There was a young woman between Ken and Eileen. She was wearing a formfitting top and black leggings. Head bowed respectfully, her inky-black hair covered her face like a silky curtain.
“Sloan.” Cole held my hand tightly. “I’d like you to meet Noriko Evans. She’ll be the mother of our son.”
I heard what he said, but the explosion going off in my brain after his appalling pronouncement rendered me speechless. The mother of our son. What in hell?
Noriko raised her chin and broached a tentative smile. Her hazel eyes slanted upward but lacked the epicanthic fold, suggesting her mixed race. She had flawless skin devoid of any makeup but for a faint hint of blush over her prominent cheekbones. Her lip gloss was a light shade of peach, emphasizing her plump mouth. Bone-straight hair with a long fringe brushing her eyebrows framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. “Hajimemashite, Sloan-san,” she greeted in a lilting voice.
I gaped at her.
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” she said, switching to accented English. She stretched out her hand politely, but I was too stunned to reciprocate. I whirled around instead and walked out.
Chapter 2
It didn’t take but a minute, and Cole was in my face spluttering in outrage. “Did you have to be so goddamn rude?”
“Would you have preferred a fucking scene? Honestly, Cole. What were you thinking? Oh, don’t even bother,” I said tersely. “This entire plot was orchestrated by your dad, and you played the dutiful son, hoping I wouldn’t lose my shit in front of an audience. Well, guess what? I’ve said it on more than one occasion, and in case you need to hear it again, I’m not in favor of this insane plan.”
“Sloan, calm down and let me explain.”
“There isn’t much to explain, is there? You and your parents have arrived at a decision without consulting me.”
“Please,” Cole said, reaching out for me. I stepped back, hardening my heart even as he groped for me. I moved left to walk out the door, but I underestimated his internal GPS, and he pounced in my direction and held me in place. “Don’t pull away again,” he begged this time, and I had no choice but to listen.
“I never told you about Noriko because I didn’t know she existed. Mom and Dad showed up with her tonight and presented her to me like a fait accompli. I had no say in the matter.”
“What a crock of shit, Cole.”
“It’s the truth, however stupid it may sound.”
“Who is she, anyway? Does she live around here? Does she surrogate for a living?”
“She’s from Japan… Kyoto, to be exact. And, no, she’s not a professional surrogate. My father talked her into coming to America and doing this for us.”
“Where did he find her?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not, Captain McKnowitall? It’s a basic question.”
“Sloan, she’s here to help us start our family.”
“Us? You mean she’s here to help your father, don’t you?”
“Sloan, please….”
“Last time I checked, I’m your partner and have equal rights in this decision.”
Cole frowned, directing his unseeing blue eyes in my direction. Outwardly, he hadn’t changed in the five years we’d been together. There were a few more silver strands weaving through the dark mane he kept long at my request, but his face was unlined and his body youthful and fit, thanks to the biweekly visits we shared at the gym. He was still attractive as hell, and I never got tired of looking at him.
“Maybe I would be more open to the idea of a child if our relationship wasn’t so fucked up.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Cole asked, looking completely surprised.
“We haven’t boned in weeks. Every time I make a move, you push me away. Not my idea of a healthy relationship. Jesus, Cole. We’ve had problems in the past, but our sex life has always been consistent and above average.”
“There’s more to life than sex,” he maintained.
“I’m twenty-eight, not sixty. Sex is an integral part of our relationship. If I had wanted a roommate, I would have married Emily.”
Cole turned his back, which convinced me there was 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.”
I grabbed him by the 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 this time?”
“Not lying, Sloan. But I was 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,” he protested loudly. “When I was engaged to Juliana, the topic of children went hand-in-hand with a possible abortion. Until recently, the only way I could have a healthy child was if I was prepared to accept the consequences and abort a fetus if it carried the RP gene. You know it’s the main reason I never brought up the subject again.”
“I thought you had decided you weren’t cut out to be a father.”
