In Hero, even before Lydia meets her future patient, Colby, she sees Colby’s blonde sister having an emotional conversation with a handsome, dark-haired man in the waiting room of the hospital. In The Josh & Kat Trilogy, we get to listen in on this conversation, up close and personal, unlike Lydia:

Josh

I wrap Kat in a tight embrace and hold her to me for several minutes, kissing her hair, rubbing her back, my heart pounding in my ears, dreading whatever’s about to come out of her mouth. 

Finally, Kat breaks away from me, wiping her eyes. “Sorry,” she says. She pulls me down to sitting. “I’ve been holding it together pretty well for my mom, but seeing your face made me lose—” She suddenly clamps her hand over her mouth.

“Kat?” Holy shit. She seriously looks like she’s about to hurl. “Kat?” I ask again, my skin prickling. I’ve never seen someone react to grief by throwing up before. 

Kat takes a few deep breaths and groans like she’s eaten a piece of rancid meat.

“Are you okay?” I ask, the hairs on my arms standing on end. 

Kat makes a face I can’t interpret and takes another deep breath. “I’m okay,” she mumbles.

Typhoid Joe across the room lets out a hacking cough and Kat grimaces.

“How’s Colby?” 

“The tests came back and it was pretty much all good news, relatively speaking. Broken leg, ribs, and collarbone. Ruptured spleen. Smoke inhalation—but not too bad, thank God. He suffered some burns to his left side where the beam was crushing him, but his turnout gear protected him pretty well. Could have been a whole lot worse. No head trauma at all, thank God.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s gonna be a long road to recovery—lots of physical therapy. But he’s gonna pull through.”

I exhale with relief.

“But the baby Colby went back in to save?” Kat says, tears flooding her eyes. “She just died in her mother’s arms in the pediatric unit.”

“Oh no,” I say softly, my heart dropping into my toes.

“Her parents came to Colby’s room to thank him for what he did to try to save her. He wasn’t conscious so they thanked my parents.” Tears are streaming out of Kat’s eyes and down her cheeks. “They said they were grateful to my brother for giving them the chance to hold their little angel one last time and say goodbye. Oh my God, it ripped everyone’s heart out, Josh. All of us were crying, even Ryan, and he never cries.”

I nod, incapable of speaking.

Kat inhales sharply again and suddenly clamps her hand to her mouth. “Shit,” she mumbles. She leaps out of her chair and sprints to the bathroom across the hall, her body jerking with loud heaves as she runs.

What the fuck? Kat’s puking again? I’ve never seen someone react to grief by puking before—and this is the second time today (the first time being in the locker room immediately after Kat talked to her mom about Colby). Does she have food poisoning? 

Typhoid Joe coughs loudly again on the far side of the waiting room, jerking me out of my thoughts, and I share a “this guy’s gonna infect us all” look with the young woman sitting across from me.

After a few minutes, Kat returns from the bathroom, her face pale. “Sorry about that,” she says.

“Do you always react this way to extreme stress?” I ask. 

“What way—by crying?”

“No, by barfing.”

Kat twists her mouth.

“Do you think maybe you have the stomach flu or something?” I ask.

There’s a long beat. Kat takes a deep breath and flaps her lips on her exhale.

“Shit,” she says. She shakes her head like she knows she’s about to say something highly regrettable. “Life is so funny. Before today, I thought I had the weight of the world on my shoulders—I really did—or, I guess, on my uterus.” She snorts to herself. “And now, all of a sudden, my supposedly huge problem doesn’t seem like that big a deal.”

Wait. Did Kat just say she thought she had the weight of the world on her uterus? I open and close my mouth, but I’m too freaked out to link coherent words together. Does that mean . . ?

Kat levels me with a firm gaze. “Yeah, I’m pregnant, Josh,” she says evenly.

The room warps. I can’t breathe. No. Blood rushes into my ears in a loud whoosh.

“I’m sorry to tell you so bluntly, but there’s really no other way.” She clears her throat. “I’m pregnant with your accidental Faraday.” She shakes both fists in the air in mocking celebration. “Yay.”

There’s got to be some mistake. Kat said she was on the pill. Holy fucking shit, Kat said she was on the fucking pill!

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Kat continues calmly. “I swear to God, Josh, this isn’t a case of a ‘gold digger’ trying to ‘trap’ you. It was a complete accident—an honest mistake.”

My heart is palpitating wildly. I clutch my chest. I feel like I’m having a heart attack.

