by Crowe, Liz
Blake went with him, holding him close, dragging him into his arms as he moved to lean against the bow-length benches. “My love. It’s fine. It will be fine. I have you. I will take care of you. Always.”
Rob let Blake hold him, as a decade’s worth of tears poured from his soul. He’d held it all in. Never cried, not even as a ten-year-old puking his guts up from the poison they used to kill the cancer, with second-degree burns from the radiation they used to burn the cancer out of him. Not once. His mother cried constantly. His father even cried once; one night when Rob was flat-out not supposed to live through the next twenty-four hour period. When Christine broke his young heart, when he’d left René, abandoned Kyle, he’d never shed more than a few tears. A burst of emotion shot through him as he looked up, and Blake slanted lips over his. Tears mingled, tongues tangled, and Blake helped him to his feet.
“I need you,” he muttered in Rob’s ear. “Be with me. Be completely with me, for once.” Rob nodded, understanding what Blake meant. He slipped out of his shirt, slid his jeans down and unzipped Blake, shoved everything away until it was a puddle of cotton and denim around their bare feet. With just the soft caress of a finger across his jaw, Blake brought Rob’s entire body to attention, hardening him all over, making his brain go into overload, thanks to the emotion and stress and residual bullshit of the past months. “Kiss me?” Blake asked, his normally rough voice even lower, soft, yet incredibly sexy to Rob’s ears.
Rob leapt across the foot of space between them, grasped Blake’s neck with one hand, his ass with the other, covered the other man’s lips, forced them open with his tongue, probing and demanding. The feel of Blake’s thick cock against his, the velvety sensation of bodies rubbing together, made him groan. His mind kept trying to do its usual “oh but you aren’t really being honest with him” song-and-dance but he put the mental brakes on that. He broke the kiss, gripped Blake’s handsome face between his hands. “No more lies. No more hiding. You have all of me, now. If you want it.”
“I’ve never wanted anything but that.” Blake insisted, running his hands down Rob’s back, clutching him close. “Why would you think anything else? Jesus you know everything about me. All my dysfunction. Seems only fair I get to know yours.” He ran a finger over Rob’s lips, stared deep into his eyes. “Now,” his gaze darkened, and Rob’s body zinged in immediate, visceral response. “Turn around. I need to be inside you. So badly I am about to fucking explode.”
He ground these last words out and Rob felt his body respond, but more importantly relief poured through every nerve ending he possessed, enveloped him, warmed him as he let Blake turn him, use his spit slickened fingers to penetrate and spread his body in preparation. He groaned as Blake’s fingertip teased his gland, made his cock stiffen, then retreat. Consciously relaxing his muscles he gripped the back of the chair as Blake slid into his body, possessing him, grunting with what Rob knew was the most exquisite sensation of being gripped, held close by someone else’s body. Blake grabbed his hips, went deep, moaning the entire time.
“Jesus Christ, Rob.” He gasped. Rob tilted his hips, grabbed his cock with one hand. It didn’t take long. On the next stroke Blake reached deep, and Rob cried out and felt warmth covering his belly. His body stretched, accommodated his lover, and they both groaned with satisfaction as Blake gently pulled him up so their joined, sweat-slicked bodies were together, arms entangled, Blake’s lips at his ear as he filled Rob’s body in exquisite release.
Later, entwined so close Rob didn’t know where his arms and legs ended and Blake’s began on the huge net covering the bow, with large striped cushions underneath their naked skin, he kissed Blake’s shoulder, his neck, check, and lips. “Thank you.” His heart pounded. Blake sighed and pulled him even closer if that were possible.
“No. Thank you. You saved me. From myself. And now,” he paused to press his lips to Rob’s forehead. “You have to believe I’m here for you, always.” Within minutes, Rob was gratified to hear a light snore as the man he loved beyond all logical reason eased into a satisfied, well-needed sleep.
