Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(91)

“I have to talk to Josh,” I say.

“He’s flying to London,” Dylan calls. “Forget it. Let’s have breakfast.”

I grind my teeth. Brothers. Why?

“I need to go to the train station. I have to get to New York as fast as possible.”

Leah frowns at me and then her expression clears. “You like Josh,” she says.

I nod.

Then her eyes widen and fill with understanding and she says, “You really like Josh.”

I nod again.

“Oh. Wow. Okay.” She sends me a look that says she’s here to help, whatever I need.

“Did you just say that Gemma likes Josh? My best friend, Josh?”

I turn around. Dylan has left his car and is standing behind me, his arms folded across his chest.

Leah glares at him and puts on her mom-of-four-little-kids voice. “Yes, I said it. Get over it.”

Dylan stares at me, then at Leah, then he shrugs. “Fine. Whatever. Can we have pancakes now?”

Leah scoffs. Her phone rings, she looks down at it, then answers, “Hey Mom. No, we’re on our way. We ran into Gemma. Mhmm. No, she has to catch the train down.” Leah pauses and her forehead wrinkles. She says to me, “Mom says there’s a four-hour delay on the southern route.”

My chest squeezes and I shake my head. “When is Josh’s flight?” I ask Dylan.

“I don’t know, sometime today. He said he was going to stop by his place in Williamsburg first.”

I blow out a breath. “Okay.”

“Mom says we can all ride down in the van. It’ll be faster than the train,” Leah says.

“No breakfast?” Dylan asks.

Leah rolls her eyes. “Mom says she’ll pack up the pancakes and bacon in Tupperware if you want to ride in the back and sleep on the way to the city.”

“Cool. I’m in.”

Leah gives me a searching look. “How about it, Gemma? Oliver won’t speed, but we’ll still beat the train. We’ll help you catch Josh before he flies out. That’s what you want, right?”

My chest expands. This is my family.





Oh jeez. This is my family.

Oliver drove by my parents’ place and they climbed into the van. My mom had two coolers worth of food and drinks, to which Dylan and all the kid’s cheered.

Dylan took five pancakes, rolled them up like tortillas around his crispy bacon, ate them all in ninety seconds and then fell asleep in the back. He snores.

My mom can’t stop saying, “Josh? Josh Lewenthal? I made this match, didn’t I? Two years ago, I suggested it. And when you were little, I told you he was a good boy.”

I cover my snort. She did not.

Then my mom gets a happy smile on her face, stares out the window, and then a few minutes later she starts up again.

Leah rolls her eyes at me in her mirror and I smile back. But it’s a weak smile. Because I’m nervous. What if he’s already gone? What if I was wrong and he doesn’t love me and the Jewel in his comics doesn’t actually stand for Gem? I shake my head, it doesn’t matter, I’m going to tell him. I’m going to stop hiding.

As we cross the bridge, I stare at the glittering line of skyscrapers, at all of Manhattan sprawled out in front of us. Dylan lets out another snore and the kids start to sing for the thousandth time, “Josh and Gemma sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage.”

I don’t have the heart to tell them that their song is backwards.

Leah calls from the front, “I swear, if you kids sing that one more time, there will be consequences.”





He’s not here.

All ten of us are gathered outside of Josh’s loft.

And wouldn’t you know it, I had it wrong. When I pictured his place, I thought he was sleeping in a dingy, worn-down warehouse with a mattress on the floor.

No.

This place is a gorgeous, modern, brick-faced building, with large, bright windows and a huge entryway. It’s big enough for all ten of us to crowd into. There are only three homes in the building, one per floor. Josh’s place is on the first floor.

I ring the buzzer again. And again.

“Josh, Josh Lew-en-thal!” Sasha calls.

And then Mary and Maemie sing, “Gemma looooves you!”

My cheeks heat.

But I ring the buzzer again and all the kid’s start shouting, “Josh, come out! Gemma’s here!”

They’re jumping up and down and shouting.

And even my mom calls out, “Yooo-hoooo! Josh!”

But no.

He’s not here.

“He isn’t here,” Colin says, as practical as ever.

I have to agree. “You’re right. He’s gone.”

I sigh and my shoulders fall. I missed him. He hasn’t answered his phone or responded to my texts. Not any of Dylan’s either. Which can only mean one thing. He’s gone. He’s either in the air or already in Europe.

I missed him.

“This is a beautiful home,” my mom says.

“Not bad,” my dad agrees.

“Yeah. He bought it after he got that television mini-series contract. It’s not bad.” Dylan shrugs.

All the grown-ups turn and look at him.