“I missed a pill one of the days we were in Vegas,” she continues, “but only because the days and nights blurred together so much while we were there—remember that? And the minute I realized I’d messed up, I immediately took the missing pill. And I really thought everything was okay—I really did, Josh—but just to be sure, I took a pregnancy test a few days after I got home and it was negative, so I figured we were in the clear.” She grimaces. “But then I started feeling sick and my nipples were sore and then I barfed out of nowhere so I took another test, and lo and behold...” She exhales loudly and shrugs. “I’m rambling—sorry. The bottom line is I’m pregnant with your mighty spawn and I didn’t do it on purpose—I swear to God on a stack of bibles—and I’m really, really sorry.”

I feel like I’m gonna hurl. This seriously can’t be happening. 

“I’m not looking to trap you into anything,” Kat says, her blue eyes flickering with obvious anxiety. “Nothing needs to change between us. We’ll just, you know, keep doing what we’re doing—and, at some point, we’ll, you know, happen to have a baby together.”

I open and shut my mouth, willing myself to speak, but nothing comes out. That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say in my life. Nothing needs to change? We’ll just keep doing what we’re doing and one day we’ll happen to have a baby? Did she really just say that to me? Is she high?

Typhoid Joe begins coughing and sniffling loudly and I look at the guy, willing him to keel over and fucking die. 

Shit. This can’t be happening. 

I stare at the toddler sitting across from me for a moment. Kat’s growing one of those inside her body—and it’s a Faraday? I run my hands through my hair. This is a fucking nightmare—the one thing I was never supposed to do. Oh my God. How many times did Dad tell me not to make a Faraday unworthy of my name and bank account? A Faraday has to be planned. A Faraday has to be on purpose. “If you’re not careful, you’ll wind up having a crazy-ass kid like Jonas with some gold digger you don’t give two shits about,” my father used to say.

Kat clears her throat. “So are you gonna say something or what?”

The room is closing in on me. I can’t breathe. I open my mouth and close it, yet again. Fuck. How many times did my dad make me swear I’d never bring an accidental Faraday into the world? How many times did he fill me with the fear of God about some scheming gold digger using a baby to trap me into making her a part of our “empire”?

Kat shakes her head, obviously annoyed by my silence. “Say something,” she says softly. But when I don’t speak, her entire body stiffens with defiance. “I’m not gonna get an abortion, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

I don’t know what in my facial expression made Kat think I was about to ask her for an abortion—because I wasn’t. I went to St. Francis Academy growing up, for fuck’s sake. Some things are just too deeply ingrained to change. 

“Say something, Josh,” Kat pleads, her eyes glistening. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”

“I...” I stammer. “I would never ask you to... get rid of it. That’s not at all what I’m thinking.”

“Then what are you thinking?” 

Fuck me. I have no idea what I’m thinking, other than “How the fuck did this happen to me?” Every single fuck of my life, without exception, from minute one, I’ve practiced safe sex. Kat’s the first woman I’ve ever fucked without a rubber—ever—and now she’s pregnant? 

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Kat says. “It’s still early yet. The pregnancy might not stick.” 

“What do you mean?” I ask dumbly.

“There’s a relatively high chance of miscarriage during the first trimester,” she says, shrugging her drooping shoulders. “Especially, I’d assume, when you ply the poor little thing with booze, pot, and blinding orgasms on a Sybian.” 

I put my head in my hands. Holy shit. This is a nightmare. I can’t believe she forgot to take her pill. I trusted her and she totally blew it. All of a sudden, I can hear my dad’s voice as surely as if he were standing an inch away from me, pressing his lips against my ear. I’ll get the last laugh on that gold digger’s ass and disown you faster than she can demand a paternity test.

“You’re sure it’s mine?” I blurt.

Kat clenches her jaw. “I’m sure.” 

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just meant... how far along are you? That’s what I meant to ask. I know you were with Cameron the week before me, so...” I abruptly shut my mouth. Oh shit. She looks like she’s about to stab me.

“It’s yours, Josh.” Her eye twitches. “That was a low blow.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my heart exploding. “That came out wrong.” I cover my ears with my palms. I can’t stop hearing my father’s voice screaming at me.

The toddler in the waiting room shouts something to his mother about wanting a box of raisins and she gently shushes him. Oh shit. I’m gonna have a kid who screams about raisins in a hospital waiting room?

