“What’s wrong with it?” Cole said, looking completely surprised.
“Do I have to remind you that we haven’t had sex in weeks? We’ve been sleeping in the same bed, but every time I make a move you push me away. That’s not my idea of a healthy relationship. Jesus, Cole. We’ve had our problems in the past, but our sex life has always been above average.”
“Is that all? There’s more to life than sex.”
“I’m twenty-eight years old, not forty. Good sex is an important part of a relationship. If I had wanted a roommate, I would have married Emily.”
Cole turned his back to me, which made me think he had something else he didn’t want to share. I always knew when he was omitting a detail or two.
“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to have sex,” Cole mumbled, still facing the opposite way.
“Then what the fuck’s your problem?”
“They said I would increase my sperm count if I gave up sex for a few weeks before harvesting the donor eggs.”
“What did you just say?” I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. “Tell me you haven’t been pretending to consult with me on a life-altering decision when in fact, you’ve already made your mind up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve been lying all along?”
“Not lying, Sloan. Just hoping you would see things my way.”
I pushed him away roughly. “I had no idea you wanted a child this badly. You should have been more honest.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity. When I was engaged to Juliana, the topic of children went hand-in-hand with a possible abortion. Until recently, I assumed that the only way I could have a healthy child was if I was prepared to stand by and let them abort a fetus that carried the gene causing my blindness. You know that’s the reason I never brought up the subject anymore.”
“I thought you never brought it up because you decided that you weren’t cut out to be a father.”
“Not true. I couldn’t bear the thought of destroying a life. PGD has opened up a window I never had before.”
“There are those who would argue that conception begins when the egg is fertilized, regardless of the location. A womb or a Petri dish doesn’t change the fact that you’ll still be destroying a ‘life’ if you pick and choose the perfect specimen for implantation.”
“I prefer to believe that it’s not a life until it’s implanted and growing in a uterus. I’ve always wanted to be a father, Sloan, but I had to put my desires away when I started to go blind. Now, I have the opportunity to have a healthy child and provide the heir that will bring my father some peace. So far I’ve been an utter failure in his eyes.”
“Bullshit! You were a successful ballplayer until you were benched by your eyesight. You have a master’s degree in history and a fine job at NYU. You’re not exactly a loser, Cole,” I said. “What you’re doing is buying into the guilt trip your father continues to lay on your shoulders.”
“Maybe so, but now I have the chance to make it up to him. He wants a grandson and I want a son. It’s a win-win situation.”
“What about what I want?”
“I thought you wanted me to be happy―that’s what you’ve always said.”
“I said I would do everything in my power to make you happy. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize it included a child. Obviously, I can’t get pregnant.”
“But we’ve found someone who can. She’ll have the baby and be out of our lives in nine months. Why does this bother you so much?”
I shrugged but then remembered he couldn’t see me, so I verbalized my concerns. “I don’t see how it’s possible to not feel something for her after she’s given you a child. Once you let her into our lives, she’ll never leave.”
“You’re jealous?” Cole’s voice rose in surprise.
“You’re bisexual, Cole. Before I came along, you only slept with women. How do I know you won’t switch back and fall for the mother of your kid?”
“Oh, Sloan… that’s not going happen.”
I turned away from him, hoping to hide my feelings, but he could sense I was unhappy. It was a terrible feeling, but I had to admit I was insecure. Despite the fame I’d achieved, and the constant adulation and praise from everyone in the fashion industry, my mental image of myself continued to be critical.
“Sloan,” Cole said, reaching for my hand. “I love you.”
“Do you?”
“God, yes,” he said, opening his arms.
I let him embrace me, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. “I’m scared, Cole. Our lives will change completely.”
“I promise you that won’t happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just know it will be good.”
“I think you’re romanticizing the entire concept of children. They’re a lot of work.”
“Think of all the fun we’ll have with our own kid.”
“I’m thinking of all the horrible things I did as a teenager. You think payback will be a bitch?”
“Who cares as long as we’re together?”
“I can’t envision myself as a dad. I’m too young.”
“Come on, Sloan. Our fathers were this age when they had us.”
“I guess so. There is one thing I have to insist on before I can even think about this proposal.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not going on a sexual diet to improve your chances at harvesting. God, that even sounds wrong.”
“Will fucking you on a regular basis make you more compliant?”
“It can’t hurt.”
Cole’s laugh rumbled up from deep within his chest. “How could you even think I’d give you up for pussy?”
“Eww… don’t say that word.”
“Come on, Sloan. Let’s go outside and present a united front.”
“Kiss me first.”
We came together like long-lost lovers. I raked both hands through Cole’s thick hair and plied him with hungry kisses, grinding my pelvis against his obvious boner. It had been weeks, and I was as randy as a teenager. I grabbed his hand and placed it on my cock, which was outlined against my jeans. “You think you can manage to fix this problem before I face Madame Butterfly? I’d hate to walk out there with a stiffy the size of Tokyo.”
“That is impressive,” Cole said huskily. I could tell he was just as affected by the kissing as he squeezed me through the thick denim. “I’m going to have to do something about it,” he moaned softly, “but not now.”
