The Revelation (17 page)

If Sarah says yes, that is.

Oh my God. I clutch my chest. Sarah Cruz had better
say yes to my brother. Oh, please, God, let that woman say yes. Let
her look past Jonas’ fuckeduppedness and stupidity and constant
Plato-izing and see what I see—the greatest guy in the whole
fucking world.

“You’ve got to get a huge-ass ring,” I blurt. “So
big, it sears her fucking corneas.”

Jonas nods. “Well, duh.”

“You say that but you weren’t already planning to do
that, were you?”

“Yes, I was. I was already planning to get her a
diamond so big she needs a wheelbarrow to carry it around.”

Uncle William laughs. “Good boy. He’s got it
handled, Josh. Now leave the poor boy alone. Jonas loves her. He’ll
do it right.”

“No, Jonas can’t be trusted to do this right,” I say
defiantly. “If this were a business deal, sure, he’d be all over it
and I wouldn’t say a goddamned thing. But this is a
girl.
Left to his own devices, he’ll do some crazy-ass
metaphor
that’ll either scare her or bore her to tears.”

Uncle William laughs and Jonas scowls at me.

“So what’s your big plan for the proposal, Jonas?” I
ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because it’s got to be rock
solid, man, I’m telling you—it’s got to be a homerun. There’s
absolutely no room for failure.”

Jonas runs his hand through his hair. “Jesus, you’re
freaking me out. I thought I had the perfect idea, and now you’re
making me doubt myself.”

I’m practically hyperventilating. If Sarah says yes,
then she’ll
live
with him. In his house.
Forever
.
Which means she’ll always be there to keep Jonas on track and make
him laugh and, most importantly,
I won’t have to worry about him
anymore
. Or, well, at least, not nearly as much as I currently
do.

“Dude, listen to me,” I say, my voice spiking with
sudden urgency. “We’ve got to pull out all the stops—trick Sarah
into saying yes.”

Jonas looks indignant. “Fuck you. I don’t need to
trick her
.” He looks at Uncle William, apparently hoping for
a little backup, but Uncle William doesn’t say anything. “Well…I’ve
tricked her pretty well so far, haven’t I?” Jonas says, and we all
laugh.

Sarah enters the dining room and Jonas’ entire face
lights up like a bonfire.

“Hi, baby,” he says.

“Hi, love,” she replies, returning Jonas’ goofy
smile and taking her seat.

Love
? Sarah called my brother ‘love’? Oh my
fucking God. Sarah Fucking Cruz is gonna say yes. Praise the
lord—she’s gonna agree to become Mrs. Faraday. If I were capable of
shedding a tear, I’d surely shed one of happiness right now.

Josh

Dessert and coffee are done. And for the past thirty
minutes, Uncle William’s been telling Sarah stories I’ve never
heard before about his late wife, Sadie, (a raven-haired beauty who
died in a car accident about a year before Jonas and I were
born).

“Do you have any photos of her?” Sarah asks.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ve got our entire wedding
album upstairs.”

“Oh my gosh,” Sarah breathes, her cheeks flushing.
“May I see it?”

“Of course. And I’ve got a whole bunch of pictures
of Jonas and Joshua from when they were little I’ll show you, too.
You’ll get a kick out of those.”

Sarah squeals. “And do you have photos of yourself
as a little boy, too, Uncle William?”

“Sure, I might be able to dig up one or two,” Uncle
William says, standing up from the table with Sarah. “Boys? Care to
join?”

“Come with us, baby,” Sarah says, holding out her
hand to Jonas.

“Sure,” Jonas says smoothly—shocking me for the
billionth time today. He takes her hand.

I never would have predicted Jonas would say yes to
voluntarily going down memory lane. As Jonas well knows, almost all
of Uncle William’s photos of Jonas and me as happy little kids
include Dad—and normally, like me, Jonas bends over backwards to
avoid seeing a photo of that bastard every bit as much as I do.
But, damn, I guess up is down and right is left when my brother’s
in the presence of little Miss Sarah Cruz.

Uncle William looks pointedly at me and I shake my
head.

“I think I’ll sit on the veranda and look at the
Hudson for a bit,” I say.

My reply can’t possibly surprise Uncle William. As
far as I’m concerned, if I never see Dad’s face again, it’ll be too
soon for me—and Uncle William knows it.