Part IV: Lila
Chapter One
One Year Later
Lila started when someone called her name. She’d been sitting alone for the better part of the season, unable to mix with the rest of the much wealthier, more nuclear families populating the sidelines of her daughter’s soccer team. No one had really been friendly at all except one woman. Katie’s mom. They all went by their “somebody’s mom or dad” designation, as if learning real names was a waste of energy. And being “Maddie’s Mom” did not bother her in the slightest. Actually she liked it.
“Hey, uh, ‘Maddie’s mom,’” the thin, attractive woman touched her leg again. “Do you know anything about this end of year party thing? I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone over there.” The woman jerked a thumb at the well-dressed crowd of parents.
“Yes. We’re supposed to donate ten bucks per family and a pot luck dish suitable for a cookout. And bring squirts guns.”
The other woman grimaced. “Squirt guns. Sounds awful.”
Lila couldn’t help but giggle at her dismay. She’d heard the other paretns whispering about “Katie’s Mom” before. And about all the “Uncles” that came and went on behalf of Katie. She stuck out her hand. “Hi. My real name is Lila by the way.”
The other woman looked at her hand a half second then smiled and took it. “I’m Sara. Good to know someone else has a real name.” Sara sighed and leaned back in her pop up chair. “I suppose this is where we start talking about next year and what team our daughters will be playing on and stuff.”
Lila narrowed her eyes and looked across the field at the girls, just finishing up a game. “No. Not really. I’m not sure Maddie will be playing. Too expensive.” She held up a bare left hand. “My ex isn’t sure he wants to pay for it anymore and my salary at the book store will never cover it.”
Sara shot her an odd look, then smiled. “Sorry, don’t mean to be nosy.” She heaved a huge sigh. “I hate this shit. I wish Katie would quit. But her…well, she’s good and I guess I’m stuck with it for a while longer.”
Lila jumped right in, feet first, not realizing why but later glad she did. “Katie has a lot of uncles. What’s up with that?”
Sara laughed, and smacked Lila’s knee. “I like you Maddie’s Mom. Maybe when you have five or six hours, I’ll tell you about it.”
Lila grinned back at her. “I have some time tonight. Want to come over for dinner? Let the girls mess around a little more?” She had no frame of reference for why she even asked. Her heart pounded nervously when the other woman stared at her.
Then Sara spoke, “I’d love it, Lila.”
By the time the girls were flopped on Lila’s threadbare couch in the tiny living room, the two women had consumed two bottles of wine that Sara had brought. Well, Sara had consumed most of it. Lila was a self-avowed lightweight. But it didn’t seem to affect Sara much. Lila watched her sip, saw how her face changed as she talked about the man who was likely Katie’s father.
She put a hand on Sara’s. “Sounds like you guys need to get your act together to me.”
Sara’s barking laughter was harsh. She stared at Lila. “Yeah. You and Blake and Rob and…” She stopped, her face paling.
Alarmed, Lila leaned forward. “You okay Sara?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m just…” Sara shook her head. “I’m sick of hearing about myself. Tell me about you.”
Lila blushed. “Oh, my life is pretty sad really.”
Sara patted her shoulder. “Nonsense. Can’t be much worse than my story. Except for the bit about you being a great mom and me being marginal at best.”
Lila straightened. She liked this woman, her new friend. She was blunt, straightforward, pulled no punches. “Well, Maddie’s father was, is, an investment banker, lives in Plymouth with a fresh new family now.” Sara stayed silent so Lila went on, spilling her guts in a way she’d never done before. “I played sc
holarship soccer at Notre Dame. But was a shitty student. Graduated and had nothing to do and nowhere to go so I landed in Plymouth.” She named a small city a few miles east of Ann Arbor. “Got a job waiting tables. Alan, my ex, he was a regular and, well, we … we um, well I let him fuck me. In the parking lot. At the bar.” She blushed again, suddenly furious with herself for telling all of this lame ass shit to an obviously successful woman.
Sara smiled at her. “Yes, well I can certainly relate to being seduced in public places. Go on.”
