“No. They’ve got enough to worry about with Colby. Probably won’t tell them for a few months—for however long I’m not showing.”
“Have you told Sarah?”
“No. She had her finals last week and now she’s in Greece, getting engaged to the man of her dreams—a guy who actuallywantsto marry her more than he wants to breathe, by the way.” She glares at me like I just flicked her in the forehead.
“Kat, let’s play the honesty-game here for one cotton-pickin’ minute, okay?” I grit out.
“Yes, please, good sir. I thought that’s what we were doing already, but I guess that was just me.”
God, she’s annoying. “Let’s talk about the pink elephant in the room, shall we?” I say.
“I have no idea what the pink elephant in the room is, Josh. I’m pregnant and you’re a dick. Those are pretty much the only pink elephants I see, and I just talked about both of them.”
I make a noise of frustration.
“But, please, good sir, enlighten me about the pink elephant you see in the room,” she continues.
“Would you stop with the ‘good sir’ crap? I don’t even understand the reference.”
“Because you’re an idiot.”
I close my eyes for a moment, once again asking God for patience, and when I feel ready to speak without wringing Kat’s pretty little neck, I open my eyes. “The pink elephant is this: my family is worth a shit-ton of money. You don’t need to know exactly how much, but trust me, it’s more than you think. Now I don’t think for one nanosecond you were trying tointentionallytrick or trap me—okay? But you definitely fucked up here, let’s call a spade a spade, and now you’redefinitelycoming out on top in The Game of Life. Under the circumstances, it’s not outlandish for me to point out that through an honestmistakeyou’ll wind up doing quite well for yourself for the rest of your fucking life.”
Well, that did it. I just lit the fuse on a gigantic stick of dynamite. She pops up out of her chair and wiggles her body around like she’s suddenly possessed by a demon.
I recoil in my seat, genuinely scared of her flailing movement. “Jesus, Kat,” I say. “Are you gonna barf on me or dive to the ground and start speaking in tongues?”
Kat abruptly leans into my face. “Go back to L.A. before I do grave bodily harm to you, Josh,” she seethes.
“Kat, you’re misunderstanding me. What I’m saying to you is that—”
“I know exactly what you’re saying to me. And here’s what I’m saying to you in reply: Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you arrogant little rich-boy-prick. My answer to your romantic proposal of marriage is ‘no thank you.’ And not only that, in the interest of thehonesty-game, I should also tell you that I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last goddamned man on earth.” With that, she turns on her heel and marches away, just like she did after Reed’s party—just like she always does.
I follow her, rolling my eyes. Obviously, what I’ve said came out wrong. Horribly wrong. I just meant that she’s pregnant and the best outcome for her would be marriage to the father of her child, especially when he can support her and the baby in ways she’s never even dreamed of. She was out of her head about getting a million bucks for taking down The Club? Well, how’s she gonna feel about snagging a husband who could buy her a million-dollar diamond necklace on a fucking whim?
“Kat,wait,” I say.
But Kat keeps stomping away.
I follow her as far as I’m allowed to go, but there’s only so far a guy can chase a girl in this particular hospital when he’s not a part of her fuckingfamily.
Kat bursts through the swinging doors leading into the Hallowed Land of Family Members, leaving me decidedly behind in her pissy, dramatic, tempestuous wake.
“Fine!” I yell toward the doors. “Have yetanothertantrum, Kat. See if I care.”
“Fine! I will!” she shouts, continuing to stomp away.
Goddamn her. Who does Kat think she is, turning me down? Who’s she planning to marry, if not me? Cameron Fucking Schulz? Well, I hope shereallylikes Shirley Temples and watching motherfuckingbaseball. I hope when her initials are KUS, she’ll appreciate the irony of her name being synonymous with “curse word.”
I turn around in a huff and take two angry steps away from her and then abruptly stop dead in my tracks.
Oh shit.
Kat could marry Cameron Schulz—or any other guy in the entire fucking world. Kat could literally haveanyguy she wants—it’s the God’s truth. All she has to do is crook her index finger at any man, rich or poor, young or old, professional athlete or accountant, and he’d come running, engagement ring in hand—and she knows it.
Oh my God.Kat’s gonna give birth to my child and then marry someone else!
“Kat!” I shout, loping back toward the double doors. “Wait!”