“Wrong. I couldn’t bear the thought of destroying an innocent life because it wasn’t perfect. 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 facts. You’ll still be destroying a life if you pick and choose the perfect specimen for implantation.”
“I firmly believe life doesn’t begin until it’s implanted. I’ve always wanted to be a father, Sloan, but I had to bury my visions of fatherhood alongside my career when I started to go blind. Now, I have the opportunity to provide the grandson my father has always wanted while realizing my own dreams. It’s the only way I can make up for being an utter failure in his eyes.”
“Oh my God, Cole. 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. Are. Not. A. Failure. Stop buying into his guilt trip.”
“Have you considered it might be more than guilt? I want a son as much as he yearns for a grandson. It’s a win-win situation.”
“Not for me.”
“You’ve always said you would do everything in your power to make me happy.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t realize it included a child. Obviously, I can’t get pregnant.”
“But we’ve found someone who’s willing to have the baby and be out of our lives in nine months. Why does this bother you so much?”
I shrugged.
“Answer me,” Cole demanded.
Belatedly, I remembered he couldn’t see my gesture, which routinely pissed him off. “I don’t think it’s possible to carry someone’s child and not develop feelings. Once you let her into our lives, she’ll never leave.”
“You’re jealous,” he accused with an ugly sneer.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t be worried? You’re bisexual. How do I know you won’t fall for the mother of your kid?”
“Oh, Sloan… that’s never going happen.”
Even if he couldn’t see me, I turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears. Despite everything I’d achieved in the last five years, my inner child managed to rear its ugly head at the most inconvenient time. Insecurity swamped me as predictably as rolling waves breaking on Jersey shores.
“Sloan.” Cole reached for my hand. “I love you.”
“Do you?”
“God, yes,” he said, opening his arms.
I fell into his embrace and buried my face in the crook of hi
s neck. “I’m scared, Cole. Our lives will change completely.”
“I won’t let it happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Children enrich families, not destroy them.”
“I think you’re romanticizing the entire concept. Babies are a lot of work.”
“Think of all the fun we’ll have with our own kid.”
“I’m thinking of all the horrible stuff 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?”
“I’m not going on a sexual diet to improve your chances at harvesting.”
“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 even mention it.”
“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 peppered his gorgeous face with hungry kisses, grinding my pelvis against his obvious boner. It had been weeks, and I was horny as fuck.
I placed his hand 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 our close contact. “I’m going to have to do something about it, but not now.”
“Cole?” I whined in protest when he stepped back.
“I can’t perform with my parents in the next 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 leering old men who want in your pants.”
“Ugh, what a buzzkill.” I adjusted myself as my boner quickly deflated. “You owe me big-time.”
“I’ll pay you as soon as everyone leaves,” Cole promised.
“You’d better.”
We walked out of the master bedroom to a scene of comfortable domesticity. Eileen had brought a lemon pound cake and was plating slices for everyone while Noriko poured green tea into ornate, paper-thin porcelain cups.
“Is everything okay?” Ken asked, looking hopeful since Cole and I were walking hand in hand.
“Perfect,” I lied.
I watched Noriko as we began eating. She was a beautiful woman and a perfect candidate for Mother of the Year. There was no doubt in my mind they would make lovely babies. “Are you half-Japanese?” I was curious about her genetic makeup now that I had to consider her potential as a 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 your language.”
“No worries.”
“My father is Caucasian. My mother is Japanese.”
“How old are you?”
“I am eighteen.”
“So young…. Have you ever had any children?”
“Sloan.” Cole frowned. “What’s with the questions?”
“I’m 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 surrogate births are illegal in New York State. Will Noriko go back to Japan to have the baby?”
“It is illegal in Japan as well,” Noriko interjected, picking at an imaginary spot on her slacks.
“Oh.” I arched a brow and refocused on Ken. “What’s your plan?”
“Simple,” Ken stated. “Cole and Noriko will get married.”
