by Lauren Rowe
I shrug. “Fucketh you-eth?”
“Holy shit, Josh. No. She says, ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.’”
“Oh my fuck.” I slap my forehead. “Kat’s diabolical.”
“No, you’re just a dumbshit of epic proportions.”
“Apparently,” I agree.
“Watch it and pay careful attention to the difference between the first and second proposals. That’ll tell you everything you need to know about what she wants the second time around.”
I exhale. “Shit. I’m an idiot.”
“You really are.”
“Damn. I’ve got a lot of homework to do.”
“I’ll grab my hotspot out of my room so you can download all the movies onto your iPad. The hotel Wi-Fi is for shit.”
“Thanks, bro.”
Jonas gets up and moves toward the French doors.
“Hey, Jonas?”
Jonas stops and turns around, his eyebrows raised.
“I don’t know what I would have done without your help on this. I was really stressed out and now I feel like I’ve got a plan of attack. Thank you.”
“No thanks required,” Jonas says. “I’m not doing this for you—I’m doing it for me.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. If you marry Kat, then Sarah will be insanely happy, which will make me insanely happy. Happy wife, happy life.” He smiles from ear to ear. “Very, very happy life.”
“Ah. Well, you’re a selfish bastard, then.”
Jonas laughs and turns toward the French doors, but before he leaves, he turns back around. “Hey, by the way. What the fuck did you do to poor Kat earlier? I thought Sarah was a screamer. Holy fuck, Josh.”
I grin and take a long sip of my water—I’m a gentleman, after all.
“So I take it you found the books I sent you helpful?” Jonas asks.
My smile broadens. “Yeah. Definitely. Although what I did to Kat earlier was all me—no research required.” I snicker.
Jonas’ white teeth are glowing in the pre-dawn light. “Hey, whatever works—just as long as you keep your unicorn well fed, right?”
“Fuck yeah,” I say.
“Fuck yeah,” Jonas replies. He pauses. “Hey, if I didn’t happen to be out here on the balcony when you had insomnia, would you have asked me for help?”
I don’t reply.
“You can lean on me, Josh,” Jonas says earnestly. “It doesn’t always have to be you carrying me on your back all the time. I’m right here. I can help you sometimes, too.”
“Dude, are you on crack? I lean on you all the time,” I say. “You’re the man, Jonas—a fucking beast.”
Jonas flashes me a look of such unadulterated love and kindness, my heart squeezes in my chest.
“Now go get me that hotspot, cocksucker,” I say. “Or any second now you’re gonna make me wanna slap my own fucking face—I can feel it coming on now—and it’s way too early in the morning for me to be doing that shit.”
Chapter 32
Josh
The band onstage behind Jonas and me finishes playing a cover of Pharrell William’s “Happy” and the partygoers packed into Climb & Conquer’s flagship Seattle gym applaud uproariously.
“Welcome to our grand opening,” I say to the crowd, speaking into the microphone in my hand. “I know you’re all chomping at the bit to keep climbing and conquering our rock walls for the first time ever today—so we’re gonna keep the talking to a minimum. We just wanted to thank you all for coming out to the gym today to celebrate the birth of our baby.”
Everyone claps and cheers.
“For those of you who don’t already know,” I continue, “I’m Josh Faraday and this is my brother, Jonas—and we’re the founders of Climb & Conquer.” The band behind us breaks into a spontaneous riff of “For He’s the Jolly Good Fellow” and everyone laughs. “Wow, could you guys follow me around wherever I go?” I say.
Everyone in the room chuckles.
“Although, if you’re gonna follow me around playing my own personal theme music, I think it’d have to be ‘The Joker.’”
The band instantly breaks into a few bars of that song, and everyone in the entire building, including me, bursts out laughing.
“Wow, you’re good,” I say, pointing at the bandleader, and she points back at me, a huge smile on her face. I address the crowd again. “Jonas and I have worked hard to bring Climb & Conquer to life—but it’s really Jonas who first had the vision—so I’m gonna turn the microphone over to my brother and let him tell you what Climb & Conquer is all about. Jonas?”
Everyone applauds and I hand the microphone to my brother.
