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Josh: I thought, “OH, GOD, I WANT TO FUCK HER!”
I chuckle. Josh and I have always shared a brain.
Me: So, Josh, how’d you get from that to “I want to call her Mrs. Faraday?”
Josh: It’s too much to explain in a text. Can you talk?
I gently lift Georgina’s chin to make sure she’s fast asleep, and when it’s clear her head is dead weight in my hand, I tap out a text, telling my friends I’ll call them both, on a three-way call. The call connects. My friends express shock and excitement that I’ve opened this line of discussion. And, again, I tell them to pipe the fuck down.
“There’s no need for you to call Jonas,” Josh says, referencing his fraternal twin. “I know exactly what he’d tell you, because he’s already said it to me. It was back when Jonas had just proposed to Sarah, after a month or two of dating, and he was hell-bent on having the wedding right away. So, I was like, ‘Dude, what’s your rush? And why do you need the piece of paper at all? Do you think it makes your love official?’ And Jonas looked at me, all intense—you know how he is when he flashes those serial killer eyes—and he goes, ‘Josh, I’m not marrying Sarah because I think I need a piece of paper to make our love official. I’m marrying her because I want to be there for her, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—and I want to let her know that’s my eternal promise to her, in the most irrevocable and sacred way known to mankind.’ Or something crazy like that.”
I chuckle. “And that made you want to propose to Kat?”
“No. At first, I was like, ‘Well, okay, dude, you do you. That’s not how I feel about Kat, so I guess that’s further proof I’m not the marrying kind.’ And then, I saw Kat standing there at Jonas and Sarah’s wedding, looking so damned beautiful, and I just... I don’t know. Out of nowhere, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I suddenly felt exactly the way Jonas had described it to me. Plus, the thought of Kat marrying someone else made me fucking homicidal.”
“I feel like that didn’t improve at all on my succinct, but powerful, answer from before,” Henn says. “Deep thoughts, by Peter Hennessy: ‘You know it’s time to pop the question when the word “girlfriend” simply isn’t enough.’”
“Yeah, I admit that’s pretty damned good,” Josh says. “So, do you still want Jonas’ number?”
“No, I think I’ve got what I need.”
“What does that mean?” Henn says. “Is the word ‘girlfriend’ not nearly enough?”
I look down at Georgina sleeping next to me. “No, it’s enough. At least, for now. Like I said, I was just curious. Gathering information. Don’t read too much into it, boys.”
My eyes meet Tony’s in the rearview mirror. He looks away quickly, but not before broadcasting his sincerely held belief that I’m full of shit.
“Of course, we won’t read into it,” Henn says sarcastically. “Why would we think there’s any correlation between you introducing Georgina to your mother, and her introducing you to her father, and you wondering how you’ll know if it’s time to put a ring on it?”
“I gotta go, guys,” I say, my cheeks flashing with heat. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Let us know the minute ‘girlfriend’ isn’t enough!” Henn says.
But I don’t reply. In fact, I disconnect the call, without saying goodbye. And when I see Tony’s eyes in the rearview mirror again, I quickly look out the window at a car in the adjacent lane of the expressway.
What the hell am I doing? Georgina is way too young to want the fairytale. I’m sure she wouldn’t even want an engagement ring, if I offered her one. Not at her age. I kiss the top of Georgina’s head and pull her into me. For fuck’s sake, I admitted this woman is the “great love of my life” today. If that’s not enough, then I don’t know what is.
Chapter 24
Georgina
When Reed and I enter the packed coffee house, Alessandra is getting herself situated on a tiny stage. When she sees us, she waves enthusiastically, and Reed and I return the gesture, before joining the back of the line for the counter. Normally, upon seeing my stepsister, I’d rush to her and hug her. But since the three of us spent hours together today, enjoying my magnificent birthday lunch and walking The Freedom Trail, an enthusiastic wave from afar seems natural and appropriate.
After several minutes of waiting, Reed and I finally reach the counter, and when our cashier lays eyes on Reed, her face ignites. “You’re Reed Rivers!”
“Last time I checked. Hello”—he looks at her nametag—”Reena. How are you? We’ll have a mocha and a cappuccino, please.”
