Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Everyone claps and cheers wildly.
“When Reed asked me what song Kat and I wanted for our first dance, I thought he was gonna arrange for the cover band to play it for us. I truly had no idea he was gonna fly James Bay to Maui.” I laugh heartily, thinking about how shocked Kat and I were when James Bay himself waltzed into our reception hall two hours ago and started serenading us on acoustic guitar. I raise my champagne flute to Reed. “Thank you, bro. We’ll never forget that moment as long as we live.”
Reed points his glass at me and winks.
I guide Kat out of her chair, snake my arm around her ever-growing waist, and pull her to me as I address the room again. “And one last thing. With my beautiful wife by my side, I wanna say a few words of thanks to my new family, The Morgans. There’s been a lot of talk about Kat becoming a Faraday today, but, trust me, I got the better end of the bargain. You know that expression ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’? Well, that’s especially true when it comes to Kat.” I raise my glass to Kat’s immediate family at their nearby table, and they all return the gesture. “To Tom Tom Club, Momma Lou, Cheese, Captain, Peen, and Baby Brother—and all the Morgans I’ve met this past week, too—” I raise my glass to the various Morgans seated at tables in the large room. “Thank you for your part in making Kat the incredible woman she is today and for letting me be part of your hilarious and fucking awesome family. Hear, hear. ”
“Hear, hear,” everyone in the room says in unison.
Kat throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me tightly.
“You wanna say a few words?” I whisper to her.
Kat shakes her head. “Hell no. I just wanna dance.”
“So, okay,” I say into the microphone as Kat squeezes the life out of me. “Mrs. Faraday says enough talking about our fucking feelings—it’s time to dance.”
Forty-Four
Josh
“Fucking motherfucker!” Kat shrieks, squeezing my hand. “Jesus Christ Superstar!”
I lean into Kat’s sweaty face. “Do your breathing, babe. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”
“Fuck that shit. You breathe in through your nose and out your mouth, motherfucker—I want a fucking epidural!”
“Babe, you heard the doctor—everything happened way too fast for an epidural. We missed the window. Just breathe. Like this.” I lean into Kat’s face and model the breathing we learned at our getting-ready-for-childbirth class at the hospital.
Kat’s eyes turn unequivocally homicidal. “If you breathe like that again, I swear I’ll cut off your balls and make s’mores out of ’em,” she growls.
I bite my lip and cease all breathing.
The monitor attached to Kat tells me she’s in the throes of another huge contraction.
“Push now, Kat,” the doctor says. “Right now.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can,” I say. “You’re a beast—you can do anything.”
“Just gimme a second—fuck!” She lets out a blood-curdling scream. “Motherfucker!”
I look at the doctor, my heart racing. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” the doctor says. “Kat’s just expressing herself. Isn’t that right, Kat?”
Kat whimpers. “December second’s not for eleven more days—I needed more time to mentally prepare to do this.”
“Sorry, Kat. She’s decided to come today,” the doctor says. “In about three minutes, I’d estimate.”
“But she wasn’t supposed to be a Scorpio,” Kat whines. “She’s supposed to be a Sagittarius.” She lets out a truly pathetic sound. “Please, God, I’ll be good and nice from here on out. I’ll never lose my temper. I’ll be patient. Saintly. Just, please, don’t give me a goddamned fucking female Scorpio.” She grips my hand fiercely. “Babe, listen to me. Tell them to stuff her back in for another twenty-four hours. Please. Tomorrow, she’ll be a sweet little Sagittarius. Please. Pay them, Josh. Make them listen.”
The monitor hooked up to Kat indicates another huge contraction is hitting her—which is something I’d have surmised without the monitor, based on the string of expletives suddenly spewing from her mouth.
“Push now,” the doctor says. “Push with the contraction, Kat. You can do it.”
Kat bears down and pushes, as instructed, growling and whimpering as she does.
When the contraction is over, I lean into Kat’s sweaty face. “Good job, baby. You’re doing great.”
“Okay, Kat,” Dr. Gupta says. “Two more big pushes and the baby will be out.”
“I can’t,” Kat says, her tone pathetic.
I touch Kat’s beautiful, sweaty face. “You can do this, babe.” I squeeze her hand. “We’re so close.”
“What do you mean ‘we’? Are you gonna do this? Are you gonna pass a fucking bowling ball?”
“Push now, Kat,” the doctor instructs. “Right now.”
Kat takes a huge breath and bears down, her face turning bright red.
“Good. That’s good,” Dr. Gupta says. “You’re doing great, Kat. Okay. Rest for a moment and then we’ll do it one more time.”