When my gaze returns to Kat, she’s looking at me with steely eyes. “Your father really did a number on you, didn’t he?” she says.

I can’t reply.

“So are you gonna say something besides asking me if it’s yours?” Kat asks. “Because if not, I’m gonna head back into Colby’s room and be with my family.” 

I swallow hard. “How far along are you?” I ask. “That’s all I meant to ask, Kat. I wasn’t implying...” I trail off. 

“I’m about seven weeks, I think,” she says. “Maybe eight. But the whole counting thing is kind of confusing—the minute you miss your period, you’re already considered four or five weeks pregnant—but since I haven’t been having periods, I’m not completely sure yet. I’ll know more when I have a sonogram, probably next week.”

A nurse walks by in the hallway, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum and we both look toward the noise for a moment.

“Cameron and I used a condom,” Kat continues, sounding like she’s ordering a hit. “And I was with Cameron way before the timeframe, anyway. I’m one hundred percent positive it’s yours. But I’d be happy to take a paternity test if you have a shred of doubt. Actually, fuck it, I’ll take one, anyway, just so you never have room to doubt.” Oh man, she sounds like a cold-blooded killer right now. 

“I know it’s mine,” I say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask that. It just slipped out.”

Kat sniffs the air, utterly pissed. “You’re entitled to ask. But I’m telling you there’s no doubt in my mind whatsoever. You’re the only man I’ve been with.” She grits her teeth. “We’re exclusive and I don’t cheat. But, like I say, I’ll get a paternity test. No problem.”

I’ve got goose bumps. She looks really scary right now, like she’s sharpening her blade to cut off my balls and smash them between graham crackers.

“I don’t doubt you,” I say. “I know you’ve only been with me. I’ve only been with you, too.”

“I guess you’re thinking I’m some sort of gold digger who’s trying to trick you into marriage, just like your father warned you against.” She rolls her eyes. “But I swear to God that’s the furthest thing from my—”

“We should get married,” I blurt suddenly.

Kat stops talking and stares at me, her blue eyes wide.

There’s a long beat during which we could hear a pin drop if it weren’t for the loud hacking noises coming from Typhoid Joe on the other side of the room.

“What?” Kat says. She looks at me like I’ve screamed, “I’m a merman!”

“We should get married,” I say softly, my heart pounding in my ears, my stomach churning. Oh my God. I can’t believe I just said those words. I feel like I’m gonna throw up. I wait for a moment, fully expecting Kat to burst into happy tears and shout, “Yes!” But she doesn’t. She just glares at me silently, her blue eyes on icy fire. “Well?” I ask, unable to keep the testiness out of my voice. Why does she look like she wants to clobber me instead of kiss me? Honestly, she should be crying with gratitude and relief right now—she’s the one who forgot to take her goddamned fucking pill, not me, so she’s got no right to be thinking up ways to detach my balls from my body. “I just asked you to marry me, Kat,” I say, my tone impatient. “I’m doing the noble thing here. I think you should at least do me the courtesy of a reply.”

Kat smiles thinly—but it’s clearly a “fuck you” kind of a smile.

There’s a long, silent, excruciating beat.

To be perfectly honest, Kat’s starting to piss me off. For fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking Faraday and I just offered to marry her—how the fuck is she not leaping at the chance? I’m doing the right thing, without hesitation or waffling, despite the fact that, as I’ve mentioned to her quite clearly, marriage isn’t something I’ve ever contemplated doing before this very moment and despite the fact that she’s the one who fucked up here, not me. I’d say I deserve a fucking medal, not the daggers Kat’s throwing at me with her eyes. If my dad were here watching this exchange, I can only imagine how that vein in his neck would be bulging with fury.

“You want me to reply?” Kat says coldly.

I nod—but by the tone of Kat’s voice, I’m not so sure.

“Okay, then I will.” She shifts her weight in her chair, obviously gearing up to decimate me. “Thank you for your noble proposal of marriage, good sir. That was an admirable thing to do. You really should feel quite proud of yourself for displaying such unimpeachable integrity and bravery in the face of such horrific and victimizing circumstances.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. Only Kat could make a whole bunch of words generally regarded as complimentary sound like a string of curse words.

“I didn’t expect you to ask me to marry you,” she continues. “Not in a million years. I’m genuinely impressed with how quickly you rose to what you perceive to be your obligation. Thank you for that, good sir.” 