“Okay, son,” Uncle William says softly. “Katya’s got
the blue room in the back all ready for you. Just make yourself at
home, as usual.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

The trio walks toward the far hallway, Sarah’s arm
threaded into Uncle William’s.

“I bet Jonas and Josh were the cutest little
things,” Sarah says happily.

“Oh, they were adorable little buggers,” Uncle
William says, just before they exit the room. “Oh my, did those
boys climb every rock and tree and chair and piano. I remember this
one time, I found Jonas and Joshua...”

They’re gone.

I smile to myself. I so rarely see Uncle William
outside of a business context. I’m not used to seeing him acting
like this—so relaxed and nostalgic. I can only assume he’s acting
this way thanks to Sarah. Our crew’s fearless leader puts everyone
at ease, doesn’t she? Especially my high-strung brother. She’s like
aloe vera on a sunburn for Jonas—a soothing balm for his soul. And
anyone can see it. Uncle William obviously has.

I didn’t detect even a hint of skepticism about
Sarah from Uncle William, not even a whiff he thinks Sarah’s a gold
digger. His demeanor toward her has been one-hundred-eighty degrees
from the cold way he reacted to Amanda when Jonas brought her here
that one and only time—and Jonas had been with Amanda almost a year
by then, I’m pretty sure. And now he brings Sarah here after a
fraction of that time, and Uncle William falls all over himself to
make her feel like part of the family? Wonders never cease.

I get up slowly and stretch, groaning, and then
amble toward the French doors leading out to the veranda
overlooking the river from on top of the world, patting my stomach
as I walk. Damn, I’ve got to start hitting the gym like a madman
when I get home. I’ve been a glutton this whole week in Vegas.
Shit, especially now that fitness is gonna be my business, I’ve got
to kick it up a notch, take a page out of Jonas’ book. I certainly
can’t let my stupid brother show me up in the gym. Ha! Oh, fuck,
I’m excited. I’m so fucking excited, I feel like a kid on Christmas
Eve. My awesome life’s about to get a whole lot more awesome.
Sayonara, Faraday & Sons, I won’t miss you.

I inhale deeply as the cool night air on the veranda
hits my face and settle myself into one of the cushioned wicker
chairs overlooking the shimmering river in the distance.

I’m just so flabbergasted at today’s turn of events,
I can’t process. Jonas is gonna get engaged to a girl he’s
basically just met—and Uncle William is thrilled about the idea.
Shit, Uncle William just
encouraged
Jonas to do it. I never
would have predicted that in a million-trillion years. And that
wasn’t even the first time Uncle William shocked the hell out of me
tonight: he absolutely floored me with his reaction when he found
out both Jonas and I are leaving Faraday & Sons, too. I thought
for sure he’d try to persuade us to stay—maybe talk about honor and
obligation and how much it meant to our father to have his sons
carry the mantle of Faraday & Sons. But he didn’t say any of
it. All he did was look both of us in the eyes and say, “I’m proud
of you boys. Always follow your hearts.” I swear to God, wonders
never cease.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I grab it and grin
at the text message on my screen.

“Hi, Playboy!” Kat’s message says. “Wanted to give
you a little update on what your generous donation to the Kat and
Hannah Hedonism Fund has bought you!” She adds a string of emojis:
red hearts, clapping hands, a champagne bottle, a donkey and
handcuffs. I laugh out loud. “We’re having SO MUCH FUN!!! Thank
you, thank you, thank you, my dearest, darlingest Playboy!!!! You
are the most generous man in the whole wide world! And the sexiest,
too!!!!!!! MEOW!” She adds a dog emoji. I don’t know what the fuck
that’s supposed to mean, especially in light of her “meow,” but I
laugh anyway.

A second message comes in right on the heels of the
first one. “Oops. I meant...” She adds a cat emoji. “The dog and
cat were right next to each other on the emoji menu and I pressed
the wrong one. The cat is me! MEOW! I’m Kitty Kat and this is you.”
She adds a muscled arm emoji. “Because you’re so big and strong and
sexy!! And together we’re...” She adds an emoji of a fireworks
display.

I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Something tells
me Kat is drunk-texting right now. And I love it. I’m about to
write a reply when I get another message from her.

“And now—dooh-dooh-dooh!!!” Kat writes, followed by
a trumpet emoji. “It’s time for a slideshow created especially for
you, my dearest, darlingest Playboy with the Heart of Gold! Here
you go!”

