Joshua

by Beatrice Sand

  Smiling, I focus back on the article when it suddenly hits me: my last period... Oh, crap... I forgot all about it!

  I put down the magazine and rub my forehead with a clammy hand as I try to remember the last time, but my nerves prevent me from thinking with a clear head. Anyway, there’s no need to pinpoint the exact date. I’ve been in Spain for four weeks, and never menstruated, so I can safely say I missed my period.

  I inhale.

  Exhale.

  Keep calm, I tell myself as the caffeine kicks in. I could be late for a number of reasons, like traveling, stress, and my stomach cramps every time I fly. Besides, I haven’t been nauseous. Shouldn’t I be suffering from morning sickness by now if I were pregnant?

  I stare at the father of the baby, who has now walked up toward the big window with his still inconsolable child on his arm.

  Oh God... I bury my face in my hands, feeling the blood drain from my face as I think of telling Josh he’s going to be a dad. Is he ready for that kind of a commitment?

  Am I?

  “Are you okay?” the woman next to me asks, her forehead creased.

  “Yeah, I am. Excuse me,” I say as I get up. We’re still not boarding, so I grab my trolley and all but run back to the stores, desperately looking for a drug store. I have to know before I get on the plane.

  And I have twenty minutes to find out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  joshua

  She’s gone.

  Gone for four weeks now, and it’s taking a heavy toll on me. I have trouble sleeping, stomaching food, feel miserable almost all the time, and if it wasn’t for the kitchen, I’d go batshit crazy. I’m even considering shutting down the place and turning in the stars. I’ll get them back another time. I could follow Tess to Spain if she wants me there, learn everything about Mediterranean cuisine, and return to the States with exciting new recipes.

  “Service please!” I yell through the kitchen, wiping my arm over my forehead.

  I glance at my brigade and other employees, working their asses off for me, day after day, loyal as dogs. I can’t do it. If I go, I’ll leave thirty-two people jobless. People with kids, mortgages, and who have become dependent on me and this restaurant. I have responsibilities, and I can’t just up and go, even though my heart is in ruins.

  Christ, I miss her.

  “Josh, you have a minute?”

  I turn to Ed. “You get twenty seconds. Whassup?”

  “Special request from table seventeen.

  “There’s no such thing as table seventeen.”

  “There is now. And you don’t want to let down this guest, believe me.”

  “Guest?” I ask, raising a brow. “As in one cover?”

  “Yeah, listen, she wants only a salad, and–”

  “You just went over backwards for a single guest who just beat our seating system and wants only a salad?”

  “Yeah, and I think she might be a food critic.”

  I roll my eyes. “Just what we need on a swamped night. And since when do they draw that much attention to themselves? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “So, a salad it is,” Ed says with no further comment on the matter, “but, no unpasteurized cheeses, high-mercury fish, or undercooked or raw meat.”

  “Undercooked meat?” I ask, raising my brow again. “Where the fuck does she think she is? At a test kitchen of culinary school?”

  “I don’t know. I just couldn’t refuse her. There’s something about her.”

  “Yeah, knocked up is what she is.”

  Ed chokes and starts coughing. “W-what?”

  “Unpasteurized cheese, high-mercury fish... I’m telling you, we have a pregnant food critic on our hands.”

  “Right,” he says, looking blue in the face.

  “Here, take her these appetizers. They’re safe for her to eat. New appetizers for table six,” I yell to the others.

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “What now?” I ask irritably. “Jon, take over the pass.”

  “She wants you to bring her the salad.”

  “Oh yeah, anything else? A fucking back rub? A foot massage while I’m at it?”

  “Don’t know,” he shrugs nonchalantly, then smiles. “Maybe later.”

  “Get outta here, your twenty seconds are up!”

  Fifteen minutes later, I adjust the bandana and check my jacket for food stains, then pick up the salad bowl and walk through the dining space toward the mother-to-be, nodding at guests seated on both sides.

