why Josh once told me he hates telling people his life’s story. Everyone suddenly looks at me funny when I tell them, he said. Like they think I’m “laughing through the pain.”

And now I see exactly what Josh meant. Of course, I know my family members are looking at Josh with nothing but deep sympathy, but I’d shut the hell up over time, too, if people constantly looked at me the way my family’s looking at Josh right now.

“Well,” Mom says definitively. “I’m very sorry for your losses, Josh.”

“Thank you,” Josh says. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”

“Please know you’re always welcome here. Any time.”

“Thank you,” Josh says. His cheeks are red.

There’s an awkward silence. Mom looks like she’s gonna cry.