Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  Bryce knew about my history with Cole and was sympathetic when I told him what had happened recently. I didn’t see the point in keeping the suicide attempt a secret. He needed to be aware of Cole’s limitations if he was going to play matchmaker, which was my hope. It had to be subtle or Cole would balk. Trent and I were on a mission to find Cole’s Anam Cara, and introducing him to the right people would be the first step.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Bryce called out in his usual cheery voice.

  We walked up to the bar, and I reached over the counter to shake his hand. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

  “Sure. Let me come around then.”

  “This is Professor Cole Fujiwara and his intrepid hound, Freddie.”

  “Pleased to meet you both,” Bryce said, taking Cole’s extended hand and shaking it. He was staring at Cole intently, and I saw something in Bryce’s green eyes that had never surfaced before. It gave me hope that I’d done the right thing in bringing Cole to this special place. “Can I get you something to drink, Professor?”

  “Please, call me Cole, and I’d love a Guinness.”

  “Ah, a discerning man. What about you, Sloan?”

  “I’ll have the same.”

  Chapter 31

  IT WAS the second week in June, and Montauk’s tourist season was already underway. The marina was crowded with fishing boats and private yachts, all vying for a space in the bustling port that officially opened for business in late May. We’d decided on a July 4 wedding, and Sloan and I were meeting with Tin and Max at the Yacht Club to finalize the plans. Unfortunately, they were turning our special day into a fucking photo op despite our protests.

  “Trent, you have to understand that Sloan is a celebrity, and people are interested in everything he does,” Max explained, choosing his words carefully. He knew this wasn’t happening without my cooperation. I would have been just as content standing in front of a judge at City Hall, but our employer was determined to turn our nuptials into a spectacular event. Max had received offers from People, Vogue, Elle, and Gentleman’s Quarterly. Everyone wanted a piece of the action, and I was starting to feel a little sick about the whole thing.

  “How many people did you have in mind?”

  “At least two hundred.”

  “What?” I didn’t know fifty people, let alone two hundred.

  “Twenty of them will be press, another ten will be my staff, and at least thirty will be fellow models and their significant others. That’s sixty right there.”

  “Jesus.” I turned toward my future husband. “What’s your take on this?”

  “I’m trying to tune it out,” Sloan said stoically. “All I’m concerned about is the actual ceremony and our outfits.”

  “That’s another thing,” I groused. “Why in fuck do I have to wear a kilt?”

  “’Cause it’s hot, and you look gorgeous in it.”

  I grinned, reading his mind. “I suppose I’ll have to go commando to suit your perverted fantasy.”

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  “Gentlemen, let’s not digress.” Max said, glaring.

  “Aw, come on,” Sloan said, whining like a child. “That’s the best part of this wedding. Imagining my highlander in full regalia is keeping me distracted enough to ignore the other shit you’re planning.”

  “This other ‘shit’ is going to put big bucks in your coffers.”

  “It’s not like we’re hurting for cash,” I countered.

  “Trent,” Max persevered. “I’m talking about the kind of money it takes to buy another apartment, if you choose, or a place out here in Montauk.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe people would fork over so much to see us get married.

  “It’s one of the first celebrity unions in the state, and most of the big rags are hoping to cash in on it.”

  “Fine,” Sloan said, “let’s get on with this. Trent and I have plans for today.”

  “Flowers?” Tin asked.

  “I already told you,” Sloan sighed. “I’d like to see gerbera daisies in rainbow colors entwined in the white wicker arch.”

  “That’s so ordinary, Sloan.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Don’t you want something more exotic?”

  “No!”

  “How about the music?”

  “I’ve got the music,” Max said, looking at us with unconcealed glee.

  “Who’d you get?” Sloan asked. “Some old violin quartet?”

  “Queen.”

  Sloan gaped at him. “Shutthefuckup! Are you serious?”

  “I told you I knew them.”

  Sloan jumped out of his chair and gave Max a tight hug. “You’re the best.”

  “I try.”

  “Guys, we’re not done yet,” Tin said. “Trent, are you determined to have cupcakes instead of a wedding cake?” He had this optimistic look on his face, hoping I’d change my mind.

  “Hell yes,” I said. “It’s my only request, and, damn it, I want it done.”

  Tin rolled his eyes. “So bourgeois.”

  “I like the idea of cupcakes,” Sloan said, smiling in my direction.

  “We can’t possibly do thirty-one flavors,” Tin commented.

  “Then stick with the basics―chocolate, vanilla, lemon, and carrot.”

  “Carrot is not basic.”

  “It’s my favorite, so deal with it, Tin.”

  “Food?”

  “We don’t care―just keep the champagne flowing.”

  “That goes without saying. Is there anything else you’d like?”

  “Will there be reserved seating?” Sloan asked.

  “Only the first two rows.”

  “Save a spot for Cole and Bryce.”

  Tin’s eyes rounded in surprise. “He’s actually going to attend?”

  “So he says.”

