Triad
978-1-61650-104-4
Copyright © 2009, Cat Grant
Edited by Camila Londono
Book design by Brian Hunter
Cover Art by Renee Rocco
First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: December, 2009
Lyrical Press, Incorporated
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PUBLISHER'S NOTE:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated
It's three times the pleasure - ten years on!
Eric Courtland, his wife Ally and husband Nick have been living the sweet life for the past decade, tucked away in their luxurious Tuscan villa. But when a family crisis brings them back to the States, blackmail and an unexpected revelation threaten the delicate balance of their marriage. Weathering this storm may take everything they have—and still tear them apart.
Ally lay cradled between them, and she flashed them both the world’s dreamiest smile. “Anybody up for round two?”
Eric’s glance flicked to Nick, then to Ally. “We’ve got all weekend. Don’t you think we should pace ourselves?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Nick interjected, leaning in to kiss Ally, and then Eric, in turn. Eric could still taste his own essence mingled with Ally’s on his lover’s lips.
No, scratch that—his husband’s lips.
“My husband,” Eric whispered, kissing Nick again, softly and deeply, holding him tight, as if he’d dissolve like morning fog if Eric ever let go.
“Hey.” Nick drew back at last, clasping Eric’s hand in both his own. Their rings glinted in the pale city light streaking through their suite’s wispy white curtains. “You don’t need to hold on so tight. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I-I know, but... I still can’t believe we actually got here.”
“I can,” Ally said softly.
That was no surprise. Ally had always been the most optimistic of the three of them. She was the one who lifted their spirits, made them all laugh when the going got bleak.
“My husband,” Eric repeated, lying back down next to Ally, then reaching across to clasp Nick’s hand. “My wife.”
They were a unit—inseparable, indivisible. And, Eric vowed silently as they slipped into a spent, blissful doze, he’d do everything in his power to protect them and keep them safe.
To all my readers, thank you for following me on this journey.
And to Storm Grant, Emily Moore, and the Monterey Bay Chapter of Romance Writers of America, with sincere gratitude for your unfailing support.
April, 2016
Eric Courtland poured his husband and his wife ice-cold flutes of Veuve Cliquot, then raised his own for a toast. “A decade together, with each year happier than the last. Here’s to ten more, and beyond.”
“Hear, hear,” Nick and Ally both murmured, draining their glasses before tugging Eric down to lie with them on the plum silk duvet emblazoned with the insignia of the Plaza-Athénée Hotel. They’d just returned from a celebratory five-star feast downstairs in the hotel’s luxurious dining room, and now they curled up together, wrapped in plush terrycloth robes, basking in contentment. New rings glittered on their left hands, elegant platinum bands sporting a circle of flawless single-carat diamond baguettes, one for each year of their union. Eric had presented them to Nick and Ally that afternoon at the Paris registry office, when they had legally become husband, husband and wife, on the same date he and Ally had tied the knot in New York eleven years ago. The European Union had legalized multiple-partner marriage ten months earlier, but to Eric, it had seemed only apropos to celebrate an existing anniversary while creating a new one.
So here they lay, on the same king-sized bed in the same lavish art-deco presidential suite where he and Ally had spent their first honeymoon. At last Eric pressed soft kisses to both his spouses’ foreheads and remarked, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve experienced such peace and quiet. Is everything all right?”
Ally favored him with a drowsy smile. There were tiny, crinkly laugh lines around her eyes now, and Eric cherished each and every one of them. Had they still been living in the States, she probably would’ve had them botoxed out of existence, but fortunately, European women didn’t share their American counterparts’ fear of natural aging. She rarely wore makeup anymore, but she didn’t need it; her skin and pale blond hair glowed with health from ten years of living in the Tuscan countryside. Eric didn’t care if she never put on lipstick or blush again. To him, she looked beautiful exactly the way she was—all five feet and three inches of her.
“I’m enjoying my alone time with my two favorite men. Anything wrong with that?”
“And I think I’m still a little stunned,” Nick replied, propping himself up on one elbow, running his other hand through his gorgeous, unruly curls, flecked with new gray at the temples. He wasn’t a twenty-year-old football player anymore, but thanks to the pool and private gym they’d installed at their villa outside Florence, he’d managed to remain fit. The past two decades had been exceptionally kind to him, slowly wearing away his former lush male beauty to reveal the calmness, integrity and inner strength beneath. Nick was the rock of their relationship, the one who held Eric steady when doubts and fears assailed him. “We’ve all wanted this for so long. Hard to believe it’s finally happened.”
“I’ve considered all three of us married for the past decade,” Eric said. “The ceremony was a mere formality.”
“I know, but... now I can call myself Nick Thompson-Courtland, and no one can say it’s not true.”
“No one in Europe, anyway,” Ally interjected a touch bitterly.
Eric stretched, rolling the stiffness out of his neck while scooting up on his fluffy pile of pillows. “The US will come around eventually. Half the states have already legalized gay civil unions. Once the Supreme Court rules on that bisexual rights case in a few months, the question of multiple-partner marriage will be moot.”
“I hope you’re right,” Nick murmured. “It’d be nice to be able to go home and visit my mom this Christmas as a legally married man.”
“Speaking of which...” Ally purred with a grin, “Isn’t it high time we consummated this marriage?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Eric replied, dropping his hands to the belt of his robe, but two other pairs of hands beat him to it, quickly stripping him, then themselves, bare of the thick terrycloth. Fingertips swept over his skin, stroking softly, followed by warm, wet kisses from two beloved mouths. Eric let his eyes drift shut, savoring the ticklish sensation of one tongue swirling tiny, playful circles around his navel while another moved downward. Then came the unmistakable feel of Ally’s teasing lips nibbling at the crown of his cock. Eric let his legs fall open, hoping Nick would take the hint—and as usual, he did, sliding down between his new husband’s thighs to lave his balls, sucking one, then the other, all the way into the soft, slick heaven of his mouth.
They took their time torturing him, bringing Eric to the brink of orgasm time and again before easing off, giggling at his frustrated cries and moans, obviously enjoying every delicious, excruciating moment of it. At last, when he knew he was mere seconds from spilling into Ally’s mouth, she gripped him hard at the base of his cock and lifted her head, licking his pre-come off her lips as if it were the world’s finest wine, and she couldn’t bear to waste a drop.
“I think the bride’s ready to be entertained now,” she said, rolling onto her back, fingers slipping between her own thighs, revealing how moist their foreplay had made her. “This is my wedding night, too, remember?”
Nick bit his lip, barely stifling a groan. But all Eric could do was stare at his own cock, now purplish-red with arousal, waving in the air like an unadorned flagpole. “Y-You could at least give me a little relief first.”
“Wouldn’t want the evening to end too quickly. Besides, you know this is my favorite part.” She grinned. “C’mon, your bride wants a show.”
“You heard the lady,” Nick growled, swooping down to capture Eric’s lips in a brain-melting kiss. Fortunately, he refrained from putting his huge paws on Eric’s cock, or it would’ve been all over. After a couple of minutes with no direct stimulation, his erection subsided a bit, only to rise again when Nick rolled on top of him, his own thick, meaty cock now standing at attention, painting sticky streaks across Eric’s torso.
Eric squirmed, moving his hips, desperate for release, but when Nick’s hands closed over his wrists and one muscular thigh slid in between both of Eric’s, pinning him to the mattress, Eric heaved a grateful sigh and gave himself over to it. There was nothing he enjoyed more than lying beneath Nick’s powerful body while his lover fucked him into oblivion. Many was the time Eric had shown up for the monthly board meeting at Courtland Industries’ European headquarters in Rome sporting a dreamy, sated grin that quickly became the office’s number one topic of gossip.
But tonight he was apparently in for a ride of another sort. Lining their cocks up beside each other, Nick took them both in one hand and began stroking hard, while at the same time licking and biting Eric’s throat. It was like being attacked by a porno-movie version of Dracula. A chortle bubbled to Eric’s lips, until Nick’s sea-green eyes locked on his, deep and intense. His laughter quickly fizzled.
Nick kissed him deeply, raping Eric’s mouth with his tongue, gripping and stroking him harder, until he couldn’t hold on a second longer. Letting go with a ragged cry, Eric spurted warm ribbons all over Nick’s hand and his own belly. Then Nick sat back on his heels, jerking himself to an explosive climax before collapsing in a heap at Eric’s side.
Ally looked as if she was about to break into applause, but she settled for a delighted grin instead. “I’m the luckiest person in the whole wide world,” she declared. “But are you both okay? You’re panting like you’ve just run a marathon.”
“Th-that was my cardio for the whole week,” Nick puffed, sweeping a handful of damp curls off his forehead.
“Make that two weeks for me.” Eric reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table and quickly cleaned himself and Nick up, then slumped back on his pillows, dragging in deep, cleansing breaths. Several years ago, before the heart attack that had helped drive the last nail in his senatorial career’s coffin, such strenuous sexual activity would’ve left him dizzy and on the verge of fainting. But according to his last medical checkup, his heart was stronger now than it had been since his twenties. Apparently, a decade of daily gym workouts and Luciana’s healthy home-cooked cuisine had paid off in spades.
Once his and Nick’s pulses had returned to normal, they flashed Ally a pair of toothy grins. “On your back, wife, and prepare to be ravished,” Eric growled, both of them swarming over her while she dissolved in giggles.
They kissed, bit, licked and sucked every last millimeter of Ally’s exposed skin until her laughter faded into broken moans and she melted into a puddle of arousal, arching her back and clutching at both of them, whimpering if their hands and mouths left her for even a split-second. At last they deigned to show some mercy, and gave her what they knew she wanted.
Parting her thighs wide, they lifted her up and slid a pillow under her hips to grant them both a better angle of access. Then they fell to their respective tasks with abandon, worshipping her like a pair of horny altar boys, Nick diddling and sucking her clit while Eric fucked her with his fingers and tongue. She came within seconds—and then again, and again, until her cries of release turned into hoarse, husky sobs, begging for mercy.
She lay cradled between them for several long minutes until her eyes finally opened, and she flashed them both the world’s dreamiest smile. “Anybody up for round two?”
Eric’s glance flicked to Nick, then to Ally. “We’ve got all weekend,” he pointed out. “Don’t you think we should pace ourselves?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Nick interjected, leaning in to kiss Ally, and then Eric, in turn. Eric could still taste his own essence mingled with Ally’s on his lover’s lips.
No, scratch that—his husband’s lips.
“My husband,” Eric whispered, kissing Nick again, softly and deeply, holding him tight, as if he’d dissolve like morning fog if Eric ever let go.
“Hey.” Nick drew back at last, clasping Eric’s hand in both his own. Their rings glinted in the pale city light streaking through their suite’s wispy white curtains. “You don’t need to hold on so tight. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I-I know, but... I still can’t believe we actually got here.”
“I can,” Ally said softly.
Well, that was no surprise. Ally had always been the most optimistic of the three of them. She was the one who lifted their spirits, made them all laugh when the going got bleak. It was the reason he and Nick loved her so much.
“My husband,” Eric repeated, lying back down next to Ally, then reaching across to clasp Nick’s hand. “My wife.”
They were a unit—inseparable, indivisible. And, Eric vowed silently as they slipped into a spent, blissful doze, he’d do everything in his power to protect them and keep them safe.
* * * *
They didn’t leave their suite again the entire weekend, which suited Nick just fine. After six long months spent hammering away on his new book, he figured he was due for a break. Forty-eight hours of eating decadent French cuisine, sleeping in a cloud-soft bed adorned with seven-hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and fucking his brains out with the two people he loved more than his own life had proven exactly the tonic he needed.
His relaxation lasted until they arrived back at their villa late Sunday night. The second he saw the familiar two-story mansion looming in the distance, weariness whapped him in the face like a wet blanket. It had been a magical weekend, but tomorrow it was back to work. The mere thought of it dragged at him like a lead weight. It was all he could do to trudge upstairs to his room and flop on the bed.
Eric poked his head in a few minutes later. “You okay?”
Groaning, Nick sat up, dragging a hand through his hair. “Just wiped out, is all. I think I’ll sleep in here tonight. I’d probably keep you both awake with all my tossing and turning. Besides, I have to get up and give my agent a call first thing tomorrow.”
“Talking to Fabrizio doesn’t usually stress you out so much. Is something wrong?”
“Not really. I’m sure all he wants is to firm up some details about the promotion on the new book. I already told him I’m busy helping Ally with the research on her next one, but apparently my publisher’s none too pleased with that answer.” He sighed. “I don’t know what the big deal is. Non-fiction books hardly ever benefit from promotion. It’ll end up being a huge waste of time.”
Eric ambled over to wrap an arm around Nick’s shoulders and drop a soft kiss on the top of his head. “You’re usually the one who says this to me, but I think you’ve been working too hard. There’s no shame in taking some time off to enjoy the fruits of your labor. You know Allison will understand.”
“Those book contracts won’t keep coming forever.”
“After eleven years with the same publisher, I doubt you’ve got anything to worry about. Besides, it’s not like we need the money,” he added with pointed emphasis.
Nick sighed. Over the years they’d hashed out this subject more often than he cared to remember, but Eric simply didn’t get that it wasn’t about money at all. It was about integrity and self-worth. Nick needed to know that he could pay his own way, even if he also knew Eric would never accept a dime from him.
He found it both frustrating and endearing—but tonight, he decided to let the latter win. “Would you rather have me retire,” he said, flashing Eric a lopsided grin, “and spend the rest of my days as your full-time love slave?”
“Oh, great! Now I’ll be lying awake all night with visions of you in a loincloth dancing through my head.” Another quick kiss, and Eric was heading for the door. “But seriously... get some rest. You really do look like you need it.”
* * * *
To Nick’s amazement, he actually did get a decent night’s sleep, though he still wanted to smash his alarm clock when it went off at seven. He hit the snooze button and slept another hour.
After showering and shaving, he threw on a pair of comfy sweats and headed down to his office, where he hit the speed-dial for his overseas agent in Rome. He had a New York agent too, but they conducted most of their business via fax and email; with the six-hour time difference, it was too difficult to keep in touch by phone. Since his publisher had their European headquarters in Rome, dealing with a local agent worked to Nick’s advantage most of the time.
Today was not one of those times.
Nick didn’t even try to get a word in as Fabrizio rattled on in agitated, heavily-accented English. There was no point. His publisher had been nagging him to take a more active role in publicity for the last two or three books. Nick had always managed to beg off before, but this time they weren’t listening to any excuses. It was either meet their demands, or face a breach of contract suit.
He hung up, then sat there at his desk for a several long minutes, drumming his fingers on the blotter. At last he bolted, heading out of his office and down the terrace steps to the one-story outbuilding that housed their private gym.
It used to be the servants’ quarters, but since their only staff was a cook-housekeeper who lived in a nearby town with her family, Eric had had it renovated not long after they’d moved in. There were two treadmills, two recumbent bikes, a stair-master, a rowing machine and a workout bench with a full set of free weights. Nick and Eric used it most frequently, though every now and then Ally would pop in to use one of the treadmills or bikes, usually when the weather was either too hot or too rainy for her to take her usual midday walk in the gorgeous vineyard below the villa.
Skin itching with frustration, Nick jumped on the nearest treadmill and dialed it up to a flat-out run. He closed his eyes and let his body take over, jogging until he’d soaked through his sweats and finally had to stop to get some water. But when he climbed down from the machine and turned around, there was Eric standing in the doorway, clad in sneakers, sweatpants and a t-shirt, an all-too-familiar concerned expression knitting his brow.
“Do you realize you’ve been going at it for forty-five minutes straight?” he asked sharply, shoving a towel and bottle of Evian in Nick’s direction. “I thought you were about to faint from dehydration.”
Shit! Nick was in no mood for Eric in overprotective control-freak mode. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping his husband’s head off. “You’ve watched me work out plenty of times. Do I usually push myself until I pass out?”
“No, but you’re not normally this upset.” Draping his own towel around his neck, Eric climbed onto the other treadmill and dialed it up to a slow jog. For a minute he looked like he wanted to say something else, but managed to stop himself.
Nick had a pretty good idea what it was. “You heard me talking to Fabrizio, didn’t you?”
“I walked past your office while you were on the phone,” he admitted. “Whenever you get that quiet, I know something’s wrong. So what is it? Is your publisher dropping you?”
Nick took a long pull of water, then poured some on the towel before wiping down his face and neck. “I wish. They’re pressuring me into doing a US publicity tour for the new book. Talk show appearances, newspaper interviews, book signings, the whole nine yards. I can’t get out of it without risking a lawsuit.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Three weeks, give or take.”
They fell silent while Nick occupied himself with the free weights and Eric kept jogging for another twenty minutes or so, until sweat dampened his blond hair and seeped through his shirt at the neck and underarms. Setting down the twelve-pound dumbbell he’d been hoisting, Nick reached up to press his fingers to the pulse in his husband’s throat. It pounded like a bass drum, strong and deep, but Nick could always tell when Eric was nearing his limit. “That’s enough for today.”
With a nod, Eric climbed down from the machine, blotting his flushed face and neck before gulping down half of what was left of the Evian. “You know, I’d planned to put in an appearance at the New York office later this year, but I suppose I can do it earlier.”
“There’s no reason you need to come too. I don’t expect you and Ally to disrupt your lives just because my publisher’s decided to make mine miserable.”
“We have an agreement, remember? We don’t travel separately if we can help it. As long as we’re there, let’s take some time for ourselves as well. I’m sure Allison’s got some shopping to catch up on, and of course we should pay a visit to your mother. We haven’t seen her since last Christmas.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” He let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding, swept with relief at Eric’s suggestion. He worried about his mother a lot these days. She’d be seventy-five on her next birthday, and it pained Nick to think of her growing old alone. She’d never really gotten over Nick’s father’s death over a decade ago. While she had some close friends who looked in on her, he still felt guilty for living too far away to be there when she needed him.
Eric cleared his throat. “About those interviews...”
“They’ll be about the book—and only the book. I’ve made it clear that questions about my personal life are strictly off-limits.”
“There’s always some wise-ass reporter who’ll try to slip one in anyway.”
“Then I’ll walk out. Believe me, they’ll get the message.” Nick sucked in a breath. “Look, I know you’re no happier about this than I am. Thanks for understanding.”
“That’s why it’s called work. All the other four-letter words were taken.” With a grin, Eric gave his husband a gentle push toward the door. “C’mon, let’s go grab a shower.”
It took nearly forty-five minutes, and probably used up every last drop of hot water, but Nick didn’t care. Fresh exhaustion flooded him the moment the needle-like spray hit his skin, and when Eric dropped to his knees to give him the world’s slowest, most tantalizing blowjob, he slumped against the cool tiles and let his mind and body go.
Afterward, Eric insisted on drying him off, massaging every inch of Nick’s bare skin with a soft, thick cotton towel, including the soles of his feet. By that point, Nick was so relaxed, he had a hard time remaining standing. But when he swayed, Eric was there to catch him, wrapping his arms around Nick’s waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Don’t worry about the trip,” Eric whispered. “Everything will work out, you’ll see.”
They dressed quickly and headed to the dining room for a late breakfast. Apparently Ally had the same idea; they found her devouring a croissant, her plate piled high with fresh fruit and Luciana’s delectable eggs Florentine. Nick grabbed some coffee and an apple and sat down at his usual place on her right, while Eric nibbled on toast and explained the current situation to her.
She shot Nick an astonished look before Eric had even finished. “That’s terrific news! Publishers don’t do that sort of a push unless they’re pretty sure the book’s got a shot at the best-seller list.”
“They thought the same thing about the last two books, and it didn’t happen.”
“Because you didn’t do any promo for them!”
Nick sighed. “Look, I just write them. It’s the marketing department’s job to sell them. All I want is to be left alone to work in peace. I’ll leave the rich and famous part to you.”
“Let’s not hold our breath. My last book got half the advance yours did, and nowhere near the number of rave reviews. Not that I’d begrudge you any of it.” She smiled a soft, pensive smile, one hand drifting down to rest on her belly. “Besides, I’m hoping to have something a little more important than a writing career to keep me busy pretty soon.”
Eric’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. He set the silverware down slowly, his gaze flicking from Ally to Nick and back again. “Y-You mean…”
“When I looked at the calendar this morning, I realized I’m nine days late. And you know I’m usually regular as clockwork.”
“Oh, my God,” Nick breathed, caught somewhere between stunned disbelief and blind panic. His hands gripped his thighs under the table, squeezing hard in a vain attempt to stop their shaking. They’d been trying to get pregnant for over three years, though he’d long since given up hope that it would ever happen. After the first year with no success, they’d had themselves tested for infertility. There was nothing wrong with him or Eric, but they’d discovered that one of Ally’s ovaries was no longer producing eggs. So they’d gone the in-vitro route, using both his and Eric’s sperm. Out of five embryos implanted, only one of them took, but Ally miscarried early in her third month.
That was last year. It had been devastating for all of them, but Nick thought they’d made their peace with it. They’d agreed to stop the medical procedures and let nature take its course—and whatever happened would happen.
Still, he knew how badly Eric wanted a child—preferably a son to carry on the Courtland name. And strangely enough, Nick realized he wanted that too, more for Eric than himself.
But now that the initial shock had started to fade, Nick wasn’t sure how he felt about it. For himself, it didn’t matter. He didn’t even care who’d fathered the child Ally might be carrying; he’d love it with all his heart no matter what, if only because it belonged to the two people he cherished most.
Ally burst out in delighted laughter when they both jumped up to throw their arms around her. “Hey, take it easy. It’s not confirmed yet.”
“When will you know for sure?” Eric asked.
“As soon as I can get a pregnancy test done.”
Suddenly Nick was literally itching to find out. “I’ll drive to the pharmacy in Grieve and get you one,” he blurted.
Ally gaped at him. “It’s thirty miles each way!”
“Would you rather wait a month for an appointment with that overpriced obstetrician in Rome?”
Eric and Ally exchanged glances, then shook their heads slowly.
Most of the time, living beside a vineyard in the rustic Tuscan countryside was the next best thing to paradise on earth. But it could be a royal pain in the ass whenever they needed something in a hurry. It took Nick close to an hour to drive to Grieve and back, jostling and bouncing over the unpaved country roads in Eric’s beloved Lamborghini Murciélago. At last he swung back into the villa’s courtyard and charged upstairs, one precious home pregnancy test clutched in his sweaty hand.
Eric and Ally sat on the overstuffed leather couch in the living room waiting for him. But when he handed the test to Ally, all she could do was stare at it, swallowing hard. “Um... maybe we should wait,” she murmured. “If we do it now, it’ll be... final, and I’m not sure I could stand it if it wasn’t true this time.”
“Don’t you think it’s better to know?” Eric asked quietly, giving her hand a squeeze. “If we’re about to become parents, I’d like as much time as possible to get ready.”
“Oh, God...” She shut her eyes tightly, one hand flying up to cover her mouth. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything until I was sure.”
With that, Nick fell to his knees beside her, more from sheer nerves than anything else. “Ally, I drove a long way to get this for you. So go pee on the damn stick and get it over with.”
She stared at him for a long moment before erupting in nervous laughter. “Okay, okay! Talk about shaming me into it!”
They followed her back to the master bedroom and waited while she disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. Nick perched on the edge of the bed, cracking his knuckles. Eric paced so furiously, Nick was sure he’d worn a permanent trench in the carpet. They heard the crackle of foil being unwrapped, followed by a telltale tinkling, then ponderous silence.
Finally the bathroom door opened, and Ally emerged. She held the stick out so they could both see it.
The thing was blue.
“Congratulations.” She beamed. “Looks like you’re gonna be daddies.”
Ally cracked open one bleary eye when Eric’s alarm buzzed at six the following Monday. He let out his usual rumbling moan, dragged a hand through his hair, then he was up and heading for the bathroom. With a smile, she rolled over to snuggle up to Nick and tuck an arm around his waist. He didn’t move or acknowledge her presence, other than starting to snore louder. Typical Nick—once he was out, it took an atomic blast to wake him up.
She heard the shower door open and close, followed by Eric’s bare feet padding across the marble floor. Then came a high-pitched, thready sound she had trouble identifying at first. Was he... whistling?
Throwing on the red and gold silk kimono he’d brought her from a business trip to Japan last year, she gave the half-open bathroom door a cursory knock before poking her head in. “Is it my imagination, or is that ‘I’ve Got the World on a String’?”
He swung around, momentarily startled, then grinned at her through a thick white coat of shaving gel. “What’s the matter, you don’t like music this early in the morning?”
“I’ve never heard it coming out of you before.”
“In that case, it’s high time I changed my habits. After all, I’ve got a wonderful wife and husband, not to mention a baby on the way. Plenty to be happy about, and no reason I shouldn’t show it.”
She goggled at him, then came over to inspect the back of his neck. “Huh. For a minute there I thought aliens had abducted my real husband and replaced him with a clone.”
First he feinted throwing the can of gel at her, but settled for planting a sloppy, foamy kiss on her cheek. She kissed him back right on the mouth; it tasted soapy and awful, but they were both giggling too hard to give a damn.
Flipping down the toilet lid, she plopped onto it and spooled off some toilet paper to wipe the foam from her face, then sat there, watching Eric shave. He really had loosened up a lot over the past few years; she remembered a time when he would’ve shut the bathroom door all the way, and probably locked it too, even if he’d only come in to brush his teeth.
Moving to Italy was the best decision they’d ever made. It was so much easier to relax, living in a country that didn’t judge them or treat them like pariahs simply because they’d chosen an unconventional lifestyle. Back home in the States, they’d needed twenty-four hour security to protect them from harassment and death threats, but here, no one bothered them. They’d let their bodyguards go six months after they’d moved in. The locals knew who they were, but apparently they were content to live and let live. Too bad their home country couldn’t take a leaf from that book, Ally thought wistfully.
