I pulled out a thick sheaf of papers and unfolded them. The paper was smooth, expensive. Her voice seemed far away suddenly, as my eyes scanned the embossed heading, the formal words on the page.
"You did what you had to do, Jack. Just like I did," her voice said distantly. "You got your dream come true, and now it's my turn. In so many ways, we're really two of a kind…"
Jackson Fletcher Mason, Respondent
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage
The words jumped out at me from the page and swam as I struggled to focus, to understand. Her words were cool in the background…
"You wanted to save the family jewels, Jack. And you've done it, against all odds." She shifted in her chair like a cat settling in. "But that was your dream, not mine. Mine was to be the wife of a fucking wealthy man. And now I am."
I looked up at her cool smoothness and held up the papers in my fist. "Yes," she answered the question burning in my eyes. "I stayed long enough to make sure you'd be rich enough to make both of us happy. And now that you are, I want what's coming to me." She smoothed sleek hair behind her diamond earring. "I've changed my mind about the whole mommy scene." Her hand dropped to her perfectly flat tummy. "Now I just want out. And I want what I earned by staying this long."
The rain outside has started to slow. That night had been fourteen long months ago. I had moved out of the house we'd shared the following day. It might as well have been a lifetime ago.
I sat down at my desk and smoothed the papers in front of me. The creases had softened with time and handling, but the ink was still crisp. The words still sharp. Divorce. For the first time in a dozen generations at least, a divorce in the Mason family.
It wasn't that I wanted her back. Whatever we had shared was long, long over. Even though I'd tried to make it work, deep down I'd known the marriage had been a mistake from the start. Elaine and I had come from a similar background, a similar lifestyle and at first I'd thought that would be enough for us to build a life on. But the clashes had started soon after the wedding and had never really stopped. She'd turned to alcohol and shopping binges, I'd turned to work and burying myself in the seemingly insurmountable task of saving a failing business. The worse things had gotten at home, the more driven… and successful I'd become in the boardroom. It was all for the family who depended on me, I'd told myself. And for the family of my own that I'd wanted my whole life. Growing up with a sister and three brothers, I'd always imagined being a dad. I couldn't imagine any other kind of life. And right when I'd thought I was on the verge of seeing it all come true…
I picked up a pen and held my hand, poised over the blank, waiting signature line.
I'd known things weren't perfect between Elaine and me. But she'd always said she wanted kids as much as I did. Maybe we'd both thought it could help fix whatever had gone wrong between us. Or maybe we both wanted the right things, but with the wrong person. In any case, she'd made her desires painfully clear, and her financial demands even clearer. She wanted an extra four million a year just as compensation for the children she claimed I had failed to give her…
I shook my head, deep in thought. In the last year I'd realized that, deep down, I didn't miss her. I wondered now, if I'd ever even loved her. It was the shock mostly, of thinking we'd been on the same page all along, only to find out in a single moment just how wrong I'd really been. That one partner's sole decision could so painfully destroy the other's dreams… I clicked the back of the pen and the point appeared.
Even so, we'd spent too many of our youthful years together for me to hold onto the anger anymore. The ache I carried inside me wasn't about her or the divorce. It was an empty hole in my heart that still longed for the babies we would never have. I scratched out my full name and sealed the envelope. Turning my chair, I stared out into the deepening night.
Somewhere before the darkness started shifting back toward daylight, I had made the decision. I go after business deals. It's what I do. It's what I know how to do. And it's never failed yet, to give me what I want.
Fuck whether I had to do this alone. The fact was, it had to be done. I was going to be a father and there was nothing, no one, that could stop me this time. I might be all through with relationships and the drama that goes with them, but there's more than one way to make a baby…
I unlocked the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out the contract my lawyers had finished only yesterday. My sister, India, had already told me everything I needed to know about the girl, and I'd done a full background check as well. She seemed perfect. There were only a few more formal steps left…
It was early, too early really, but I pounded out the numbers on my phone anyway. Seven rings later, India picked up, her voice raspy.
"Whaaat?" she demanded irritably, knowing full well it was me.
"Yes," I said firmly, in answer to the idea she'd put to me weeks ago. "Yes on the surrogacy. And I'm not waiting any fucking longer.
Call her and set up the meeting… Bring her to the lake house.
Today."
2
Libby
Imaginary Mom would say, get your head examined. Or at least I think she would. How the hell would I know, really? Imaginary Mom is, well… imaginary. And Real Mom gave me up when I was four months old. Sometimes I think I can still remember her. A smell, or a color. But the second I try to catch ahold of it, the feeling's gone. All she honestly gave me was her genes, my name and the gold locket around my neck. Now I'm on my own. Like I've always been. Just like I plan to always be.
I've shoved the last of pitifully few boxes into my rusty old Beetle. Books, clothes, shampoo. Today is moving day. Again.
But I'm nothing if not resilient. You have to be, with a life like mine. I looked up one last time and watched the pink curtains fluttering in my bedroom window. Well, what had been my window. The lease ran out about the same time my money did, and I'm not one to overstay my welcome. Today's the thirty-first and I'm leaving the apartment cleaner than I found it. It's not so much the living space I hate to leave. It's that I'm losing my work space too. My first real studio… the place I found the gift of my own two hands. My passion. My value in this world.