  “How very civilized,” Tin said slowly. “You don’t suppose he’ll do anything dramatic like standing up at that exact moment the judge asks for objectors?”

  “I doubt it,” Sloan said, smiling. “He’s walking around with a just-got-fucked look on his face. I don’t think he’ll object to anything if Bryce is by his side.”

  “You know this for a fact?” Max asked.

  “I know my ex,” Sloan admitted. “I’ve seen that look before.”

  “So they’re officially a couple?”

  “Cole says no, but he’s at The Tavern almost every night.”

  “Aha… the matchmaking was successful.”

  “We never expected Cole and Bryce to hook up,” Sloan explained. “The plan was for Bryce to introduce Cole to other men, but he never let him out of his sight after that first night.”

  “Kismet?”

  “Isn’t it great?” Sloan said. “Cole is at peace with himself for the first time in years.”

  “Is he still married?” Max asked.

  “Yes, but he and Noriko are getting an amicable divorce. She’s staying in the apartment he purchased for her in the same building, and they’ll share custody of the twins.”

  “And he keeps you in the loop?”

  “I’m now the official godfather to both boys and Cole’s confidant.”

  “So you know all the juicy tidbits,” Tin accused, “and you never shared.”

  “I’m a good friend.”

  “And my soon-to-be-husband,” I said, bored with the gossiping. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, Sloan.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered respectfully. Max raised an eyebrow. Tin looked at us in disbelief, and my boy smiled in anticipation. I’d promised him a scene this weekend, and I was anxious to get going.

  “See you guys later,” I said, wrapping my arm around Sloan’s waist.

  “Enjoy,” Max said.

  “Oh, yeah,” I winked. “We’re off to play.”

  “I hate you,” Tin commented. “When am I going to have my happy ending?”

  “When you stop ogling every guy in sight,” Sloan said. “Yo
u’re not ready yet.”

  Tin waved us off with a flick of his wrist. “La… go and play, you lucky fools.”

  “Are you guys staying in town?” I asked Max.

  “No, we’re driving back to the city.”

  “We’ll see you on Monday, then.”

  I could feel Max and Tin burning holes in our backs as Sloan and I walked away. They were probably dying of curiosity but knew better than to ask for details. I wasn’t about to share my plans with anyone, let alone those two. They thrived on gossip and intrigue, and anything out of the ordinary would be a good topic to discuss over mimosas tomorrow morning. Sloan and I were already the talk of the town with our upcoming nuptials. Much of our relationship had turned into an open book because of Max and his history with Sloan. I wanted this weekend to be special, and letting them in on the secret would spoil it automatically.

  I slung an arm over Sloan’s shoulder and drew him closer. It would have been a simple thing to walk down a hundred feet and cross the gangplank to the big white yacht that was waiting to be boarded, but it would have raised questions I had no desire to answer. We walked to the Jeep instead, and I pretended we were heading out to Leah’s place, when in reality, I was going to drive around town for about twenty minutes and then circle back. The odd couple would be on their way back to Manhattan by then.

  It was a perfect day. The sun was shining, and there were already tourists lying on bright towels while small children frolicked in the shallow water close to shore. In another month, they’d be hard-pressed to find an open spot on this same beach. The drive along the waterfront was an enjoyable way to kill twenty minutes.

  We’d had the longest winter of our lives, what with the drama that started with the birth of Cole’s twins, but we’d weathered the worst of it, coming out a stronger and more cohesive couple. There was a moment when I thought I’d lost Sloan. After Cole’s suicide attempt, I was sure he’d guilt my boy into going back, but he’d stood his ground. He’d thoughtfully helped Cole out of his deep depression without losing focus on our relationship. Sloan’s love and respect for me never wavered, and it filled me with joy. I would do anything to make him happy, and marrying him was only the first step. I wanted to give something back, and although it would be difficult, I knew it was something he’d cherish and handle with the utmost care. That’s what made me love him so much. Sloan was impulsive and reckless and had a mouth on him that didn’t know when to shut up, but his submissive side was so beautiful it took my breath away. Giving fully and handing over the same amount of trust he gave me daily was the greatest gift I had.

  I’d been preparing for weeks. Suffering through several anxiety attacks in the privacy of the bathroom as I forced the tiny dildo up my now virgin channel. The first time was the worst. Terror engulfed me, and I hyperventilated into a near faint. When my breathing returned to normal, and I realized my body could handle the intrusion without bleeding out, I gained a little confidence. My next attempt wasn’t as bad, and I began inserting larger dildos as the days went by. I’d always admired Sloan’s cock, but there was no denying that his size was a little daunting. Dwelling on the pain instead of focusing on the pleasure was counterproductive. I had to get into the right frame of mind if I wanted this to work. And I did.

