Page 143 of Consummation


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“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 athinkingthing—it’s afeelingthing. 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 foryou?” 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 backpocket. 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.”