I nod. That’s right. I rose to my obligation. But I’m confused. Kat’s words and body language are completely at odds. It feels like she’s doing that licking-and-punching-my-balls-thing she always does. And why the fuck does she keep talking like she’s in a miniseries on fucking PBS?

“But,” Kat adds, her voice prim, “although I’m infinitely grateful to you for swooping in to save me from this incredible cluster-fuck of a situation that will surely heap shame and disgrace upon my family’s good name, I think I’ll have to politely decline your kind and generous offer, good sir.” Kat grits her teeth again. “I think I’d rather take my chances, however slim, that there might be a man out there who’ll one day ask me to marry him simply because he’s fallen head over heels in love with me to the point of actually wanting to marry me, the crazy son of a bitch, despite the fact that, by that time, I’ll be the mother of another man’s goddamned kid.”

I blink quickly. What the fuck did Kat just say to me? Motherfucker! Did Kat just break up with me to marry some other hypothetical guy—and with my fucking kid in tow?

“Excuse me?” I say, suddenly enraged. 

“You heard me,” Kat says, jutting her chin at me. “I said no.”

“What the fuck, Kat!” I bark, rising out of my seat. I know I’m talking way too loudly for this small waiting room but I can’t control myself. “You can’t say something like that to me—I’m a fucking Faraday!” 

Kat looks around the waiting room, obviously embarrassed. “Sit down, Josh. Jesus.”

I glower over her for a moment longer, but then I sit, clenching my jaw. 

“You can’t say shit like that to me,” I grit out in a hoarse whisper. “Now’s not the time to be a terrorist, Kat. You’re pregnant with my kid—so don’t talk to me about running off into the sunset with some other guy. You’re my Party Girl with a Hyphen and you’re not marrying some other guy with my goddamned kid in tow.” I take a deep breath. “Now I’m gonna ask you one more fucking time—and this is the last time I’m gonna ask you, so don’t blow it.” My nostrils flare. “Will. You. Fucking. Marry. Me?”

Kat’s lip curls with blatant disgust. “Nooooooo,” she says, forming the long “O” sound like she’s falling down a thirty-foot well.

“What the fuck?” I say. I still can’t believe I’m hearing her right. “No?”

“No.” She squints her eyes like she’s taking aim with a shotgun. “Nooooooooooooooooo,” she says again, this time emphasizing the “O” sound like she’s falling down a fifty-foot well. “Thank you very much for being such a duty-bound gentleman, good sir,” she says through gritted teeth. “Believe me, I know you’re doing me a huge frickin’ favor—a massive fucking favor—especially since you’re a Faraday and my family is but an assemblage of lowly commoners without a noble title to our shameful name. Goodness, I really, really appreciate your infinite generosity good sir.” She rolls her eyes. “But no fucking thank you, Sir J.W. Faraday. This isn’t 1815. I’d rather just figure my shit out on my own and roll the dice that even a harlot from a simple family of serfs might one day get to marry for love instead of motherfucking obligation.”

I make a face registering my disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

Kat shakes her head. “No, sir. I am not.”

I leap up again, pulling at my hair in frustration, and immediately sit back down. Goddamn, this woman. When that nurse said I couldn’t accompany Kat to Colby’s room because I’m not fucking family, Kat looked at me in that moment like she would have given anything in the world to call me her husband—I’m positive I didn’t imagine those puppy-dog eyes she flashed at me—and now that I’ve asked her to marry me only sixty minutes later, she’s turning me the fuck down? The woman’s deranged. What sane woman would ever dream of turning me down? 

For fuck’s sake, I’m a thirty-year-old with over six hundred million dollars to my personal name—I’m talking personally here—and that’s not even including unvested shares in Faraday & Sons that will soon be coming my way to the tune of half a billion bucks if we play our cards right—or the eight hundred million bucks my uncle has told Jonas and me he’s earmarked for us in his will. And on top of all that, I’m not exactly Quasimodo to look at, either, let’s just be real—not to mention the fact that I’ve got a magic cock and I make the woman come like a fucking freight train every time I fucking glance at her. And she’s turning me the fuck down?

“Kat, don’t be a fucking terrorist right now,” I say, my voice filled with barely contained rage. “Think about what you’re doing.”

“Oh, you want me to think?” she says. “Am I having trouble thinking—perhaps due to the pregnancy hormones, good sir?”

I throw up my hands. “Would you stop calling me ‘good sir’? You’re annoying the shit out of me. Look, the bottom line is you’re having my baby, Kat, and it should have my name.”