Next to me on the seat were the boxes that matter the most. The ones holding my sculptures. Little clay figures that I put my whole soul into, tiny beings that carry the imprints of my fingers and hour upon hour of my entire creative purpose. Maybe I'm not as alone as I think, I pondered as I pulled the plastic sheeting up and tucked it carefully around a tiny, exposed limb.
My friend India, said I could crash at her place for as long as I need. God knows, she's got the space. I could stay in her condo for the better part of a month without even running into her. She's an artist, like me, so I knew right off her money came from somewhere other than her sales. Neither one of us has had many of those lately, even though we both have pieces in one of the better galleries in town.
The car started on the fourth attempt and I took a long, brave breath in. I'd hesitated to take her up on her offer, but in the end I had. And gratefully. Resourceful as I am, I was also equally broke and pretty much at the end of my options.
India and I had hit it off instantly about six months ago. We were both attending a seminar on bronze casting techniques and bonded over the fruit and cheese plates. For her, it was refreshment. For me, my first and last meal of the day. I floored the gas and hit max speed of forty-three miles an hour. I'd be at India's condo before nightfall, anyway…
It's not like we were actually friends, not really. But she's bright and fun, and as passionate about art as I am. I could tell she's conventional, probably grew up wanting for nothing. But she's also free spirited and adventurous, and you just can't help admiring that in a person. But like I said, we're not really friends. Not that she wouldn't be a great one. It's just that I don't do friendships. Or relationships. Or any very meaningful, permanent-type deals. It's just not who I am.
Twenty-four years ago, Real Mom gave me up for adoption. A
sort of Birth Day present for the girl who had nothing. All I know for sure is that she couldn't keep me, but legally gave me the name I've kept ever since. I've been the same Libby Jones in every one of a dozen foster homes throughout my short childhood. Some good, some not so good. I grew up with a sense of living both everywhere and nowhere all at once, with no family to belong to, but with an artistic drive that made up for whatever else I might have missed out on…
I know how to be strong, creative and obstinate. I'm a survivor, and in many ways it may be Real Mom I have to thank for that. I'm also smart enough not to get too close, too attached. I'll take risks, try new and scary things. I'll do what I have to do, in order to keep making the tiny living, breathing sculptures that I'm driven to create. Anything, everything I might go through in life is worth it, to keep shaping the clay. Call it my best shot at immortality.
The Bug shudders like something important may be looser than it should be, but I'm only five minutes from India's. Like I said, I'm grateful for a place to crash, but I'm not one for owing favors. I need to pay my own way and soon. I want to be out of her condo within the next two weeks, tops. That's why I'm hoping she'll have good news when I get there.
I've been seriously considering the idea she proposed some weeks ago. And I really think I'm up for it. If her brother agrees, that is. She told me he's a divorced man, considering hiring a surrogate to carry his child. It would involve meetings and interviews and medical exams… the whole nine yards and then some. He may not even go for it in the end, or he may choose another woman for the job. But she says he wants a family more than anything and would be able to give a baby every advantage in life. And he'd pay a hundred and fifty thousand dollars for my services. Many times the standard rate for surrogacy. Enough to set me up in a real studio of my own. It could be my one real break in life. I decided pretty quickly that if Jack Mason picked me, I was in.
But could I have a baby, and give it away, never to watch it grow up, or walk, or see its first smile? That was something I'd thought about long and hard. And frankly, I figure it's probably what I'm best suited for. Even though my body has been giving me all the signals for a while now that it's ripe and ready, eager to get on with what it was designed for, I have no skills and no desire to raise a child. Oh, and did I mention… no resources?
A baby needs a parent who can provide a loving, stable home. Someone who's always dreamed of having a family and is committed to the long haul. Someone who had great parents of their own as role models and maybe a big, extended family. That's the kind of parent every baby really needs. And that's just not me. I'd make a much better Imaginary Mom than a real one. So from everything India told about Jack, it sounds like we could be the answer to each other's prayers.
As if on cue, my phone started up with India's ringtone, reminding me the cell company hadn't cut my service off yet. I pulled over and answered, my heart beating just a little too fast.
"Jack's in, Libby. I got the call and he's in, all the way."
I sucked in a lungful. "This is happening?" I squeaked out. "Like, now?" Suddenly my ordinary day felt very surreal. "He hasn't even met me yet…"
"Right now, Lib. Jack wants us at his place… in an hour."
3
Jack
The lake was calm as glass. My guts were churning like a maelstrom, in spite of the long run I'd had that morning. I stood on the deck with a beer in my hand that did little to soothe me. India was due any minute, bringing with her the woman who just might become the mother of my firstborn child.