“Cole?” I whined in protest when he removed his hand and stepped away.
“I won’t do anything with all those people in the other room. It would be too weird.”
I snorted in frustration. “Give me a second, will you? I’m not going anywhere in this condition.”
“Think about a room full of naked fat women with pendulous breasts.”
“What a buzz kill,” I grumbled, adjusting myself and willing my erection away. “You owe me big time.”
“I’ll pay you as soon as everyone leaves,” Cole teased.
“You’d better. Prepare to be ravaged, shogun.”
We walked out of the master bedroom to a scene of comfortable domesticity. Eileen had brought a lemon pound cake and was plating the slices for everyone while Noriko poured the green tea into the ornate, paper-thin porcelain cups.
“Is everything okay?” Ken asked, looking hopeful since Cole and I were walking hand in hand, and I had a smile on my face.
“Perfect,” I said.
I watched Noriko as we began eating. She was a beautiful woman and a perfect candidate for Mother of the Year. There was no question that she and Cole would make lovely babies. “Are you half-Japanese?” I was curious about her genetic makeup now that I realized she would probably be the surrogate.
“Hai,” she replied automatically, “gomen nasia,” and then she giggled, switching back to English. “My apologies, Sloan-san. I am still getting used to speaking
English.”
“No worries,” I said, finally smiling to put her at ease.
“My father is American. My mother is Japanese.”
“How old are you?”
“I am eighteen.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So young…. Have you ever had any children?”
“Sloan.” Cole frowned. “What’s with the questions?”
“I’m just trying to get my facts straight, seeing as how I’m late to the party.” I addressed my next question to Ken. “How are you guys planning on doing this? Max told me that surrogate births are illegal in New York State. Will Noriko be going back to Japan to have the baby there?”
“It is illegal in Japan as well,” Noriko said, bowing her head and picking at an imaginary spot on her slacks.
“Oh.” I raised a questioning brow and looked at Ken. “What’s the plan?”
“Simple,” Ken stated. “Cole and Noriko will get married.”
Chapter 3
I MOVED like I was sleepwalking and slowly backed away from the table. Cole knew the instant I got up and stood quickly. “Sloan, wait up.”
Ignoring him, I grabbed my jacket out of the coat closet, my keys from the table where I’d tossed them earlier, and left the apartment to the raised voices of Ken and Eileen begging me to come back. I’m sure Cole was a part of the chorus, but I tuned everything out. I was appalled by their casual solution. The hurt was all- consuming, but the fury was fast eclipsing the pain. I wanted to hit Cole. For the first time in years I wanted to knock him on his ass and draw blood. How dare he play me for a fucking fool! He knew that marriage to Noriko was a part of the plan, knew it even as he stood there and lied to me about having no idea she was coming over tonight. Ken would never presume to foist this scenario on his independent son without his permission. All the good feelings that had washed over me after our talk felt like puke in my mouth. My initial instincts had been correct. Noriko was trouble, and she would change our lives, no matter what Cole said to the contrary.
The worst part was I’d hoped that this year we would make it official. We hadn’t been ready for the big commitment yet and wanted to hold off, seeing if what we had would last. I was only twenty-three when we first hooked up, and he, at twenty-six, had just come out of the closet. The odds were not in our favor. We were dealing with new jobs, learning how to cope with his impending blindness, a Seeing Eye dog, and most importantly, discovering and trusting each other. My issues with cutting were too recent, and Cole wanted to be certain that I was stable and on the road to recovery. In addition, his venture from straight to gay was an altered state of mind that would take some adjusting to, and I needed to know that I was what he wanted and, more importantly, what he expected. Even his parents were skeptical, so it stood to reason that I had my doubts.
Yet, despite it all, we’d worked through the differences and the daily challenges that would have stymied most married couples. We were friends, had a great sexual chemistry, and, last but not least, there was mutual respect. Or so I thought. Apparently he thought much less of me than I realized, considering he’d just made a major fucking decision without bothering to run it by me.
I ducked into a deli to buy a pack of cigarettes. I hadn’t smoked in at least four years, having given it up for Cole, who insisted that kissing a smoker was like kissing an ashtray. Well, fuck him and his persnickety demands. I wasn’t planning on kissing him anytime soon, so I may as well burn up my lungs and pollute the air. The alternative―cutting myself―was out of the question. I kept pushing away the compulsive need, even as my eyes kept going back to the shelf where the shaving paraphernalia was displayed. Blades were much cheaper than a gram of weed, but the residual costs could skyrocket. Shrinks and antidepressants would lead to a downward spiral that would negate all the success I’d achieved in the last few years. Right now I needed something to block all thoughts of this horrific method of pain management. I dialed my best friend and friendly drug user. “Tin, it’s me. Could you score some weed?
“No,” I said, shaking my head as he rattled off more drug choices. “I don’t want any Tina―all I want is some high-end dope. Get a bag and meet me at the studio.”