Eric finished shaving and wiped his face down with a towel before slapping on some cologne. Its spicy scent tickled Ally’s nostrils and sent a frisson of desire zinging straight to her clit. “I thought I’d leave you both the Lamborghini and the SUV, in case you need them while I’m gone.”
“That’s not necessary. There’s no reason Nick and I can’t share a car for the next couple of days.”
“But if there’s an emergency, the Lamborghini can get you there faster. With the nearest hospital fifty miles away, that’s a serious consideration.”
“Eric...” Hopping up, she threw her arms around him, giving him a soft kiss. “It’s sweet that you’re so concerned, but I’m fine. In fact, I’ve never felt better. Nothing’s going to happen to me, I promise.”
“We should still take every precaution.”
“I know. And I want this baby as much as you do, but I’m not letting it cancel out the rest of my life. You should know me well enough by now to know that I don’t like being forced into a box.”
He pondered that for a long moment before nodding. “Fair enough.”
“So go ahead and take your car. I doubt we’ll need it. We’ll probably be spending the next couple of days with our noses to the grindstone, as usual.”
“Too late. I’ve already called for the company limo to pick me up in about half an hour. Which means I need to hurry up and get dressed.” He unknotted the towel around his waist and let it drop to the floor before padding over to the walk-in closet. Ally followed, leaning in the doorway to admire the view. Eric had an exceptionally firm, well-toned backside for a man in his early forties, and luckily, it was hers to ogle—or whatever else she felt like doing.
He’d already stepped into his silk boxers and dark gray Armani slacks, and was just about to button the front of his white silk dress shirt when she crept up behind him, sliding both hands up his chest. The contrast between Eric’s warm skin and the cool fabric made her gasp—and from Eric’s matching response, he must’ve felt her nipples leaping to instant attention, pressing into his back like tiny bullets.
“God,” he groaned, “why couldn’t you have done this while we were still in bed?”
“I did. Remember last night?”
“How could I forget? Nick and I could barely keep up with you.”
“Ah, the joy of all those pregnancy hormones kicking in. Are you complaining?”
“Hardly. But at this rate, we’ll be worn down to bloody stumps by the time you’re ready to deliver.”
“Might as well enjoy it while you can.” To her surprise, he took her up on it, pushing her up against the nearest wall to give her a brain-melting kiss. Opening her robe, he let his hands drift over her flushed skin, pulling at her nipples, skimming downward to find her swollen clit. She was already so aroused, it took only a few strokes of his talented fingers to send her flying over the edge, clutching him tight as she moaned her ecstasy into their still-joined mouths.
“And as for the rest,” Eric smirked, his blue eyes glinting wickedly, “you’ll have to wait until I get back.”
She pushed her lower lip out at him. “I hate you.”
“If you’re still desperate, go pounce on Nick. I’m sure he’d love being woken up out of a sound sleep by a horny pregnant lady.”
She laughed. “That’s okay, I should probably let the condemned man have his rest.” With one final, reluctant kiss, she let go of him, straightening her robe while he finished putting on his shirt and suit jacket.
Eric’s Prada overnight bag was already packed and sitting by the closet door. He scooped it up and headed out, stopping for a few precious moments to drop a good-bye kiss on Nick’s bare shoulder. Nick’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.
She walked him out to the terrace, and would have followed him downstairs as well, but she saw the limo already waiting down in the courtyard. It probably wasn’t a good idea to let the driver see her in nothing but her robe. “I wish I wasn’t on deadline, or I’d drive you myself,” she murmured.
“It’s just as well. This way I can use the travel time to get some work done. This Asian deal may end up killing me.” Wrapping her in his arms, he kissed her gently on the lips. “You can give that to Nick for me when he wakes up.”
“I’ll give him a lot more than that.”
“Don’t wear him out before I get back, that’s all I ask.” And with that, he headed down the terrace steps two at a time, climbed into the limo’s spacious back seat and drove off.
Ally stood there until it disappeared from view, and suddenly realized she was shivering in the morning chill. She thought about going back to bed, but she doubted she’d be able to fall asleep, and lying there listening to Nick saw wood would be sheer torture. So she grabbed a quick shower and threw on a sweatshirt and a comfy old pair of jeans, then padded downstairs to the kitchen for a mug of herbal tea before settling in for a long day of work.
She went at it for a couple of hours, until Nick trudged in, steaming cuppa joe clutched in one huge paw, unshaven and with purplish-looking crescents under his eyes. Clearly his epic slumber last night hadn’t been particularly restful.
“‘Morning,” he mumbled, slurping at his cup as he sat down across from her and flipped open his laptop. “Shall I keep going on that global warming research I started yesterday?”
“Actually, I think I’m good. You’ve given me more than enough to finish up this chapter.” She flashed him a smile, hoping to get one in return. No such luck. “Why don’t you take a breather today and go relax by the pool? I’ll be done here in another couple of hours, then I’ll join you.”
He shot her an exasperated look. “Knock it off with the coddling, okay? I’m fine.”
“Really? You don’t usually snap my head off when I’m trying to do you a favor.”
“I don’t need a favor, I need to work!” He slumped down in his chair, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Sorry. Woke up with a headache, and the three Tylenol I choked down in the bathroom haven’t kicked in yet.”
“Wow, you really are stressed about this promo tour, aren’t you?” A dejected shrug was his sole response. “You know, I think you’re viewing it from the wrong perspective. You’ve got it built up in your mind as this big, scary thing, when it’s really not. Other authors do it all the time. Maybe if you give yourself permission to enjoy the attention, you actually will.”
That got a smile out of him—a tiny one, but at least it was progress. “Since when have I ever wanted attention? You’re the one who craves the spotlight, Ally, not me.”
“I recall a certain quarterback who couldn’t wait to give me an interview when his team made the division playoffs senior year.”
“That was a long time ago. And I played for the scholarship money, not the fame.” Another shrug, then he heaved himself to his feet. “What the hell—maybe a nice sunburn’ll take my mind off the pounding in my head.”
She laughed, giving him a wave as he tromped out to the terrace. Nick was usually the one who took care of her and Eric, not the other way around. Maybe the pressure of being the shoulder to lean on was finally getting to him. She bit her lip against a sudden rush of guilt.
She speed-wrote for the next hour and a half, shut down her laptop with a triumphant grin and sprinted back to the bedroom to shuck her clothes and wrap herself in her robe. The moment she stepped onto the terrace and into the liquid-gold Tuscan sun, she could feel the tension in her shoulders starting to drain away. She took in the contrast between the breathtaking golden-green vineyard stretching beyond the edge of the terrace and the calm, crystalline Grecian-style pool at her feet, letting out a happy sigh. It was good to live in paradise.
Obviously it had done the trick for Nick as well; he lay stretched out in a relaxed doze on the double-chaise, completely nude except for sunglasses and a glistening coat of sunscreen. Ally grinned at the delectable—and highly arousing—sight, remembering how shy Nick had been the first time they’d sunbathed here, on vacation a decade earlier. She’d wheedled and cajoled, trying in vain to get Nick to doff his trunks, when at last she’d just yanked them off herself—and nearly got poked in the eye by her lover’s bouncing erection.
And if the thick, twitching cock resting against Nick’s thigh was any indication, it looked like he was enjoying a nice dream. She thought about climbing on top to surprise him, but decided against it. After the workout she and Eric had given him last night, he deserved a chance to unwind. And frankly, right now she didn’t want to move any more than she had to, either.
Shedding her robe, she applied a quick coat of sunscreen and lay down next to Nick, one foot dangling off the chaise, skimming the pool’s cool, glassy surface. They’d had it installed the spring after they’d moved in. Eric was the one who used it most often; he enjoyed swimming laps on warm summer evenings, although sometimes he’d coax Nick into joining him. They’d end up fucking in the shallow end, splashing water all over the place. Part of the reason they did it, she suspected, was that they knew she was watching. Her men certainly enjoyed putting on a show for her.
She lay there soaking up the glorious rays for awhile before Nick stirred. His hand drifted over to grasp hers, entwining their fingers. “How’s the headache?” she asked drowsily.
“All gone, thank God. Looks like your prescription worked.”
“That’s good.” Then, rolling onto her side to face him, she added, “I hope you don’t think I don’t understand what you’re going through. Turning out a five hundred page book every year’s become a grind. I’m starting to get burnt-out too. This trip next month should be a nice break for all three of us, even if I can’t help wishing we were taking it someplace else.”
“It’s kinda sad that we’re dreading it so much. Sometimes I wonder if that’ll ever change. I want to be able to walk down the street in my hometown with both of you, without everyone staring at us like we’re a gang of axe-murderers.”
“Don’t hold your breath. Funny thing is, if you and Eric had asked me to move back to the States a couple of years ago, I probably would’ve said yes—but now, no way. I won’t have our child growing up in such a homophobic, backward society.”
His first relaxed, sincere smile of the day spread slowly across his face. “I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah, but I never get tired of hearing it.” Leaning in, she captured his mouth in a sweet kiss. “Look, if you’re still feeling stressed once the tour’s over, why don’t you take the rest of the summer off? You don’t have to turn in your next manuscript till the end of the year, right?”
“But if I don’t start on it till the end of August, I’ll probably give myself a stroke getting it done in time. I’m not a lightning-fast writer like you.”
“You know I’ll help you. In fact, it might be better for both of us if we went back to being co-authors. We can divvy up the labor so neither of us gets too wiped out.” She shrugged. “It’s an idea, anyway.”
“I’ll think about it. And now,” he added, his smile widening into a wicked leer, “let’s stop talking, okay?”
And with that, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her on top to straddle him. They were both covered in so much slippery sunscreen, she nearly slid off, but he caught her just in time. Two huge hands gripped her hips as she lifted up to graze her wet cunt over his cock. He was already so stiff, the tip slipped inside her without any help.
He tried to yank her the rest of the way down, but despite her own delicious shudders of anticipation, she shook her head. Sometimes teasing was the best part. “I thought you wanted to get some rest.”
“Fuck resting, I’d rather fuck you. In fact,” he growled, “I want you up on your hands and knees right now. So move.”
Whenever he used that tone, Ally knew she was in for the ride of her life—and no way was she about to argue with that. She’d started giggling so hard it took her longer than usual to scramble into the proper position, but from the way his mouth twitched with barely-restrained amusement of his own, she doubted Nick cared. The playful side of his nature was one of the things she loved most about him. He used to be so shy, rarely initiating sex, but over the years—to Eric’s delight, and hers—he’d learned to embrace his natural dominance.
Nick and Eric were two halves of the same whole, each other’s yin and yang. The perfect boyfriend and the perfect husband—and yet somehow she’d managed to snag them both. To this day, she had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky.
His hands skimmed over her skin, lightly and gently enough to tickle; Ally had to bury her face in the chaise cushions to get her nervous tittering under control. Then, as he pushed slowly inside her, the sounds in her throat deepened into moans. When he started thrusting, she twisted her fingers in the cushions and held on.
Eric dashed into his office for a brief respite between meetings. He’d been going full-bore since he’d arrived shortly after nine, with barely a moment to catch his breath or grab more than a sip or two of coffee. Fortunately for him, Nina, his ever-efficient assistant, possessed prodigious mind-reading powers; there on his desk sat his favorite garlic and shallot egg-white omelette, still steaming-hot from the executive dining room’s five-star kitchen, a small bowl of melon and mixed berries, and a fresh stainless steel carafe of strong black coffee.
He attacked his meal with ravenous abandon, sliding down in his overstuffed leather desk chair as he allowed relaxation to sluice over him for a few precious minutes. Sitting here gazing at his prized Monet seascape usually centered him and helped him to regain focus, but today it did little to soothe his jangled nerves.
Eric couldn’t recall the last time a business deal had made him so nervous, but this was no simple exchange of money for services or commodities; the entire future of Courtland Industries hung in the balance. The global economic crisis of several years earlier had taken a brutal toll on the agricultural products industry, and CI had only just started recovering its market share when another, deeper recession hit in 2014. Profits in the US, South America and Europe had remained flat, leaving Eric no alternative but to try to expand into the volatile but potentially lucrative Japanese, Chinese and Russian markets—but for that, he needed an infusion of outside capital. CI’s half-depleted coffers couldn’t handle it alone.
So he’d spent the entire morning pressing the flesh with prospective investors and smiling until he thought his cheeks would crack, with nothing to show for it except a few polite nods and promises of return phone calls within a week or two. Eric knew a brush-off when he heard it, but hearing it six times in one morning had dealt a serious blow to his ego. He didn’t usually have so much trouble persuading people to part with their money.
His appetite suddenly gone, he pushed his plate away and was just about to reach for the phone to make a quick call home, when his intercom buzzed. “Signore Orsini is waiting for you in the boardroom,” Nina announced in flawless, lightly accented English.
Eric stole a glance at his watch. Ten minutes early. Damn! But on the other hand, maybe this was an auspicious sign. Flavio Orsini was one of Italy’s most successful industrialists, and, unlike Eric’s previous meetings this morning, Orsini had requested to see him. Maybe this time he wouldn’t have to work so hard to put over his proposal. If nothing else, he thought, rising with a sigh, it’d give him a good opportunity to practice his Italian.
He was taken aback when he spied two men sitting at the far end of the boardroom table. Orsini, a rotund yet dapper middle-aged man in a dark suit with a bright blue pocket square and gleaming Bruno Magli brogues, shot to his feet with a smile, extending his hand. The other man, however, remained seated until Eric’s full attention settled on him at last. A long moment passed before recognition set in—but when it did, Eric had to grip the back of the nearest chair to steady himself. His entire body wobbled, and threatened to turn to water.
“How are you, Eric?” Branford Crane rose slowly, favoring Eric with a sardonic twist of his lips that remained unsettlingly familiar, even after eighteen years. He was grayer now, but still powerfully built, his steely eyes every bit as cold and piercing as Eric remembered. There was a time in his life when he’d worshipped Bran, as both a business mentor and a commanding, brutal Dominant. He’d learned a great deal from the older man, until the night Bran pushed Eric far past any reasonable limit.
They hadn’t laid eyes on each other since, and Eric would’ve been perfectly happy never doing so again. Even now, anger boiled up inside him, the old, painful memories bubbling to the surface. The last thing he wanted to do was shake Bran’s hand, but with Orsini standing there, he couldn’t very well refuse.
“I’m doing well, thank you for asking,” Eric replied, schooling himself to a calm, neutral tone, though he practically had to grit his teeth to do it. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I usually take a week or two off in Rome every spring. In fact, I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths before.”
Great! Now he’d be looking over his shoulder every time he came to town. “I don’t spend much time here in the city. These days it’s much easier to telecommute. Unless, of course, I have a meeting I can’t get out of.” He bared his teeth for emphasis. “I’m still not quite sure why you’re here.”
“I was visiting with my old friend Flavio at his office this morning, and he mentioned this appointment. I thought I’d tag along to help translate.”
Not that Eric believed that explanation for a second. “I’ve lived here in Italy for ten years. My Italian might not be as fluent as a native’s, but I doubt Signore Orsini will have any problem understanding me. And now,” he added in that language, turning to Orsini with a smile so brittle he feared his face would shatter, “shall we get down to business?”
Since Eric had already been through this particular spiel several times today, he managed to cruise through the bulk of the meeting on auto-pilot. But this time, luckily, it didn’t appear to be a wasted effort. Orsini seemed intrigued by Eric’s plan—or at least, interested enough to ask more than the usual cursory questions. He accepted an Italian-language copy of Eric’s prospectus with a promise to get back in touch once he’d discussed it with his CFO, then left.
Bran, however, remained where he was, studying the blue-period Picasso directly across from him. Finally he flashed Eric a grin that reminded him of the shark in Jaws—right before it chomped Robert Shaw in half. “I’m in.”
Eric wasn’t sure whether to laugh or call security to throw him out. He settled for the former. “You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I am. I’ve wanted to take Crane BioGen into the Asian markets for years. It’s a great opportunity to boost the potential profits while halving the risk. I’m surprised you don’t have investors lined up around the block.”
“Most of them don’t have the capital.”
“And where were you planning to get your share? I thought most of your budget was tied up in research and development.”
“It is, but I’ve got a few projects I can suspend for a year or so if I need to.” He let out a short, bark-like laugh as the absurdity of what he’d just said hit him. “I don’t know why I’m even discussing this with you. Do you honestly think I’ll ever work with you again?”
“Water under the bridge, Eric. I thought I’d taught you to leave your personal feelings out of business.”
“That was before you pimped me out to Martin West so he’d sell you that block of stock you wanted.” God, the memory of that awful, degrading night still stung. Hard to believe he’d ever done something so vile, but back then his father had ground him so thoroughly under his heavy, contemptuous heel, Eric’s self-esteem was virtually non-existent. He’d been so hungry for approval, he’d done anything Bran asked, regardless of how much it disgusted him.
Well, that was then. He could see what Bran was trying to do, but it wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t falling for Bran’s dominance games this time. Grabbing his laptop and portfolio, Eric headed for the door. “I’ll have Nina show you out. And Bran,” he added firmly, one hand closing over the knob, “just to be clear, no way am I doing this deal with you. I’d rather see the company in bankruptcy.”
Bran just smiled. “I see you haven’t lost your fondness for the dramatic gesture. It’s really rather touching.”
“Don’t show up here again. I mean it.”
“Fine.” He stood up, smoothing the front of his Armani suit. “But believe me when I say, Eric, you may very well get what you’ve wished for.”
Eric’s eyes locked on Bran’s, but all that reflected back at him was an insatiable desire to win at any cost. Eric remembered that look; at one time, he’d actually admired it. Now, it turned him instantly to ice.
* * * *
Eric arrived home late Wednesday afternoon, looking five times more stressed than when he’d left. Ally frowned the moment she saw him, led him over to the living room couch, and mixed him a double scotch. He eyed the glass listlessly before taking a sip, then spent a long moment studying the plush Turkish throw-rug. When Nick ambled in a few minutes later, he and Ally exchanged a look.
“That bad, huh?” he asked with his usual lopsided grin.
“I should’ve stayed home,” Eric replied flatly, draining his glass in one gulp. “There were only two investors that were even interested, and they can’t commit enough to get the deal off the ground. I suppose I’ll have to try my contacts in New York.”
“Good thing we’re heading there in another month,” Ally supplied.
“Which brings me to my next topic of discussion. How do you feel about bumping up our departure date to next week?”
“It doesn’t give us a whole lot of time to get ready, but...” She shot Nick a quick glance; he seemed a bit surprised, but so far wasn’t voicing any objections. “I can work on the new book just as well there as here.”
“And it’ll give me a chance to spend some extra time with my mom before I have to leave on the promo tour,” Nick added.
“Good,” Eric said, slumping back in his seat in obvious relief.
“What, did you think we’d say no?” Ally asked.
“Well, I know you don’t like having a monkey-wrench thrown into your plans at the last minute.”
“No, Eric, that’s you,” Nick pointed out with a gentle smile, reaching over to give Eric’s arm a squeeze. “But nice try, anyway.”
Luciana called them in to dinner a few minutes later. She’d fixed Eric’s favorite Caesar salad, veal piccata with mushroom polenta and a delicious fresh fruit tart for dessert, but Eric merely picked at it, preferring instead to sip at a large glass of red wine and stare into his plate.
At last, after clearing her throat had proven a dismal failure, Ally leaned in to snap her fingers right in front of his face. “You alive in there?”
He jerked to attention as if she’d woken him out of a sound sleep. “Sorry,” he murmured a touch sheepishly. “I suppose I’m still a bit preoccupied.”
“Eric, tell us the truth,” Nick said softly. “Is the company in danger of going under?”
“I’m not about to let that happen. But if things don’t improve soon, I’ll have to cut health and retirement benefits, maybe even start another round of layoffs. I don’t want to do that to my employees. They’ve suffered enough.”
“God, Eric,” Ally breathed. “We had no idea it was this bad.”
“No reason you should. It’s my headache, not yours.”
Nick shook his head. “But we’re your partners. You should confide in us.”
“About most things, I agree. But there’s no point burdening you with something you have no control over.” He let out a short, bitter chuckle. “And apparently, something I have no control over either.”
And there was the problem, Ally realized. At work, Eric was used to being in control. He made sweeping decisions with the stroke of a pen every day, and if the board gave him guff about it, he usually didn’t have too much trouble persuading them he was right. But facing a situation like this with no cut-and-dried answers, where he had to depend on other people... that truly scared him.
“I’ve spent the past two days begging people for money,” he went on, actually shuddering this time. “And I loathed every fucking minute of it.”
“Eric, c’mon...” Nick murmured. “Quit beating yourself up over this. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
“I wish I had some of your faith. Mine’s in rather short supply right now.”
They took their coffee on the terrace, sitting at a small table beside the pool. It was a fine, warm night, ripe with the promise of even sultrier summer evenings ahead. The nape of Ally’s neck was already dappled with sweat, and they’d only been out here a few minutes. Eric still wore his business suit, so she could only imagine how sticky he felt.
As if on cue, he tossed back his last mouthful of coffee and stood up, stripping off his tie and jacket. Then, to her wide-eyed surprise, his shoes, socks, shirt, slacks and boxers followed suit. “It’s time I cooled off,” he smirked, striding to the edge of the pool, diving into the deep end.
He swam a couple of lazy laps, each expert stroke cutting deftly through the cool water, before rolling onto his back to float. Ally expected Nick to strip off his own clothes and join him, but when she gave him an inquiring look, he just shrugged and said, “He’s had a rough day. Let him have his private time.”
So they moved to the double-chaise, stretching out together to enjoy the rare sight of Eric relaxing. Ally had nearly drifted off by the time she heard the slap of wet feet coming nearer, and then Eric plopped down on the edge of the chaise, still dripping wet. She giggled, scooting over to make room for him.
When he leaned over to capture Nick’s mouth in a rough kiss, she gasped in delight—and again, in startled arousal when he kissed her in turn. The shock of his water-chilled skin brushing hers gave her a jolt, though far from an unpleasant one. His hair rained droplets all over her face and throat, and he bent to lick them off. Nick was doing the same thing with the water clinging to Eric’s shoulder; his eyes met Ally’s, and they traded conspiratorial grins.
Sadly, the chaise was not big enough to handle an impromptu three-person orgy; when Eric tried to stretch out beside Ally, he nearly slipped off the edge and tumbled to the ground.
“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, before one of us ends up breaking something?” she suggested, rising to hold out both hands to them.
They followed like eager puppies being led to their favorite playground. For a moment she considered letting them undress her, but when she saw them already making out down at the foot of the bed, she decided she’d rather not wait that long. She stripped quickly and rolled into bed, sighing at the feel of the cool cotton sheets on her sweaty skin. Nick and Eric were so wrapped up in each other, they didn’t pay her a bit of attention, and that was fine with her—for now.
She’d never had a kink for voyeurism until the three of them had gotten together. But her men were so fucking hot when they fucked, how could she help but watch? Not that she’d ever had any problems getting aroused or reaching orgasm—for which she counted herself incredibly lucky—but the sight of Nick and Eric together never failed to crank her libido into overdrive.
Eric slid to his knees on the floor, licking the rosy crown of Nick’s cock before sucking it into his mouth. Ally groaned, fingers sliding between her thighs to diddle her slippery, throbbing clit. God, she had a fucking river running down there, and nothing to fill the void except her own entirely inadequate digits. Time to bring the party home.
“Hey, remember me?” she murmured, crooking a finger in their direction.
Happily, they didn’t need her to draw them a picture. And luckily, there was nothing she loved more than being pounced on by two men who’d just spent the last few minutes working themselves into a furious state of arousal, and were now intent on doing the same with her. She giggled, gasped and sighed as their hands Braille-read every inch of her, their mouths trailing behind, hungrily licking the salt from her skin.
But when Eric slid down to his favorite spot and started puffing warm breath on her clit, it felt as if a million lit matches were flicking on inside her. His mad oral sex skills never failed to leave her in exhausted, multi-orgasmic awe. Every time they fucked, he dove straight for her cunt—and every time, it sent her up in flames.
Nick was no slouch either, but his lush lips were put to better use in extended makeout sessions, with a velvet tongue that never got tired of teasing. She remembered his endearingly clumsy technique from a few years ago, and marveled at how far he’d come. Of course, under Eric’s and her tutelage, he couldn’t help but become a superb lover—sensitive and considerate, but also commanding when the situation called for it.
And tonight, she reckoned, that was exactly what Eric needed.
Winding her fingers in Nick’s curls, she lifted him up and away from her, and whispered, “Why don’t you give him a good fucking, just for me?”
He blinked, staring down at her, his green eyes dilated with lust. “Don’t you think he—”
“Don’t argue, just do it.” Flinging out one hand in the direction of the bedside table, she grabbed the tube of lubricant sitting there and pressed it into Nick’s palm.
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, scooting down to where Eric was and moving behind him, rubbing one huge, gentle hand across his husband’s shoulder, soothing and steadying him. Eric shot a quizzical glance at Ally, but only stopped licking her for the briefest moment.
“That’s right, keep doing what you’ve started—both of you,” she added, with a sharp look aimed right at Nick.
The best part of her current position was the vantage point. Levering herself up on her elbows gave her a perfect view of Nick kissing and licking his way down Eric’s sleekly-arched back, and also let her study Eric’s conflicted reactions as he tried to concentrate on giving her pleasure at the same time. He managed to keep doing a good job of it till Nick reached the twin globes of Eric’s ass and parted them gently, then proceeded to rim the living hell out of him.