  I freeze when I spot the woman sitting at the so-called table seventeen. Her elbows lean on the table and her chin rests on her interlaced fingers. She’s seems preoccupied.

  Okay, so, that means... I swallow hard, unable to finish my thought. I stare at the food I just prepared for her, a plate full of nutrients for her as well as her baby.

  My baby...

  The love of my life is letting me know she’s pregnant through food. God, I love her style. She’s getting points for originality, that’s for sure.

  When she finally gazes up at me, she flashes a smile I’d die for.

  I’m too nervous to return her smile, and by the time I make it to her table without tripping, or otherwise making a complete fool of myself, I’m giving it my best to keep my cool, but my hand trembles slightly when I place the pomegranate salad in front of her. “Trying to tell me something, baby?”

  She nods, chewing her bottom lip, telling me she’s just as nervous as I am.

  Smiling, I pull up a chair and sit down, blocking out everyone else. I take her hands in mine and press a chaste kiss on her cheek, while all I want to do is carry her upstairs and make love to her, but I’m trying to maintain a sense of decorum. I don’t have to look in the mirror to be aware of the turned heads.

  “Then tell me. I need to hear you say it.”

  “I’m pregnant, Josh.”

  That changes everything, I think, as I keep staring into her amazing blues.

  “Say something,” she says softly.

  I exhale, raise her hands and kiss the knuckles, then look back up. “I guess we asked for it, didn’t we?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I shake my head, suddenly confused. “About what?”

  “That I was irresponsible.”

  I squeeze her hands. “I was irresponsible. I started it by... well, I don’t think we should be talking about it in here. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. How do you feel?”

  “I’m not feeling any different than before. I’m not even nauseous.”

  “Good.”

  “And you?”

  “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m a bit overwhelmed, as you can imagine, but I’m guessing you are too. I never thought of having children of my own, but since I’m having one on the way, and it’s having you as its mother, I think I’m all right. No, forget all right. I’m thrilled, and grateful, because I couldn’t think of a better mother for my child. Yeah,” I say with a sudden laugh, and even feel a tear escape from underneath my eyelashes, “I’m feeling fucking fine.”

  “Oh God, Josh... we’re going to be parents! I can’t believe it.”

  “Me neither.” I raise my hand and wipe away her tears, then push a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you ready for this, sweetheart?”

  “I am. I had a lot of time to think during the flight, and all I kept thinking is that I want you and this baby so very much. I’m loving it already, even though it’s smaller than a poppy seed.”

  I knit my brows together. “Really, a poppy seed?”

  “Yep, I checked it on my way up here. It’s now officially an embryo. In about a week they should be able to detect a heartbeat. Nose, mouth, and ears begin to shape in six weeks. It’s super cute.”

  “Wow,” I utter, impressed as every bone in my body turns into mush. “Do we need to see a doctor?”

  “Yeah, we do,” she nods. “I’ll make an appointment first thing in the morning. I only took a pregnancy test at the airport, but we need a d
octor to confirm it.”

  “How sure are you?” I ask, suddenly worried. I want this. I’m ready.

  “Well, apart from a positive test,” she whispers, “I missed a period, and my skinny jeans are a little hard to button, if that counts for something.”

  Relieved, I squeeze her hands again. “What about Spain? How’s Felipe?”

  “He’s settled,” she says. “I’ll be traveling back and forth as long as I’m able, but Portsmouth will be my home base.”

  “Then move in with me. I’m so going to take care of you.”

  She places her soft hand on my cheek. “I’d love to move in with you as long as you keep making me these crazy-beautiful salads.”

  This time I cup her face and take her in a full-blown kiss, caring little about an audience. “Enjoy it, and stay around for dessert.”

  “No raw eggs!”

  “You’re not the first pregnant woman in here. Believe me, I know the drill. Craving something?”

  She leans toward me, grinning naughtily. “Yeah, you.”

  Smiling, I get up. “I’ll pick you up as soon as I can, and then we’ll celebrate.”

