Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(65)

Josh gives me a false, tight smile and to my shame, I look away.

“That’s nice,” Ian says. “I asked Gemma earlier how you’ve been. But it looks like you’ve landed on your feet. Dinner with your dad on Valentine’s. The universe has a way of giving us exactly what we deserve, doesn’t it?”

I look over at Ian in shock. I’ve never, ever known him to be cruel. But that was cruel.

Josh just gives a short nod, then starts to move past us, “Ian. Gemma, have a good night.” His voice is light, but I can hear the ache beneath the words.

There’s a big part of me, a huge part, that wants to grab Josh’s arm and ask him if I can come and join him and his dad for pizza and a walk on the snowy beach. But that would be intruding. Josh brought his dad out here for goodbye. That much is clear.

So I don’t say anything, except, “Have a good night.”

But as Josh passes us Ian calls after him, “We will. Trust me. I’ve never regretted the doing. Only the not doing.”

Josh’s back is turned but he pauses and I can see his shoulders stiffen. Then, slowly, he turns around. There isn’t amusement on his face anymore. In fact, this is probably the first time in my life that I’ve ever seen Josh look furious.

“What did you say?”

Ian smiles at him. “I’ve never regretted the doing. Only the not doing. There’s a lesson there, don’t you think?”

I look between the two of them.

Ian smiles with easy charm and the assurance that comes from the adoration of millions. He’s in full guru mode.

There isn’t an easy smile on Josh’s face. In fact, by the absence of any amusement, laughter or smirk, I’d say that Josh is livid.

He stalks back to us and then he says in a low, hard voice, “Say it again.”

Ian smiles and shrugs. “We’re all friends here. It’s water under the bridge. Let bygones be bygones.”

Josh looks over at me, and I can tell he’s trying to push down all the emotion that just came riding up. He sighs and seems to shake it off.

“Alright. Fine. See you later.”

He turns to go, and when he does, Ian leans toward him and says something. It’s too quiet for me to hear. But when he does, Josh stops walking. He turns back around.

“Gemma, hold my pizza.”




He asked her to hold his pizza.

I frown at him. “What?”

“Hold. My. Pizza.”

Oh. Okay. I hold out my hands and take the warm box. When I do, Josh gives me a small smile.

“Thanks.”

“No prob—”

I don’t finish because as soon as he lets go of the box, Josh turns to Ian and swings his fist.

He punches him right in the face.

There’s a nasty-sounding thunk as his fist connects with Ian’s nose.

I let out a squeak as Ian pinwheels back and falls into the snowbank.

A bright red splash of blood runs down Ian’s face.

Holy crap.

“Josh, what the heck?”

He shakes out his hand and grins. “God, that felt good.”

Ian moans and covers his nose.

I shove the pizza box back at Josh. “What’s wrong with you? Are you insane? He was trying to give you advice. He’s a self-help guru. It’s what he does.”

The smile on Josh’s face slips.

Good.

I rush over to Ian. He’s sprawled in the snow bank, trying to stop the blood running from his nose.

“Are you alright?” I kneel down next to him in the cold, icy snow.

Ian moans and I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe that Josh punched him.

“Think it’s broken,” Ian says, and his voice is muffled from the swelling that’s already started.

I swing back to Josh. He’s standing there with the pizza box in his arms, and I’m so mad at him right now, I can barely think.

“What’s wrong with you?” I say again.

He stares at me for a long, long moment. The hard snow scratches my knees and the cold starts to burn. I glare at Josh.

Finally he nods and says, “I’m sorry. I misunderstood.”

“What’s there to misunderstand?” I cry. Josh gives me a funny look and for some reason everything feels so wrong.

Ian groans and I lean forward and dab a tissue against his lip.

“Right,” Josh says. “Right.” Then he turns and walks down the dimly lit sidewalk.

I fight back the tears at the back of my eyes and give Ian a sympathetic smile.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhmm,” Ian says. “But I’ll be better when you take me home.”

“Oh. Sure. Okay.” I stand up and Ian follows. We wipe the ice and snow from our coats and I stamp my high heels and try to get some feeling back into my cold legs and numb toes.

Before we go, I take one last glance in Josh’s direction, but he’s gone.





Ian’s “cottage” is huge. It’s a massive, beach-front three-story home with gray shake siding and elegant lighting lining the driveway and the front porch. It looks like a house out of a fairy tale, including the landscaped bushes with mounds of white snow sparkling in the lights.

We’re at the front door. I rub my hands together and try to warm up. The car ride wasn’t long enough for the heater to get hot, so I’m still uncomfortably cold.