“Hi, everyone. Thanks, Josh.” Jonas flashes his most charming smile and begins telling the rapt audience about what climbing has meant to him personally during his life and how he’s always dreamed of sharing his passion with the world.
Wow. For a guy who despises public speaking as much as Jonas does, I’m duly impressed with how well Jonas is pulling this off—especially since, when we were planning our speeches for this event a few days ago, Jonas practically begged me to do all the speaking. “How about I stand onstage next to you and nod while you talk?” he said. “I’ll be the ‘something shiny’—remember that?”
“Sorry, bro,” I told him, much to his obvious chagrin. “Your ‘something shiny’ days are officially over—you’re our frontman now, baby. And, anyway, C&C has been your dream from day one—you gotta be the one to explain it.”
He looked totally bummed.
“Plus, as a practical matter,” I continued, “a bunch of local news stations are gonna be covering the grand opening. If one of our faces is gonna be plastered all over the news talking about our company’s mission, it’s gotta be yours, Pretty Boy.”
Jonas groaned.
“Oh, just nut up, Jonas. It’s not my fault you’re the pretty one.”
“But that’s the thing, Josh,” Jonas replied. “You always say I’m the pretty one—that I’ve got the looks and you’ve got the personality—but in all seriousness—and believe me, I hate to stroke your ego about this—I truly think you’re better looking than I am.”
“Well, yeah, duh, I’m better looking than you are, numnuts—of course, I am,” I said. “It’s just that, for some reason, no one else seems to recognize that obvious fact.”
Jonas laughed.
“It is what it is, bro—embrace it. You’re the pretty one, which means you’ve got to do the pretty-brother-speech.” I patted him on his pretty cheek. “Just pretend everyone in the audience is naked. Isn’t that what they always say you should do for public speaking?”
“Yeah,” Jonas sighed, resigned to his fate.
“Except for Kat—don’t pretend Kat’s naked or I’ll have to punch you in your pretty face.”
“Isn’t Henn gonna be there?” Jonas asked.
“Good point.” I grimaced. “Don’t picture Henn naked, either, or you might give yourself an aneurysm.”
“And Sarah’s mom? And Kat’s parents? Because I’d rather cut off my arm than imagine any of them naked,” Jonas said.
“Okay, fine. Shit,” I replied. “I wasn’t being literal. I was just saying don’t stress about the speech—you’ll be great.”
Jonas laughed. “Don’t worry—I’ll be fine. I’ll hate to do it, but I’ll manage it. I’ll just look at Sarah the whole time and I’ll be fine.”
The audience in front of me laughs at something Jonas is saying and my brain tunes back into the present moment.
“... . our initial twenty gyms in five states,” Jonas is saying into the microphone, “and we’re just getting started.”
My eyes scan the crowd and land on Kat’s gorgeous face—and then immediately drift down to the adorable baby bump that’s only recently popped out of her slender frame. Damn, Kat’s hot as hell. I can’t get enough of that terrorist under normal circumstances, but nowadays, with her cute little belly and blossoming tits and raging pre
gnancy hormones, my Kat-addiction is now officially completely out of control. If Kat were a drug, there’d be no choice but for my loved ones to stage an intervention.
“How’s our avocado today?” I asked Kat just this morning in our bed, running my hands over her naked belly, pressing my hard-on into her side, licking her nipple, inhaling her scent.
“Oh, no, babe,” she said, sighing with pleasure when my fingertips migrated south and began gently stroking her tip. “The kumquat was an avocado a couple weeks ago—the kumquat’s a freaking bell pepper now.”
“A bell pepper?” I said, running my fingertips lightly over her slick tip, coaxing her into delicious hardness. “Whoa, this kid’s unstoppable.”
Kat shuddered with pleasure and arched her back as my fingers began massaging her in earnest, and that was all the dangling carrot I needed to stop talking and get serious about pleasuring her. With a loud growl, I opened her thighs, burrowed my head between them, and begin licking my hot little momma into a delicious frenzy.
“... and that’s why the Climb & Conquer brand embodies adventure, fitness, and, most of all, the pursuit of excellence,” Jonas is saying. “Each person’s individual but universal quest to find the ideal version of himself.”