A photo of Kat and Hannah by the pool, toasting the
camera with fruity-looking drinks, hits my screen. Kat’s holding up
a white napkin with the message, “THANK YOU, JOSH!” scrawled across
it in black ink.

There’s no time to reply. Another photo lands on my
screen: Kat and Hannah in fluffy white bathrobes, sitting on an
overstuffed white couch, toasting the camera with what looks like
ice water. They look like they’re in a spa waiting room. Again,
Kat’s got a napkin with a message written across it: “YOU ROCK,
JOSHUA WILLIAM FARADAY!”

Another photo. Kat and Hannah draped around a
shirtless, greased-up, tanning-bed-muscle guy, all three of them
standing under a neon sign that says “Thunder from Down Under.” I
laugh out loud at the expressions on the girls’ faces in this shot.
They’re both making “O” faces. The writing on Kat’s napkin this
time is too lengthy and small to read, so I touch my screen and
zoom in on the napkin ’til it’s legible. “This man just impregnated
both of us, Josh!” the napkin says. “Your money hard at work!” I
burst out laughing.

If the glistening guy in the photo didn’t look so
completely gay, I might blanche at this note. But, what am I
thinking? Probably not, actually. Kat’s fucking hysterical, no
matter what she does. She just kills me. And I must say, Hannah
seems to be quite the sidekick for my adorable little terrorist—a
great girl through and through. Henn sure thought so when the four
of us had a three-hour dinner and then went dancing last night.
Talk about instant chemistry—Henn and Hannah clicked like they’d
known each other for years. Same sense of humor; same
quirky-hipster-cool dorkiness; and, oh my God, what a comedy duo on
the dance floor those two turned out to be.

Yet another photo lands on my screen. This time it’s
Kat and Hannah sitting at a table in what appears to be a high-end
restaurant, holding up wine goblets and a napkin that says, “To
Josh Faraday, our generous benefactor!”

I can’t help smiling. I can’t believe this is the
same girl who didn’t chase me even
once
during my last trip
to Manhattan a couple weeks ago. She played it so fucking cool that
whole week, didn’t she? Doing nothing but replying to my few, brief
douchebag-texts to her, always making sure not to say a damned
thing to reveal her interest in me. I knew her game, of
course—since it was the same game I was playing with her—but,
still, it surprised the hell out of me she could hold out so long
without revealing a single crack in her hard-to-get armor.

This time, though, the woman’s got no game
whatsoever. And I love it. She’s been peppering my inbox with
adorable and affectionate texts almost nonstop since even before I
boarded my flight for NYC. And I’ve been doing the same to her,
pretty much nonstop. I can’t help myself—I haven’t been able to
stop thinking about Kat since I kissed her goodbye early this
morning and headed to the airport. Man, that was one bed I was
sorry to leave.

Another photo lands on my screen. This time, the
photo is Kat all by herself, alone in the same bed I left her in
this morning. She’s wearing her barely there white tank top and
G-string—the same clothes she was wearing this morning when I
kissed her goodbye. Her hair’s tousled. Her eyes are half-mast and
full of arousal. Man, that’s the look that makes my cock tingle—the
same look she gets right after she comes. I’d bet anything she took
this photo right after getting herself off—and, hopefully, thinking
of me while she did it.

But that’s not even the best part of the photo. The
best part, the thing that’s making my heart pound painfully in my
chest, is what Kat’s napkin says this time: “Wish you were
here.”

“Me, too,” I say aloud into the darkness of the
night. In fact, there’s no place I’d rather be than in bed next to
Katherine Ulla Morgan. I take a deep breath, my mind smelling her
phantom scent all around me. Damn. I miss her.

I touch the button on my phone to call her, my skin
buzzing, my heart panging—but before the call connects, the French
door behind me opens and Jonas walks onto the veranda. I quickly
disconnect the call.

Josh

“Hey, bro,” I say to Jonas, glancing behind him to
see if he’s alone. He is. Good. I’m eager to talk to my brother
man-to-man for a bit, just the two of us.

Jonas hands me a bottle of beer and takes the wicker
chair next to mine, overlooking the moonlit river. “Uncle William’s
moved on to showing Sarah photos of his fly-fishing trips,” Jonas
says.

“Aaaah! Run away!” I say.

“As fast as my legs would carry me.”

I take a sip of my beer. “That man sure can talk
about fish.”