Page 62 of Consummation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #3)

Thirty-Nine

Kat

I lean back from the table as our private butler clears our plates from dinner and then disappears through French doors leading back into our suite.

“Are you chilly?” Josh asks. He stands, obviously intending to remove his tuxedo jacket for me.

“No. I’m good. It’s still pretty nice out. Great idea to eat out here on the patio.”

“I wanted to take full advantage of the view in the moonlight.”

I look out at the dark Pacific Ocean glimmering in the moonlight beyond the cliffs. “Yeah, this view is absolutely spectacular.”

“I was talking about you.”

“Aw.” I bat my eyelashes. “Sweet-talker.”

“You really are gorgeous, Kat. You take my breath away.”

“I guess complete happiness looks good on me, huh?”

“You sure you’re not cold?” Josh asks. “It’s getting a bit chilly out here. I don’t want you to catch cold.”

“I’m fine. The kumquat must be some kind of internal furnace—I’m never cold these days.

” I look down at the sparkling rock on my finger and the convertible Porsche on my wrist and touch the beachside condo around my neck.

“Plus, it’s amazing how lots and lots of ice keeps a girl toasty warm,” I add.

Josh laughs.

The butler approaches the table. “Are we ready for dessert?” he asks.

“Yes, that’d be great,” Josh says. “Just bring us a sampling of your best stuff. And I’ll have some Sambuca, too.”

“Very good, sir. Madame?”

I touch my belly. “No Sambuca for me. Just a decaffeinated cappuccino would be great. ”

“Very good,” the butler says, and leaves.

“This is so fun,” I say, giggling. “I guarantee you, if Sarah were here, she’d be calling that poor guy Jeeves all night long.”

Josh smiles. “And singing that Iggy Azalea song.”

I sing the chorus from “Fancy.”

“Yep. That’s the one,” Josh says. “I’ll send Jonas the info about this hotel so he can bring Sarah here for a weekend of relaxation.”

“Awesome. Maybe the four of us could come here together—a last hurrah before the baby comes?”

“Sure, but only if we get separate suites. No more listening to each other having sex through paper-thin walls ever again, thank you very much.”

“Babe, this suite is massive—bigger than my parents’ entire house. I’m pretty sure we could share it with Jonas and Sarah and not hear each other having sex.”

Josh shakes his head. “Not if you’re gonna scream the way you did in Caracas. Jesus, woman, that was the shriek heard ’round the world—or at least throughout South America.” He snickers.

I smile. “Yeah, that was a good one.”

“Good times,” Josh agrees. “I’m getting hard just remembering it. Do you see what you do to me? I can’t get enough of you.”

“Well, that’s good, because you’re stuck with me now.” I hold up my hand with my engagement ring on it. “No refunds or exchanges.”

Josh laughs.

I look at my ring for a long moment, dazzled. “How the heck did this happen? I’m not trying to talk you out of the whole will-you-marry-me-thing, believe me, but what the fuckity happened to the guy who not too long ago didn’t even mention he was moving to Seattle?”

Josh shrugs. “It’s not a thinking thing—it’s a feeling thing. You’re The One and I know it and nothing will ever change that fact as long as I draw breath into this body.”

I swoon.

Josh leans forward. “But enough talking about our fucking feelings. Let’s talk about the wedding. You wanna marry me before or after Gracie makes her screaming entrance?”

“Oh, before, definitely,” I say. “I wanna be Mrs. Faraday when I check into that hospital. Is that okay with you?”

“Whatever you say, hot momma. I’d marry you tomorrow. ”

I know Josh is saying that as a figure of speech, but, for a brief moment, I actually consider marrying Josh tomorrow down at City Hall and calling it a day.

“No, tomorrow’s no good,” I finally conclude, scrunching up my face.

“I want to wear a pretty white dress and I definitely want my entire family there. And not just my parents and brothers—the whole Morgan-enchilada. I’ve got a pretty big extended family—I should warn you—lots of aunts and uncles and cousins—and some of them pretty effing crazy—and I’d want them all there. Fasten your seatbelt.”

Josh purses his lips, thinking. “Hmm. Well, if we’re aiming to do this before Gracie arrives, we’d better not wait too long. We definitely don’t want you going into labor while we’re saying our vows. That would totally fuck everything up for me.”

“Fuck everything up for you ?” I say, laughing.

“Yeah, it’d fuck up my dream wedding.” He shoots me a snarky smile. “I’ve been dreaming of my perfect wedding since I was a little boy.”

I burst out laughing and we giggle together for a long time.

“Okay, let’s get serious for a second, Party Girl,” Josh says.

“If we’re gonna do this wedding thing before Gracie comes, we really don’t have that much time to pull our shit together.

” He looks up, apparently calculating something.