Chapter 3
I rose from my chair and backed away from the table. Cole was on his feet in an instant and tried to stop me, but I shrugged him off roughly. 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. Cole joined in the chorus, but I ignored them.
I was devastated by their casual solution. The betrayal was all- consuming, and my anger was fast eclipsing the pain. I wanted to hit Cole. For the first time in years, I saw red, the bloodlust rising like gorge. 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 my face. Ken wouldn’t foist this scenario on his independent son without his permission. The relief I’d felt after our talk in the bedroom felt like ashes 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 we’d talked about making it official this year. We weren’t ready for such a big commitment until recently. I was only twenty-three when we first got together, and he, at twenty-six, had just come out of the closet. The odds were not in our favor. Dealing with new careers, learning how to cope with his impending blindness, managing a new guide dog, and most importantly, trusting each other were more important than a marriage contract. My issues with cutting were too recent, and Cole wanted to be certain I was stable and on the road to recovery. In addition, his abrupt shift from straight to openly bisexual would take some adjusting. Cole had to be comfortable in this new role and, more importantly, satisfied with his decision. Even his parents were skeptical, so it stood to reason I, too, had my doubts.
Yet, despite it all, we’d worked through our differences and met our daily challenges with hardly any effort. We were friends, had great sexual chemistry, and, last but not least, respected each other. Or not. Apparently he thought less of me than I realized, considering he’d made a major life decision without bothering to run it by me first.
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 sucking on an ashtray. Well, fuck him and his persnickety demands. I wasn’t planning on kissing him anytime soon, so I might as well torch 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 gaze veered toward the shelf containing shaving paraphernalia. Blades were much cheaper than a gram of weed, but the residual costs could skyrocket. Shrinks and antidepressants would lead to a downward spiral and obliterate all the success I’d achieved in the last few years.
Right then, 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. I need a hit.”
He rattled off the latest methods of recreation, guaranteed to lift my spirits rather than drag me down, but I wasn’t interested. “All I want is some skunk. Get a bag, some paper, and meet me at the studio.”
Once again, Tin offered a variety of choices. I’d lost track of the current trends in marijuana and the fancy names meant nothing. I told him to buy the loudest he could find and do it fast. Cole’s nagging had effectively turned me into Mr. Clean, but the reformed pothead rose like a phoenix, and desperate times called for some instant relief. Losing myself in a euphoric haze of primo hemp was just what the doctor ordered.
But…. As a former cutter, I rarely walked by a selection of knives or blades without pausing. The shelves behind the cashier had everyday items on display and a box cutter drew my attention. In my mind’s eye, I could see the blood oozing thickly out of a deep gash on my thigh, and before I knew it, I was handing over the extra cash.
I hailed a cab and gave him the address of Max’s studio. As a con
tracted model, I had every right to enter at will, even if it was after hours. It was my safe haven and crashing on his sofa after a grueling photo shoot wasn’t uncommon. This time, though, I planned to stay the night. I had to calm down before I confronted Cole again. 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 level of deceit.
Thirty minutes later, Etienne Pielet, whom I’d dubbed “Tin” when we first met at Pratt, let himself in with his own key. The willowy blond Frenchman had introduced me to Max and the world of fashion photography when I first arrived in New York City. He was a model himself and a huge success. 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. Tin could make the ugliest outfit look elegant, and he was in big demand with designers who routinely graced the pages of GQ or Esquire. His work ethic was impeccable, despite his tendency to party a little too hearty. He was reliable in a field where excess was commonplace and models flaked out on the daily. 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 some papers.
My emotions were too close to the surface and I couldn’t reply coherently until I had my first hit. It was clumsy at first. I hadn’t rolled a joint in a long time, but eventually I got it together. Tin passed me his lighter and the simple act of putting flame to paper without Cole’s disapproving glare was a joy in and of itself. My body was so pure these days it reacted instantly. “Whoa… is this strong shit or what?”
Tin arched a brow. “You’re pathetic.”
Vessel (Cutting Cords Series Book 2) Page 2