Eric’s head popped up like burnt breakfast toast—which was a good thing, Ally reasoned, since he probably would’ve bitten her otherwise. In truth, she didn’t mind; she was getting as much pleasure from watching Eric’s face twisting into blissful contortions as Nick tongued him, then got him ready for the main event with a pair of generously lubed fingers.
By the time Nick slicked himself and pushed inside Eric with a soul-deep gasp, she knew neither of them would last long. Eric’s cock was already standing straight up, dripping with moisture at the tip, and he hadn’t even touched himself. Ally scooted down until Eric was poised directly over her, then grabbed him by the waist and yanked, groaning as he entered her.
Nick panted like an animal, draping himself heavily over Eric’s back, teeth sunk deep into his shoulder. Every thrust of his cock into Eric’s ass resonated through Eric and into her. It was like being fucked by both of them at once. Eric was moving too, frantic and desperate, eyes wide open, locked onto hers.
Orgasm mowed them down like a freight train, leaving behind a trail of cries and tangled limbs. Eventually the world righted itself, with one man curled up on either side of her, both so worn out they could barely move. Which, she reckoned, was exactly as it should be.
“Thank you,” Eric rasped a few seconds before sweet oblivion claimed him.
And that was the beauty of a decade of marriage. She didn’t need to ask why. She already knew.
They flew into JFK on the Courtland Industries jet the following Wednesday. Weariness coupled with grim despair dragged at Nick’s heart the moment they emerged from the gate to face a throng of angry protesters, holding up signs reading, “No place in the US for perverts and adulterers!” and “Marriage = One man, One woman!” Evidently the paparazzi photos of the three of them walking hand in hand out of the Paris registry office had hit the US tabloids.
They’d faced the same sort of outcry back when their relationship first made the airwaves several years earlier, but at least this time they managed to make it into the customs office and then out to their waiting limo without getting pelted with bottles of urine. They made the drive into Manhattan in silence, slumped against the plush limousine cushions. Ally had her head on Eric’s shoulder, drifting in a woozy half-doze. Tiny, tense creases were already forming on Eric’s forehead and between his eyes. Nick couldn’t help starting to worry about both of them.
A smaller group of protesters was gathered in front of the Courtland Towers, but luckily, building security appeared to have control of the situation. Eric roused himself from his reverie as the limo pulled up and the doorman came forward to open the door. “C’mon,” he said, pasting on his patented ex-senator’s grin, “let’s show them we have nothing to be ashamed of.”
They piled out of the limo and joined hands for the walk to the building’s front door. The crowd hurled insults at them, but Eric held his head high, tightening his grip on Nick’s hand. “They don’t matter,” Eric murmured. “Don’t look at them. Don’t let them have the satisfaction.”
Once they’d passed through the building’s security gate and were safely inside the lobby, Eric threw his arms around both of them, kissing Ally, and then Nick, in turn. The crowd outside started shouting even more vociferously, but since the front doors were three-inch soundproofed security glass, the three of them were spared from listening to any more of their invective.
“Another hurdle cleared.” Eric sighed.
“Let’s get upstairs,” Ally said, wrapping her arm around Nick’s, leaning heavily on him. “I’m about ready to drop.”
The building’s chief of security insisted on riding up in the private elevator with them to the penthouse and escorting them to the front door. He wanted to go inside for a walk-through as well, but Eric assured him there was no need. Nick’s legs nearly went out from under him as the three of them finally staggered into the living room. It looked the same as when they’d been here at Christmas—overstuffed leather couch and armchairs, thick white carpet smelling strongly of fresh shampoo, the huge, curved picture window overlooking the Hudson.
It was closing in on eight in the evening local time, just late enough for thousands of city lights to start blinking on in the distance. Nick remembered the first time he’d set eyes on this view; he’d told Eric it was as if they were looking down from heaven. Now he knew that behind every one of those lights was someone who hated him.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he announced, turning and heading for his room without even waiting for Eric or Ally to respond. Kicking the door shut behind him, he yanked off his clothes, tossing them onto the bed. His nose wrinkled as his shirt floated by, reeking of travel sweat. The driver hadn’t brought up their luggage yet, but there was a closet full of clean clothes left over from previous visits, including Nick’s favorite old flannel robe. He pulled it from its hanger, grabbed a pair of pajamas from the bureau and lumbered gratefully into the bathroom.
The hot water revived his appetite more than the rest of him. The seductive sight of his own bed almost did him in, but then his hollow stomach started snarling in earnest, challenging him to ignore it at his own peril. So he plodded into the kitchen, where he found Eric and Ally sitting at the table wrapped in their own bathrobes, nibbling on egg-white omelettes and toast.
“I told the housekeeper we wouldn’t need her till tomorrow,” Eric explained in response to Nick’s quizzical glance. “But she left us a fully-stocked kitchen. Want me to whip you up an omelette?”
While Eric picking up a frying pan was a headline-worthy occurrence these days, Nick wasn’t in the mood for eggs. Rummaging in the fridge, he found a package of assorted cold cuts and a loaf of fresh, sliced sourdough. He slapped together a quick sandwich, grabbed a bottle of water and plopped down at the table directly across from Eric.
They stuffed their faces in blissful silence until Eric took the last bite of his dinner, then pushed his plate away. “I need to stay in the city through the weekend, but if the two of you want to head upstate sooner than that, feel free. Estellita should have the lake house ready for you.”
Nick frowned. “Didn’t she mention at Christmastime that she was planning to retire?”
“The woman practically raised me. She’ll always make an exception on my account.”
Ally shot Eric a half-bemused look, then sighed. “As much as I’d love to settle in for a long spate of writing up at the lake, I’m too damn tired to leave before Friday.”
“And I need to drop in on my editor tomorrow,” Nick said, suppressing a sigh of his own. “He wants me to meet with the publicity department to hammer out the final book tour schedule. Fun all around,” he added with a roll of his eyes.
“In that case,” Eric continued, “we might as well take care of a couple other things I’ve been thinking about.” He paused for a long sip of coffee before pressing on. “I think we should all have living wills and advance medical directives drawn up. And Nick, you also need a will and living trust.”
“Why?” Nick asked, uncomfortable and slightly irritated that Eric was even bringing this up. Jesus, didn’t he have enough on his plate right now? “We’re residents of Italy. We’ve already got all the pertinent paperwork filed there. I don’t see why we need to do it here too.”
“Because we still spend several weeks a year here, and we’re all getting to the age where anything could happen. My heart’s in good shape now, but that may not always be the case. And I don’t want you barred from my hospital room due to an ignorant staff member’s bigotry.”
“Sure, okay. Whatever you want,” Nick replied tersely, scooping up his plate to put it in the sink. All he wanted was for this conversation to be over with now. “Have your lawyer draw up the papers, and I’ll sign them.”
“There’s one more thing.” Eric flicked at the handle of his mug with one finger, staring momentarily down at the table. “Once the baby’s born, I want a DNA test. We don’t need to know what the results are. We can have them put in a sealed envelope and leave them there unless there’s a medical emergency. But I also want to have guardianship papers drawn up for you, Nick, in case something should happen to me.”
Oh, now he’d heard enough. Nick’s head was nearly exploding. He couldn’t listen to this anymore. “For Christ’s sake, Eric, stop being so fucking dramatic! Nothing’s going to happen to you!” And with that, he turned and stomped back to his room, shutting the door with a bang.
He’d expected Eric to come knocking within five minutes. It took him three and a half. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Nick muttered as his husband stepped inside.
“Nick, c’mon. We have to deal with these matters sooner or later—and I’d rather not wait until Allison’s in labor,” Eric added with a weak smile. He dropped down on the edge of the bed beside Nick, reaching over to grasp his hand. “What if the unthinkable happens, and Allison and I both die while we’re here in the States? If we don’t designate you the legal guardian, you could be left with no rights at all to your own child.”
“And what about you?” Nick asked hollowly. “All this talk of DNA tests is fine, but what if Ally has a dark-haired baby? Are you really gonna give a shit about all the legalities then?”
Eric flinched, going the tiniest bit pale. It might’ve been convincing if he hadn’t hesitated a second too long. “A-Are you saying I wouldn’t love this child just as much if it actually turned out to be yours?”
“I don’t know, Eric. But I remember how we tried to discuss adoption with you after Ally miscarried, and you wouldn’t hear of it. You didn’t want to use a surrogate either. You’re the one who pushed for her to keep trying to get pregnant. This pregnancy’s a huge risk to her health, but I don’t even think you care.”
“Of course I care. She’s my wife.”
“And lucky you—you can call her that no matter what country you’re in.”
“Oh.” Realization dawned at last. “So that’s why you’ve been in such an unpleasant mood since we got here.”
“In Italy, I’m a legally married man. Here, I’m the other man. So yeah, I guess my mood is a bit unpleasant. Yours would be too, if everything you are could be erased just by crossing a border.”
“What do you think we’ve been talking about all evening? I’m trying to fix it, Nick. Give me a little time, all right?”
“So what’re you gonna do, wave your magic wand and make the government scramble to legalize our marriage? Pardon me if I don’t hold my breath.”
“I don’t make the laws,” Eric replied wearily, getting up and heading for the door. “And if you can’t understand that—”
“I do understand, Eric. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.” Nick tried to look Eric in the eye, but he couldn’t. In fact, his own eyes were starting to sting. “As long as we stay in the States, I’m the one in our relationship with no legal standing. I know it’s not your fault. But I also know there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”
Ally rented a black Lexus SUV for her and Nick to drive up to the lake house on Friday. Eric tried to browbeat them into taking the limo, until she pointed out that that would be tantamount to painting a target on their backs. They ended up compromising when Eric insisted that their security detail escort them safely beyond the city limits before turning back, leaving them on their own at last.
It wasn’t until they hit the open highway that Nick loosened his death grip on the wheel, letting out a relieved sigh as he reached over to give Ally’s hand a squeeze. “That’s the first easy breath I’ve taken since we got here.”
“Gee, I hadn’t noticed,” she retorted, in a feeble attempt to conceal how worried she was. He’d been stressed enough about this trip before they’d left Italy, but in the past couple of days it had ratcheted into high gear. And Nick wasn’t normally the stressed-out type, which only served to heighten her concern. “But I think I know what you mean. I’m not used to city noise anymore. Between that and the jet lag, I haven’t been sleeping too well.”
“Me either. Not that that’s a surprise.”
“I heard you in your office around three last night. It would’ve done you a lot more good if you’d come and climbed in bed with us.”
“After the discussion Eric and I had the night we arrived, I wasn’t sure he’d want me to.”
Somehow it always came back to Eric. Ally figured she should be used to it by now. “He’s not mad at you, he’s just preoccupied with his own stuff right now. You know how he gets.”
“After twenty years, I should.” He sighed again. “And I know he’s just trying to look out for us, but all that legal talk the other night rattled the hell out of me. I resent that we have to go through this crap in the first place.”
“In a few years, it probably won’t even be an issue anymore. But until then, we need to do everything in our power to protect ourselves and the baby.”
“I know that. But I still hate feeling like a criminal in my own country. And I really hate dreading coming home.” He banged his palms against the wheel, tapping out an angry, toneless tattoo. “It’s different for you and Eric. You don’t have any family left. But those people holding up those signs calling us adulterers and perverts are the same people my mom has to face every time she goes to the bank or the grocery store. I hate that she has to put up with that.”
“Me too,” Ally murmured, blinking back a sudden stinging sensation at the reminder of her widowed father’s death from a stroke five years earlier. She would’ve gladly stopped visiting the States after that, if not for their agreement to travel together, or not at all. They’d endured too many lengthy separations at the beginning of their relationship that had nearly succeeded in tearing them apart. “I love your mom, you know that. Wonder how she’ll take the news that she’s about to become a grandma?”
“Are you kidding? She’s been waiting to give us that box of my old baby clothes for years now.” Instantly, he bit his lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of—”
“It’s okay.” God, he was so adorable when he got flustered. She flashed him a comforting smile. “I can talk about the miscarriage without falling to pieces. To be honest, I knew there was something wrong with the pregnancy before the doctor even confirmed it. Remember how sick I was, with the migraines and the morning sickness that lasted twenty-four-seven? But this time, I feel wonderful. I guess conceiving naturally made all the difference.”
“It’s still kinda hard to believe it’s actually happening, after trying for so long.”
“Then you’re really happy about it, and not just putting on a brave face for Eric’s and my benefit?”
He shot her a sharp glance. “Of course I’m happy about it. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, I know we’d planned to have two, but this time was such an unexpected miracle, I doubt it’ll happen again. So, if this baby turns out to be Eric’s, you won’t be too disappointed?”
“Absolutely not,” he replied, with the biggest grin she’d gotten out of him in days. “Either way, I’m gonna be a daddy—and I can’t wait.”
* * * *
They reached the lake house by mid-afternoon. Ally went downstairs to the kitchen to let Estellita know they’d arrived, while Nick carried their bags inside. His footsteps echoed sharply in the empty foyer, his gaze drawn upward to Eric’s favorite Picasso, hanging over the stairs. It’d been part of Eric’s mother’s Impressionist and Cubist collection, which Eric still owned and treasured. Nick couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Eric, growing up in this oversized museum of a house, with nothing for company except his books and CDs. No wonder he’d built a hard shell around himself to protect against the loneliness. Even now, after ten years of happiness together, there were times when Nick and Ally still had to marshal all their resources to break through.
Nick took the stairs two at a time, depositing Ally’s bags in the master bedroom, and his own the next door down. He was just turning around to head downstairs when Ally appeared in the doorway.
“Estellita’s planning to serve dinner at six, unless you don’t think you can wait that long,” she said.
“That’s fine. It’ll give me a chance to run over and see my mom first.”
“Mind if I come with?”
“Um...” He’d hoped to break the news of their blessed event by himself, but when he saw the excited gleam in Ally’s eyes, he didn’t have the heart to say no. “Sure. I know she’ll be glad to see you.”
They climbed back in the Lexus, bouncing along the ten miles of country road curving around Seneca Lake. Nick had grown up on a small dairy farm not far from Seneca Falls. His mother still lived in the house there, although the farm was no longer in operation. She would’ve lost the place altogether after Nick’s father’s death had Eric not bought the entire parcel of land, then given her the house as a gift, free and clear of all debt. It was just one of many kind things Eric had done for her over the years.
Nick swung onto the private road leading up to the farm, frowning before he’d gone half the distance. He counted three or four fence posts listing in the mud, along with some straggly tree branches that should’ve been cut back at the start of spring. Ally gasped as they pulled up before the two-story yellow frame house, obviously every bit as shocked as Nick by the clogged rain gutters and overgrown rose bushes that led up the front path.
She let out a long whistle once they’d climbed out of the car to take a closer look. “My God, how did she let the place fall into such a state? I thought she’d hired a handyman to take care of things for her.”
“So did I.” Christ, just what he needed! And to think this was the one part of the trip he’d been looking forward to. With a sigh, he slammed the car door shut and followed Ally up the path, both walking sideways to avoid being caught on stray thorns. His mother usually left the kitchen door unlocked, so he entered without knocking.
At first glance, the inside of the house was nowhere near as bad as the outside. Then Nick spied the caked-on dirt and grease all over the stove, interspersed with ugly streaks where she’d tried to wipe it away, but only succeeded in turning it into a bigger mess. Pots and pans that once hung on pegs above the stove now sat on the center island. The sweet-sour smell of food about to go bad smacked him in the face when he opened the fridge.
Ally’s gentle hand on his arm drew him into the living room, where his mother sat dozing in front of the TV, blaring Oprah loud enough to wake the neighbors—if she’d had any that were closer than ten miles away. A thin coating of dust clung to everything, including the coffee table, with its teetering stack of women’s magazines that threatened to spill onto the floor.
“Mom?” he whispered, reaching out to stroke her arm gently, so as not to startle her. Her eyelids twitched, then opened, then blinked blankly. “It’s me, Nick. And Ally,” he added, pulling Ally into his mother’s sight line. “Are you okay?”
It took several long moments before what she saw registered, but when it did, it was as if a veil had dropped. “Nick! I wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow.” Scrambling around, she finally found her glasses, in her lap the whole time. “I can’t see a damn thing without these anymore.”
Then she tried to get up, but after three abortive attempts, Nick grabbed her firmly by the wrist and hauled her to her feet. It felt like a matchstick covered in tissue paper. “Y-You’ve lost weight since Christmas,” he remarked, wishing he could take it back the second it was out of his mouth.
“Oh, probably. I don’t cook as much as I used to. Not much point, when there’s just me to feed.” She held out her arms to him, and Nick threw his around her, though not nearly as tightly as he wanted to. Her ribs and clavicle poked him, and her hair, which had gone completely gray not long after his father died, had thinned so much, it barely covered her scalp. He could feel her trembling, unsteady on her feet even while he was holding her.
Jesus, what the hell had happened? How could she have declined so sharply in so short a time?
“I-I’ve got some good news,” he whispered, holding up his left hand to show her his ring. “We were married in Paris last month. Eric’s my husband now, and Ally’s my wife, for real.”
His mother’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t believe it. You’ve wanted this for so long, all three of you...” She hugged Nick again before reaching out to Ally to do the same. “I’m so glad I lived to see this, but... speaking of Eric, where is he?”
“He’s got some work to take care of in the city,” Nick explained. “He’ll be up on Monday or Tuesday at the latest.”
“There’s another bit of good news,” Ally added, shooting Nick a glance, silently asking if it was okay. He nodded.
But she didn’t get a chance to say anything—Nick’s mother beat her to the punch. “You’re pregnant.”
Ally’s jaw almost hit her chest. “H-How did you know? I’m not even showing yet!”
“You’re such a skinny little thing, dear, every ounce tells a story. You’ve gained weight in your face, which is where a pregnant woman shows it first. How far along are you?”
“A few weeks. We left on this trip in such a hurry, I didn’t have a chance to see my doctor yet. But the home pregnancy test confirmed it.”
“So I’m a mother-in-law and a soon-to-be grandmother, all in the same day. This is cause for celebration.” She beamed. “I made a carrot cake yesterday afternoon. Let me go put on some coffee, and we can all have a slice.”
Nick’s and Ally’s eyes met again, for one incredibly long, panicked moment. No way was he about to let his mother fix them anything in that kitchen—she’d probably end up either falling and killing herself or poisoning all of them.
“Tell you what,” he replied, pasting on a too-wide grin, “why don’t you and Ally sit down and have a nice long talk, and I’ll make the coffee?”
* * * *
They stayed much longer than they’d planned, finally returning to the lake house to face a reheated dinner. Ally wasn’t terribly hungry, but she forced herself to eat enough to quiet her rumbling belly, then coaxed Nick into crawling in bed with her, even if they were both too wiped out to do anything but spoon and kiss each other good night.
She was about to nod off when Nick murmured, “Would you be disappointed if I decided to spend the weekend at my mom’s?”
“N-No, of course not.” She rolled over to look at him. “There’s obviously a lot that needs doing over there. I’m just sorry that you have to spend your vacation time doing it.”
“I don’t mind. The exercise’ll do me good, but...” He sighed. “I guess I’ll have to find her a new handyman. Although I still don’t understand how she let the house get so rundown.”
“Nick, I don’t think she’s gone outside in days, maybe even weeks. And you saw how dirty the place was. She used to keep it so spotless, you could eat off the floor.” She didn’t want to be the one to say it, but it had to be said. Sucking in a breath, she pressed on. “She can’t live alone anymore. She’s so frail, and her vision’s so bad, it’s only a matter of time before she hurts herself.”
“I know,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her. “But I’m not looking forward to telling her that.”
* * * *
Eric slumped in his desk chair, gazing dully at the Manhattan skyline. The penthouse was eerily quiet with Nick and Ally gone. It left him alone with his thoughts, which was never a good thing.
He’d hoped to make significant progress on the Asian deal once he arrived in New York, but the last two days had been gobbled up dealing with annoying administrative matters. That’s what he got, he supposed, for only showing up at corporate headquarters once every six months. Today, however, he’d managed to squeeze in a luncheon meeting with some potential investors, albeit with the same disappointing results as before: a few polite nibbles, but no real interest.
Eric couldn’t understand it. These were businessmen who’d invested with him before, and he’d always delivered a healthy return on their money. He’d done his homework, so he knew they had the capital. Why the hell couldn’t he get a single one of them to write him a damn check?
A stack of invitations to various galas, soirées and charity events sat on the corner of his desk. He flipped through them listlessly, his heart plummeting. Putting on a tuxedo and chatting up a roomful of people who wouldn’t otherwise give him the time of day was hardly his favorite thing to do on a Saturday night, but it seemed he had no other choice. Potential investors clearly weren’t going to flock to him.
God, he wished Nick and Ally hadn’t left. Right now he wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and be enfolded in their loving arms. Gone only a few hours, and already he ached with missing them.
He reached for the phone and hit the speed-dial for Ally’s cell. It rang four times before a fuzzy-voiced “H’lo?” echoed over the line.
“Did I wake you?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s not even nine o’clock.”
“W-We’ve had a rather trying day,” his wife replied, with an accompanying rustle of bed linens. “I was hoping to catch up on my sleep here in the quiet countryside, and maybe even get some work done tomorrow.”
“Sounds heavenly. Believe me, I’d much rather be there than here.”
“Tough day dueling with the captains of industry?”
“Let’s just say, I’ve been beaten to a draw more times than I’d care to admit.” He sighed. “Is Nick there?”
“Yeah, but he’s already face-down in his pillow.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to suppress a sharp pang of disappointment. “Best not to wake him, then.”
“I could give him a message tomorrow morning, if you want.”
“You could tell him I apologize for the last couple of days, if he’s willing to listen.”
“He knows you’re sorry, Eric,” she murmured. “But it still wouldn’t hurt for him to hear it from you. He’s had a rough day. His mom’s not doing that well.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, the usual aging-parent issues. It’s just a bad time for it to be happening, right before Nick’s tour. But I guess where this stuff’s concerned, there’s never a good time.”
Eric couldn’t help remembering his own mother, dead in her early fifties from the same heart condition that had caused Eric’s heart attack ten years ago. He’d tried to help her battle it, but, worn down by a history of alcoholism and drug abuse, she couldn’t summon the emotional strength to do so. Even now, eighteen years on from Eric’s initial loss, the grief still hit him, deep and overwhelming as ever. He would’ve given anything to have her for a few more years, take care of her in her old age.
No point wishing for the impossible. But at least he could help Nick do what he himself was unable to. “I’ll be up late Monday, I promise. We’ll get this figured out.”
“We’ll both be happy to see you.” She stifled a yawn. “And now, I’d better hit the sack before it hits me.”
“Good advice,” he replied with a tiny smile, and hung up to take it himself.
Nick spent the bulk of his Saturday morning cleaning his mother’s rain gutters. He took a stab at the rose bushes, too, but only succeeded in cutting them back far enough to clear the path. They were still a tangled mess, but he’d leave the rest of it for a real gardener. The roses were his mother’s pride and joy, and he didn’t want to ruin them.
Then he came inside to tackle the refrigerator. There was stuff in it that had been there so long, it was growing fur. Most of it had somehow gotten pushed to the back, where it was hard to see and even harder to reach. Donning his mother’s rubber dishwashing gloves, he dug out every moldy, smelly item, piling it all on the center island.
His mother’s eyes bulged when she saw it, her cheeks red with mortification. “I-I had no idea most of that was even in there.”
“S’okay, Mom. I’m taking care of it,” Nick said, sweeping all the rotten food into a double trash bag before toting it out to the dumpster. He came back inside to find his mom sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, another steaming mug set down at the chair next to her. Nick knew a hint when he saw it.
“Thanks.” He dropped into the chair with a grin. “I could use a break.”
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done today. Things have become a bit... overwhelming these past few months.”
“What happened to Frank Medford? I thought he came out here every week to take care of all the heavy chores.”
“He moved to Buffalo in January to try and find a job in a factory. There’s not much farm work around here anymore. All the old family operations have either cut back to the bone or sold out to the big agribusinesses. I’m thankful Eric was willing to buy the place when he did.”
“So you’ve let the place go without maintenance for almost five months? Why didn’t you tell me, Mom?”
“There’s not much you could’ve done about it from Italy, now, is there?”
That stung, and all the more because he knew she was right. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this by yourself.”
“Nick, I don’t blame you. But it’s hard for me to ask for help when I’ve been doing just fine on my own for the past decade. And, aside from a little neglected housework, I’m still fine. There’s no reason for you to be so alarmed.”
“I went out and tried to start your car this morning. The battery was dead,” he said softly. “How long has it been since you’ve driven anywhere?”
“The middle of February,” she admitted. “I was on my way to the doctor. All the snow on the road made me nervous, and when this pickup truck tried to pass me, I didn’t see it until it was nearly too late. I came that close to ending up in a ditch.”
“Then how’ve you been getting your medicine and groceries?”
“Evelyn Watkins picks up whatever I need when she goes to town, and drives me to my appointments.”
Much as Nick hated to admit it, he was impressed. Even in her weakened condition, she’d managed to see to most of her everyday needs. Her mental faculties were, thankfully, still intact. She didn’t need to go into a convalescent home—not yet, anyway. But that still didn’t make what he had to say any less painful.
“You can’t go on living here by yourself, Mom. Unless you can think of somebody who’d be willing to come stay with you, we need to talk about moving you into town.”
“No,” she replied flatly, her back stiffening, hands tightening on her coffee mug. “I’m not leaving. This has been my home for over fifty years. When I die, I want it to be in my own bed.”
