Page 83 of Consummation

I put my hand on Josh’s thigh under the table.

“Really?” Ryan asks. “That’s what ‘mother’ means? You mean, like, in Latin or something?”

“No. That’smydefinition—I made it up.” Mom sighs reverently. “She who loves the most.”

Ryan chuckles.

“And just to be clear, I loveallmy kids the most, not just your penile brother.”

Everyone laughs, even Dad. Mom’s never called Keane a penis before. Could it be my darling mother’s already well into her third glass of wine?

Mom shoots Ryan a scolding look. “See what you did? You dragged me into the muck with you. No more referring to penises at the dinner table for anyone—and that includes me. It’s just not nice.”

We all laugh again.

“So anyway, Josh,” Mom says, pushing a lock of her blonde hair away from her face like she’s just kicked someone’s ass in a street fight. “Sorry about that. We’re a bunch of hoodlums in this family—completely out of control.” She takes a sip of her wine. “So Kat says you’re originally from Seattle?”

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 entirefleetof 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 meLou.”

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.

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