“I got pregnant right away. And he did the right thing at first. Married me. Then after Maddie was born he decided I was fat and boring. So he left.” She sipped her wine, letting the memory of Alan’s last horrible words to her burn in her brain.
“You were nothing more than an easy lay, Lila. And that’s all you ever will be. I need more. I’ll take care of you and the girl of course.”
She scoffed at the memory. “Yeah, so his idea of ‘taking care of us’ is this crappy, roach infested hole,” she gestured around at the small but meticulously clean apartment. “And he’s moved on to a fresh new family, a wife with a college degree and a couple of perfect kids. I guess.” Tears stung her eyes. She stood, suddenly wanting to be left alone.
Sara stayed seated, her head cocked to one side. Her eyes contemplative. Lila grinned and shrugged. “So there you have it. I work thirty-five hours a week at a bookstore. Alan pays our insurance. I’m just this side of dead broke pretty much every month. Not too exciting.” She lifted her wine glass.
“I have an idea for you Lila,” Sara said, startling her. “But you have to keep an open mind about it. Deal?”
Blake stared into the middle distance barely noting what usually pleased him. Sounds of Katie and her friends screeching as they played tag with a group of boys from another team, sensation of warmth from the sun on his skin, taste of deep chocolate ice cream he was finishing, as usual, for his niece.
Rob’s scare with the lung “shadow” had been real, but they’d managed it, and he was safely considered “in remission” still. Blake now knew way more about blasts, anemia, consolidation therapy, and limited-stage lung cancer than he really cared to. Despite numerous doctor visits, a few doses of “mild” chemotherapy that had left Rob sicker than any man had a right to be and still live, the intervening year had been somehow easier for them too. As if a pall had been lifted from their relationship, allowing Blake to truly understand what made his partner tick. They’d evened out the whole who-relied-on-whom thing too, allowing themselves to be strong or weak at various times. A weird dance to be certain, but somehow worked perfectly.
But for one thing.
After the first six months of hell, where they’d both been forced to let go of their tightly held, some would say obsessive daily control over the brew pub, Rob had bounced back like a champ. “Shadow” as they’d come to call it, had faded to a mere pinprick on the scans and in the past few nights they’d come to rediscover each other physically in ways that brought a slight flush to Blake’s cheeks as he sat and watched without seeing anything in front of him.
But the issue of family kept coming up, this time from Rob’s lips. He was getting a little manic about it, which worried Blake. It had become less urgent for him. More important to get hold of this fucking disease that threatened the man he loved and wrestle it to the ground, once and for all. Not letting the “shadow” or the “cancer librarian” as Rob called her, ever show their faces anywhere near them again felt more mission critical than finding a convenient womb to hold their child. Rob’s flippancy with the whole thing made him nearly apoplectic, but he’d had a lot of years to get his head around it. Blake had had exactly twelve months.
They’d changed the way they ate, going nearly completely vegetarian, which made them both grumpy as they were dyed-in-the-wool carnivores. But all the studies—endless internet sites devoted to relapse and relocation of cancers after years of remission that Blake had stayed up nights reading while Rob tossed and turned, sweating out the stink of the poisons he’d had injected into him—agreed: Diet mattered, and the cleaner, less cluttered with potential triggers the better. So out went their previously favorite meals of grilled lamb chops or filets. Rob’s kisses had tasted metallic then, which scared Blake to death, but he never stopped kissing him. He did not want Rob to think for a second he’d be shirking duties as caretaker-in-charge. But he would never forget that taste. And now, finally, this afternoon, they were interviewing a potential surrogate mother. His palms broke out in a sweat at the thought of it. The responsibility weighed heavy on him, making him nervous as hell.
He glanced up as Sara took the seat across from him. “Thanks.” He muttered when she handed him a steaming cardboard cup containing some kind of caffeine. It no longer mattered, just as long as it brought him out of his semi-hazed state of little sleep and constant worry.