“You can barely make it up the stairs without help! What if something happens, and you can’t get to the phone?”
“That won’t happen. Evelyn calls me every afternoon. If I don’t answer, she comes over.”
Nick rubbed a hand over his face and counted to ten. “I still think it’s dangerous for you to keep living alone. Promise me you’ll at least think about moving to a nice apartment in town. You’ll be a lot closer to all your friends.”
“There aren’t too many left. In the past year, I’ve gone to five funerals.” With a shrug, she added, “I don’t even bother getting dressed in the morning till I check the obituaries to make sure my name’s not there.”
“Mom!”
Laughing, she reached over to squeeze his hand. Nick would’ve squeezed back, if not for fear that he’d crush her delicate bones without even trying. “I’m joking, dear! I fully intend to live a long time and watch my grandchild grow up. But promise you’ll visit more than once or twice a year once the baby’s born. I’d love to come see you in Italy again, but it’s pretty clear that I’m not up for that kind of travel anymore.”
Nick nodded, forcing a tight smile even as his heart plummeted. He and Eric and Ally had been so content in their nice, safe, controlled little cocoon in Tuscany, shutting out the rest of the world. Well, that was about to change—it had to. Nick couldn’t keep on ignoring his obligations. The lion’s share of blame for his mother’s decline rested squarely on his shoulders. Now it was up to him to fix it as best he could.
* * * *
Eric tossed all the invitations up in the air and snatched one at random. He ended up with a benefit for the New York City Opera, one of his mother’s favorite charities. Eric had grown up with opera blaring in the house, though he’d never developed a liking for it. It reminded him too much of his parents’ non-stop arguments, complete with back-stabbing, hair-pulling and various suicide attempts.
He steeled himself by popping a Xanax before exiting his limousine, then strode briskly to the front entrance to present his ticket. His security detail gave him a questioning look, but Eric waved them off and went inside alone. He’d known most of the people in attendance since childhood, though that didn’t make him any less nervous.
Grabbing a flute of champagne from a circulating waiter, he quickly scanned the crowd, zeroing in on several likely prospects. There was still almost half an hour until the curtain; if he worked fast, he might be able to skip the performance altogether.
To Eric’s surprise, one of his prospects approached him first. Emory Dalton had been one of Edward Courtland’s oldest friends—and, luckily, one of the few who didn’t consider Eric the Antichrist. The squat, silver-haired gentleman grasped Eric’s hand, fiddling with the collar of his own tux at the same time. Finally he managed to undo the top button. “Fashion be damned, this thing’s strangling me. How are you, Eric? It’s been ages.”
Actually, they’d seen each other at the New York Philharmonic New Year’s concert a few months earlier, but Eric didn’t see much point in reminding him. “Life’s good. Better than good, in fact,” he replied, pasting on the toothiest smile he could summon. He hoped, a second too late, that he didn’t look too desperate. “I don’t get many chances to attend events like this anymore.”
“Oh, I wish I didn’t, but my wife has other ideas. I’d much rather stay home falling asleep over a good book.” Chuckling, he patted Eric on the shoulder, drawing him over into a relatively quiet corner of the lobby. “I’ve heard you’re looking for investors for an Asian venture.”
“Th-That’s right,” Eric replied, trying hard not to let his rising excitement show. If Emory threw in, it wouldn’t be difficult to get others to follow suit. “Are you interested?”
“I might be, if you could assuage some of my concerns first.”
“What concerns?”
“I’ll be honest with you, because I doubt anyone else in this room would do the same. But I’ve heard rumors that this is a Hail-Mary pass, and if it fails, CI’s headed for bankruptcy.”
The room shimmied for a moment, but Eric sucked in a breath and planted his feet, taking a long sip of champagne to fortify himself. “I can assure you, Courtland Industries is as strong as it’s ever been. Of course, we’ve had some cash flow problems—who hasn’t, in this economy? But whether or not the Asian expansion moves forward, the company will survive. We’ll simply have to cut back on research and development for awhile.”
“And that’d be a shame. Cutting-edge new products have been your bread and butter for a number of years now.”
“Hence my desire to make this deal happen. I’d rather spend my time looking for ways to increase profits that don’t involve laying more people off.” He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes till curtain. “Do you mind telling me where you heard this rumor?”
“It’s been circulating for about a week. I don’t know who started it. But out of respect for you and your father’s memory, I thought you should hear it from a friend first.” The older man waved to someone across the room, suppressing a sigh. “Of course, my wife would have to pick this precise moment to summon me. It’s good seeing you, Eric. Send me a prospectus for your venture, and I’ll give it all due consideration.”
Eric stared after him, fingers gripping his champagne flute so tightly he was sure it would shatter. He tossed back the last swallow and placed it on the nearest waiter’s tray, shaking off the offer of another. If there was one thing he needed now, it was a clear head.
Chimes sounded, signaling five minutes till the start of the performance. Eric considered bolting, then decided to stay through the first intermission. He’d donated ten thousand dollars for his box seat tonight, so he might as well get the maximum benefit out of it. He needed to hunt down at least one more potential investor before he’d declare it a good night’s work.
Settling into his seat, he listened idly to the off-key groans and wheezes of the orchestra tuning up, worrying the program with the edge of his thumb. Now he couldn’t get that fucking rumor out of his head. It bothered him, when he knew it shouldn’t; that sort of gossip got tossed around all the time. The business world was worse than an old ladies’ sewing circle.
Now he knew why he’d been having so much trouble finding investors. Evidently someone had it in for him.
Eric drew his mother’s old pair of opera glasses from his jacket pocket as the house lights started to dim. Focusing them quickly, his magnified gaze settled on the box directly across from his own, caught by a momentary reflection of light on another pair of opera glasses—and the all-too familiar face behind them.
Branford Crane shot him a smirk and a wave a split-second before the theater went dark, and all of a sudden Eric had a fairly good idea who’d started that rumor.
Nick awoke on Sunday morning to the annoying buzz of his cell phone doing the vibrate-boogie across his bedside table. Flailing groggily, he finally got hold of it, and briefly considered chucking it against the nearest wall before he saw Ally’s number flashing on the display. “You’re up early,” he mumbled, pushing himself up on his pillows with a groan.
“Not really,” she replied, a hint of amusement in her tone. “It’s a quarter till nine.”
He groaned louder, stealing a glance at his useless alarm clock to confirm it. “Shit.”
“You must’ve had a wild time yesterday. I can’t remember the last time you’ve slept past eight.”
“Oh, yeah, I really partied down, with all the yard work and cleaning up the kitchen and vacuuming and dusting the whole house while Mom sat and watched.” Then, with a sigh, he added, “That’s not fair. She would’ve helped if she could. I think it’s starting to dawn on her that most of the housework’s way beyond her abilities.”
“Well, it didn’t look as if she’s having any problems getting dressed or grooming herself, so that’s something.”
“And that cake she made wasn’t bad, so we know she can handle the cooking. But who knows how long that’ll last?”
“We’ll put our three noggins together and figure something out. Which is actually what I called to tell you. I heard from Eric a few minutes ago. He’s coming up this afternoon instead of tomorrow.”
Nick sat up straighter. “Is something wrong?”
“He sounded really tired. I got the impression that the last couple days at the office were a bit rougher than he’d anticipated. He should be here by dinnertime if you want to come over.”
“I will, but I don’t think I can stay. I don’t want to leave Mom alone for more than an hour or two. And now,” he added with a yawn, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, “time to get my lazy ass up and at ’em.”
“As it happens, I’m still in bed myself. Remember that morning sickness I wasn’t having? Well, guess what?”
“You’re kidding! Are you okay?”
She laughed. “I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I’m glad it’s finally happened. Part of me couldn’t help being afraid that the pregnancy test was a false positive. Now we know it wasn’t.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t last all day this time.”
He took a fast shower and shave, throwing on a pair of old jeans and a plain white t-shirt before heading down to the kitchen. His mother sat at the table nursing a mug of coffee, the local paper in a messy pile in front of her. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she teased. “Thought I’d have to start banging on my cast-iron skillet to get you up.”
“Okay, okay, I slept in. So sue me.” He poured himself a cup, grabbed a cereal bowl, filled it with spoon-sized shredded wheat and sloshed some milk on it, then plopped down at the table. Suddenly ravenous, he inhaled the whole bowl and slurped down most of his coffee before reaching for the sports page. “You’re up and you’re dressed. I guess this means you’re not the main feature in the obits today, huh?”
“Very funny, but I haven’t even bothered to look yet,” she replied, staring down her nose at him as she riffled through to find the right page, then folded it back. She studied it for several long moments, blinking and adjusting her glasses, before her mouth fell open in shock. “Oh, my dear Lord,” she breathed, one hand pressed to her chest, “I don’t believe it.”
Seized by immediate concern, Nick reached out to stroke her shoulder. “Is it another one of your friends?”
“No, it’s much worse than that. It’s... Laura.” She thrust the paper at him, pointing at an obit halfway down the page. “Please tell me I’m not seeing things.”
Nick skimmed the three short paragraphs once, then again, and again a third time. They got the name right—Laura Mercer. The date of birth, hometown and names of relatives looked correct. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. His ex-fiancée couldn’t be dead. She was only thirty-nine years old.
It wasn’t until the paper slipped from his grasp that he realized his hands were trembling. “I-I can’t believe it either.”
“Oh, her poor mother—and not even a year after losing her own husband. How terrible.”
“When’s the funeral?”
She looked at him. “But, you’ve already read—”
“I know, but I barely absorbed it. Just tell me, okay? I can’t look at it again.”
Pushing her glasses back up on her nose, his mother gave it another read-through. “They had a private memorial service last week. Apparently she’d been living in Los Angeles for the past eleven years, but they brought her home to be buried beside her father in Rochester.” Her eyes inched down the page. “She’s survived by her mother, Catherine, and a son, Seth. That’s all it says.”
Nick drained the last of his coffee, hardly registering that it had gone ice cold. Numbness slowly ebbed away, replaced by a nagging, irrational sense of guilt and regret over the way their relationship had ended. He’d used her in a stupid, childish attempt to make Eric jealous, and now he’d never have the chance to make proper amends for it. Laura had been so disgusted and angry when she found out, she’d sold the story to the New York Post in a petty act of payback. Even at the time, Nick couldn’t find it in his heart to blame her. He’d asked for it, and he deserved it.
His role in causing her unhappiness weighed heavily on him, and no doubt always would. He hoped she’d found what she was looking for in California. The obituary had mentioned a son, but not a husband. So maybe she had been happy, at least for a little while.
“We should go see her family, and pay our respects,” his mother said.
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”
“Why not?”
“Are you joking? After I called off the wedding with two weeks to spare? Believe me, I’m the last person Laura’s mom wants turning up on her doorstep.”
“This isn’t about you, it’s about honoring Laura’s life. If I were her mother, I’d be touched that you still remembered her.”
“I’m not going,” he said flatly, getting up to put his dishes in the sink, “and that’s final.”
* * * *
Nick spent the remainder of the morning and most of the afternoon hiding out in the barn, pretending to clean it up, when it was the one place on the entire farm that didn’t need it. They’d sold off the tractor, milking machines and other heavy equipment after his dad died. He played at being busy, trying to scrub the rust off an old set of wrenches he’d found in his dad’s workbench, until he finally grew bored, and traipsed upstairs to the loft.
The lumpy old couch was still there, an opaque plastic sheet draped over it. Nick yanked it off and flopped down, letting out a yell when one of its many broken springs jabbed him in the ass. Eric had fucked him for the first time on this couch during spring break their junior year at Columbia. The memory split Nick’s face with a wide, horny grin. Considering the thing’s age, he was amazed the springs had any spring left.
He ended up dozing for an hour or so, then trudged back to the house to shower and change clothes. Eric wouldn’t like it if he showed up stinking of sweat and stale grease.
Nick’s stomach danced with butterflies as he dried off, then padded to his room to put on a clean pair of slacks and dress shirt. It felt like he was getting dressed for a first date, instead of dinner with his husband and wife of a few weeks. His hands trembled again, this time in a good way. The anticipation was so delicious, he almost wished it could go on forever.
He found his mother planted safely in front of the TV, armed with remote and hot tomato soup. She looked up from her bowl, one eyebrow inching toward her sparse hairline. “Where are you going, all dressed up?”
“Over to the lake house, for dinner with Eric and Ally. He just came up this afternoon. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“No need. If you want to stay the night, I’ll be fine on my own. In fact, I’ll probably conk out right here during Law and Order.”
“We’ll see,” he murmured, leaning down to give her a kiss. “Sorry about this morning.”
She smiled. “No worries, sweetheart. Give Eric and Ally my love.”
He turned to head out the kitchen door, but halted for a moment, his attention caught by the wall of old family photos that lined the hallway. There were pictures here going back to his grandparents’ time, so old the paper had begun to crack and turn yellow. His parents had added several of their own, including a few of Nick, stretching from babyhood all the way up through his college graduation. Nick’s favorite was the one of him at about ten or eleven years old, clad in his first football jersey, standing in between his beaming Mom and Dad.
Pulling it off the wall, he stepped back into the living room, waving to coax his mother’s attention away from Dr. Phil. “Do you mind if I take this? I don’t think I have a single photo of myself as a kid back at the villa. I’d like to save it to show the baby one of these days.”
His mother peered at it with a wistful smile. “That’s such a sweet picture. Of course you can have it. I’m sure there must be another copy in one of my old photo albums.”
This time Nick actually made it out the door, into the SUV and down the road to the lake house. They’d left the front door unlocked for him, so he walked right in. Hearing Eric’s and Ally’s voices echoing down the hallway, he made a beeline for Eric’s study.
The second Nick stepped into the room, all conversation ceased. Eric, perched at the edge of his desk, put down his drink and stood up, holding out his arms to him. Closing the distance between them in three swift steps, Nick sank into his husband’s embrace, kissing him soundly on the lips. The last four awful, agonizing days fell away in an instant.
Ally giggled, then cleared her throat. “Would you two like to be alone?”
“After dinner,” Eric replied with a grin, giving Nick another long kiss before reluctantly pulling away. “I haven’t had a thing since breakfast, and the aroma of Estellita’s roast is driving me insane. Let’s go eat before I keel over.”
Estellita had outdone herself tonight—but of course, she always did when she cooked for Eric. Along with the juicy, medium-rare rib roast, she’d prepared garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus tips, followed by strong black French roast and a crème brulée so smooth and rich, it was practically a meal in itself. Nick did everything except lick his plate before pushing it away at last. “So,” he said to Eric, “how’s your last couple of days up in the city been?”
Eric rolled his eyes and took a healthy sip of his wine. “Don’t ask. There’s a good reason I came up here early.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Suffice it to say, I think I’ve become King Midas in reverse. But we’ll talk about it later, I promise. Right now I’d like to forget about the last few days for awhile.”
“Hear, hear,” Ally said, holding up her glass of mineral water for a toast. “And so, in the interests of changing the subject, Eric and I were talking about your mom before you got here. I think we’ve figured out a temporary solution to the problem.”
“Estellita’s a widow too,” Eric continued. “I discussed the matter with her this afternoon, and she’s more than willing to stay with your mother for awhile and help take care of the house. Her son Miguel’s been out of work for the past few months, and it turns out he’s a whiz at fixing things. So there you are—a live-in housekeeper and a part-time handyman, in one fell swoop.”
Stunned, Nick had to sit back in his chair for a moment. “Sounds great, if I can convince Mom to go along with it.”
“But it’s not like she’d be inviting a total stranger into her home. She’s known Estellita for years,” Ally pointed out.
“I know, but she’s still holding onto her last scrap of independence. She’s gotten used to living alone since my dad died. I’m not sure how she’ll react to the idea of sharing her space with someone else. But I know we have to do something. It’s an option, at least. I hope I can talk her into it.”
“Tell her it’s a temporary arrangement—which it is,” Eric said. “But I think your mother will appreciate having the company once she gets accustomed to it. I always got the feeling she was rather lonely out there all by herself.”
“There’s one more thing,” Ally added, flashing Eric a quick glance before she continued. “How’d you like it if I came with you on your book tour?”
If Nick was stunned before, now he was utterly flabbergasted. He hadn’t expected this at all. “Uh, I-I’d love it. But...” He looked at Eric. “Is it okay with you?”
Eric shrugged. “I’ll be so busy these next few weeks, I doubt I’d be fit company for any civilized person. No reason Allison needs to suffer with my bad temper.”
“Plus, we figured you’d appreciate having someone talk to, other than your publisher’s PR flack,” Ally said. “And I can pretty much get my work done anywhere.”
“But what about your morning sickness?”
“It’s not such a big deal. Pregnant women have been putting up with it for centuries. And besides...” She grinned. “Seeing Chicago, LA and San Francisco with one of my favorite men is completely worth it.”
They retired to the living room couch for more coffee, curling up together with Eric in the middle, Nick and Ally resting their heads on either shoulder. Nick knew he should get up and head back to the farm, but he didn’t want to move. Maybe he was being too paranoid about Mom. After all, she’d survived the past few months without him. She’d be okay for one more night.
He nodded off for a minute or two, until he felt Eric’s lips on his forehead, then heard him say, “Much as I hate to admit it, if I don’t go upstairs now, you’ll probably have to carry me.”
“I don't mind,” Nick answered with a smile.
“Be that as it may, I’d just as soon do it under my own steam.” Rolling his neck to work out the stiffness, he stood up, nodding to Nick and Ally in turn. “Will you both join me?”
“I think my boys need some private time,” Ally murmured, stretching like a cat before rising slowly, carefully to her feet. “And to tell the truth, so do I. I’ve been absolutely beat the last few days. Hurling my guts out every morning takes a lot out of me, no pun intended.”
They climbed the stairs together, walking down the long hallway to their rooms hand in hand. Ally kissed them both good night, then disappeared into the master bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Nick had been dreaming up wild things to do to his husband all afternoon, but one look at Eric dropping onto the edge of the bed with an exhausted groan sent those plans flying out the window. He didn’t care, though. He was still exactly where he wanted to be—with the love of his life.
Kneeling at Eric’s feet, Nick reached up to slowly, gently undo the buttons of his dress shirt and pull off his shoes and socks. For a moment it looked as if Eric wanted to say something, but in the end he let his head fall back like a broken doll’s, held out his arms and allowed Nick to finish undressing him. Then, naked at last, he scooted up to slide under the turned-down covers, then rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.
Nick shed his own clothes quickly and climbed in beside him. The feel of Eric’s bare skin already had him half-hard, but he was content not to act on it for now. Just being here was enough. Rolling over behind him so they spooned, he wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist and let himself drift.
The tantalizing bouquet of fresh black coffee tickled Eric’s nostrils. Dragging open both eyelids, he spied a still-steaming mug sitting on the bedside table and lunged for it, taking a long gulp. It was still so hot it stung the inside of his mouth, but he didn’t care. He could already feel the caffeine coursing through him, bringing him back to life.
He stretched, then fell back on his pile of pillows, mug clutched gratefully in both hands. Taking a few minutes to cherish the peace and quiet felt like an unimaginable paradise. Only it wasn’t perfectly quiet—the muffled patter of water on tile floated into Eric’s consciousness, and he realized why the rumpled sheets beside him were warm, yet empty.
The water shut off after a minute or two, and a few minutes after that, Nick emerged, clad in Eric’s own burgundy silk robe. “Hey,” he said with a smile, sliding back into bed to give Eric a slow, deep good morning kiss. Fingering the robe’s collar, he added somewhat sheepishly, “Sorry about borrowing your clothes. My suitcase is at my mom’s.”
“Fine with me. It’ll still have your scent when I put it on later.”
“You okay? You slept like a corpse last night.”
“I’m not surprised. I still haven’t recovered from jet lag, and the last few days at the office haven’t exactly been stress-free.”
Nick lifted his head to look at him, brow knit with concern. Even after twenty years, Eric found it deeply touching. “Still no luck on the Asian deal?”
“Oh, I’ve had plenty of luck—all of it bad. But at least now I know why. Branford Crane’s been spreading lies that CI’s on the cusp of bankruptcy. No wonder everybody turns tail and runs when they see me coming.”
“But I thought you two used to be friends. Didn’t you work for him once?”
Now Eric could have kicked himself for mentioning Bran’s name. Nick knew about their former business partnership, but not the more twisted games he and Bran had played in private. It had occurred during a stressful time in Eric’s life, not long after his mother’s death. He and Nick had broken up for awhile, which had only sent Eric spiraling deeper down the rabbit hole. Even now, the memory of what he’d done during that time made him cringe. But there was no need to burden Nick with it, especially with everything he had on his plate right now. It wasn’t like either of them could change the past.
“‘Used to be’ being the operative phrase,” Eric replied. “We hadn’t spoken in eighteen years, until he ambushed me at the Rome office last week. He hijacked another investor’s meeting, just to show me he could. It’s typical of him, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth. I won’t do business with someone who operates that way.”
“You wouldn’t let him in on the deal, so now he’s trying to sabotage it?”
“Probably, but who knows with Bran? Maybe this is his idea of a joke.” He took another long sip of coffee, draining the mug. “Thanks for going down to the kitchen to get this for me. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me—Estellita left us a whole pot when she brought Ally her tea and toast.” Nick nodded toward the small table in the corner, where a tray with a stainless steel carafe sat, along with a bowl of fresh fruit and a covered plate, which Eric strongly suspected contained his housekeeper’s delectable French toast. As if on cue, his stomach roared like a starving tiger.
Nick rolled out of bed, but headed for the door rather than the table. “I’m gonna go check on her. I’m pretty sure I heard her running into her own bathroom a few minutes ago.”
Eric spared a long, loving look in the direction of his postponed breakfast, then followed suit. He took a moment to throw on his shirt and slacks, which Nick had carefully draped over a chair, before padding barefoot into his wife’s room a scant few paces behind his husband.
They found Ally propped up in bed with her laptop and a mug of tea. Aside from a tinge of greenness around the gills, she appeared to be weathering this bout of morning sickness fairly well. Still, the sight of her curled up looking so listless and pale made Eric’s heart ache.
“If you came to hold my hair, you’re a little late,” she snarked with a wan smile. “But wait a few minutes, and I’ll probably muster up a repeat performance.”
They climbed in on either side of her, cradling her close. Closing her laptop, she handed it to Nick to put on the bedside table, then laid her head on Eric’s shoulder. “I do feel a bit better today,” she murmured. “Estellita’s chamomile tea’s really helped settle my stomach.”
“You’re very brave,” Eric said with fervent sincerity. “I doubt I’d have the fortitude to put up with this every day.”
“But the end result makes it all worth it, right?”
He looked at Nick, and they both nodded. “Absolutely.”
They sat together in companionable silence, with Ally sipping her tea and nibbling at her toast, until she said, “I’ve gone a whole half hour without feeling like my stomach’s doing a cha-cha across the deck of the Titanic. Guess this means I’ll live to hurl another day.”
Nick sighed, starting to get up. “I should probably be getting back to my mom’s, then.”
“If you want to wait till I grab a shower, I’ll go with you,” Ally said.
“Me too,” Eric interjected, privately mortified that he hadn’t even thought of going out to see Nick’s mother when he’d arrived yesterday afternoon. Attempting to hide his embarrassment with a forced smile, he added, “We’ll make it a family delegation.”
For once, Eric was grateful that Ally took forever getting ready. He managed to shower, shave, get dressed and help Nick scarf down a good portion of their breakfast before she showed up in their doorway, looking only slightly like she’d been dragged through a keyhole backwards.
“You sure you’re all right?” Nick asked, jumping up from his chair. For a second, Eric thought he was about to sweep her up in his arms and carry her back to the master bedroom. A stab of envy sailed through him at the notion.
Ally just laughed, levering herself up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m fine. In fact, I’m looking forward to getting a little fresh air. Shall we go?”
Nick took the wheel, carefully maneuvering the SUV around the bulk of the potholes and ruts in the unpaved back road. When he made the final turn up to the farm, Eric immediately saw what Ally meant when she’d told him how rundown the place was. Nick had done his best trimming the roses and cleaning out the gutters, but there was still clearly a lot of work left to do before it was back in adequate repair. Miguel would have enough to keep him busy for weeks.
Eric knew something was wrong the moment they stepped onto the back porch and saw the morning paper laying on the doorstep. Inside, the house was deathly quiet—no TV, no usual pot of coffee perking away, no skillet of bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove.
“She’s usually up by now,” Nick said, dashing to the living room, then back, eyes now wild with worry. “Oh, God, I hope she didn’t—” He charged up the stairs two at a time, with Eric running after him, seized instantly by his own blind panic. They both shuddered to a halt at the landing, where they found Nick’s mother slumped against the wall, her right leg pinned under her. A rank, sour stench hit them a second later, and Eric saw that she sat in a puddle of her own urine.
Nick fell to his knees and tried to rouse her, with little success. Her eyelids fluttered, and she let out a tiny moan, then went still again. But when Nick started to slide his arms around her to pick her up, Eric had to shake his husband’s shoulder to stop him.
“Nick, you can’t move her. She could have internal injuries.”
“B-But I c-can’t just... leave her here.” He was on the brink of hysteria—hands trembling, breath coming in ragged gusts. Eric had to fight the urge to give in to his own terror, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to steady himself. He couldn’t lose it, not now, anyway. He had to stay strong for Nick. “Who knows how long she’s been lying here? God, I told her I’d be home in a couple of hours...”
“It’s not your fault.” Wincing at his own trite platitude, he turned to Ally, who’d just come up behind them on the stairs.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed. “What happened?”
