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)
Josh is smiling from ear to ear. “Yes.”
“What part?”
Josh’s smile vanishes. He clears his throat. “Medina,” he says evenly, apparently trying to make that word sound as ho-hum as humanly possible.
I glance around, gauging everyone’s reactions to the revelation of Josh’s hometown—and it’s immediately clear everyone fully understands the implication: it means Josh Faraday could use hundred-dollar bills to wipe his ass every day for the rest of his life and still afford to buy himself mansions all over the world. Surely, my family must have at least suspected Josh has cash to burn when he drove up in a freaking Lamborghini—but now they know Josh could buy an entire fleet of Lamborghinis if he wanted.
“Oh, Medina’s very nice,” Mom says politely, but it’s plain to see she’s flustered. “Some of the homes there are spectacular.”
“Was Bill Gates your next-door neighbor growing up?” Dax asks, going straight for the jugular as only my baby brother can do.
My stomach clenches. Shoot. It didn’t even occur to me to tell everyone to refrain from asking Josh questions about his childhood.
“No. Bill Gates lives about three miles from where I grew up,” Josh says.
“Where did you go to school?” Mom asks.
“St. Francis Academy.”
“Oh,” Mom says, obviously surprised. “Catholic school?”
Josh nods. “Yeah. I went there from grade school all the way through high school. Sixty-two people in my entire graduating class. After that, I couldn’t wait to get to UCLA. A student population of thirty-five-thousand sounded awfully good to me.”
“Oh, I bet,” Ryan says.
“I had total anonymity for the first time in my life—I absolutely loved it.”
Of course, I know Josh landed at UCLA immediately after the death of his father and institutionalization of his brother—which means it might not have been the best of times for him, despite the way he’s portraying it right now. But my family certainly doesn’t need to know about any of that.
“Are you a practicing Catholic?” Mom asks.
Josh smiles from ear-to-ear like Mom’s said something highly amusing. “No,” he says simply without elaboration. He takes a huge bite of his food. “This is so good, Mrs. Morgan.”
“Louise.”
“Louise. Thank you. This is delicious.”
Mom beams a huge smile at him. “Thank you. Actually, feel free to call me Lou.”
My heart stops. Only family and very close friends call my mom Lou. I rub Josh’s thigh under the table. Three down, two to go, I think.
“So before you decided to open rock-climbing gyms with your brother, what did you do for work?” Dad asks.
Josh proceeds to politely tell everyone about Faraday & Sons—a topic I’m sure he has no interest in, since he’s never once talked about it with me. As I listen to him, I learn a lot I didn’t know, actually—and also realize, hey, Josh is pretty damned smart. But my attention span quickly evaporates and, while Josh is explaining something horrendously boring, no offense, I steal a glance at Colby. He’s studying Josh intently, listening to every word he says, nodding occasionally. There’s color in Colby’s cheeks, I notice—a sparkle in his eyes. In fact, Colby looks remarkably close to his former self—as good as he’s looked since the roof so horribly caved in on him, literally and figuratively, four weeks ago.
“So your father started the business, then?” Mom asks. “He’s the ‘Faraday’ in ‘Faraday & Sons’?”
Josh’s thigh tenses under my palm. “That’s right.”
“And do your parents still live in Medina?” Mom asks.
Josh’s thigh twitches under the table and I squeeze it.
“Mom, Josh doesn’t wanna talk about that,” I intervene.
“No, it’s fine,” Josh says, patting my hand under the table. He clears his throat. “My parents have both passed away.”
There’s a palpable shift of energy in the room. Instantly, the air is thicker—heavier—and every member of my family, without exception, suddenly looks some variation of ashen, somber, or flat-out devastated.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom says.
Everyone follows Mom’s lead and mumbles some form of condolence.
“It’s okay,” Josh says. “It’s been a long time.”
“How old were you?” Mom asks. “Did they die together in some sort of accident?”
“Uh, no, not together. My mom died when I was seven. She was murdered in our home by an intruder. And my dad died when I was seventeen.”
Josh’s last sentence hangs in the air. Clearly, everyone is waiting for Josh to identify the cause of his father’s death the way he identified his mother’s—but Josh doesn’t say another word.
“What happened to your father?” Dax asks after a moment.
Mom puts her hand on Dax’s shoulder as if to quiet him. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it, honey,” she says, her voice awash in tenderness. “We totally understand.”
“No, it’s fine,” Josh says. “Uh. My father suffered from severe depression after the death of my mother.” Josh bites his lip. “He never got over losing her.” He presses his lips together and leaves it at that.