Page 28 of Consummation

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’swhat you called me back here to say?”

I shift my weight. “No. That just slipped out. I called you back to ask you topleasemarry 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, thenshut 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 youdid,” 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 spawnor not—” She gives that last phrase “or not” exaggerated emphasis. “It’ll be for no other reason than he desperately wantsmeand onlymeto be hiswife,forever andever,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.

Eleven

Kat

“Do you wanna wait for your friend before being seated or go to your table now?” the restaurant hostess asks me.

“I think I’ll be seated now. My friend texted she’s running a bit late.”

“Of course.” The woman picks up two menus. “Right this way.”

She leads me to a small table in the back and I immediately set down the thick stack of bridal magazines in my arms. “Thank you.”

“Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

“Ginger ale? Extra ice, please,” I ask, taking a chair. I pull a Saltine from a baggie in my purse and take a little nibble. Gah. This round-the-clock nausea is getting really old.

A busboy brings a ginger ale to the table along with a basket of bread, and I take a greedy bite of a roll, hoping it’ll calm my churning stomach.

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