“She fell,” Eric barked. Why the hell did he have to state the obvious? “Call 911.”
She already had her phone in her hand. “I’m on it.”
The paramedics arrived within twenty minutes. Eric practically needed a crowbar to pry Nick away from his mother’s side so they could get upstairs with the stretcher. Her eyes opened momentarily as they carried her out through the kitchen, but there was no flicker of recognition. Nick took her hand and walked alongside her till they reached the ambulance. They’d take her to the hospital in Geneva, the driver told them.
A hard, solid fist twisted in Eric’s stomach, clenching and unclenching. Mary Thompson was the only mother he’d known for the past eighteen years. She’d taken him into her heart and her home, accepted him as Nick’s partner, loved him as if he were her own child. Eric knew she felt the same way about Ally.
Whatever loss might happen here, it belonged to all three of them.
Nick turned and marched toward the SUV. Eric came after him, hand outstretched for the keys. “I’m driving this time. No arguments.”
Nick looked at him, his own expression nearly crumpling, and handed them over without protest.
* * * *
They sat together in the noisy, crowded ER waiting room for almost three hours before a doctor, a harried-looking middle-aged man in blue scrubs, came out to talk to them. Ally grabbed hold of Nick’s arm as they stood up, to steady both him and herself. Her insides churned with a sick sense of dread, and this time not from hormones run amok. Apparently Eric was barely holding on, too; she could feel the tremor in his fingers when his hand found her other hand and gripped it tight.
“She has a broken leg and what we’re hoping is a mild concussion,” the doctor informed them bluntly. “We also believe she’s suffered a small stroke. It’s not clear whether that’s what caused the fall, or vice versa. We won’t know if she’s sustained any permanent damage until we run further tests.”
“Is she awake?” Nick asked bleakly, his voice cracking on the last word.
“She’s drifting in and out, but she’s asked to see her son. Are you him?”
“Yes, I am, and these are my—” He stopped short, swallowing hard. “I’m her son. I’d like to see her.”
The doctor gave them a strange look, then made a note in the chart he was holding before flipping it shut. “Of course, but only for a few minutes. We need to get her moved up to ICU. I’m afraid your... friends will have to wait out here,” he added with a tiny half-sneer that Ally wasn’t quite sure she’d imagined. “Her condition’s too unstable for more than one visitor at a time right now.”
Nick gave both her and Eric such a forlorn, helpless look, it nearly cracked Ally’s heart in two, but she whispered, “Go on. She needs to see you,” before pointing him at the ER door with an encouraging nudge. Following after the doctor, he shot them a last glance before disappearing inside.
“God, Eric, I can’t believe this,” she murmured, grimacing as she dropped back down on the heavy wooden waiting room bench. Maybe this time she’d find a spot that wouldn’t twist her lower back up in knots. A stone slab would’ve been more comfortable.
“I can,” Eric replied hollowly. “I’ve been through it before, remember?”
Ouch. She let her eyes drift shut for a moment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”
“You didn’t.” She’d expected him to take his seat beside her, but instead he headed for the outside entrance.
All she could do was stare after him. “Where the hell are you going?”
“To make a call. I had some appointments set up for the end of the week. I need to cancel them.” He pulled out his phone and held it up, as if to prove he wasn’t lying. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Her head now pounding, she dragged in a deep, cleansing breath and tried to will herself to relax, but it was no use. Rummaging in her bag, she found a travel-size bottle of Tylenol, then remembered she wasn’t supposed to take it. And of course, she’d left her homeopathic pain meds back at the lake house. Crap!
She needed to calm the fuck down and get a grip, and so did Eric. They’d been sniping at each other since they’d arrived at the hospital. Nick didn’t need to hear that right now. For once, the person who took care of her and Eric needed to be taken care of. They couldn’t let him down.
Maybe the hospital gift shop had something for a headache besides ibuprofen. Stepping quickly across the lobby, she found some herbal migraine pills on the front rack, and practically jumped up and down in relief. They were a bit stronger than she needed, but at this juncture she wasn’t about to argue. Her head felt as if there were a dozen cavemen using it for a softball.
Her hand brushed past something with sharp edges on its way to the bottom of her huge Louis Vuitton tote bag. Grabbing her wallet, she paid the gift shop lady for the pills and a bottle of water before heading back to her seat. She knocked back a couple of caplets, then opened her bag again, fishing out a snapshot-sized gold photo frame. She’d picked it up off the floor of the SUV when she’d climbed out at the hospital and shoved it in her bag without looking at it.
Her breath caught when she looked at last. Of course, she’d seen this picture of Nick with his parents before, on the hallway wall in Nick’s mother’s house, but the day’s events had infused the image with a double-shot of poignancy. God, he couldn’t have been more than ten or so when it was taken, all tousled, messy curls and crooked front teeth. And his mother looked so vibrant and happy, smiling wide with her arms around her husband and son. Ally’s eyes began to sting.
“Hey,” Eric said quietly, sliding a gentle hand onto her shoulder as he sat back down.
“All done with your phone call?”
“Everything’s taken care of.” Leaning in, he spied the photo in her hands, and reached to take it from her. “I remember the first time I saw this picture. It was during spring break, Nick’s and my first year together.” He chuckled softly. “That was a great year and a bad year, all at the same time.”
“Bad, how?”
“It was the year my mother’s heart started to fail.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers together, squeezing tight. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and I’m scared, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
With a sigh, she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Me too.”
* * * *
The doctor showed Nick into the partitioned cubicle where his mother lay, then left him alone with her. Every last shred of anxiety that had been building up inside him for the past three hours threatened to spill out in an awful, teary mess, but Nick curled both hands into fists, nails spearing his palms, until the impulse faded.
She looked so impossibly fragile and tiny lying there, swallowed up by the bulky hospital bed. Now that he’d seen her in nothing but a thin green gown with that fiberglass cast on her leg, he realized she must’ve lost fifteen pounds since he’d seen her last Christmas, and she hadn’t been overweight to begin with. In only a few short months, she’d already wasted away.
Pulling up a chair beside her bed, he took her hand in his, stroking it gently to try to wake her. She didn’t move. He sat there for what seemed like forever whispering to her, until her eyelids fluttered, then opened. Nick held his breath while she blinked and tried to focus, the helpless, terrified look in her eyes slowly fading.
“N-Nick?” she slurred. “Th-that you?”
Relief washed over him in such a devastating wave, Nick’s knees would’ve gone out from under him if he were still standing up. “It’s me, Mom. I’m here.”
“Wh-where?”
“You’re in the hospital. You fell on the stairs. Don’t you remember?”
“I-I...” She gestured at her mouth and throat. It took a few seconds before Nick realized she was trying to tell him she was thirsty. He poured her some water, holding it for her while she took a feeble sip. “Fell asleep on the c-couch. Woke up, had to p-pee. T-Tried to g-get upstairs to the b-bathroom. G-Guess I d-didn’t make it.”
Talk about a knife through his heart. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should’ve been there.”
“Y-You were g-gone? I-I don’t... it’s all c-confused...”
“S’okay. You’ve had a pretty big bump on the head. Things’ll probably be a little fuzzy for awhile.”
“E-Eric... Ally... a-all right?”
He nodded. “They’re fine. They’re out in the waiting room.”
“Wh-why not... h-here?”
“The doctor didn’t think you should have too many visitors right now. We’ll all come visit you once they get you settled, okay?”
“Mkay.” She closed her eyes again.
He sat there until the nurse came by and told him they were ready to transfer her upstairs, so he went back out to the waiting room to face an anxious Eric and Ally.
“She’s not talking that well, but at least she’s talking,” he told them. “She recognized me, and she asked about both of you. I’m hoping those are good signs. They’re moving her up to ICU now.”
“Let’s get up there, then,” Eric said.
They waited another hour and a half before the ICU nurse came out to tell them she was resting comfortably, but that the doctor recommended no further visitors today.
A protest sprang immediately to Nick’s lips, but Eric’s firm hand on his arm kept it from boiling forth. “Let her sleep. She’s had a rough day, and so have we. It’s time we headed home.”
The window in the door that led into the ICU was right across from his mother’s bed. One more look at her tiny, frail body lying there so helplessly, and something inside him cracked, and poised to shatter. “E-Eric, I can’t leave her again—”
“She’s in good hands. There’s nothing more you can do for her now.”
Reluctantly, he nodded. Eric was right. He always was. But that didn’t save Nick from the plummeting sense of guilt that enveloped him as he turned and walked away.
Nick woke alone in his own room the next morning. He’d fallen into a black pit of sleep the second Eric had tucked him in last night, packing him off to dreamland with a gentle kiss on the shoulder. A quick glance at the clock told him it was closing in on ten. Groaning, he tried to sit up, but it was a losing battle. Ten hours of sleep, and he was still wiped out. Being exhausted all the time was starting to feel weirdly normal.
He waited a few minutes before making another attempt, and had just managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed when the door opened, and in came Eric, robe knotted loosely at his waist, carrying a breakfast tray. The heavenly aroma of fresh-brewed coffee made Nick sigh in sweet anticipation.
“I knew you’d be waiting for this.” Eric poured two cups and brought them over, then sat down beside him. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. Allison’s had a rough morning.”
“Is she okay?”
“She will be. She’s had some tea, and now she’s going to try and get a couple more hours’ sleep.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t help letting his disappointment show, though he regretted the syllable the moment it was out of his mouth. “I was hoping to get back to the hospital sooner than that.”
“No need. I’ve already called, and your mother’s going to be having tests run all morning. So there’s not much point in us showing up until after lunch.”
“How’d you get them to give you all that information?”
“Easy.” He grinned. “I pretended I was you.”
Well, of course. Eric never let a little technicality like the truth get in his way. “I’ve been thinking of what’s going to happen once they release her. She’ll need physical therapy for her leg, maybe speech therapy, too, and who knows what else. I don’t want to send her to a convalescent home, but I don’t see any way around—”
“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself,” Eric cut in, “but I can see where you’re going. And there’s no reason she needs to go to a convalescent home. We can get a private duty nurse to take care of her, and there are plenty of therapists willing to do house calls for the right amount of money. I promise you, she’ll get the best possible care.”
Nick tried to come up with the right response, but there was only one thing he could think to say. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I really appreciate this... and everything else you’ve done for her these past few years.”
“You’re both my family, Nick. I’ll do everything in my power to take care of you.”
Coffee mugs now hastily set aside, Eric wrapped his arms around Nick’s waist and drew him close, their lips meeting in a slow, deep kiss. Nick let out a broken sob and fell back against the mattress, pulling his husband along with him. Hands dropping to Eric’s waist, Nick fumbled with his belt until it loosened at last, burgundy silk flowing away to reveal smooth, bare skin.
He fastened his lips on his favorite spot, the softly-beating pulse in Eric’s throat, flicking his tongue, worrying it lightly with his teeth. The familiar hitch in Eric’s breath told him he was on the right track, until Eric pulled away, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s not get started on something we won’t finish.”
“Oh, I have every intention of finishing it.”
“But I have something different in mind.” His hand traveled downward, grasping Nick’s half-hard cock, stroking slowly at first, then faster, bringing Nick to the brink of orgasm before easing off. He did it again, and then once more, until he had Nick panting like a racehorse, both hands twisted in the sheets, doing multiplication tables in his head to keep from losing it. It was the sweetest agony Nick had experienced in a long time, and he didn’t want it to stop.
“You like this, don’t you?” Eric teased, dipping down for a moment to lick away the pearl of pre-come pooled at the tip of Nick’s cock.
“Y-You like it even more.” At Eric’s inquiring look, he added, “Being in control, I mean.”
“Is that a complaint?”
“I’m not stupid.” He grinned. “So are you gonna blow me now, or just keep on teasing me till Ally wakes up?”
“Now who’s in control?” A familiar spark of challenge flickered in Eric’s eyes, and Nick found himself in precisely the right mood to take him up on it.
“All right, then,” he growled. “Get down there and suck me.”
Eric’s lips closed over the tip and began sliding down slowly, but it took only a second or two before Nick realized he wasn’t going to last very long. Winding his fingers in Eric’s hair, he pushed him down until his cock hit the back of his throat, smiling evilly at Eric’s accompanying moan. Eric enjoyed having his face fucked, though it was only in the last few years that Nick had felt comfortable doing it to him. Before, he’d always been afraid he’d end up hurting him.
This morning, though, Nick had no such reservations. Yanking Eric’s head up and down, Nick stuffed his husband’s mouth full of cock until he knew he couldn’t hold it a moment longer. With a ragged yell, he let loose with an orgasm so intense it made the room spin.
He floated back down from his incredible high to find Eric stretched out beside him, a grin on his face that made Nick wonder if there was a cat nearby missing a canary. “That was amazing,” Eric rasped, leaning over for another deep kiss.
Nick had long since learned to savor tasting himself in Eric’s mouth. He loved the sense of power and possession, the incredible rush from knowing how much Eric enjoyed giving him pleasure. He also knew that on occasion, Eric liked taking a walk on the darker edge of sex. That dynamic didn’t use to appeal to Nick, but over time he’d come to understand its allure. So long as it was done safely and with love, he was willing to follow wherever Eric wanted to lead.
“You’re sounding a little hoarse,” Nick pointed out. “You sure I wasn’t too rough?”
“You were just rough enough.” One more kiss, and then, “We both really needed that. It’s been over a week since we’ve done more than crawl into bed and conk out together.”
Nick did some quick mental arithmetic, and realized he was right. This was the first time they’d had sex since they’d arrived in New York. “What about you? I’d be glad to reciprocate.”
“Too late. I got so excited, I rubbed myself off on the sheets.”
Nick laughed. “Who knew I was so hot?”
“Why do you think I married you?” With a grin, Eric stretched, then rolled to his feet and headed into the bathroom. The shower spurted on a few seconds later.
Nick knocked back the last mouthful of his now-cold coffee and padded in after him.
* * * *
The three of them drove back to the hospital after lunch. They spent almost half an hour cooling their heels in the ICU waiting room until the nurse appeared to buzz them in. She was a different nurse from yesterday—tall, thin, with sharp-looking features and the irritating habit of peering over her bifocals, which she’d pushed halfway down her nose. She reminded Eric of the stereotypical spinster schoolteacher in every Western he’d ever seen.
“I have the name of one family member here, and that’s the only person I can allow in,” she said brusquely. “Everyone else will have to wait until she’s transferred downstairs.”
“They are family,” Nick explained in a calm, controlled tone, though Eric could see him clenching his teeth. “We all are.”
“Immediate family?”
“Look, my mother’s asked to see my... Please, can’t you make an exception, just once? It would really help ease her mind.”
The nurse shook her head, clasping her clipboard to her chest like a valkyrie’s shield. “I’m afraid not. ICU visiting rules are very strict, and with good reason. We can’t let just anyone come traipsing through here, disturbing all these critically ill patients.”
Eric stood by listening to this exchange, trying to maintain his outward cool while doing a slow burn on the inside. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. Under normal circumstances, he was loath to use his name and position for leverage—but here, it would be an absolute pleasure.
“Excuse me,” he said, stepping forward, flashing the ICU Nazi his tightest smile, “but do you have any idea who I am?”
The nurse’s gaze swept him up and down and back again. “Should I?”
“I’m Eric Courtland. You’ll find my father’s name on this entire wing of the hospital. The money he and his company donated thirty years ago built this unit. So I guess you could say my family’s the reason you have a job.” He bared his teeth. “That’s my mother-in-law lying in there. If you still won’t let me see her, fine. I’ll take a walk downstairs and see what your administrator has to say. He and my father played golf every Saturday for twenty-five years.”
Several excruciating, tension-fraught moments ticked by. Eric was getting ready to do exactly what he’d threatened when the nurse cleared her throat. “All right,” she said, making a fidgety show of adjusting her glasses. “You can all go in, but only for five minutes. She’s still very weak.”
Ally grinned, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as the nurse began ushering them inside. “God, I love you.”
Nick glanced back at him, eyes crinkling with affection, and mouthed, “So do I.”
Mary was staring dully at some inane game show on the TV above her bed, but her eyes lit up the moment she saw them. They took turns kissing and hugging her; Eric went last, shock flooding him when his arm snaked around her, and he could feel just how fragile she’d become. Nick and Ally had told him about her weight loss, but seeing it first hand only hammered home his sense of alarm. It reminded him too much of the last time he’d seen his father, a hale, hearty man who’d dwindled away to nothing in the space of a few months. Eric prayed it wasn’t for the same reason.
Smiling, she reached up to tweak a lock of his hair. “Y-You’ve l-let it grow l-longer.” She spoke slowly, putting obvious effort into enunciating clearly. “I l-like it.”
“Better watch out,” he replied, cocking his head in Nick and Ally’s direction, “my spouses might have something to say about you flirting with me.”
“The d-day I stop appreciating a good-l-looking man, you can put me in the g-ground.”
Ally pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed before reaching for her hand. “How’re they treating you? Is the food all right?”
“Th-they put it in front of me and I-I eat it, but it’s n-nothing to get excited about. B-But I can’t c-complain about the s-service.” She pointed at the call button next to the carafe of water on her tray. “One c-click, and they come r-running.”
She appeared in good spirits, which was something, though there was a disturbing moment when Ally mentioned the baby, and from Mary’s blank, half-panicked expression, it was clear that her short-term memory wasn’t firing on all cylinders. When her eyelids began to droop, Eric knew it was time to go. They promised to come back in a couple of hours, and left her to rest.
“She seems a lot better than she was yesterday,” Nick said once they were back out in the waiting room. “Maybe they’ll send her home by the end of the week.”
There was such optimism in his eyes, Eric felt like a bastard for choosing caution instead. “I think we should go talk to her attending physician.”
“Well, sure, but... don’t you think she’s getting better?”
“Let’s wait and see what the doctor says, okay?”
Ally ducked back into the ICU to pry the doctor’s name out of the charge nurse, then they headed downstairs to his office. They had to wait for him to squeeze them in between his regular appointments. Dark-haired and in his mid-forties, he was much less abrupt than the ER doctor, with a soft-spoken, thoughtful manner that put them all initially at ease. Eric spied a photo on his desk of himself and another man, their clasped hands sporting gold bands. At least there was one person on staff here who might be sympathetic to the hassles they were facing.
“I haven’t had the chance to look over your mother’s test results in depth yet, but there is some cause for concern,” he said. “She complained of abdominal tenderness when I examined her, so I ordered an MRI to rule out internal injury. There were no signs of ruptures or bleeding, but it did reveal a small mass on her liver.”
Nick’s mouth dropped open. “A-Are you telling me she’s got cancer?”
“It could be benign. We won’t know for certain until we perform a biopsy, but I’d prefer to wait a day or two for her condition to stabilize first.”
“How is she otherwise?” Eric interjected.
The doctor flipped through his chart. “That’s where the good news comes in. The stroke she suffered was very minor as these things go. She’s having some problems with memory and confusion, but that’s normal under these circumstances. Her speech is already improving. Once we see the biopsy results, we can discuss whether to keep her for further treatment.”
Nick and Ally stared at the doctor before glancing at each other, then at Eric, their faces stricken with alarm coupled with cautious hope. Eric knew his own expression mirrored theirs, though he had to play up the hope for their benefit. He’d heard the old ‘let ’em down easy’ routine too many times during his mother’s long illness to fall for it now.
They went down to the cafeteria for cups of sludgy, bitter coffee that none of them drank, then back up to the ICU. Ally suggested that they take turns going in to see Mary alone for a few minutes. Nick’s mother had been so worn out after their first visit, they didn’t want to overwhelm her this time.
Eric let Nick and Ally go in before him. When it was his turn at last, he found Mary lying there quietly with her eyes closed. He wasn’t even sure she was awake. Pulling up a chair, he sat down next to her, taking her hand in both of his. A strong pulse throbbed away in her impossibly slender wrist. It afforded him some small measure of relief, at least momentarily.
When she finally looked at him, he could tell it took her a second to recognize him. Then she said, “I-I want you to make me a pr-promise.”
Dear God. She already knew. “Anything, Mary. You know that.”
“Don’t let N-Nick mourn for me too much. I-I remember how wrecked he was when h-his father passed. He’s more s-scared of me d-dying than I am myself.”
“When did you figure it out?”
“I haven’t felt r-right in months. But when y-you can’t even make it up your own d-damn s-stairs, there’s no point p-pretending anymore.” She chuckled weakly. “When’s the b-baby due?”
They’d told her two or three times already, but obviously it had slipped her mind again. “November or December, I think. We’re not exactly sure when Allison conceived.”
She nodded. “All r-right. At l-least that gives me s-something to look forward t-to.”
* * * *
“I’m canceling the book tour,” Nick announced at dinner that evening. Ally had expected it, but hearing Nick state it so baldly still came as a bit of a shock. “My publisher can sue me if they want to. But I’m not taking off for three weeks and leaving my poor sick mother in the care of strangers.”
“Once you explain what’s happened, I’m sure they’ll understand,” she said.
“And if they don’t, my attorneys will convince them,” Eric added.
“Thanks.” Reaching across the table, he grabbed the bottle of cabernet beside Eric’s plate and poured himself a glass, downing half of it in one long gulp. Ally’s eyes bugged out. Nick rarely drank wine, and even when he did, she’d never seen him chug it down like a toddler with a carton of chocolate milk. “I can’t go back to Italy till this is over.”
That wasn’t exactly unexpected either. “Then we’ll stay too,” she said without hesitation.
Eric did a double-take. “We will?
“Yes, of course we will. Is that a problem?”
“Let’s take a moment to think about this. We’re talking about rearranging our lives for an extended period of time, which none of us planned on. Besides, I was under the impression we’d all agreed that the baby should be born in Europe.”
“I don’t remember that conversation.”
“It wasn’t a conversation, per se, I thought it was just... understood.”
She sighed. “We were all born here. Don’t you think our child should be, too?”
“After the way this country’s treated us?” Nick snorted. “Once Mom’s gone, I never want to set foot here again.”
“Nick, it’ll take weeks, maybe even months, to get the baby a passport,” she said as slowly and gently as she could manage. “That’s time Mary doesn’t have. If the baby’s not born here, she probably won’t live to see it.”
Nick dropped his gaze to the table, letting out a ragged chortle. “Talk about one hell of a week for bad news. Between Laura, and this—”
“Laura?” she cut in. “You mean, Laura Mercer? What about her?”
“Oh, God.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I guess I forgot to tell you. They buried her last week. Mom stumbled across her obituary in the paper the other day.”
Ally sat back in her chair, too utterly stunned to speak.
Eric, however, didn’t have that problem. “Jesus. And she was younger than any of us.”
“Thirty-nine,” Nick supplied.
“Wh-What happened?” Ally asked finally.
“The obit didn’t say. All I know is, her family brought her home to Rochester to be buried next to her dad.” Nick pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and headed for the door. “Sorry. I can’t talk about this shit anymore.”
Silence loomed for several weighty moments, until Eric said, “I would’ve appreciated it if you’d asked me before volunteering us both to stay here for the foreseeable future.”
“I’m not leaving Nick to deal with this alone. What happened to our no-separation rule?”
“I know, but there’s no way I can get out of going back to Italy at least once or twice over the next few months. I suppose I’ll have to make them quick business trips.” He sighed. “You’re right, of course. And it’s just as well that we’re here for the duration. I still feel awful about being stuck in Washington back when his father was dying.”
“Well, now’s your chance to make up for it.” Propping her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her clasped hands. “You know, we’re all just assuming the worst here. But what if it’s a false alarm, and the tumor turns out to be benign?”
“Allison, c’mon. Even the doctor didn’t sound convinced. And Mary already knows. She’s made her peace with it.”
“God, Eric... this is so awful.”
“Yes, it is,” he said quietly. “And from here, it only gets worse.”
They brought Nick’s mother home four days later. Ally rented a hospital bed to put in the living room, along with a portable commode, discreetly stashed behind a screen. Nick carried her upstairs to the bathroom, where the private duty nurse helped her bathe and change into her robe and slippers. But she insisted on getting back downstairs under her own steam, leaning heavily on Nick’s arm, the fiberglass cast on her leg almost tripping her up more than once on the way to the living room.
She shook her head when Nick tried to get her into bed, maneuvering clumsily until she managed to plop herself on the couch. Nick didn’t see much point in arguing. Anyplace she was comfortable was fine with him.
He brought her some water, the TV remote and a soft fleece blanket to put over her legs. On the coffee table sat a pile of her favorite magazines. “Anything else I can get you?” His gaze darted all over the room, trying to make sure he hadn’t forgotten something.
“J-Just you,” she replied, patting the cushion beside her. “S-Sit.”
He sat, holding her hand in silence, blinking hard and practically biting his tongue. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t dare. She’d made her wishes clear before they’d left the hospital.
“I-I know what you m-must be thinking,” she said finally. “B-But this is the way it has to be.”
He’d barely held it together all morning. Now he had no choice but to stare miserably at the floor, afraid he’d fall apart if he looked at her. “I wish you’d reconsider. The doctor said that chemo could buy you—”
“A f-few more weeks at best. I-I’m not s-spending what little time I have left in and out of h-hospitals.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Mom. I’m not ready.”
“I-I wasn’t ready to lose your f-father either, but I s-survived. Y-You will too.” She gave him a thin smile. “B-But I’m not d-dead yet, and believe it or not, I-I’m hungry.”
As if on cue, Estellita came in, carrying a tray with a bowl of homemade lentil soup and a small, round loaf of fresh-baked bread. His mother’s eyes widened, and she dug right in.
Nick left her to it, going into the kitchen to find Eric and Ally sitting at the table downing their own lunch. There was a place set for him, too. He wasn’t that hungry, but a few spoonfuls of the delicious, savory soup brought his appetite back to life.