Kat crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “Fine. The baby can have your name. Happy?”

I’m stunned. “Well, no. I mean the baby should have my name and so should you—the mother of my child. We should be, you know, a unit—a legal unit.” 

“Aw, you think so? You think ‘the mother’ should take your name because that’s the way we ‘should’ do it so we can be a ‘legal unit’?” She scoffs. “How sweet.”

I nod, not understanding her reaction in the slightest. “That’s right.”

“You really think so?”

I nod again. Why the fuck is she reacting like this? If anyone should be mad it’s me. Kat’s the one who didn’t take her goddamned pill. And now we both have to pay for her mistake for the rest of our lives. Under the circumstances, I think I’m behaving exceedingly well.

“You think we should, Josh?” She glares at me like she’s laced my iced tea with arsenic and she’s waiting for me to keel over. “Golly gosh, Joshua, I truly appreciate your incredible sense of duty. You’re a man of endless integrity, through and through (and, actually, I’m serious about that, even though I’m pissed at you—you really are a man of integrity). But I’m not gonna marry any man out of sheer obligation, not even my filthy-rich-hot-as-fucking-sin-baby-daddy.” Her eyes prick with tears. “Not even if he’s you.”

“Kat,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Stop acting like a fucking lunatic. I’m the one who should be pissed, not you.”

Kat raises an eyebrow. “Why should you be pissed?”

“Because you’re the one who fucked up and didn’t take your pill.”

Kat doesn’t speak for a long beat. “I’m really sorry about that,” she finally says. “You’re right—I totally fucked up.” Her eyes catch fire. “But I’m sure as hell not gonna compound one mistake with another. I’ll be your baby-momma, Josh, and I’ll certainly expect you to step up and be a father to this kid, financially and otherwise (which, by the way, I have no doubt you’ll do—again, I know you’re a man of integrity). But I’m most certainly not gonna marry you for no other reason than I’m gestating your accidental Faraday. Now, if you actually want to marry me, that’s a different story...” She pauses, her eyebrows raised, obviously expecting me to say something. “If that’s something you want, regardless of the baby...?”

I stare at her blankly. She’s got to be kidding. Why the fuck would I want to get married, other than the fact that she’s gestating my accidental Faraday? She knows I have no interest in marriage—I’ve told her so, as plain as day. There’s literally no other circumstance when I’d even think of asking Kat, or any woman, to be my wife, sorry-not-sorry. “Kat,” I say, emotion suddenly rising up inside me. “You’re asking too much of me. Stop being a terrorist and be rational.”

Kat’s eyes soften with sudden and surprising sympathy. “Josh, I’m not being a terrorist, though if I were, you’d certainly deserve it. I’m being kind to you in the long run, though you obviously can’t see it now. This baby was an accident, plain and simple. We both made it, but you’re right, I’m the one who flubbed taking my pill. You were relying on me to have my shit together and I blew it—so I hereby release you. You’ve made it clear how you feel about marriage—you don’t see the point in it.” She adopts a deep voice obviously intended as an impression of mine: “‘If you wanna go, go—if you wanna stay, stay.’ I haven’t forgotten what you said. Just because I’ve got an accidental Faraday in my uterus doesn’t mean you suddenly want to marry me in your heart. And I deserve to marry a man who loves me—not a guy who’s asking me to marry him to appease the ghost of his asshole-father.”

A lump rises in my throat. Is Kat right? Is my father still controlling me, even after all these years, even from the grave?

There’s a long beat, during which Typhoid Joe hacks up his tenth lung of the night.

“Josh,” Kat says softly after Typhoid Joe quiets down. She puts her hand on mine in a gesture of tenderness, making my heart pang. “If it weren’t for this baby growing inside me, you wouldn’t even be thinking of asking me to marry you. Today when you introduced me to your friends at flag football was the first time you ever called me your girlfriend—which I really liked, by the way.”

“Kat, please just say yes,” I whisper, despair overtaking me. She’s pregnant and I’m proposing. Why won’t she say yes?

“Thank you, Josh. I really appreciate the offer,” Kat says, her tone surprisingly sweet. “But how are you gonna vow to be my husband ’til death do us part when you haven’t even told me something as simple as ‘I love you’?” She looks at me pointedly, like she’s willing those three words to come out of my mouth right this very minute.