  “You can keep your bandana on.”

  “Noted. You can take everything off,” I say with a wink.

  “She’s lovely, Joshua,” one of the female guests suddenly says on my way back.

  “Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy your food,” I say, then enter the kitchen, a smile from ear to ear. That she is.

  Lovely.

  And pregnant.

  And so fucking mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  joshua

  Colònia de Sant Jordi, two months later...

  “Chopin was here?”

  “Together with his mistress, the famous French novelist George Sand. Well, that’s not her real name. She used a pseudonym because female writers were frowned upon back in the day. She also wore pants and smoked a pipe. They say she was a real man-eater.”

  “What were they doing on the island?”

  “Chopin was sick, and his doctors thought the Mediterranean climate would serve him well. At first, they had a difficult time finding lodgings because they were, well, shacking up, and she had two children from a previous marriage. Really, there was no love lost between the shocked villagers and Sand with her feminist ways. She didn’t like their country ways either, and wrote it all down in her book.”

  “When was this?” I ask as I roll over to the side, pushing up to one elbow and propping my head on my closed hand. My other hand reaches for Tess’s body, that finally starts to show signs of our baby-to-be, and I trail slow circles over her belly. I love being here with her and Felipe on a quiet white sandy beach, listening to her and the sound of the waves rolling in front of us.

  She arches her back. “Oh, that feels good, Josh. It was the winter of 1838,” she continues in the same breath, eager to tell their love story. “Ultimately, they rented a few monk’s cells, and they spend a whole winter in a monastery up in the Tramuntana Mountains. We can visit the monastery if you like. Chopin’s time on Mallorca was considered to be one of his most productive periods, and they still keep his pianoforte in his cell.”

  “You can show me around the whole damn island, sweetheart.” As long as you marry me, I think. The ring is burning a hole in the pocket of my swim shorts. I finally gathered all my courage to ask her, since I’m not the first one to do so on this island, just waiting until Felipe returns with our ice cream.

  “Good. Plenty of things to do around here.”

  “What happened to Chopin’s health?” I inform with a genuine interest, after all, the man was a child prodigy, wasn’t he? I chuckle. And the love of my life turns out to be a great storyteller.

  “Well, the winter was cold and it was raining a lot. Believe me, a monastery is the last place you want to be at when it’s moist and the wind swirls through your cell. Chopin eventually caught tuberculosis, and his relationship with Sand didn’t last.” Her head rolls to the side. “It’s actually a sad love story, if a love story at all.”

  I shake my head, smiling. “You’re quite the history buff, aren’t you?”

  “What can I say, I’m fascinated by it. When I get fed up with making other people’s desserts, I’ll teach history.”

  “Well, you’re certainly fun to listen to. And sexy to look at too,” I say, smiling. “If I had a history teacher in high school that walked and talked like you, you can bet your ass I’d excel in history.”

  She studies my face for a while, then laughs and says, “No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too stoned to even show up for my class.”

  “Probably, yeah,” I admit, loving the way she teases me playfully.

  I can’t keep my eyes off her as she closes her eyes and soaks up the early sunbeams. She’s too goddamn sexy in her one-piece bathing suit with the little bump sticking out, and I feel so fucking blessed and proud she’s carrying my child. Our son or daughter.

  Or son and daughter...

  What’s the likelihood of us getting more than one baby? After all, I’m a twin myself. It’s not hard to imagine it could happen again.

  “You still don’t want to know the gender?” I suddenly ask. She’s twelve weeks into her pregnancy and we should be able to determine if it’s a boy or a girl swimming in there in a few weeks. God, I’m dying to find out.

  She cracks open one eye. “Absolutely not. You?”

  Hell, yeah, I think, but say, “nah, me neither,” wrinkling my nose for emphasis. I don’t want to spoil her surprise in about six months.

  “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  “A girl with auburn girls and grey-blue eyes,” I say, straight out. It’s what I keep seeing when I close my eyes. “What about you?”