“So is Estellita gonna be cooking for us and Mom?” he wondered aloud. “All that driving back and forth’s bound to put some wear and tear on her car.”
“Even I wouldn’t be that cruel—besides the fact that she’d never forgive me,” Eric replied dryly. “She’ll see that our kitchen’s stocked every week, but other than that, we’re on our own. I’d like to think we’re all old enough to fend for ourselves for awhile.”
“No problems here,” Ally said, “but one of you’ll have to go down and fetch my breakfast every morning, because I’ll be in no condition.”
That made Nick smile for the first time in days. “Don’t worry, I think I can handle tea and toast.”
“You’ll have to, at least for a few days,” Eric said. “I need to go back down to the city on Monday. There’re some pressing business matters I can’t put off any longer.”
Ally set down her spoon with a sigh. “Will you be gone all week?”
“I hope not. I’d rather not spend any more time there than I have to.”
“That’s the one good thing this time around,” Nick murmured. “We’ve all been together.”
“And we still are,” Eric insisted, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that funny little half-smile that had stolen Nick’s heart twenty-five years earlier. “I’ll be just a phone call away.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon helping his mother ease into her new routine. The nurse would show up every morning after breakfast to help her bathe, take care of her personal needs and monitor her for adverse reactions to the half-dozen new prescriptions she was taking. It wasn’t strictly necessary for her to stay all day, but Eric had insisted. Nick was grateful for his and Ally’s help; without it, the situation would’ve been twice as overwhelming.
After dinner, the nurse would help Mom get ready for bed before leaving. Estellita had agreed to sleep downstairs too, on a cot now folded up in the corner. She didn’t mind helping Mom use the bedpan at night, but the arthritis in the housekeeper’s right hip and knee made it impossible for her to get Mom up to the bathroom. Mom wasn’t happy about being exiled from her own bed, but until the cast came off, this was the best workable solution.
He knew she was in good hands, but his nervousness obviously shone through. When he went in to kiss her good-bye, she clasped his hand and whispered, “I-I’ll be fine. Go home and r-relax. You deserve it.”
“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he promised.
“Well, I-I probably won’t be up till after n-nine, so don’t make it t-too early.”
Nick suppressed a chuckle. Between his mother and Ally, he was going to have his hands full while Eric was gone.
* * * *
The three of them drove back to the lake house and had a quiet, simple dinner of salad and sandwiches down in the kitchen.
“You know, I miss this,” Ally mused, nibbling at her Caesar salad. “The only time we eat informally anymore is when Nick and I are alone. It’s nice doing it en famille for a change.”
Eric’s eyebrow shot up. “You don’t like the way we normally dine?”
“No, it’s fine, but eating in the dining room all the time can be a bit...”
“Stuffy? Oppressive?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘boring,’ but ‘stuffy’ works too.”
“Really?” he drawled. “Are you saying I’m a stick in the mud?”
“I’d put the stick someplace else, but otherwise the analogy’s apt.”
Nick burst out laughing, but when they turned to glare at him, he waved them off. “Hey, don’t look at me, this is your fight. I’m not getting involved.”
“Come to think of it,” Ally purred, “I’m sure there’s more than one place to put that stick.”
“Wow, I’m really scared,” he retorted.
A slow, evil grin spread across her lips. “You should be.”
* * * *
Nick found out what she meant later on in the evening, when they went up to the master bedroom for some hard-won fun. Ally rummaged in the bedside table for a minute or two, pulled something out and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him and Eric to strip, climb up on the bed and start warming each other up for the main event. Nick was already fully erect by the time Ally emerged, but he and Eric kept at it—kissing, licking, biting and stroking. Since she was so fond of teasing them, giving her some of her own back seemed only fair.
A rather pointed clearing of her throat commanded their attention at last. Nick’s jaw came close to hitting his chest when he saw her standing not five feet away, completely naked with the exception of the black leather harness around her hips—and in that harness, a dildo.
A long, thick, purple, sparkly dildo.
Nick stared, and then he stared some more, not sure whether to laugh his ass off or run screaming. He settled on the first option—or rather, it settled on him. Once it started bubbling out of him, he had trouble catching his breath. “Wh-Where the hell did you get that?”
“I bought it for her a few months ago,” Eric said. “For our private time together.”
Now it was his turn to stare at Eric. Any second Nick expected his husband to dissolve in his own laughter, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled a bemused little smile as he looked at Ally—and the thing between her legs—with unabashed appreciation. “You let her fuck you with that?”
“Let me?” Ally snorted. “Beg me, more like.”
“She is rather good with it,” Eric added. “But then, I knew she’d be a natural.”
Nick shook his head, thoroughly boggled. “How did I not know about this?”
“You and I have our own private activities. Allison and I have ours.” Eric shrugged. “If you’re not in the mood to join in, that’s fine. But since I’ll be out of town for a few days—”
“And since we haven’t gotten our three-way groove on since we got here,” Ally cut in.
“—We wondered if you’d like to participate?”
Easy question—of course he did. Though it was the next question that gave him pause. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“That depends,” Ally said. “Would you rather watch, or take a ride?”
Nick’s gaze fastened on the dildo again, his mouth going instantly dry. It looked... huge. For the first time, he wondered if that was how his dick looked to Ally. He remembered how her eyes had widened the first time she saw it, way back during their junior year in college. Shaking his head, he tried to wrap his mind around what he was staring at. Maybe it was just the incongruity of seeing something so plainly fake attached to a woman’s body, but if all the real cocks in the world looked that intimidating, he was amazed anyone ever had sex more than once.
“I-I’d love to watch,” he replied at last.
With a grin, Ally climbed up on the bed to lie in between them, kissing them both in turn. All of a sudden, Nick realized he hadn’t seen her naked since they’d left Italy. Now that he wasn’t distracted by her purple appendage, he noticed the new fullness in her bust line, the soft swell of her once-flat belly. Mom was right; she’d gained weight in her face too, mostly in the cheeks and around the jaw line, but it suited her.
He’d heard the old cliché about pregnant women glowing, but with Ally, it was absolutely true. In the past few weeks, it was as if someone had turned the lights on under her skin. She had never looked happier to him, or more beautiful.
When her lips grazed his ear, she whispered, “Relax, okay? You get to play my favorite role tonight. Believe it or not, I’m actually kind of envious.”
“I’m actually kind of nervous.”
“And you’re not even the one getting fucked. Speaking of which...” She gestured for Eric to roll onto his back, then knelt between his spread legs, leaning in to give him a long, deep and exceedingly hot kiss. Eric’s hand snaked down to grasp the base of the dildo, grinding it against her in a slow circular motion. Ally moaned and kissed him again, taking a good bite out of Eric’s lower lip. “You bastard.”
“Don’t blame me,” Eric replied. “You’re the one who adjusted it right over your clit.”
“I’ve got to get some fun out of this, don’t I?”
“Besides torturing me, you mean?”
“And you don’t enjoy that at all, do you?” Sitting back on her heels, she shot Nick a wink. “Do me a favor, and grab me a condom and some lube.”
Nick fished them out of the bedside table and pitched them to her before sliding down on his pillows. Voyeurism had never been a particular kink of his, but lying there watching Ally roll a condom on her enormous purple cock carried a pretty fucking erotic charge. His own cock and Eric’s both stood at half mast, and they hadn’t touched each other in minutes.
Time to remedy that—after all, Ally hadn’t stipulated that watching was the only thing he could do. Rolling onto his side, he scooted over next to Eric and started kissing a warm, wet trail from the throbbing, ultra-sensitive pulse point in his throat down to the middle of his chest.
“Damn,” Ally breathed. “If you two keep that up, I might as well just take this thing off.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Eric shot back.
“Sounds like we’ve got a pushy bottom in the house.” Squirting a generous blob of lube onto her fingers, she pushed one, then another, inside Eric’s hole, then gave her hand a slow twist. A sharp intake of breath was Eric’s sole response. “I should’ve made Nick do this. His fingers are so much thicker than mine. But then, you wouldn’t get that nice deep ache when my cock opens you up.”
“So do it already!”
“The things I put up with.” Letting out a sigh, she cocked her head at Nick. “Does he give you this much trouble when I’m not around?”
Nick hesitated before answering, knowing Eric would give him hell for it later. Somehow Nick was just fine with that. “Oh, you have no idea. I had to force him to suck my cock the other morning.”
“Bad boy. Sounds like somebody needs a good, hard fucking.”
“He certainly does,” Nick agreed.
“Well, then,” she said, lining up her big purple dick with Eric’s hole, “here it comes.” And in she plunged, burying the dildo to the hilt in one long stroke. She gave Eric only a few seconds to get used to the invader in his ass before starting to thrust, moving her hips with such force, the bed shuddered. Nick stared on in slack-jawed amazement, mightily impressed and even a tiny bit scared. He didn’t know Ally had it in her—and he was grateful she wasn’t in him.
She fucked like a demon and showed no mercy, not even when Eric had to grab hold of the headboard to keep from banging his head against it. His cock looked painfully swollen now, bobbing against his belly. Nick reached for it on sheer impulse, fingers wrapping around the rigid flesh and stroking hard.
Eric erupted within seconds, spine arched like a steel whip, head thrown back in a silent cry. Slowing her thrusts, Ally rode out his orgasm before gently pulling free of him, unbuckling the harness and tossing it aside. She was flushed a lovely, multi-orgasmic pink from her hairline down to the middle of her chest, beaded with sweat all over. With the world’s most satiated grin, she flopped onto the bed on the other side of Eric and closed her eyes.
Nick started to drift off too, his head resting on Eric’s chest. His husband’s breathing and pulse had, thankfully, returned to normal. He let out a tiny moan when Eric’s hand tangled in his hair, tugging softly.
“You okay?” Eric rasped. He sounded like someone had scrubbed out his throat with steel wool. “You’re the only one of us who didn’t...”
“Don’t worry about it. After watching that performance, anything else would be distinctly anti-climactic. No pun intended.”
Eric laughed. “Hope we didn’t shock you too much. I could see how uneasy you were at first.”
“It was kind of unexpected,” he admitted. “But after twenty years, it’s nice to know we’ve still got a few surprises left.”
“Is that your roundabout way of saying our sex life’s in a rut?”
“God, no. We’ll probably be chasing each other around the bed till we’re in the old folks’ home.” Too late, he remembered his mother, lying in her hospital bed with only a housekeeper for company. “If I live that long,” he added with a bitter chuckle.
Eric fled to his office the moment he arrived the following Monday morning, instructing his assistant to hold his calls and keep everyone out. Half the executive staff probably wanted to see him, but not until he’d had a chance to decompress and listen to his messages. Picking up the phone, he dialed into his voicemail, groaning when the clipped, polite recording told him he had over thirty messages.
Madeleine slipped in to bring him a pot of coffee and his regular mail while he was still on the phone. He poured himself a cup, sipping it absentmindedly while he listened to a few seconds of each message, then either forwarded them on to Madeleine to deal with or scribbled down some hasty notes on the handful of calls he needed to tackle himself.
He glanced at the list and frowned. He’d been expecting to hear from Emory Dalton by now. It’d been over a week since Eric had sent him the prospectus on the Asian expansion. Now Eric was almost afraid to talk to him, for fear of facing yet another rejection. Well, to hell with that. If he got the bad news out of the way early, maybe the rest of his day wouldn’t be too awful.
Picking up the phone, he dialed Dalton’s cell, suppressing a sigh when it went straight to voicemail. He left a quick message and hung up, hoping he hadn’t sounded too anxious. Then, fortified by a quickly quaffed cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain, he buzzed Madeleine and told her to open the floodgates.
Instantly there was a knock on the door, and Mike Barrett, Eric’s chief financial officer, poked his head in. “Can I have a minute?”
Eric beckoned him in, gesturing toward a nearby chair. “Have you been waiting outside the door since I got here?”
“Worse. I’ve been here for most of the weekend, trying to put out fires.” Eric gave him a swift head-to-toe once over; while Mike’s suit was impeccably pressed and every strand of blond hair in place, the steamer trunks under his eyes more than verified his story. “Six sizable blocks of CI stock have hit the markets since last week. That rumor’s got all the stockholders panicked.”
“You’ve known about this for days, and you didn’t call me?”
“Madeleine said you were dealing with a family emergency, and not to bother you unless it was life-or-death. Believe me, Eric, I didn’t know this was going to get so far out of hand. I’ve spent the past two days calling all the major stockholders, trying to convince them that they’ve got nothing to worry about. I think I’ve managed to calm most of them down.”
“Until another block shows up.” Great. So now he had a run on the company to deal with. Perfect start to a perfect day. “Buy up all remaining available shares. With this Asian deal on the line, the last thing we need is for the stock price to plummet.”
“Eric, the stock’s worth over a hundred million. We’re not that liquid right now.”
Jesus. Here barely ten minutes, and there was already a migraine starting to throb behind his eyes. “Tap into my personal line of credit if you have to. Anything else?”
“No, that’ll do it. But Eric...” The look on Barrett’s face reminded Eric of the proverbial poor hapless messenger about to fall under the palace guard’s axe. “If we have to keep buying back our own stock, the company’s not going to remain solvent much longer. Are you planning to bankrupt yourself to keep CI afloat?”
Exactly the question he’d been trying to avoid. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The rest of Eric’s day followed in the same crappy vein. Between tense phone calls with major stockholders and a contentious luncheon meeting with his vice presidents, he was ready to bolt by mid-afternoon. Instead, he set Madeleine to guard the door, closed the blinds and put on his favorite Mahler symphony while he stretched out on the couch. But even after half an hour of staring at the Degas ballerinas hanging over his desk, he didn’t feel any better. Instead of calming and centering him as it usually did, the music set his teeth on edge. He turned it off after the first movement and went back to work.
The clock had just struck five when Emory Dalton called him back. Eric could tell from the strained joviality in his tone that it wasn’t good news.
“The prospectus looks fine. You’ve certainly done a very thorough job researching all the possibilities here.” He paused to take a gusty deep breath before adding, “But I’ve had a talk with my accountant, and any kind of investment is completely out of the question right now.”
Talk about a one hundred eighty degree turnaround—and after Emory had been the one to approach him. “That’s too bad,” Eric replied, trying to project sincere commiseration, and, he suspected, failing miserably. “But I hope you’ll keep me in mind if your situation changes in the near future. If you could put in a good word for me with your associates, I’d appreciate it.”
“I would, although I doubt I’ll see them anytime soon. My wife’s browbeat me into taking her to Europe for the next month or two. Ah, the joys of retirement.” He laughed nervously. “Just in time for it to be beastly hot no matter where we go.”
“Paris is relatively cool this time of year. I was there myself a few weeks ago.”
“Ah, yes, when you married your—” He stopped short, clearing his throat a touch more loudly than necessary. “We’re about to head out for dinner, so I’ll let you go. Good luck to you, Eric.”
Eric hung up, then sat there staring at the phone, his mind chugging along its own twisty track. There was something off about the way Emory had sounded. Not just his obvious unease, but... something else. Almost as if he knew there was someone else listening in, making sure he didn’t veer too far off-script.
Eric wracked his brain trying to figure out who’d do such a thing, and came up with only one name. He’d tried to convince himself that seeing Bran at the benefit last week was a mere coincidence, and his suspicions of Bran starting that rumor were more paranoid than practical. But now it certainly looked as if Bran had it in for him, and moreover, he didn’t particularly care who he had to intimidate to accomplish his goal.
But why would he go that far? Was he really that pissed at Eric’s refusal to let him in on the Asian expansion? The Branford Crane he remembered was ruthless and vindictive, but only when it served a relevant purpose. What was he hoping to gain here, besides Eric’s enmity?
Of course, maybe that was the point. Bran was a master manipulator, and he never let go of a grudge. He’d been willing to wait years to take revenge on Eric’s father for throwing monkey wrenches into a couple of Bran’s deals. And that was strictly business. But when Eric had walked out on him when their perverse bedroom games crossed over every boundary of safety and sanity, Bran no doubt perceived that as a betrayal, on both personal and professional levels.
And now, apparently, he’d decided it was time for a little payback.
* * * *
Eric considered going over to Crane BioGen to confront Bran, though he knew he’d never make it past security. He picked up the phone to blast him with an angry message, but his fingers froze before he finished punching in the number. He might get more out of Bran if he confronted him in person, and at a time and place of Eric’s own choosing. Best not to squander the element of surprise.
Fortunately, Bran was a creature of habit, and his favorite steakhouse was a block down from Crane BioGen’s corporate headquarters. Eric spent an interminable evening hanging out at the bar before Bran finally showed up, with a pair of business associates in tow. Eric waited for the hostess to seat them before sauntering up to their booth.
The slightly startled yet smug look on Bran’s face told Eric his suspicions were spot-on. “Hello, Eric.” His tone dripped with bored amusement, as if he found Eric’s sudden appearance entirely too predictable. “I wasn’t aware this was one of your haunts.”
“You never know who they’ll let in,” Eric replied, flashing a tight smile. “I’ve been meaning to drop by your office for a chat, but since we’re both here, why don’t I join you?”
He was just about to slide in when Bran told his dinner companions to excuse him for a moment, then shot Eric a glance that could flay skin at ten paces before making a beeline to the bar. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, showing up here?”
So potential public humiliation was a surefire way to get under Bran’s skin. Eric took a leisurely sip of the scotch in his hand and filed that tidbit away for future reference. “Since you’re so fond of ambushing people, I thought I’d return the favor.”
“Touché. So what do you want?”
“Just what I said—a little chat. And I doubt you’ll want anyone to overhear what I have to say to you.”
“Fine.” He signaled the bartender, who promptly poured him two fingers of Glenlivet and set it down in front of him. Bran knocked it back in two long swallows. “I should be done here in a couple of hours. Be at my condo at ten. I’ll let you look up the address yourself.” And with that, he turned and strode back to his table.
Bran had moved sometime within the past two decades, to an elegant, stately townhouse on Sutton Place. Eric paused to admire the sweeping view of the East River when Bran ushered him in, then got down to the purpose of his visit.
“Why are you trying to ruin me?” he asked in his most abrupt tone, hoping to catch Bran off-guard. His errant host, however, had just seated himself on the couch with a drink. Now Eric understood why Bran had wanted to meet here. He was back in his own element, controlled and unflappable as ever. Eric could’ve kicked himself for not having it out with him back at the restaurant. “Whatever problems we’ve had, they’re in the past. I’m willing to leave them there.”
“Really? That’s not the impression I got when you dismissed my investment offer out of hand.”
“If you’d played straight with me from the outset, I might have considered doing business with you again. But you’ve proven on more than one occasion that I can’t trust you. I’m not about to enter into a deal like this with someone I have to keep an eye on every minute.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” Bran drawled, taking great care to set his glass down precisely in the middle of the single coaster on the coffee table. “Because you’re not only going to let me in on the Asian deal, you’ll also sell me a controlling interest in Courtland Industries. If you don’t, by this time next month, you’ll be using your stock certificates as toilet paper.”
Eric burst out laughing. He’d already started to have doubts about Bran’s mental stability, but this only confirmed them. “And why would I even think about doing something like that?”
Bran stared at him for a long moment, then popped open a small compartment in the table and drew out a plain wooden box. Opening it, he scooped out its contents and tossed them on the table. It was a stack of photos printed on glossy photo paper and cut down to snapshot size, edges bumped and ragged, some smeared with fingerprints. When Eric stepped forward to take a closer look, the breath froze in his lungs.
They were photos of him. Naked photos. Photos showing him tied to Bran’s bed, fresh welts and bruises decorating his ass. Photos showing his face—eighteen years younger, but still undeniably him. Shock crashed through him in such a violent wave, he had to grab hold of the nearest chair to steady himself. When the thought of Bran jacking off to his image for the past twenty years hit him, he nearly vomited on the spot.
“Wh-When the hell did you take these? I don’t remember you having a camera.”
“Oh, I used to keep one in the armoire. Never know when it might come in handy.” He picked up his glass and took a sip, relaxing back against the couch cushions. “Something tells me your stockholders might be the tiniest bit shocked to find these in their mailboxes. I doubt too many of them would want to continue doing business with someone who indulges in such perverted pleasures.”
“Really? I could tell them a few twisted stories about you.”
“You could try. Unfortunately, you’re not the one with photographic proof.”
Eric sucked in a breath, his mind spinning. “I’ll buy those photos from you right now,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “Name your price.”
“Fifty-one percent of Courtland Industries. Non-negotiable.”
He swallowed hard. “For God’s sake, Bran, why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re ripe for it. And because I can.”
Eric searched Bran’s face, desperately hoping for some small sign of humanity. But there was nothing. No tenderness or mercy, no sympathy. His steel-gray eyes might as well have been carved out of stone. Nothing Eric said or did would make a difference. Bran would destroy him, and give it no more thought than if he’d swatted a fly.
“I used to think my father was the most heartless man who ever lived, but you’ve got him beat ten times over. At least he never pimped his executives out like whores just to seal a deal.”
“How would you know?”
This seemed to be his night for trying to dodge bombshells—and failing miserably. He waited for Bran to elaborate, but when he didn’t, Eric prompted, “Is there more to that, or do you expect me to guess?”
“I’m assuming Edward never told you that I worked for him for five years after I got out of grad school. Suffice it to say, it was an educational experience. And I was a very apt pupil.”
Eric should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. After the last few minutes, his adrenaline had apparently run dry, leaving him numb, wrung out. All he wanted was for this conversation to end. “Go ahead, then. Send out the photos. I can’t stop you. But I doubt anyone will care about a youthful indiscretion that happened decades ago.”
“You might be right. Kink has become much more mainstream of late. The shock value’s worn off considerably.” He put down his drink and got up, strolling to the window to gaze out at the view. “But I still have that old videotape of you in Martin West’s hotel room, with him going down on you after signing that biofuel contract. That might cause a ripple or two in the corporate pond.”
“You son of a bitch,” Eric said tonelessly.
Bran chortled. “Is that the best you can do? You should’ve heard some of the names your father used to call me.”
“It won’t work, you know. When West tells his side of the story—”
“He’s been dead for five years.” Bran shrugged. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if there’s any provable wrongdoing. All I need is for your board of directors to vote you out as CEO. I’ve already persuaded a couple of them to nominate me as your replacement.”
And Eric could just imagine how. “Do you really believe they’ll choose you over me?”
“Choose a respected, valued member of the business community over a self-proclaimed deviant who’s fled his own country to live in a perverted ménage à trois? I know who I’d pick.”
“I’d like to think they’re a bit more open-minded than that.”
“The board’s been looking to get rid of you for years. You’re an embarrassment to them.” Bran shrugged again. “If you’d remained here in New York and kept your ear to the ground, you might have headed this off. But you obviously care more about your own personal comfort than what’s good for the company, and now you’re going to lose it. You brought this all on yourself. I don’t feel the least bit sorry for you.”
And that, Eric mused bitterly, was the truest thing he’d said all evening.
* * * *
The phone rang at a quarter till midnight, jolting Ally from her stupor. She’d been staring at the manuscript on her laptop screen for the past fifteen minutes, hoping little gremlins would magically appear and write the rest of her book for her. She closed the computer and set it aside, then reached for her cell phone, smiling when she saw Eric’s number on the display.
“Hey, you,” she murmured. “I’ve been waiting for you to call all evening. Hope your first day back wasn’t too brutal.”
Her husband let out the world’s weariest chuckle. “You don’t want to know.”
“That bad?”
“Try that bad to the hundredth power.” He sighed. “I’m actually considering coming back up tomorrow. The thought of facing the office again makes me want to slit my wrists.”
Jesus. She’d never heard him talk like that about anything, much less work. Especially not work. “Are you serious? What about all that work you had to get done?”
“It can wait. I need some time to think without one disaster after another exploding in my face. And then there’s...”
“There’s what?”
“I’ll tell you and Nick when I see you tomorrow.”
“So you really are coming back?”
“I think so.” She could practically see his wry smile on the other end of the line. “Unless that’s your way of saying you’re sick of the sight of me.”
“C’mon, you know we hated seeing you leave this morning. But I’m worried about you making two five-hour train trips in as many days.”
“It’s all right, I can use the time to catch up on my paperwork. How’s Mary doing?”
“The good news is, she and Estellita have hit it off famously. I haven’t seen Mary laugh so much since we’ve been here. And her speech improves every day. Now she hardly slurs at all. But the downside...” She sighed. “Well, there hasn’t been much of a downside yet, but Nick and I keep waiting for it like the proverbial other shoe. We’re both so jittery, it’s hard to enjoy what little time we have left with her.”
“All the more reason for me to come back. I don’t want to miss out on this time either.”
Dead air crackled for a long moment, until Ally said, “You want to talk to Nick? I don’t mind taking the phone in to him.”
“He’s not there with you?”
“No, he’s sleeping in his own room tonight. I think our last couple of play dates wore him out.” She giggled. “Although he certainly had plenty of stamina at the time, thank God.”
“Well, I’m planning to come in on the four o’clock train, so I should get back to the house in time for dinner. Tell him I’m looking forward to seeing him. And you too, of course.”
“Of course.” God, he sounded even more drained than usual. She wanted to reach through the phone and hug him tight. “Eric, is everything okay? You don’t sound like yourself at all.”
“Not really. In fact, I need to sit down and have a serious talk with both of you tomorrow evening after dinner.”
She sat straight up. “Okay, now you’re scaring me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The line clicked off.
“Terrific,” she muttered, tossing her phone on the bedside table. Leave it to Eric to end on a melodramatic note.