“So this woman is a single mom. Really nice. But, she got seriously shafted by the ex-husband. She’s a little fragile. I’m not sure about it really, but she seems eager for the cash.” Blake nodded, only half hearing her. Together they watched the girls kick the ball around in silence. Blake noted a woman, petite, strong, laughing and giving them a few pointers. He narrowed his eyes. She moved like a natural athlete, letting the girls get past her some, then colliding with them dragging them to the grass with her, their laughter wafting across to him. The woman stood, brushed herself off and waved to Sara who waved back.
“Lila. New soccer mom. Sad story really. Divorced, miserable, still thinks her dickhead banker husband will take her back.” Sara sipped. “But she wants to meet you, talk to you guys about your proposal.”
“You are such a cynic.” Blake stared as the woman made her way over to them. She was petite close up, with a pert nose, bright smile and deep brown eyes. Her coal black hair was scraped back in a severe ponytail. Blake sat up a little straighter. The genuine smile she shot him made his scalp tingle. A strange silence settled over the table that Sara broke by clearing her her throat. “Oh,” Blake gulped when he realized an essential truth: The beautiful creature before them was interested in being a surrogate mother for his and Rob’s child.
“So, Lila, this is my brother. Blake.” The woman put out a hand, Blake blinked. Sara kicked his shin, making him start, and the lovely vision in front of him break out in peals of laughter. “He’s usually not so rude.” She frowned at him as he rubbed his leg, shrugged and stood to take her hand. The second their palms touched, he shivered. He hadn’t seen such beautiful, delicate feminine perfection since… well, since Suzanne, he surmised. Realizing he’d been clutching her hand for about a second longer than was necessary his face flushed and he stuck both hands in his pockets.
She tilted her head and observed him, her eyes sparkling in a way that he would very much like to be the cause of. He shook himself. Typical male reactions were never far from the surface. He valued beauty in men and women, always had. A tendril of silky looking hair curled around her temple. He had to force himself not to tuck it behind her ear. Every molecule of his caretaker personality zinged in response to her somehow. No. He sat, clutching his coffee again. The last time you felt this way about a woman you spent years getting over her. Cut the shit. This is not about getting attached to her. This is about making the family you and Rob want so badly.
He heard the two women talking, but studiously ignored them, as his body kept sending little shockwaves of energy to his brain. Lila’s leg brushed his under the table and he nearly jumped a mile to put space between them. He spent the next fifteen minutes in misery, trying to avoid how he was reacting to her, and keep up a bit of conversation on his end without sounding like a mental patient. He saw Rob approaching from his truck with relief. The sight of his tall, blonde, for-now healthy body had its usual calming effect on his rattled nerves. He put a hand on Blake’s shoulder, looked over at the newcomer in their midst. Blake was shocked to see a look that must have mirrored his when he first got a load of the lovely
woman on his lover’s face. “Rob. Lila. New soccer mom.” His voice sounded scratchy. Rob glanced at him a second and translated a message Blake caught loud and clear.
Sara kicked him again. “Ow, dammit,” he frowned at her. “How do you manage to find the same spot every time?” He rubbed the rising knot on his shin. She gave him a measured look.
“Years of dedicated practice. Okay, well, let’s get to lunch shall we?” She stood, pulling the other woman along with her. Blake was suddenly all thumbs and knocked his half-full coffee over, spilling hot, brown liquid across the concrete picnic table surface. Rob slid out from his seat in a graceful motion and put an arm around Sara.
Rob smiled at Lila and Blake saw, in that split second, they might have found what they needed. Rob yelled for Katie who came running at her usual break-neck pace and leapt into his arms.
“Uncle Rob! You look so much better! Do you feel better? Mommy said you had the bad flu.” Blake kept brushing at his coffee-contaminated jeans. After returning from the Blue Cruise vacation, they’d decided two things: One, to find a surrogate to have at least one baby for them. While they admitted to each other that they’d prefer a loving, three-person relationship, they knew those were the stuff of optimistic romance novels. They’d settle for the surrogate for now. Secondly, they agreed to tell Sara about the cancer, but not Katie. Not until they had to. It had been tough enough telling his sister. Blake shivered with the memory of that day.