I smile to myself. Jonas had originally planned to say “each person’s individual quest to find the divine original form of himself,” but I told him no fucking way. “Mark my words, the news stations will run that one sound-bite out of context, and all anyone will remember is the word ‘divine,’” I said.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Jonas asked.
“Dude, they’ll think we’re some sort of religious cult, not a rock-climbing gym. It’s off-brand. Tell Plato he’s gotta stay the fuck away from my grand opening. He’s cramping my style.”
“Fine,” Jonas said begrudgingly. “I’ll kick Plato to the curb just this once and dumb it down, Josh Faraday style. Happy?”
“Yes. Happy as a clam,” I said.
“So what should I say if not ‘divine original’?”
“I dunno. What would Josh Faraday say? That ought to lead you to the right level of dumb.”
“... all about reaching higher than you ever thought you could reach—literally and metaphorically...” Jonas is saying—and I have to force myself not to roll my eyes at that last bit. That’s Jonas’ idea of pretending he’s a dumbshit like me—saying our company’s all about reaching one’s highest peak ‘literally and metaphorically’? It’s true, of course—that’s what we’re all about—but Josh Faraday would never say that particular phrase in a million fucking years.
“... and becoming better than you ever thought you could be,” Jonas says.
Everyone claps enthusiastically.
“And as part of our genuine commitment to extraordinary aspiration,” Jonas says, yet again making me want to roll my eyes at his word choice, “Climb & Conquer has identified certain designated charities we’ll be supporting with a portion of our proceeds.”
I look at Sarah in the crowd. She’s standing next to Kat and Henn and Hannah, staring up at her new husband like he’s a golden god. Just as I’m about to look away from Sarah, she pushes a lock of dark hair away from her face and her rock sparkles at me all the way up onstage. Shit. I hate seeing Sarah’s big-ass diamond—no offense to her. As happy as I am for Mr. and Mrs. Jonas Faraday, that goddamned ring only serves to remind me how much I’m physically aching to slip a big-ass ring onto Kat’s finger, too.
The good news is that, last night, after watching Pride and Prejudice, the last of the movies on my “Kat’s all-time favorites” list, I finally figured out exactly how to propose to Kat. Actually, the gist of my plan came to me weeks ago in Argentina while watching Pretty Woman—specifically, the scene where Julia Roberts goes into that ritzy store in Beverly Hills, all dressed up in her brand new clothes, and tells the bitchy store clerk she made a “huge” mistake the prior day by refusing to help her—but, last night, every last detail of my entire plan finally came together in my mind.
Everyone claps at something Jonas has said, so I clap, too, not wanting to look like I’m not listening (which I’m not).
“So, without further ado,” Jonas says, “let’s let the band play while you guys climb and conquer our rock walls and have a great time.”
Everyone claps and cheers.
I grab the microphone from Jonas. “Thanks for coming, everyone—Happy Birthday, Climb & Conquer!”
Everyone cheers again.
I motion to the band and they launch into a rousing rendition of “Shout” that has everyone instantly throwing up their hands and singing along.
Jonas and I stand for a moment, smiling together in front of a “Climb & Conquer Grand Opening!” banner as a photographer takes a hundred shots. When we finally make our way offstage, Sarah and Kat greet us, both of them sporting huge smiles.
“I’m so proud of you,” Kat coos into my ear, throwing her arms around my neck. “Watching you up there made me wanna attack you, babe—you’re a freakin’ rock star. Gorgeous. Funny. Charismatic. The sexiest man alive.” She literally growls and presses her body into mine, making my dick open its single eye and say, “Did I just hear a cock-a-doodle-doo?” “Oh my God, you make me horny,” Kat whispers, pressing her body into mine. “I feel like I’ve got a vibrator permanently pressed against my clit these days.”
“Babe,” I whisper. “You can’t say that to me right now. You’re making me rock hard.”
“Oh my God. Press it against me.”
I do.
“Ooph. I can’t resist you,” Kat says. “I wanna give you a blowjob right now.”