I was confident every move I'd made had been the right one. Elaine and I had tried for a family and failed. Then she'd decided motherhood and marriage weren't for her after all. A long, lonely year had passed for me in deep and profound contemplation of what mattered most to me in life. And as always, the answer was a family of my own. I was all done putting something that important in the hands of fate. Even though I felt strongly that the very best way to have a family was the old-fashioned way… a loving mom and dad raising a big, healthy, happy brood together, I couldn't take the chance that it might never happen for me that way. It's hard enough to find a great relationship, harder still to find someone who wants the same things… God knows, I'd tried.
India had been the one to mention surrogacy again. Always thinking outside the box, she'd insisted that just because Elaine and I were divorced, didn't mean surrogacy wasn't still an option. And she'd met a woman who wanted to experience bearing a child, but had no real desire to raise one. Plus, she truly needed the money…
The facts were simple. I wanted children and I couldn't wait forever. This was the perfect time in my life to become a father, and I knew I'd be a great one. I'd grown up with all the joys, frustrations, chaos and love of being surrounded by four siblings that meant the world to me. My daddy clock was fucking ticking away, and I was all done with wasting time.
I'd always dreamed of having kids the usual way, you know… Making the mutual decision to try for a baby, the romantic dinners, the candlelight. Taking my wife in my arms, then carrying her to bed. Taking her body and giving her mine, exploring her ripeness for the first time with nothing but skin between us. I'd wanted the experience of exploding inside her, filling her with my seed and knowing that we'd begun the journey of pregnancy and the ultimate miracle of giving birth together… Truth was, I'd always found the whole idea incredibly erotic.
But not every dream can come to fruition. And it was far more important that my children be born, the sooner the better. I'd be the most committed dad in the world, and I could give my kids grandparents and uncles and a wonderful aunt. Children of mine would want for nothing. And as for a birth mother… well, it would be business, pure straightforward business. There would be interviews and medical exams, procedures when the time came. And the contract. The very legal and binding contract.
I heard the car before I saw it, rounding the long drive in from around the lake. India parked next to my Jag and I headed down to greet them. I was eager as hell for my first glance at Libby, but she was still inside as India bounded out.
"Shit, Jack. Did you sleep last night? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were nervous as fuck."
"I love you too," I answered back dryly, trying to see past the glare of the windshield. "And stop swearing. It doesn't suit you."
India laughed and opened the passenger side door. A fringed leather boot appeared on the ground. Then the other. My heart skipped more than a single beat as the rest of her appeared. Libby stood, with the car door still between us and smiled a smile that left me stunned.
She was small, I saw, as she stepped around to extend her hand to me, but had a presence that occupied all the space around her. I took her hand and felt all the nerve endings in my palm fire in unison.
She was exquisite, with a short cap of dark, glossy curls framing her face and a body with generous curves that made my mouth go dry. Her clothes hugged her body in a careless, sexy kind of way that made me think she had no idea of their effect. The colors were bold, the style almost vintage. There was something utterly original about her…
But it was those eyes that held me rooted and staring. Green, brilliant, afraid of nothing. I took a step closer without intending it and felt something warm and electric pass through the air between us. Somehow, all at once, she was both everything and nothing of what I'd expected…
As I held her hand in mine and all the appropriate greetings and pleasantries passed from my lips, something was sweeping through me like a fire through a dry forest. I put my hand out, ushering them both ahead of me and into the house as I followed behind. Every carefully made plan, every best intention, every sensible decision in my head had fled. Deep inside, there was a flashing red light, warning me to keep this business as usual. But my body was taking over, and making one single, uncompromising demand that defied caution and contracts and good, plain common sense…
To put my child into its mother the old-fashioned way.
Just like
nature intended.
4
Libby
India had told me plenty about her rich, successful brother. But she'd completely failed to mention the fact that he was also drop-the-fuck-dead gorgeous. He was tall and tanned, with deep brown eyes and sandy hair that looked like it was probably in constant disarray. My hand twitched with a sudden urge to smooth it…
I followed India into the… what? Cabin? Rustic lake house? Waterside fucking palace? Really, why hadn't she warned me?
The exterior was traditional split log, as unpretentious as a house on Fontana Lake could be. The inside was exquisitely casual, a study in spacious, yet intimate comfort. Every overstuffed chair, every carpet, every carved fireplace mantle oozed wealth and class. I could feel Jack's gaze behind me and for just a moment, wondered if I was in over my head. Way out of my league…
"Can I get you something? Libby… India?" Jack had stepped behind a small, built-in bar in the corner of the room and was opening the fridge, but his eyes had never left me. I could feel them warming my skin, like sunlight on a hot day.
"Beer… um, no… Water, please?" The words stumbled out awkwardly. It wasn't like me to be off balance. But then, I'd never agreed to let a stranger knock me up for money…
"Well, it's beer for me," India said, pushing her brother out of her way and rummaging behind the bar. She stood smiling, a frosty bottle in her hand. "I love these imported ones." She took a long pull. "You always have a better selection than I do." She dropped a kiss on his cheek and I watched as he smiled at her. It gave me a strange feeling I couldn't quite place, whenever I watched how real families interacted with each other. What would that feel like, I wondered, to have known someone from the very moment you were born? And to have them know you in the very same way… from your very beginning…?
Best Friend's Little Sister Page 63