She lay there for a several minutes until she remembered she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet. She’d had an unexpected bout of nausea after dinner, which was when she’d decided to spend the evening quietly working in bed. Now she felt so bone-weary, she didn’t want to move.
Oh, well. She couldn’t exactly snap her fingers and make her toothbrush appear by magic. Yawning, she padded into the bathroom.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face and applied anti-aging moisturizer before moving to the toilet. But when she plopped down, she glimpsed something—something dark and reddish dotting the cotton crotch of her panties.
Her breath caught when she realized it was blood.
Nick drove to the train station in Rochester to pick Eric up the following afternoon. He waited in the station, pacing and fidgeting with his hands in his pockets, until the crowds from the four o’clock from Manhattan started pouring down the escalators. When the throng thinned with no sign of Eric, momentary panic seized him—but suddenly there he was, bringing up the rear. The surprised, relieved look on Eric’s face when their eyes finally locked made the thirty-mile drive more than worth it.
They threw their arms around each other. Nick was about to kiss his husband right there in full view of the public, but Eric’s firm head-shake stopped him. “I wasn’t expecting this, but I’m glad you came,” he said, handing his bag to Nick as they headed for the parking lot.
“I figured it’d be a nice surprise. Ally told me you didn’t sound so good on the phone last night. I thought you might appreciate not having to rent a car and drive in by yourself.”
“How’s your mother?”
“Better. Or at least, no worse.” They reached the SUV and climbed in. Nick put Eric’s bag in the back seat, then sat there for a moment, drumming his palms lightly on the wheel. “I should probably tell you before we get home, but we had kind of a scary incident last night. I had to take Ally to the emergency room. She was bleeding, but she’s fine now. They sent her home, and she’s resting in bed.”
“Jesus,” Eric breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“We didn’t get home until almost four in the morning, and we were both blitzed by then. I didn’t even think of it until I woke up, and I knew you were already on your way. I thought you’d prefer hearing it in person rather than over the phone.”
“I appreciate you sparing me an extra few hours of worry, but next time—if, God forbid, there is one—call me right away, all right? No matter what time it is.”
Nick nodded, swept with a sense of relief. He’d expected Eric to be angry. “Of course, I just...I didn’t know what to do. I was a little out of my mind, to tell you the truth. Between this and my mom, it’s all starting to get to me.”
Eric reached over to clasp his hand. “Believe me, I know how you feel.”
* * * *
Eric went directly upstairs once they arrived back at the house, finding Ally sitting up in bed with her laptop. His heart lurched when he saw how pale and tired she looked, despite the radiant smile she flashed him the moment he walked in. Dropping his bag, he crossed the room in three long strides and gathered her up in his arms, taking care not to squeeze her as tightly as he wanted to.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Despite your belief to the contrary, I’m not made of china.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been run through a wringer twice, but other than that, I’m perfectly okay. The doctor said I should try to stay off my feet for the next couple of days, but he didn’t see any real cause for alarm. A little spotting’s not unheard of in the early weeks of pregnancy. I wasn’t even bleeding anymore by the time Nick got me to the hospital.”
Eric exhaled, the tight fist around his heart finally letting go. “That’s a relief. Though I’m fairly sure the doctor didn’t tell you to bring work to bed with you.”
“I’ve got to do something to keep from going crazy. I don’t know how those women who get ordered to bed for their entire pregnancies do it. Two hours, and I was climbing the walls.”
“What a shocker,” he deadpanned.
She looked as if she was about to grab a nearby sheaf of papers and smack him with it, but instead she shut the laptop and set it aside. “In a way, it’s a good thing this happened. It just dawned on me that I haven’t even seen an obstetrician yet. The hospital’s referred me to one in Rochester. I’ve got an appointment for tomorrow morning.”
“Good. I’ll go with you.” His empty stomach took advantage of the momentary silence to start grumbling. “So when did you eat last? In case it’s not too obvious, I’m starving.”
She was already sliding out of bed. “Let’s go plunder the fridge. I think Estellita sent over some of that leftover lentil soup from the other day.”
“Stay right where you are. I’ll go heat some up for you, and you can have it here in bed.”
“Eric, I’m fine. One flight of stairs won’t kill me.”
“And if you stay right here, we won’t have to find out the hard way.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Work on your book for a few more minutes, and I’ll be back up with the food.”
Nick was already in the kitchen, sitting on a stool at the center island eating a sandwich and flipping idly through the newspaper. “How’s she doing?”
“I practically had to chain her to the bed to keep her from following me down here.” He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”
The pot of soup Estellita had left for them sat on the top shelf of the fridge. Eric ladled out enough for two bowls into a quart-size sauce pan and set it to heat on the stove, then looked for something to round out the meal. He found salad fixings, and made up a mixed green salad with Ally’s favorite raspberry vinaigrette dressing, along with cups of fresh fruit.
It took only a few minutes for the soup to start bubbling. Eric ladled it out into bowls, put everything on a tray and turned to head back upstairs.
“Wait up, I’ll come with you,” Nick said, stopping momentarily to leave his own dishes in the sink.
They piled onto the bed, with Nick stretched out on one side of Ally, and Eric perched on the edge so he and his wife could share the tray. All conversation ground to a halt as they stuffed their faces. Eric was both relieved and thankful to see Ally devour every last bite of her soup and salad, then start nibbling at her fruit.
At last, when there was no food left to scarf down, Eric moved the tray over to the corner table and came back to resume his seat, breath hitching at the expectant look on Nick’s and Ally’s faces. He closed his eyes for a brief moment to steady himself, then plunged ahead.
“I need to tell you both about something that happened to me a long time ago. I thought I’d left it in the past, but it’s apparently come back to haunt me, in a way that can’t help but affect the two of you. Nick already knows some of it, but I never filled him in on the details. It’s a time in my life I’m not proud of, and I’m truly sorry that I have to tell you now, on top of everything else we’re dealing with. Parts of it are bound to be a bit of a shock.”
So he told them all of it. He told them about how his father’s callousness and neglect had led to his mother’s death, and how his own hunger for revenge had prompted him to form an ill-considered business partnership with Branford Crane. He told them how that alliance had turned personal, and how his own need for punishment and approval spurred him to do things that even now made him shudder. He described his evenings with Bran in as much detail as he could bear, cringing inwardly at the stricken expressions on his husband’s and wife’s faces.
Neither of them said a word for several long moments after he’d finished. At last, Ally reached to take his hand, murmuring, “I can see why you were so afraid to tell us, but I’m glad you did.”
Nick, however, sat there with his arms folded across his chest and a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Now I know where you got all those welts and bruises on your ass that night you drove out to the farm. God, I’d love to choke the life out of that Bran guy with my bare hands.”
Eric flashed him a wan smile. “Why do you think I never told you before?” Then, with a sigh, he added, “Sadly, the story doesn’t end there. Bran’s apparently not content to stay out of my life. He has photos and an old videotape of me in... compromising situations, and he’s using them to blackmail me into selling him the company.”
“But... but...” Ally sputtered, “Isn’t that kind of stupid, considering everything you know about him?”
“Bran’s always led a very discreet life. I’ve never known him to be the subject of gossip. I doubt anyone outside his immediate circle even knows he’s gay. No one would believe me even if I did tell what I know. And if those photos come to light, it’ll look like I’m just trying to tar him with the same brush.” Eric chuckled bitterly. “For the past ten years, I’ve been nothing but open and above-board about my life, and it’s the closeted, kinky queer who gets the upper hand. That’s social progress for you.”
“So what do you plan to do?” Ally prompted. “You can’t let him get away with this.”
“Oh, I don’t intend to, but it won’t be easy stopping him. He’s already started spreading rumors that the company’s going under. Some of the stockholders are panicking and dumping their shares. I’m trying to buy them up as quickly and quietly as I can, but it’s only a matter of time until my line of credit’s tapped out. And more shares keep flooding the market every day.”
“Well, I can’t help you with that part,” Nick said, “but I can probably help you with Bran. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re married to an investigative journalist. If there’s dirt to be dug up, I’ll find it.”
“And I’ll help,” Ally added. “I don’t usually like descending to the level of sharks, but in this case, I can’t wait to do a little chomping of my own.”
Sudden relief sluiced over Eric in such a profound wave, it nearly doubled him over. “I-I don’t know what to say, other than thank you. I was so afraid you’d be angry when you heard the story. Or even worse, disgusted.”
“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” Nick said. “Nobody deserves to have their life ruined over something that happened when they were too young to weigh all the consequences.”
“If you’re saying I didn’t know any better, I did. But that still didn’t stop me. Revenge is a very powerful motivator.”
“Regardless,” Nick continued, “I’m not letting some blackmailing, self-loathing hypocrite destroy everything we’ve all worked so hard to build.”
Ally nodded in agreement.
Chuckling, Eric climbed onto the bed to lie between them, kissing them both in turn. “I’ve got to be the luckiest man on the face of the planet.”
Nick and Ally both grinned. “We know.”
The following morning Ally got up and got dressed for the first time since Monday. She bounced on the balls of her feet as she applied her makeup, already aching for a good stretch of the legs after an entire day of enforced sloth. Luckily, morning sickness hadn’t hit her too badly today; she looked only a teensy bit green around the edges, which an extra dollop of foundation took care of. Then, knocking back her last few sips of chamomile tea, she stepped into her flats and practically skipped downstairs to the kitchen.
“Good morning, husbands,” she chirped, swinging around the center island to kiss them both on their respective cheeks. Eric was eating an omelette, so she snatched the fork out of his hand and took a quick bite. It was his favorite—egg whites with garlic and shallot. “That’s good. I should’ve had you make me one.”
Eric started to get up. “We’ve still got time, if you really want—”
“No, I probably shouldn’t. The old stomach might still rebel.”
Nick put down his own fork with a sigh. “Wish I could come with you both, but Miguel’s coming out to Mom’s for the first time today. I’ve got to show him what all needs doing, plus it’ll probably take both of us to dig those crooked fence posts out of the mud.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him. “There’ll be plenty of other appointments.”
“Yeah, I know, but... I wanted to be there for the first ultrasound and everything.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll bring home photos,” Eric said with a smile. “The only part you’ll miss is cooling your heels in the waiting room.”
They got on the road to Rochester half an hour later. Eric turned on the radio, flipping the stations until he found classical music. Ally couldn’t figure out what was playing, but it reminded her of wallpaper—flowery and dull, but at least innocuous enough to fade into the background.
“It’s probably just as well that Nick didn’t come with us,” Eric said at last. “Two husbands might’ve been a bit awkward to explain.”
Ally gave him a sharp look. “I’m not particularly concerned about what the doctor thinks, Eric. She’s there to treat me, not pass judgment on my lifestyle. If she gives us attitude, we’ll find someone else.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We should’ve gotten you in to see the doctor in Rome before we left.”
“And it would’ve been a wasted trip, since he’s not the one who’ll be delivering the baby.”
“You know, I don’t understand how you can be so cavalier about this,” he snapped. “You almost miscarried the other night, and all I’ve gotten from you is constant whining about staying in bed. You don’t even act like you care.”
Stunned, she gaped at him. “O-Of course I care! You have no idea how much I panicked when I saw that blood. Nick had me in the car to the hospital not five minutes after it happened. And for the record, I did not almost miscarry! The ER doctor would’ve admitted me if I had.”
“Allison, look—”
“No, you look! I know you’re under a lot of strain right now, but don’t take it out on me. I want this baby every bit as much as you and Nick do. So you can stop accusing me of things I’ve never even thought of.”
Several tense, silent minutes passed before Eric let out a long breath, then reached over to take her hand. “You’re right,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to project my frustrations onto you. It won’t happen again.”
“Take one stressed-out husband, add one hormonal wife. Mix well, stand back and wait for the explosion.” She laughed, relieved when he followed suit. “I’m sorry, too.”
By some miracle, Dr. Stevenson’s office was only running about ten minutes late. Ally liked the middle-aged woman on sight; she had gentle eyes, a quiet manner and an exceedingly light touch when it came to examinations. But Ally still couldn’t help grasping Eric’s hand until the doctor finished, pushing back her stool to remove her gloves and pitch them into the trash.
“Have you been under a lot of stress lately?” she asked, reaching for Ally’s file.
“Um, well...” Ally began.
“Yes, she has,” Eric interjected. “We both have. We’re dealing with some unfortunate... family problems right now.”
“Well, I know it’s easier to say than do, but try to avoid it. Stress can cause spotting, and it definitely causes a spike in blood pressure, which is something you don’t need right now, Mrs. Courtland.”
“Does everything else look all right?” Ally asked.
“I didn’t see anything unusual, but the ultrasound should tell me if I’m wrong.”
Ally looked at Eric, and they both nodded.
She held her breath while the doctor squirted cold jelly onto her abdomen. At first there was nothing recognizable on the ultrasound screen except static, but after a couple of passes, an image appeared. It was so tiny and blobby-looking, she wasn’t sure she was seeing it right. Then she felt the tears pouring down her face. “I-Is that...”
“That’s your baby,” the doctor said. “I’d estimate you’re at about five to six weeks, which means you should deliver in early December. Congratulations.”
The doctor exited a few minutes later, leaving Ally to get dressed. Eric helped her down from the examining table and swept her up in his arms, his blue eyes suspiciously shiny. “Thank you,” he whispered, giving her a soft kiss. “This is the finest gift anyone’s ever given me. I can’t wait till Nick sees the pictures.”
“Oh, terrific. Then I’ll have two grown men bawling like babies on my hands.”
“I’m sure you can think of a way to comfort us.” He kissed her again. “God, I love you.”
The huge, dopey grin on her face lasted all the way out to the car, but when Eric started fussing over whether her seatbelt was fastened securely enough, that was it. “C’mon, Eric, ease up. You just heard Dr. Stevenson say I’m fine.”
“I also heard her say you should avoid stress.”
“And you’re giving me more of it with all this mother-henning!” Sucking in a breath, she counted to ten. “I can’t take seven and a half more months of this, so knock it off. Please?”
“Okay, fine.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Shall we stop off for something to eat before we head back? You didn’t have much breakfast.”
“No, I’m not hungry. But there is something else I’d like to do while we’re in town.”
“Which is?”
She hesitated a moment before continuing. “I’ve been thinking about Laura ever since Nick told us about her passing the other day. I wasn’t as good of a friend to her as I should’ve been. I can’t make up for that now, but I wouldn’t mind seeing her mother and expressing my condolences.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“If it’s the same house, I can probably find it again. I dropped by with Nick once, back in the day.”
Eric nodded. “All right. I’ll drive you there, but don’t expect me to come in. Somehow I doubt Laura’s mother will be happy to see the man her daughter’s ex-fiancé jilted her for.”
After an hour of driving around and almost giving up more than once, they found Laura’s mother’s house. It was a rundown wooden two-story house on Lyell Avenue, complete with rickety fence and a postage-stamp sized rectangle of grass in the front yard. Ally’s spirits sunk at the sight of it.
“Jesus,” she breathed as they drove by. “Looks like it’s about a hundred years old.”
“It probably is. Most of the homes in this neighborhood date back to the early twentieth century.” He gave her a wry half-smile. “Sure you still want to chance it?”
“We’ve driven all this way, I have to at least try. Maybe she won’t even remember me.”
Eric let her out in front of the house, then flipped a U-turn and parked across the street.
She closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself, then marched up to the front gate, gasping at the horrible state of the yard. Most of the grass was dead, all dried out and yellow. There was an old half-disassembled bike off to one side that had been there so long weeds had grown up around it. The house itself, peeling paint and bordered by straggly gardenia bushes, had definitely seen better days.
Maybe Laura’s mother didn’t live here anymore. But there was no For Sale sign out in front. Flummoxed, Ally stood there staring up at the place, unsure what to do next.
Then the front door opened, and out came a little boy dressed in clean jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a skateboard. A little boy with dark, curly hair who looked around ten years old.
A little boy who looked just like that childhood photo of Nick she still had in her purse.
The boy noticed her standing there, but before he could say anything, Ally turned and sprinted back to the car.
Eric’s brow furrowed with puzzlement and concern. “What’s the matter? You didn’t even go up to the door.”
“Take a look at that child, and please tell me I’m not going insane.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Please tell me he’s not the image of Nick.”
“Allison—”
“Just do it, please!”
The urgency in her tone apparently convinced him. Eric slid out of the car and ambled over to the sidewalk, maintaining a discreet distance between himself and the boy, now skateboarding up and down the driveway.
She knew a few seconds would be all he needed. Striding back to the car, he climbed into his seat, face pale as ice. “Jesus Christ.”
* * * *
Eric floored it out of the neighborhood, his hands shaking so badly on the wheel, he had to swing into the first parking lot he found, a hardware store right across the street from a coffee house. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s sit someplace quiet for a few minutes and figure this out.”
He got Ally an herbal tea and himself the strongest, darkest roast in the house, and by the time he sat down at their tiny table, he’d managed to stop trembling—on the outside, anyway.
“We can’t tell Nick about this,” he began in as even a tone as he could muster. “Not until we know for sure. He’s already stressed enough worrying about Mary. Something like this could push him right over the edge.”
Ally had just dumped a sugar into her tea, but now she stopped in mid-stir. “Eric, we can’t keep this from him! I mean, you saw that boy. He looks just like—”
“Yes, I know, he looks just like Nick. But that’s coincidence, not proof.”
“And where will we get that?”
“I’ve got a private investigator on retainer. Let’s see what he can dig up. The boy’s birth records have to be filed somewhere.” He’d just lifted his coffee for a nice, long sip when his phone began vibrating. He reached to fish it out of his pocket, then decided to let it go to voice mail.
“You should get that. It might be Nick,” Ally pointed out.
Only it wasn’t Nick. It was Mike Barrett, his number flashing urgently on the display.
Eric groaned. “It’s the office. I’d better take it.” He got up, head cocked toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Of course, by the time Eric reached the privacy of the car, the call had gone to voice mail. He hit the ‘call back’ button, waiting for Mike to pick up. “What’s going on?” Eric asked tersely.
“Sorry if I caught you at a bad time, Eric, but there’s a situation here.” Eric’s CFO sucked in a breath so heavy with tension, it sounded as if he had a brick sitting on his chest. “Madeleine just brought me a package addressed to you. It’s got a DVD and a bunch of... photos.”
Oh, Jesus. Oh, holy fuck. He wasn’t expecting Bran to work this fast. He slumped against the wheel, blood roaring in his ears. It took a few moments before he could speak again. “A-Are you and Madeleine the only ones who’ve seen it?”
“Yes, and don’t worry—you know we won’t breathe a word. I’ve got a note here, too. It says, ‘Thought you might like a souvenir of our conversation the other evening. Next package goes to CNN. Fifty-one percent. I’m waiting. Bran.’” A tiny hitch of hesitation, and then, “Eric, what the hell’s going on?”
“Aside from the obvious?”
“Okay, so it’s blackmail. But if these photos are fakes, they’re pretty damn good ones.”
“They’re not fakes,” Eric rasped. “Put the package in the safe in my office. Madeleine has the combination. I’ll be up as early as I can tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, Eric, but...”
“But what? You mean there’s more?”
“You told me to keep you posted if any more CI stock hit the markets. Another couple of blocks went up for sale today.”
“I thought I left standing orders for you to buy up whatever was offered.”
“Which I’ve been doing. But your line of credit’s nearly run out. I’ve tried, but I can’t get the limit raised.”
Jesus. A hundred and fifty million, wiped out in two days. “Buy it anyway. I’ll figure out some way to raise the money. And Mike... I’m sorry you had to see those pictures.”
Barrett let out a rueful chuckle. “I think I’ll survive.”
Eric hung up and was just getting ready to head back over to the coffee house, when Ally opened the passenger’s side door and climbed in. “Oh, my God,” she said the second she saw the grim look on his face. “What now?”
He filled her in on the ride home, and she didn’t interrupt him once. When he’d finished talking she simply stared straight ahead, watching the road disappear under their wheels. Finally he prompted, “I know this is a lot to dump on you after the day we’ve had, but are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, in a flat, weary tone. “Are you sure you can trust this Barrett guy? Sounds like an awful lot’s riding on his shoulders.”
“Mike’s been with the company since before we left for Italy. He’s efficient and discreet. And I need him if I’m going to buy up all this stock without a lot of media attention.”
“So how do you plan to pay for it, if your credit line’s already tapped out?”
“I’ve got some other investments I can liquidate quickly, but it only comes to around fifty million. If any more CI stock hits the market after that, I’m screwed. But if Bran gets his paws on it, I might as well pack up my desk. Getting the board’s nomination as CEO will be a formality.”
“You paid, what, ten million for the villa? It must be worth twice that by now.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. The villa’s our home, and moreover, it was my gift to you. I can’t ask you to give it up.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering. I’ll sign the deed over to you today if you need it.”
“It’s an incredibly gracious offer, but no. If I can’t find a way out of this mess on my own, Bran deserves to win.”
They found Nick’s mother’s Toyota sedan parked in the lake house garage when they got back. Nick had started driving it, if only to keep the battery from going dead again. Ally’s back stiffened when she saw it.
“Look,” Eric said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “I’ll call the PI when I get back to the city tomorrow. We’ll have the story on that little boy in a few days. There’s no point worrying Nick about it until we know for sure.”
“I don’t like keeping things from him, Eric. It feels wrong.”
“He’s already close to imploding. Would you rather have that on your conscience?”
“So much for avoiding stress.” Her eyes drifted closed for a second or two. “All right. But he’s going to be pissed when he finds out we knew for days, and didn’t tell him.”
“With any luck, he’ll never have to find out at all.”
They trudged wearily back to the house. Ally went upstairs for a nap, while Eric lingered in the foyer, gazing up at the Picasso that had been hanging there since his family first moved in, when he was ten years old. It had been one of his mother’s favorites, along with the Degas in his New York office and the Monet seascape in Rome. They’d been part of Eric’s life for so long, he thought of them as old friends. But there came a time when even old friends had to say good-bye for good.
If he wanted to keep Bran from taking over the company, he knew what he had to do.
Eric got up at five the next morning to catch an early train to Manhattan. Nick drove him to the station, leaning over to give him a soft kiss before he climbed out of the car. “Take it easy, okay? Don’t forget to give us a call tonight.”
“I doubt it’ll be good news, but you’ll be the first to know.” Forcing a smile, Eric stepped out, quickly turning up his jacket collar against the early morning chill. He could still feel the warmth of Nick’s lips as he stood on the platform five minutes later. He wished he could wrap it up in his handkerchief and hold onto it for a few more hours, when he was sure to need some comfort.
Between phone calls to the private investigator and his art dealer, plus plowing through a mountain of paperwork and accumulated email, he’d already logged several hours of work by the time he reached the office shortly before eleven. Madeleine handed him a stack of messages, but mercifully, no packages or other threatening-looking mail. He told her to send in Mike Barrett, but hold everyone else at bay until further notice.
No sooner had Eric poured himself some caffeinated courage from the thermal carafe on his desk than Mike rapped on the door and stepped inside. “I’ve just sealed the deal on those stock purchases, like you asked. I hope you’ve come up with the financing, otherwise our line of credit will be exhausted by close of business this evening.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Eric replied, waving him over to a nearby chair. “Has anyone else received packages like mine?”
“If so, they’re not talking about it. Of course, given the source, I’m not surprised. You barely have to mention Branford Crane’s name around this town, and people turn tail and run the other way.” Barrett flashed an ironic smile. “Took me a few seconds to figure out who ‘Bran’ was, then everything fell into place.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“Not directly, no. But I had a... relationship with Crane’s ex-lover a few years ago. He told me some stories that curled the hair in my nose.”
Eric supposed he should have been surprised, but somehow he wasn’t. “Small world.”
“Tiny world, especially for gay corporate executives. Everybody knows everybody else.”
“Except for those of us who are obviously out of the loop.” Sitting up straight, Eric took a long sip of his coffee before adding, “I thought you sounded remarkably calm for someone who’d just seen photos of his boss naked and tied up.”
“Believe me, I’ve seen worse,” Barrett replied. “So, any ideas on how we’re going to fight off Crane’s hostile takeover?”
“He’s got something on me, so obviously we need to get something equally damaging on him. I don’t suppose you’ve heard any furtive whispers around the executive water cooler?”
“A few things here and there, but nothing we could make stick. Besides, I don’t think he’s so much as dated anyone since he and David called it quits.”
“You’re talking about David Henning? I thought they broke up ages ago.”
“Crane apparently convinced him to give it another try a few years back. It didn’t end any better the second time around.”
“You think he’d be willing to talk to me?”
Barrett thought about it, then shrugged. “I’ve still got his phone number. I could ask him.”
* * * *
Ally awoke to the sound of a laptop keyboard tap-tapping in the background. She opened her eyes to find Nick sitting at the corner table working away, brow knit in intense concentration. He glanced up with a smile as she pushed herself up on her pillows, then poured her a mug of tea from the pot sitting at his elbow and brought it over to her.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” Sliding onto the edge of the mattress, he leaned over for a kiss before handing her the tea. “Looks like yesterday really wore you out. I was starting to think you’d sleep through lunch.”
A quick glimpse of the clock told her it was closing in on eleven-thirty. “Why didn’t you wake me up? You know how I hate oversleeping.”
“Don’t worry about it. You pregnant ladies need your rest.”
“I know, but waking up late throws my whole day out of whack.” Which was to be expected, since she’d stayed up past two last night working on her manuscript. She’d spent the entire afternoon and evening alone in her room, afraid that if she had to face Nick, she’d spill the beans in three seconds flat. Even now, the urge to tell him everything tugged at her like a pit bull on a pant leg. Sipping her tea, she sighed as its soothing warmth trickled into her stomach. It was a relief to wake up for once without feeling like her insides had been swirled in a blender. “What are you working on over there?”