I don’t hesitate. “Bathroom in my office in twenty,” I whisper.
“It’s a date.” She makes a sexual sound. “God damn you turn me on, Joshua.”
“You’re killing me, Katherine,” I whisper. “I still gotta say hi to your fucking parents, for Chrissakes.”
“Sucks to be you, I guess,” she says. “Except that it’s about to be freaking awesome to be you, baby.” She winks.
“You’re killing me,” I whisper.
“What a way to go,” she whispers back.
“Come on, Kitty Kat,” Sarah says. “Dance with me.”
“Great,” Kat says, letting Sarah pull her to the dance floor. But just before she disappears into the crowd, Kat flashes me a look that’s so naughty, I have to put my hands in front of my crotch to hide my arousal.
Damn. Who knew pregnancy could be this fucking awesome? It started out rough, I’ll admit that, but these days, it’s nothing but fun. The woman’s been on fire lately, even for her.
“Can I ask you a few questions?” a female reporter asks Jonas to my left, her cameraman in tow—and for a split second, I’m reminded of Heidi Kumquat, who I seem to recall asked the Super Bowl MVP that very question. Kat. There’s never a dull moment with her. I’m so fucking head over heels in love with that girl, so obsessed with the idea of making her my wife, so addicted to her, mind, body, and soul, I can barely function these days. I can’t even remember how it felt not to love her and sleep with her every night and fuck her at every opportunity. I truly never knew I could love someone this way—so completely. So honestly. It’s like Kat’s unlocked something that was hidden deep inside me, and every day I become more and more fully me, as ridiculous as that sounds.
“Sure,” Jonas says to the reporter, but then he looks at me with desperation in his eyes, clearly hoping for some backup.
But he’s shit out of luck. For once, Jonas’ ever-reliable brother is going rogue.
I smile and wave at Jonas and, much to his obvious shock and annoyance, quickly slip into the crowd. Deserting him is a chicken-shit thing to do, probably, especially today—but I’ve got some important personal business to take care of before my bathroom date and only a limited opportunity while Kat’s distracted on the dance floor. Plus, there’s no doubt Jonas can handle that reporter on his own—she’s a woman, after all—which means all he n
eeds to do is smile at her and she’ll throw her panties at him and offer him the lead-off spot on the six o’clock news.
I scan the crowd looking for Louise, and quickly locate her standing next to Thomas, Ryan and Colby (who’s leaning on crutches), all of them watching the band and looking festive.
“Hey, everyone,” I say when I reach the group. “Thanks for coming.”
“Lambo!” Ryan says. He bro-hugs me. “Congrats. This is awesome.”
“Thank you.”
“Congratulations, Josh,” Colby adds, shaking my hand. “Really impressive.”
“Thanks. You’ve all got lifetime memberships, if you want ’em,” I say. I motion to Colby’s leg. “Standing offer for you, Colby, whenever you’re up to it.”
“Thanks,” Colby says. “Gimme three more months and I’ll definitely take you up on that.”
“Fantastic. I’ll personally climb with you whenever you want.”
“I’ll join you guys,” Ryan says. “Best work-out, ever. Hey, Dad, you should try it with us. I think you’d like it.”
“Maybe I will.”
“You’ve never climbed a rock wall?” I ask Thomas.
Thomas shakes his head.
“Gimme a call. I’ll give you a private lesson.”
“Thanks. That sounds fun,” Thomas says.
“Sure thing.” I glance across the room, making sure Kat is still dancing. “Hey, Louise, can I talk to you for a second?”
Louise’s face lights up. “You bet, honey. Excuse us, fellas.”
Kat’s mom and I move several yards away from the group, both of us looking furtively toward Kat on the other side of the large room. The band is playing “Brown Eyed Girl” and Kat’s twirling Sarah around and singing the song to her.
“Did you get it?” I whisper. “Hey, that just sounded like we’re doing a drug deal, huh?”
Louise giggles and looks covertly across the room at her daughter. “It came in yesterday—and it’s gorgeous.” She fishes into her purse and pulls out a ring box and then palms it to me like she’s handing me a kilo of hashish. “It’s sized and polished and ready to go.”