  Saving this gift for our wedding night was an old-fashioned gesture I knew Sloan would appreciate, but it occurred to me that we’d both be plastered by the end of the evening, and the likelihood of a good outcome wasn’t favorable. A controlled scene with full awareness on both sides was more my style, and despite the residual fear, I was determined to do this right. I’d never failed at anything before, and I was damned if I’d let this blip from the past control me. I’d get through it with the same determination I’d used to get out of Illinois. The thought of seeing Sloan’s face light up when I made the offer was giving me an erection. It was a good sign.

  Chapter 32

  TRENT DIDN’T say much once we got into the car. He just smiled when he reached over to help buckle me in, a chivalrous gesture that never failed to touch me. We both knew I was quite capable of putting on my own seat belt, but the physical act of keeping me safe was part and parcel of who he was. Instead of taking offense, I felt cherished.

  “Are you satisfied with all the details for the wedding?” he asked as he started Max’s Jeep.

  “I wish it wasn’t turning into such a circus, but I’m keeping my sights on the ultimate goal―becoming your husband.”

  “That’s how I feel. If I had my way, I’d sweep you off to a deserted island and spend one week making love to you.”

  “We can pretend.”

  “That we’re shipwrecked?” Trent asked, looking surprised. “I had something else in mind.”

  “What were you planning?”

  “Coincidentally, a boat ride.”

  “Really?”

  “One of my clients loaned me his yacht for the weekend.”

  “Does it come with a crew?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’d be crazy to turn down a weekend on a yacht with my fiancé.”

  “He was going to let me have it after the wedding, but things might get a little crazy that night.”

  “The city of Montauk celebrates the Fourth of July like most other places close to water, with the usual fireworks launched from a barge out in the harbor. Any hope of romance with that many people around is unlikely.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “Do we need to go back to the house and pack?”

  “I’ve taken care of everything.”

  “I should have known better than to ask,” I said, admiring the ginger-haired man who glanced my way. It was easy to forget that Trent wasn’t a natural redhead because the look suited him so well. He knew I loved it and promised to stay red until I got bored. “Why are we driving away from the yacht club?”

  “So your gossipy friends don’t intrude on our weekend.”

  “Gotcha… did you have an itinerary mapped out?”

  “I thought we’d cruise to P-town and spend the day.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “If we leave tonight, we should be there by early morning.”

  “I have no clothes!” I exclaimed, alarmed at my lack of wardrobe.

  “Babe… didn’t I tell you I had it under control?”

  “Oh, right. Can we get going?”

  After driving around in circles, we turned back toward the marina. Max’s Lexus was gone, and Trent parked the Jeep in the vacated spot. Locking it, Trent took me by the hand, and we walked over to a white yacht with the name Mirabelle in big gold letters on the side. I wondered who owned it. The thing was enormous, and although I’d been on many yachts in the last six years, this one was impressive. It towered above the others and reeked of money and success.

  The uniformed captain was on deck to greet us, along with his two-man crew. They turned out to be from Marbella, a town on Spain’s gold coast catering to the rich and famous. Trent explained that his client owned several hotels, as well as resorts in Mexico and Central America. The Mirabelle, normally docked in Cancun, was a floating resort and traveled up and down the Yucatan peninsula. The owner liked to make impromptu visits to his properties and preferred the relaxing environment of a yacht rather than enduring lines and security at the airports. It was also a great way to socialize, and the Mirabelle invariably carried friends and family, as well as business associates.

  “I would think someone that busy would have a private jet.”

  “He’s got that too.”

  “Of course he does. How did you meet him?”

  “He’s into the lifestyle and volunteered to be my sub for a weekend when I was in Madrid about three years ago. We’ve been friends since then.”

  “Is that right?” My voice must have changed because Trent stopped in midsentence and raised an eyebrow. I was swamped with a jealous vibe so intense it almost chok
ed me. The thought of sharing Trent with anyone, past or present, made me ill.

  “Hey,” Trent said, kissing me lightly on the mouth. “I haven’t played with him in years.”

  “Good thing ’cause I’d have to kill him if that weren’t the case.”

  “Listen to you.” Trent grinned.

  “Sorry?”

  “Come on, babe. We’re getting married in a month. Stop acting like a jealous girlfriend. What happens at a BDSM club has no impact on our world.”

  Whoa. I gaped. What did he mean by that? Was he planning to keep up his role as Dom, separate from our marriage? How come I never got the memo?

  “Um… do we need to talk about this, sir? I don’t recall having a conversation about extracurricular activities at Wilde.”

  “We can discuss it at dinner.”

  “No,” I said, a little alarmed. “Let’s talk about it now.”

  “Drinks and appetizers are ready in the lounge, Mr. Hamilton.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Are we ready to cast off?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s get going,” Trent said, nodding. “Come on, Sloan.”

  I followed him up the stairs into a glass-enclosed room on the upper deck. The focal point was a massive circular bar with tufted leather seats. The view was unobstructed, no matter where you sat. We could see the famous Montauk lighthouse overlooking the harbor, and all around us were bobbing sailboats and smaller yachts that gave us a wide berth as the Mirabelle headed out toward open waters.