“I’m thinking we’ve got, what, three months tops before we’re potentially butting up against your water possibly breaking as you say ‘I do’? ”

“Yeah. Sounds about right. Actually, I’d rather we aim for two months, just to be on the safe side. I’d like to have a little extra time after the wedding to relax before the kumquat shows up and fucks everything up.”

“Okay. Two months. How many people are we talking about here? I’ve probably got, oh, I dunno, twenty people I genuinely care about being there? Give ’em all a plus-one and let’s say forty.”

“For me it’s about fifty people, plus give everyone a guest. So a hundred?”

“Okay, so we’re talking a hundred-fifty people max, right? Sixty days from now?”

I shrug. “When you say it like that, it sounds impossible.”

He waves me off. “Bah. Totally doable.”

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah. Easy peasy. You forget—I’ve got T-Rod in my back pocket. She can hire a wedding planner and throw gobs of money at the whole thing and it’ll happen like magic. No worries. Will you still be allowed to travel in eight weeks?”

“Yeah, I’ve got twelve weeks—I’m supposed to stay put beginning at thirty-two weeks.”

“Okay, perfect. Why don’t we do a destination wedding in eight weeks? Plus a two-week honeymoon after that? Then we’ll come home and hunker down and get ready for the arrival of Mademoiselle Terrorist.”

My heart skips a beat. “A destination wedding? Where?”

“I dunno. A medieval castle in France? A vineyard in Tuscany? The beach in Bora Bora? Bali? Fiji? You pick.”

“Oh my God, Josh. Slow down.”

“Why? Any of those would be a blast.”

I place my hand on my racing heart. “I’m overwhelmed. Gimme a minute.”

“Please don’t barf, Kat. I love you, I really do, but I’m not sure my love can withstand watching you barf more than once a day.”

I squint at him. “Don’t tempt me.”

He laughs.

“But, seriously, I might hurl if you keep talking about flying a hundred-fifty people to France or Bora Bora in eight weeks. I’m sorry to be Debbie Downer here, but some of my peeps probably don’t even have passports.

Not everyone is used to gallivanting all over the world on a moment’s notice to party with Gabrielle LeMonde’s daughter. ”

He rolls his eyes.

“And, even if my peeps have passports, they wouldn’t be able to afford taking off work and getting themselves to France or Bora Bora just to watch me get married.”

Josh waves his hand dismissively. “Babe, duh . Whatever we do, I’ll pick up the tab for everyone, all expenses paid. We’ll fly them to wherever and show ’em a great time. We’ll take over some resort for an entire week.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“Holy shitballs, I’m crapping my pants,” I say. I put my hand on my heart again. “You would do that?”

“Kat, it’s our wedding. I’m only doing this once. YOLO, baby. Go big or go home. Work hard, play hard. We can sleep when we’re dead.” He grins. “I’m sure there’s another spiffy little catch-phrase that would be even more apropos than all those, but you get the gist.”

“My family’s gonna lose their freaking minds.”

“Good. Shit-stained pants and psychotic breaks are what we’re going for here.”

“But I still think something international is too ambitious,” I say. “Just too many logistics. Plus, from here on out, I wanna stay in the U.S. ’til after Gracie’s born—just in case she decides to make an early appearance.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea. I didn’t think about that. Hmm. Well, that really limits our choices for the ‘destination’ part of our ‘destination wedding,’ doesn’t it?” He pouts.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, Groomzilla.” I assess Josh’s beautiful, pouting face for a moment. “You know what? Let’s just do it in Seattle, babe. It’d be so much easier for everyone.”

Josh looks aghast. “Seattle? Fuck no. Jonas just did that. I’m Josh . I gotta show that bastard up. Plus, it’s my duty to show everyone the Playboy Razzle-Dazzle . ”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, so how about here in Del Mar, then?” I say. “This resort’s spectacular.”

“Yeah, we could do that.” He shrugs. “Or maybe Hawaii?”

My eyes light up.

“Oh, I see that little gleam in your eye, PG. The idea of Hawaii floats your boat, huh?” He snickers. “You dreaming of doing a little wedding-night hula-dance on my face?”

“Yes, Josh. That’s precisely what I was thinking just now.”

He laughs.

“Really, we should just do Seattle, babe,” I say. “It’ll be easier. I have a huge extended family—lots and lots of batshit-crazy aunts and uncles and cousins. Plus, my mom and dad have longtime friends who are like family to me, and I really want them there—”

“Babe, we’re not going for easy here—we’re going for awesome . Case closed. Decision made. I saw the look in your eye when I said Hawaii, and I’m in the fantasy-fulfillment business, remember? Hawaii it is.”

I open my mouth to protest.

“It’s settled. It’s an easy five-hour flight from the west coast; it’s still the U.S. but it feels like a faraway tropical paradise; and you said your family’s never been. Just give me your list and we’ll make it happen. Easy peasy.”

I pause. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”