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)
Kat glares at me for a long beat, her eyes full of homicidal rage. “Fuck you,” she finally spits out. “‘Get real’? ‘As good as it’s gonna get’? Fuck you, you arrogant little prick. I deserve the fairytale, whether I’m knocked up or not, you motherfucking asshole-douche-prick-fuckwad.” She glares at me and flips her golden hair behind her shoulder. “I’m Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman,” she says. “And I’m not gonna settle for, ‘Oh, fuck it, we might as well get married,’ simply because I happen to be a street-walker in thigh-high boots and you happen to be Mr. Darcy.” She juts her chin at me. “Let me be really clear about something, Josh: I. Don’t. Care. About. Your. Freaking. Money.”
I blink rapidly, completely floored.
“Yes, I’m impregnated with your mighty Faraday spawn,” Kat continues, still seething, “which, according to you, is a huge win for me—from an evolutionary standpoint, I suppose.” She scoffs. “But I’m here to tell you, Joshua, evolution is no reason for me to marry a man who doesn’t actually want to marry me.”
We stare at each other for a long, angry beat. Yet again, she’s obviously waiting for me to say something very specific. But she can wait for-fucking-ever as far as I’m concerned. She’s crossed a fucking line and I’m fucking done. I ask her to marry me and she calls me a fuckwad? Fuck this shit. She’s right. This is a horrible idea. We’re obviously fundamentally incompatible. God help me if I were to marry this batshit crazy woman and be stuck with her for eternity—I’d quite literally go insane.
“Well,” Kat says primly, filling the excruciating silence. “I just wanted to come out here and tell you about Colby. I didn’t intend to tell you about the pregnancy. Sorry. It just slipped out.”
I suppress an eye-roll.
Kat narrows her eyes, shooting daggers at me. “Let’s just take some time and regroup,” she says stiffly. “Starting right now.”
I exhale with exasperation. “Have you told your family yet?”
“No. They’ve got enough to worry about with Colby. Probably won’t tell them for a few months—for however long I’m not showing.”
“Have you told Sarah?”
“No. She had her finals last week and now she’s in Greece, getting engaged to the man of her dreams—a guy who actually wants to marry her more than he wants to breathe, by the way.” She glares at me like I just flicked her in the forehead.
“Kat, let’s play the honesty-game here for one cotton-pickin’ minute, okay?” I grit out.
“Yes, please, good sir. I thought that’s what we were doing already, but I guess that was just me.”
God, she’s annoying. “Let’s talk about the pink elephant in the room, shall we?” I say.
“I have no idea what the pink elephant in the room is, Josh. I’m pregnant and you’re a dick. Those are pretty much the only pink elephants I see, and I just talked about both of them.”
I make a noise of frustration.
“But, please, good sir, enlighten me about the pink elephant you see in the room,” she continues.
“Would you stop with the ‘good sir’ crap? I don’t even understand the reference.”
“Because you’re an idiot.”
I close my eyes for a moment, once again asking God for patience, and when I feel ready to speak without wringing Kat’s pretty little neck, I open my eyes. “The pink elephant is this: my family is worth a shit-ton of money. You don’t need to know exactly how much, but trust me, it’s more than you think. Now I don’t think for one nanosecond you were trying to intentionally trick or trap me—okay? But you definitely fucked up here, let’s call a spade a spade, and now you’re definitely coming out on top in The Game of Life. Under the circumstances, it’s not outlandish for me to point out that through an honest mistake you’ll wind up doing quite well for yourself for the rest of your fucking life.”
Well, that did it. I just lit the fuse on a gigantic stick of dynamite. She pops up out of her chair and wiggles her body around like she’s suddenly possessed by a demon.
I recoil in my seat, genuinely scared of her flailing movement. “Jesus, Kat,” I say. “Are you gonna barf on me or dive to the ground and start speaking in tongues?”
Kat abruptly leans into my face. “Go back to L.A. before I do grave bodily harm to you, Josh,” she seethes.
“Kat, you’re misunderstanding me. What I’m saying to you is that—”
“I know exactly what you’re saying to me. And here’s what I’m saying to you in reply: Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you arrogant little rich-boy-prick. My answer to your romantic proposal of marriage is ‘no thank you.’ And not only that, in the interest of the honesty-game, I should also tell you that I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last goddamned man on earth.” With that, she turns on her heel and marches away, just like she did after Reed’s party—just like she always does.