Tin threw out more names I was unfamiliar with since I’d given up weed along with the cigarettes. Come to think of it, I couldn’t get any more boring. I’d turned into this clean-as-a-whistle person for my lover, and for what? It wasn’t enough. There was one thing I couldn’t change no matter how much I longed to please him. I would never be able to give him a child, and who would even want to, for that matter? I had never been around a pregnant woman. They were creatures viewed from a distance and shrouded in mystery. The entire process of childbearing was bizarre, and I would cringe when I tried to imagine what it would feel like to have something growing in my body like that. I don’t even know why I would think of such a thing. What man in their right mind would want to get pregnant? Christ, I was losing it….
At the last minute, I snatched a pack of replacement blades. Like an alcoholic who can never walk by a liquor store without pausing, I gave in and paid for the sharp instruments of torture that enticed me like a siren’s song.
I hailed a cab and gave him the address of Max’s studio. If nothing else, I could crash on his sofa and avoid the inevitable confrontation with Cole. I had to calm down before seeing him again, or I’d say or do something I’d regret. Maybe there was a logical explanation as to why he’d chosen this way of dropping a bomb at my feet, but I couldn’t begin to fathom what it would be. Short of a 9/11 disaster, there was nothing in the world that would excuse this kind of deceit.
As a contracted model under Max’s umbrella, I had every right to be in the studio, even if it was after hours. He was probably upstairs in his apartment anyhow, and would come down as soon as he realized the lights were on. Five minutes later Tin was letting himself in with his own key.
Etienne Pielet, whom I’d dubbed “Tin” when we first met at Pratt, was a willowy blond Frenchman who’d introduced me to Max and the world of fashion photography. He was a model himself and a huge success, despite his tendency to party a little too hearty. We were the same age and had risen in our chosen field at about the same pace, although his forte was clothes while mine was cosmetics and eyewear. He had the kind of body that could make the ugliest outfit look good, and he was in big demand with new designers who needed to make a splash across the pages of GQ or Esquire. Tin’s work ethic was impeccable. He was reliable in a field where excess was commonplace and models flaked out routinely. To my knowledge, he’d never missed a shoot, no matter what happened the night before. This, added to his androgynous beauty, was the reason he was one of the highest-paid models in Max’s stable. Tin was also filled with mischief and an eager participant in any new adventure, but his most impressive trait, and the reason I cared for him, was his loyalty―he was always there when I needed him.
“What’s going on?” he asked, handing me the bulging baggie and a pack of Rizla.
I shook my head, not willing to answer until I had a healthy amount of cannabis saturating every corner of my brain. It was clumsy at first. I hadn’t rolled a joint in a long time, and there was more weed on the table than on the paper, but eventually I got it together. It was like riding a bike―you never forget. Scrounging around for a lighter was another chore, but I found one of those long fireplace matchsticks in a metal container by the ginormous brick fireplace Max had on one wall. During the winter it kept the studio warm without costing Max an arm and a leg.
The first hit felt like someone slammed me upside the head. My body was so pure these days it reacted instantly. “Whoa… is this strong shit or what?”
Tin looked at me condescendingly. “You’re pathetic.”
“Fuck off.”
A couple more hits and I was starting to calm down. The potent herb saturated every part of my body, knocking out the edginess almost instantly. “Tell me again why I gave this up?”
“Because of your tight-assed lover.”
“He is an ass, isn’t he?”
“Uh-oh… what did he do now?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Amuse me.”
“There’s nothing funny about this, Tin. The motherfucker is getting married―to a Japanese woman!”
“Excusez-moi!”
“Yup, he’s decided he wants a kid, and he needs a wife to complete the project.”
“Sloan.” Tin moved forward and placed his hand on my cheek. “Look at me, gorgeous. C’est vrai?”
His solicitous words and gentle touch were all it took for the floodgates to open up. My eyes filled, and much to my horror and his, I began to cry. He pulled me close and embraced me while I sobbed on his shoulder, all the while crooning French words that were intended to comfort me, but the reality was that nothing could take away this kind of pain. I felt like Cole had stabbed me in the back, and his loving words were meaningless. The minute Ken had presented him with PGD, he’d jumped at the opportunity, never taking my feelings into consideration. Now I wondered, if this had been available five years ago, would he have broken it off with Juliana? Was I just his second choice because, at the time, fatherhood was not a viable option?
I pushed Tin away angrily, wiping away my tears with my sleeve. “Fuck him. He’s not worth crying over.”
“Who’s not worth it?” Max sauntered in, barefoot and disheveled. “What are you men doing here?” He threw himself on one of the easy chairs, crossed his legs one over the other, and planted them on the coffee table between us.
“Sloan asked me to meet him here,” Tin explained. “Apparently Cole is planning to get married, to a woman.”
“Is he serious?” Max said, looking at me in disbelief.
I nodded and took another drag off the fat joint. “Want some?”
“Why not.” He reached for the joint and inhaled deeply. “Christ, that’s strong.”
“See.” I threw an accusing look at Tin. “I’m not the only who’s a wimp.”
“Bah! You guys don’t know the good stuff.”
Cutting Cords Page 23