I run my hand through my hair. Shit. I should say it. I’ve never felt this way about any woman before. I’m addicted to her in every way. I’m ninety-nine percent sure what I’m feeling for Kat is what normal people call love—which means I should say the goddamned words. I open my mouth and close it again. Fuck.

Kat scoffs. “I know turnabout is fair play and all, but please don’t barf on me.”

“What?”

“You look like you’re about to barf.”

I exhale.

Kat waves her hand dismissively, anger once again rising in her face. “Forget it. I’m not gonna be the gold-digging whore who proves your asshole-father right and traps you into marital bondage. I don’t want your fucking money or your goddamned name and I certainly don’t wanna force you to say something you’re not genuinely feeling. Give me whatever to sign and I’ll sign it, saying I don’t want your freaking money and that you’re only obligated to take care of your kid and nothing more.” Tears prick her eyes. 

“Kat, I don’t think you’re a gold digger,” I say softly. “I’ve never thought that about you, not for a minute. I know you forgot to take your pill by accident.”

“It’s okay, Josh. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll keep going the way we are and see where this thing leads—which, if I were placing bets after this conversation, looks to be nowhere—but who knows? And when the baby comes, we’ll see where things stand between us—if we’re even talking to each other by then—and we’ll figure our shit out from there, one day at a time.” She glares at me with glistening eyes.

“Kat, listen to me. Just gimme a minute to absorb the situation. Maybe I’m not saying all the right words, but my heart’s in the right place.”

“No, you’re heart isn’t remotely involved in this conversation—that’s the problem.” 

“Kat,” I say softly. If my heart’s not involved in this conversation, like she says, then why does it feel like it’s shattering?

“It’s okay, Josh,” Kat says. “I’ve had a lot more time to process the situation than you have—a full week. Take your time. Think and regroup.”

“You’ve known for a week?” I ask.

“Yeah, I barfed right after I got home from the karaoke bar, so I took a pregnancy test.” 

“You found out the night of the karaoke bar?”

She nods.

“Shit.” I shake my head, remembering myself holding a goddamned boom box over my head in front of her apartment building. “I came over that night—I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Yeah. I got your text,” Kat says softly. “I couldn’t come out. I was too much of a wreck.”

My heart is aching. Kat obviously has no idea I stood out in front of her apartment with a boom box, ready to hand her my dick and balls in a baggie. 

“Kat,” I say. “Fuck what I said about marriage being pointless, okay? All bets are off. You’re pregnant with my baby. We should get married. Please.”

Kat shakes her head.

I throw up my hands, suddenly exasperated with her. “Goddammit. I don’t know what you expect from me. You’ve totally blindsided me here, Kat.” I look up at the ceiling, begging God for patience, and then level her with pleading eyes. “Kat, think about what you’re doing. You’re turning down an offer of marriage from the father of your child—who, lucky for you, happens to be me.”

Kat scoffs. “Oh, now I’m the ‘lucky one’?” 

I throw up my hands. What the hell is she holding out for? Some sort of fairytale? Some knight on a white horse, whisking her off into the sunset? “I’m sorry my proposal isn’t fulfilling your girlhood fantasies,” I say caustically. “But maybe it’s time to stop dreaming about being Cinderella and get real. This is as good as it’s gonna get under the circumstances.”

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.

I follow her, rolling my eyes. Obviously, what I’ve said came out wrong. Horribly wrong. I just meant that she’s pregnant and the best outcome for her would be marriage to the father of her child, especially when he can support her and the baby in ways she’s never even dreamed of. She was out of her head about getting a million bucks for taking down The Club? Well, how’s she gonna feel about snagging a husband who could buy her a million-dollar diamond necklace on a fucking whim? 

“Kat, wait,” I say.

But Kat keeps stomping away. 

I follow her as far as I’m allowed to go, but there’s only so far a guy can chase a girl in this particular hospital when he’s not a part of her fucking family. 

Kat bursts through the swinging doors leading into the Hallowed Land of Family Members, leaving me decidedly behind in her pissy, dramatic, tempestuous wake.

“Fine!” I yell toward the doors. “Have yet another tantrum, Kat. See if I care.”

“Fine! I will!” she shouts, continuing to stomp away.

Goddamn her. Who does Kat think she is, turning me down? Who’s she planning to marry, if not me? Cameron Fucking Schulz? Well, I hope she really likes Shirley Temples and watching motherfucking baseball. I hope when her initials are KUS, she’ll appreciate the irony of her name being synonymous with “curse word.” 