  “I was thinking about a boy with brown hair and green eyes.”

  I smile. “So either combo is welcome. Perfect! Both are welcome too.”

  “Both?” she asks, sounding alarmed.

  I shrug one shoulder. “We could be having twins.”

  “Oh my God, you’re right.” She gazes down at her belly. “It never crossed my mind.”

  Just as I want to ask her how she feels about twins, Felipe slides on the sand with his hands full of ice cones. “Hurry, they’re already melting. I picked strawberry cheesecake and watermelon for you, Tess, and this one’s yours, Josh, the special of the house, with vanilla, orange zest, and chocolate chips.”

  “Ah, great pick. It looks amazing.”

  “They have the best ice cream on the island.”

  “Well, let’s see if it’s worth traveling for,” I say, continuing to eye Tess, who’s craving chocolate, ice cream, and fresh fruit these days. Some would say a girl is on its way, but that’s probably an old wives’ tale.

  “What were you talking about?” Felipe asks.

  “Josh wants to know the gender,” Tess says to my utter surprise, and licks melted ice from her hand. Damn! She’s on to me.

  “I want to know too if I’m getting a niece or nephew,” Felipe says with a big grin, and we bump knuckles. Always smart to have him in my corner. “So that’s two against one,” he says, smirking at his sister, then practically shoves his whole ice cream down his throat.

  “I see what the two of you are doing.” Tess squeezes her eyelids together. “You’re ganging up on me.”

  “Is it working?” Felipe asks with his mouth full.

  “I’ll let you guys know when we’re having an ultrasound next month,” she replies stealthily.

  Felipe mouths, “It’s working,” to me, and I shake my head. If he thinks he has his sister in his pocket, he better think again.

  It still amazes me how he’s turned around since he’s living here, as though he’s a completely different boy. I’m glad we’ve arranged to see him from time to time, and that he made the decision to come back and study in America after he finishes high school. I wonder if the baby has anything to do with it. I’m happy for Tess, but I know she worries too, because in all
those days we’ve gone to the beach, he never once removed his t-shirt, even keeps it on when he dives into the sea.

  I noticed a few scars on his arms, which aren’t bad at all, but he keeps hiding his chest and belly. Damn, but I don’t want him to feel that self-conscious or embarrassed about the scars on his body. I’m still thinking of a way to talk to him about it, but I’m afraid I’ll push him away, and that’s the last thing I want. Let’s see if we can grow closer as brothers-in-law, which would make it easier to open up to each other.

  With a nervous-excited feeling in my gut, I focus back on his sister, and when she finally finished her ice cream, I bend over and start kissing her. “Let me taste that strawberry,” I say, nibbling on the corner of her mouth.

  “Guys, please,” Felipe sighs. I bet he’s rolling his eyes like he always does when I start kissing his sister. “We’re in a public place.”

  I smile against Tess’s lips. “Go take a swim, Felipe, or, better yet, get used to it, because I’ll never stop kissing your sister, whether you’re in the room or not.”

  “Maybe you should take a swim,” he counters. “To cool off.”

  I cock a brow and Tess chuckles. “Did you raise him like that?” I ask, then get down to business before he actually disappears into the water. I want him present when I commit myself to the both of them.

  I am by no means a traditional guy, but I do sit up on one knee anyway, because I want to do this right for her. Also, I screwed up a proposal when we first met, and I’m not ruining my changes by doing it all over again.

  “Teresa, Carmen, Sainz,” I begin with an earnest voice, sliding my hand into my pocket.

  She pushes herself up on her beach towel, her eyes growing big the moment she spots the blue ring box I’m holding in my sweaty palm. “The first time I stepped into Camila’s Kitchen you were all I saw. I apologize if I wasn’t at my best behavior back then, but if you let me, I’ll make up for it the rest of my life. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Teresa, and I just can’t picture my life without you in it.”

  Felipe chuckles softly, and I glare at him to shut him up before my nerves get the better of me.