Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(34)

I clear my throat and smile at him. Does he know? Has Josh told him?

“Well,” I say, “I live in the city. And I work for Ian Fortune, the famous self-help guru. He’s amazing. Really an amazing person.”

In the kitchen I can hear the sizzle of Josh sautéing something on the stovetop, it smells like onions and butter.

“Ah, so that’s what’s what,” Mr. Lewenthal says, and the skin around his eyes crinkles when he smiles. “How many dates has he taken you on?”

At first I think that he’s asking about Josh and I’m about to deny everything when I realize that he’s actually asking about Ian.

“I mean…we’re not actually…”

Mr. Lewenthal starts to wheeze, then he pulls out a tissue and coughs into it. When he’s put the tissue aside, he says, “Don’t deny an old man the pleasure of young love. Josh is a hermit, I don’t get anything out of him. You’ll be my only amusement all year. Come on then.”

I laugh and shake my head. Then I count up all the times I went out with Ian for dinner, or to get a drink before he left for LA. “Seven, no eight. But we also get coffee sometimes, just for a break from work.”

Mr. Lewenthal sighs and leans back in his recliner. “So you and Ian Fortune are dating. Is he as suave as he looks on TV?”

I laugh, and when I look up I see Josh in the entry, holding a steaming plate of food and a glass of ice water. It’s clear that he came in just as his dad asked the last question. And for some reason the look on his face makes me squirm on the couch and shift uncomfortably. Then he looks away from me and walks over to his dad.

“Onion and cheese omelet and toast,” Josh says as he places the plate on the side table next to his dad.

“Thank you, son. Appreciate it.” He turns to me, “I forget to eat. Josh here keeps me in line.” Then he looks back to Josh and says, “Did you know that Gemma here is seeing Ian Fortune?”

For some reason, I hold my breath while I wait for Josh’s response.

But he merely raises his eyebrows and then shrugs. “She didn’t mention it.”

“Didn’t you go to college with Ian?” his dad asks.

Josh nods. “Sure did.” His dad seems to be waiting for him to elaborate, but Josh doesn’t say anything more.

“We’re going to head downstairs. You alright for now?” Josh asks.

His dad nods. “Go on then. I’m fine.”

I follow Josh through the house. He doesn’t say anything as he leads me through the kitchen to the basement door. I’m waiting for him to turn around and growl at me, “Ian Fortune? What the heck? Why don’t you ask him for his sperm?”

But he doesn’t say anything at all. He flips on the light and we descend down the plush carpeting of the stairs to the basement.

When Josh turns on the overhead lights, I let out a surprised exhale. It’s actually really, really nice. There’s thick white carpet, a comfy-looking couch and chairs, a TV, a small kitchen, a drawing table strewn with sketches and scraps of paper with handwritten notes, and a desk with a computer and three large screens. Basically, it’s a second home. There’s even an open door where I can see a spacious bedroom and I’m presuming an en suite bath.

“When did you do this?” I ask.

“Ian Fortune?” he counters. He leans back against the couch and puts his thumbs in his pockets.

Okay. Fine.

I shrug and lean against the couch too. “He’s asked me out for dinner and drinks a few times. I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Relevant?”

“To this.” I gesture between us. “We’re not dating. We’re not in a relationship. I’m not holding you back from dating or you know, shagging whoever you like.”

For some reason I expect him to argue, but instead he shakes his head and gives me a smirk. “Shagging?”

I throw up my hands. “Boinking, whatever.”

“I think you forgot that I’m in a drought. No shagging or boinking happening over here.”

I roll my eyes and walk across the room to his sketch table. He has dozens of sheets of paper with pencil and ink sketches. He walks up and stands behind me as I take in his drawings.

“These are really good.” I look at him in surprise. “I didn’t know you could draw.”

He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Gee, thanks.”

“Okay, that was stupid. I mean, I know you have a web comic, but I didn’t know you were actually good. How long have you been doing this?” I run my finger over the fine details and the ink lines of his drawings. There’s so much emotion in them.

“Nearly my whole life.” He looks over the sketches on the table. “My dad says I used to finger paint stories and I picked up a crayon and started drawing as soon as I was able.”

“How didn’t I know this about you?”

He gives me a funny look and asks, “Were you looking?”

Oh.

That’s fair.

I haven’t really paid too much attention to him over the years. Which is probably why I often compared him to a house plant that you don’t notice but is always just there. I had an image of him and maybe my image was wrong.

I bite my lip and think, what else don’t I know about him?