I turn around in a huff and take two angry steps away from her and then abruptly stop dead in my tracks.

Oh shit. 

Kat could marry Cameron Schulz—or any other guy in the entire fucking world. Kat could literally have any guy she wants—it’s the God’s truth. All she has to do is crook her index finger at any man, rich or poor, young or old, professional athlete or accountant, and he’d come running, engagement ring in hand—and she knows it.

Oh my God. Kat’s gonna give birth to my child and then marry someone else!

“Kat!” I shout, loping back toward the double doors. “Wait!”

Kat stops dead in her tracks. She turns around slowly and stares at me with burning eyes.

“Come back,” I say. “Please. I have something I need to say to you.”

She bites the inside of her cheek for a moment, but then slowly saunters back toward the swinging doors, her eyes as sharp as knives. When she reaches the doors, she pokes her head out, raises her eyebrows and exhales, deigning to give me a moment of her time. “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”

I exhale. I have no idea why she keeps calling me that. “Just think about what you’re doing,” I say. “You’re being a suicide-bomber.”

Kat squints at me. “That’s what you called me back here to say?” 

I shift my weight. “No. That just slipped out. I called you back to ask you to please marry me.” I pause. “It’s the right thing to do all around. For everyone. And it’s... what ... I... want.”

“It’s the right thing to do?” she says slowly. “All around?”

I nod, but I can already tell this isn’t going my way.

Kat crosses her arms over her chest, keeping the double-doors open with her shoulder. “No thank you,” she says, cold as a fucking sniper. 

“Think of the baby,” I say earnestly. “Let’s not be selfish, either of us. Let’s do the right thing. Now’s not the time to be a terrorist, Kat.”

Without warning, Kat pushes completely through the swinging doors toward me—to the “non-family members” side, as it were—and glowers over me with such ferocity, I leap back, surprised. “I guess you didn’t pay very close attention in Las Vegas when I taught Henn how to bag a babe.” She leans into my face, her eyes on fire. “Remember what I told him?”

I shake my head.

“Then I’ll refresh your memory. ‘Every time you’re about to say something to a woman, ask yourself: is this more or less likely to get me a blowjob? If the answer is yes, then say it. If the answer is no, then shut the fuck up!’”

“What are you talking about? I just asked you to marry me, and you’re acting like I spit on you.”

“Because you did,” she says, her eyes flooding with tears.

I throw up my hands, at a total loss.

“Oh for crying out loud,” she says. “Let me spell it out for you, plain and simple.” She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath, gearing up. “Whoever I wind up marrying one day—whether I’m the mother of his accidental spawn or not—” She gives that last phrase “or not” exaggerated emphasis. “It’ll be for no other reason than he desperately wants me and only me to be his wife, forever and ever, as long as we both shall live.” She glares at me for a beat, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’ll be because he couldn’t stand the thought of living his life without me in it—couldn’t stand the thought of me being with any other man—because he loves me more than the air he breathes—more than life itself.” She wipes her eyes again. “And it sure as hell won’t be because he felt some begrudging sense of obligation toward the unwitting incubator of his accidental spawn.” Without letting me respond, she literally harrumphs at me, turns on her heel, and marches down the hallway, her arms swinging wildly with sudden fury.

I watch Kat striding away through the panes of glass in the doors, feeling like I’ve just been kicked in the balls with a steel boot. When she’s gone, I swallow hard and shake my head, the full enormity of the situation descending upon me. 

I’ve got quite the track record with the ladies, don’t I? I told Emma I loved her and she said, “Me, too” and promptly ran off with Ascot Man on a polo pony. And now, a year later, I’ve asked the mother of my impending child to pretty-please marry me, and Kat basically flipped me the bird and told me she wouldn’t marry me if I were the last man on earth. Talk about winning in The Game of Life. Yahtzee. 

I swallow hard again. Fuck this shit. I’m done begging a woman to love me, even if that woman’s a unicorn and the most incredible woman I’ve ever been with. And most of all I’m done handing Katherine Ulla Fucking Morgan my motherfucking dick and balls in a motherfucking Ziploc baggie and letting her throw them into a fucking meat grinder at her bitchy little whim. Clearly, she’s always gotten everything she’s ever wanted from every other motherfucking man she’s ever run across, but not anymore. I’m done.

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, leaving a surprising streak of wetness on the fabric. And then I flip off the swinging doors with both hands, turn the fuck around, and march out of the hospital without looking the fuck back.