“Oh, a little Branford Crane research for Eric. I think he’ll be fairly pleased with what I’ve discovered.”
“And I was supposed to help you with that.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“S’okay. I know you’ve been a little preoccupied.” Standing up, he added, “Want some breakfast? I made you some toast, but I could whip up something more substantial if you think your stomach can handle it.”
“You, cooking?” She burst out in giggles, reaching for her robe. “This I have to see.”
Arm in arm, they padded downstairs to the kitchen, where Ally perched on a stool at the center island, watching with intense interest as Nick made her an omelette. He’d seen Eric do it enough times that evidently a modicum of their husband’s skill with knife, whisk and omelette pan had rubbed off. At least, he managed to get all the ingredients chopped, mixed and in the pan without severing or burning off any appendages, which counted as a triumph in Ally’s book.
With a proud grin, he placed his masterpiece in front of her at last. It looked like a lumpy, egg-colored taco, but to Ally’s surprise, it tasted absolutely delicious. She scarfed the whole thing down in three minutes flat, settling back on her stool with a loud, satisfied burp.
Laughing, Nick whisked her plate away to put it in the sink. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you liked it.”
“It was great. Of course, not eating any breakfast to speak of for the past couple of weeks probably had something to do with it.”
“Well, I knew it wasn’t because I’m such an awesome cook.” He ran some hot water in the sink, pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and started washing the dishes. Watching him do all these mundane domestic chores made Ally’s heart swell with pride. Between Nick and Eric, their baby was going to have the two best fathers ever. At last he finished, placing the dishes in the drainer before turning back to her. “Want to come with me to see Mom this afternoon?”
“Oh!” A stab of guilt lanced through her. She hadn’t spared Mary a single thought since she’d woken up. “You mean, you stayed home to look after me, when you should’ve been—”
“Nah, it’s fine. Estellita’s got things under control. In fact, Mom told me not to come over till after lunch from now on. She says it messes up her routine.” He rolled his eyes.
Ally giggled. “If she’s got the energy to boss you around, she must be feeling better.”
“I don’t know about that, but it’s good that she’s settling back into a day-to-day rhythm. I just wish she’d stop complaining about not getting to sleep in her own bed. It’s so hard to get her upstairs, the nurse started giving her sponge baths. Of course, she complains about that too.”
“It’ll get better,” she replied softly.
Nick shook his head. “No, I don’t think it will. But thanks for trying to cheer me up.”
They went back upstairs, where Ally showered and got dressed while Nick continued to work on his laptop. Around one, they climbed in the car and headed over to the farm.
Ally had to blink when she stepped into the kitchen, lest she be blinded by surfaces so clean, they gleamed. A crisp linen tablecloth covered the kitchen table, with a vase of wildflowers sitting in the center. Even the curtains looked freshly washed.
Seeing the living room dusted and vacuumed was quite a treat. They’d moved Mary’s bed closer to the window, so she could get more sun—which was a good thing, since she was still in it, clad in her nightgown. Ally’s heart sank. Last week, Mary had insisted on getting up every day and getting dressed, even if only for a few hours. This was far from a good sign.
Pasting on a smile, she went over to give her mother-in-law a kiss. She trembled at Ally’s touch, like a tree branch shook by a strong breeze. Her hand felt thinner, bonier now, which seemed impossible, considering the hearty meals Estellita made for her every day. “How are you doing?” Ally asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“Tired. I don’t sleep well in this bed.” She fidgeted listlessly for a moment, then gave up. “And it’s too much of an effort to move.”
“Why don’t we ask Nick to help you to the couch, then we can visit for awhile? I’m pretty sure I spied a deck of cards on the coffee table.”
“Oh, I don’t know...”
“C’mon, let’s get you up. You’ll feel better.”
Nick lifted her out of bed as if she weighed no more than child, placing her gently on the couch. It was a pleasantly warm spring day, but she still wanted the afghan spread over her legs, and asked Estellita to make them some tea.
Ally shuffled the cards and dealt them a game of Twenty-One. Mary paid only scattered attention to it, and by the time the third hand rolled around, Ally realized her mother-in-law’s concentration simply wasn’t up to the challenge. Setting the cards aside, she rummaged through her purse for the ultrasound pictures.
Mary’s eyes lit up for the first time that afternoon when she saw them. Then she squinted, putting on her glasses to peer at the grainy images. “I can’t make out anything.”
“There’s not a whole lot to make out yet, but give it a few more weeks.”
“I’m not sure that will do me much good.” She reached over to grasp Ally’s hand. “Every day I feel myself getting weaker. Every day there’s less I can do. I can feel everything starting to wind down. I didn’t expect it to happen so fast, but apparently God works on his own timetable.”
Ally’s eyes stung with fresh tears. She blinked them back. She couldn’t lose it here, not in front of Mary. She just couldn’t. “Y-You don’t know that. You could live for months yet.”
“I doubt it, but thank you for saying so.” Mary gave her a thin smile. “I don’t really mind that much. My life’s been a happy one, for the most part. I married a wonderful man, and we had a son who was the joy of our lives. My one regret is that I won’t live to see my only grandchild.”
Oh, Jesus. Now she really was going to lose it. “What would you say if I told you—” The words slipped out before she could censor herself, but now Ally wished she could nail her mouth shut.
“Told me what?” Mary asked.
A sound from the doorway made her glance up, and there was Nick, staring at them both with a sad, distressed expression on his face. Ally wondered how long he’d been standing there.
“Nothing,” she replied, giving Mary’s hand a reassuring pat. “I was just thinking aloud.”
* * * *
“I doubt there’s anything I can tell you that will help,” David Henning said, ushering Eric into his elegantly-appointed living room. He was a slender, delicate-looking man of around sixty, with silver hair and a quiet, courtly manner. Eric had met him once or twice many years ago, and found him attractive. Truth be told, he still found him attractive. He hoped he’d look half as good at Henning’s age. “At least, anything you don’t already know or suspect.”
“I’m still grateful that you agreed to spare me a few minutes of your time this evening,” Eric replied, taking a seat on the Danish modern couch. “Especially considering the subject.”
The older man poured them both double scotches, handing Eric his before settling into a nearby armchair. “I’m retired. I have no career left for Bran to destroy.”
“Mike tells me you and Bran had a rather rocky relationship.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Cradling his glass with both hands, he stared down at the floor. “I’d compare it to being on board one of those majestic old sailing ships in the middle of a storm. Those sailors got buffeted and battered and nearly killed, and yet when it was time to sign up for another voyage, there they were, ready to take their punishment again. And that was me, for over five years—until Bran put me in the hospital. That was the first time I decided I’d had enough.”
Jesus. Eric bit back a gasp. “So what made you decide to go back for more?”
“I still loved him, more’s the pity. And, honestly... nothing else I’d experienced in those intervening years came close to the intensity I’d had with Bran. It was an addiction of sorts. I’m sure you understand.”
Eric’s drink froze halfway to his mouth. “Wh-What makes you think—”
“I know the look. I’ve seen it in the mirror every day since I was twenty. The pain and the pleasure... it all gets jumbled up until you can’t tell one from the other. And then you realize you don’t even want to.” Henning chuckled. “You’re lucky. At least you escaped without any scars.”
“None visible, anyway.” Once the initial shock had worn off, Eric found himself starting to relax. It was such a relief, being here with someone who understood his own need for pain. It had been hard enough to tell Nick and Ally. “Has Bran ever hurt anyone else, that you know of?”
“No, but he’s very good at keeping that sort of thing quiet. He gets something damning on everyone he’s ever been with, so they can never tell what they know about him. You should’ve seen the dossier he had on me.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“I was diagnosed with leukemia a few months ago, Mr. Courtland. I probably won’t last out the year. Bran can’t touch me now, professionally or personally. So go ahead, ask whatever you like.”
Momentarily stunned, all Eric could do was nod. Henning didn’t look like a dying man. But then, Mary Thompson had looked perfectly healthy last Christmas. “All right. You’d know better than anyone... what’s he afraid of?”
“Losing control, obviously. Though he’s slipping in that regard, even in the bedroom. He went completely berserk our last time together. My face was so bruised, I had to call in sick for a week afterward. But the thing that terrifies him most is being outed. His mother must be eighty-five, and she still has no idea. If she ever found out about the things he gets up to in private, she’d expire on the spot.”
Eric laughed. “Well, I’d rather not have an old lady’s death on my conscience.”
“The boardroom’s the only place where Bran feels at the top of his game anymore. Beat him there, and he’ll tumble like a house of cards. It’s about time he got some of his own back.”
That would be incredibly satisfying. It might even be fun. But unless it took Bran out of the picture permanently, it wouldn’t work. Eric didn’t want him popping up again next month or next year with another threat. Whatever he came up with had to be both crushing and decisive.
And he had a pretty good idea where to start.
* * * *
Nick and Ally stayed to have dinner with Mary, whose spirits lifted considerably at the notion of sharing a meal with someone other than Estellita and the nurse. She chatted about her friends, her local church group, and just about everything she’d read in the paper that morning. For a couple of hours, she was her old funny, vivacious self again. But though Nick tried to play along, laughing at her stories and jokes, Ally could tell his heart wasn’t in it.
His mask dropped at last when they climbed into the car to head back to the lake house. His slumped shoulders and pale, weary face showed her how much his pretense of good cheer had cost him. Giving her a resigned shrug, he started the car and swung out onto the main road.
They were halfway home before Ally finally summoned the nerve to speak. “You know, they say that once a person accepts his or her death, it can be quite... freeing.”
“Apparently only for them,” Nick replied tonelessly.
“Don’t be angry with her, Nick. She’s coping with this the best she can.”
“What makes you think I’m angry with her?”
“Well, maybe not with her, per se. Maybe it’s more the entire situation.”
His hands closed tightly over the wheel, almost as if he were trying to strangle it. “It’s not fair. And I don’t want her to accept it, I want her to fight. I want her to want to live.”
“I know, but you can’t force her.” She sighed. “In some ways, it’s good that she’s ready. A lot of people pass before they ever reach that point. Hopefully that means she’ll go peacefully.”
“I hope so too. After all the months my Dad suffered, it was a blessing that he went in his sleep.” Flicking on the radio, he pushed a couple of the presets, frowning when all that came up was the news and the local classical station. With a grunt, he flicked it back off. “What were you saying to Mom this afternoon when I came in the living room? You sure clammed up fast.”
For a split-second, her brain froze, but she managed to recover quickly. “O-Oh, she’d said that she regretted she wouldn’t live long enough to see the baby. I was just trying to cheer her up. Didn’t work too well, obviously.”
“I can always tell when you’re lying, Al. Your left eyebrow twitches.” But when her hand flew up to check, his jaw went tight. “Actually, that time it didn’t. But thanks for letting me know I wasn’t imagining it.”
“N-Nick, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“What aren’t you telling me? And don’t try to deny it. There’s been a weird vibe going on ever since you and Eric got back from Rochester yesterday. First you run upstairs and barricade yourself in the bedroom for the rest of the night, then Eric comes to bed with me, and won’t even let me touch him. There’s something going on, and I want to know what it is.”
“Believe me, I want to tell you. But this is something Eric and I should tell you together.”
“Oh, so I have to wait till he gets back to find out? Since when do you two get to decide what information I can and can’t have?” Turning off the main road, he swung into the lake house garage, leaving the engine running. “Go ahead, get out. I’m going back to Mom’s for the night.”
“Nick, please don’t do this. I promised Eric I wouldn’t say anything.”
He chortled bitterly. “Nice little conspiracy you’ve got there. And I thought I was actually an equal partner in this relationship. But I guess that’s only in Europe.”
Caught between a rock and an even bigger rock, Ally either had to give or be smashed to bits. Eric would kill her for breaking her promise, but she’d deal with that when it happened. She couldn’t bear Nick looking at her like she was some kind of criminal one second longer.
“E-Eric and I went over to Laura’s mother’s house while we were in Rochester yesterday. I wanted to pay my respects.” She sucked in a breath. “A little boy came out as I was walking up to the front door. He was about ten or eleven years old. And he looked just like that photo of you that your mom used to have hanging in her hallway. The same photo I found here on the floor of this car the day she went to the hospital.”
He stared at her, his mouth dropping open. “What?”
“I dug up Laura’s obituary online last night. It said she had a son. Eric and I think this boy might be yours.”
He shook his head vehemently. “That’s impossible. She would’ve told me.”
“Nick, she sold you out to the tabloids when she found out you’d been seeing Eric the entire time you were dating her. Do you really think someone who was capable of that would balk at keeping your own child’s existence a secret?”
“I won’t believe it, not until I see proof.”
“Eric’s got a private investigator working on it. Hopefully he won’t have too much trouble digging up the boy’s birth certificate.”
“Lucky him. At least he rated a fucking phone call.”
“Nick, c’mon, you know I didn’t—”
“What else have you and Eric decided it was too inconvenient for me to know? Would you have told me about this at all if I hadn’t dragged it out of you?”
“I wanted to tell you the minute we got home yesterday, I really did. But Eric insisted that we keep quiet until we were sure. With all the stress you’ve been under, we were afraid you’d—”
“Crack up?” he supplied.
“Well, it’s starting to look like we were right.”
He sat there staring out the windshield for a very long time. At last he turned to her, and in the calmest, most controlled tone she’d ever heard him use, said, “Get out of the car.”
His eyes flashed fire, but it was a heat that stopped her blood cold. In the entire twenty-five years she’d known him, she’d never seen him this furious. “N-Nick, please... c’mon inside. You can’t let Mary see you like this—”
“I said, get out of the fucking car!”
Vision blurred by fresh tears, she bolted from the car and across the driveway before she could catch her breath, barreling up the front stairs. Her foot rolled over some loose gravel and she went down hard on the top step, banging her head, teeth slicing through her lower lip. Blood flooded her mouth, and she felt a sharp pain lance through her abdomen a second or two before she blacked out.
Eric charged into the ER waiting room at the hospital in Geneva to find Nick sitting there thumbing nervously through an old issue of Newsweek. “How is she?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t let me in to see her yet.” He slid over to make room for Eric on the hard wooden bench. “How’d you get here so fast? I only called you three hours ago.”
“I had the company jet fly me into Rochester. You didn’t think I was going to wait for the train, did you?” Eric managed to quash the impulse to stride up to the nurse’s station and demand to see his wife, but only just barely. “What the hell happened?”
Nick tossed the magazine aside, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s my fault. We had an argument. She was so upset, she tripped and fell on the front steps. I got her here as quickly as I could, but she’d already started bleeding.”
Eric stared, anger boiling up inside him, almost obliterating his crippling sense of worry. “What were you arguing about? You know she’s supposed to avoid stress!”
“In that case, you shouldn’t have asked her to keep secrets!” Nick snapped. “She told me about seeing Laura’s son the other day. What I can’t figure out is why you didn’t.”
Guilty as charged. Eric wracked his brain trying to find a way to spin it, before realizing that would be even worse than his original sin of omission. “I was just trying to... protect you.”
“From what—the knowledge that the boy might be mine? I don’t need you to protect me from that, Eric. I need you to tell me the truth.”
“You’ve been so distraught about your mother lately, I didn’t want to add to your burdens. There’s nothing we can do anyway, not until I hear back from the private investigator. He said he should have something within a couple of days.”
“It still wasn’t your decision to make. In fact, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now if you weren’t such a fucking control freak!”
“All right, I screwed up,” Eric admitted. “I’ll say it fifty times a day for the next ten years if that’ll make you happy. But all the apologies in the world won’t get Allison out of that hospital bed.”
“I know.” Squeezing his eyes shut, Nick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. “I-I’m so fucking sorry, Eric. I know I shouldn’t have upset her. But I was so mad, I didn’t realize what I was doing.”
Still smarting with his own half-deflated anger, Eric hesitated a moment before sliding a consoling hand onto his husband’s shoulder. He wanted to say everything would be all right, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come.
They sat together in silence until a doctor came out to talk to them. It was a different ER doctor this time, a tall, dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties. “Your wife’s pretty shaken up,” she began, “but the good news is, we’ve managed to stop the bleeding. I don’t think she’s lost the baby, though I’ll have to do an ultrasound to confirm.”
Eric wobbled on his feet, and would have fallen over had Nick not grasped him firmly by the arm. “H-How is she otherwise?”
“She’s got a twisted ankle, a cut lip and an assortment of bruises and contusions. She may also have a mild concussion. All fairly minor, considering. I’ve given her a mild sedative, and I’d like to admit her overnight, simply for observation.”
“Can we see her?” Nick asked.
The doctor’s gaze flicked from Nick to Eric and back again. “I can’t allow both of you—”
“We’re immediate family,” Eric cut in. “And we’ll only be a few minutes. We just want to let her know we’re here.”
The doctor studied them both for a moment, then nodded. “All right.”
It was a shock to see Ally lying there, looking as if she’d lost a fight with an angry lawn mower. Scrapes and bruises decorated both arms, along with a particularly nasty gash on her chin. Her lower lip, now freshly stitched, poked out like a pouty child’s. There was an IV in her right arm, dripping fluids.
Her eyes opened as they came in, although she didn’t say anything. Eric took her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. “Hey,” he whispered. “The doctor says you’ll be fine.”
“B-But... wh-what a-bout...” she mumbled, pointing at her abdomen. “I-Is okay?”
“They think so,” Nick said, coming around to stand next to Eric. But when she let go of Eric’s hand to reach for Nick’s, all the tension Eric had seen him carrying for the past couple of hours seemed to drain right out of him. “I’m so sorry, Al. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“S’okay.” Her eyes smiled, even if the rest of her face couldn’t. “L-Love you b-both.”
They waited for her to be transferred upstairs, but by the time they got to see her again, she was too groggy to even notice they were there. Eric gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, then waited while Nick did the same before they headed out.
He’d taken a cab from the airport, so he followed Nick to the SUV and, without asking, climbed into the driver’s seat, holding his hand out for the keys. “No more arguments,” he said. “We’ve had one hell of a night, and you’re even more worn out than I am. Let’s get home so we can collapse, okay?”
Nick nodded, and gave him the keys.
Somehow Eric managed to get back to the lake house without driving into a ditch, though it was a near thing. A quick glance at his watch told him it was closing in on four in the morning. He hadn’t had any dinner yet, unless he counted the scotch David Henning had poured him hours ago. Trudging into the foyer, he was tempted to drop right there, if his empty belly hadn’t chosen that moment to start roiling in earnest.
Nick followed him down to the kitchen, steering Eric toward a stool while he went to dig in the fridge. A few minutes later, a Caesar salad appeared in front of him, along with a bowl of fruit and a large glass of milk. But when Eric started to protest at the latter, Nick shook his head. “It’s two percent. Drink it. You need the protein.”
“Okay, Mr. Nutrition.” Chuckling, Eric recalled the first time he and Nick had shared a meal, way back during their junior year at Columbia. Nick had been keeping tabs on his eating habits ever since.
Nick stared at his sandwich, shifting on his stool for a moment or two before digging in. “I, um... did a little online research on Branford Crane. Found some really interesting—”
Eric held up a hand, halting the potential flood of information. “That’s great, but let’s save it for tomorrow, okay? I can’t listen to any more about Bran tonight.”
“What do you mean, ‘more’?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he repeated firmly, and from the resigned look on Nick’s face, it appeared he’d finally taken the hint. “Speaking of tomorrow... I’ve got an art dealer coming to crate up the Picasso and the two Monets hanging in my study. With everything that’s been going on, I forgot to give you a call about it.”
Nick glanced up, plainly startled. “You’re selling them?”
“I have to. There’s no other way I can afford to buy back all that CI stock.”
“But you love those paintings. They belonged to your mom, for crying out loud!”
“I love you and Allison. The paintings are just things.” He shrugged. “They’ve given me years of pleasure, but it’s time to pass them on. You know what they say,” he added with a grin, “we’re temporary, but great art is timeless.”
“Huh. I would’ve thought you’d want to leave it all to our child one of these days.”
“I’d rather leave him a happy life.”
They finished their respective meals, rinsed their dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then plodded upstairs. But when Eric caught hold of his husband’s hand and tried to tug him into the master bedroom, Nick hung back. “I’d rather be alone tonight. I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“All right,” Eric replied, trying to hide his disappointment even as he leaned in for a kiss. “Sleep well.”
Nick laughed wistfully. “Somehow I don’t think that’s in the cards for either of us.”
The hospital discharged Ally the next morning, sending her home with mild painkillers, antibiotic ointment for her cuts and scrapes and a stern admonition to see her obstetrician as soon as possible. Stabbed by fresh guilt, Nick’s heart lurched as he watched her hobble the few steps from the bed to the hospital wheelchair. Eric brought the Lexus around while Nick waited beside her at the front entrance, then lifted her out of the wheelchair and into the front seat.
He’d just climbed into the back seat himself when she said very slowly and distinctly due to her swollen lip, “Why don’t we see if Dr. Stevenson can fit me in today? I don’t want to go out again this week if I can help it.”
Eric already had his phone out, and was hitting the speed dial. He quickly explained the situation to the receptionist, then, after waiting a minute or two, nodded and hung up. “She’ll see us as soon as we can get there,” he said, swinging out of the hospital parking lot, flooring it for the highway.
The hospital had given Ally a crutch to use for her sprained ankle, but Nick insisted on carrying her into the doctor’s office, raising a few eyebrows from fellow patients in the waiting room. A rumble of surprise went up when the nurse immediately came out to usher all three of them inside.
Nick set Ally down gently on the exam table, and between him and Eric, they helped her out of her clothes and into a flimsy blue paper examination gown. The fact that she didn’t put up a word of protest worried Nick more than seeing her slump back to rest on the half-upright table, already exhausted.
The doctor came in less than five minutes later, her startled glance flicking from Nick to Eric and back again. “I wasn’t expecting three of you,” she remarked, flipping open Ally’s chart.
Eric darted a look at Nick, then Ally. When they both nodded, Eric began to explain their situation in clear, forthright language. Dr. Stevenson listened calmly and with professional interest, nodding when Eric finished, taking a brief moment to adjust her glasses. “Then... you’re not sure which of you has fathered this child?”
“Not yet,” Eric replied. “We were planning to do a DNA test once the baby’s born, unless you think there’s some reason we should do it now.”
“Let’s see how Mrs. Courtland’s doing before we make any decisions.” Snapping on some gloves, she wheeled her stool over to the exam table and performed a quick examination. Ally’s gaze settled on Nick, and he flashed her what he hoped was a comforting smile. It was his fault that she even had to be here in the first place. “Okay,” Dr. Stevenson said once she’d finished, “to answer your question, I wouldn’t recommend a DNA test right now. It’s far too invasive.”
“I-Is the baby all right?” Ally rasped, both hands gripping the edge of the table.
“You’re a lucky woman, Mrs. Courtland. You’ve had two close calls in less than two months of pregnancy. If you want to deliver a healthy baby, you need to take it easy. Which means, bed rest and—I can’t emphasize this enough—no stress.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll see to it,” Eric said firmly, shooting Ally a pointed glance.
“But...” Ally interjected, “do I have to stay in bed all the time?”
“As much as you can, at least for the next few weeks. Obviously you’ll have to get up to use the bathroom, and I don’t see any problem with you going downstairs to eat, although you’ll have to be careful of that ankle. Some light exercise should be fine—by which I mean, walking, not running. And no heavy lifting, either.”
“Eric and I will be glad to do any necessary fetching and carrying,” Nick put in.
“What about sex?” Ally asked. But when Nick and Eric both shot her mortified looks, she added, “When I’m feeling better, of course.”
Luckily, the doctor seemed more amused by the question than anything else. “I wouldn’t recommend intercourse for awhile, but oral and manual stimulation should be fine.”
“We’ll take good care of her,” Eric said.
“Good,” she replied, stepping toward the door. “I can tell how much the three of you want this baby. Try to relax, and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
Eric drove them back to the lake house, this time at a considerably slower speed. Nick carried Ally upstairs and, between the two of them, they got her settled in bed. She closed her eyes and drifted off instantly.
Tiptoeing to the door, they pulled it shut behind them. As if on cue, both their stomachs rumbled at the same time, which sent them erupting in laughter. Nick ducked into his room for his laptop, then followed Eric downstairs to the kitchen.
He’d planned to have a sandwich, but when he saw Eric start to make a salad for himself, Nick asked for one too. Today there was a certain comfort in eating something made by his own husband’s hand. They sat together in companionable silence as they ate, then, once they’d pushed aside their empty plates, Nick reached for his laptop to show Eric what he’d found on Branford Crane.
“This is amazing,” Eric murmured, paging from one document to the next. “How did you manage to find it all in the first place?”
“You can thank Ally, at least indirectly. I couldn’t sleep last night, and suddenly I got this bright idea of looking up Crane’s old medical records.”
“And you struck gold.” He shut the laptop with a grin. “Thank you. I would’ve never been able to dig up this stuff myself.”
“You can find anything on the internet, if you know where all the back doors are. I’m sure your private investigator would’ve done just as well.”
“I’m sure he would. But then I would’ve had to explain the situation to him, and I’d rather not hand over potential blackmail material to anyone else. Which reminds me, he left me a voice mail before we left for the hospital this morning. In all the excitement, I forgot about it till now.”
Oh, God. Nick sucked in a breath. “And?”
“He found Seth’s birth certificate. He was born in Rochester in July 2005.”
“Laura and I were supposed to get married at Christmastime in 2004.” For a moment, the entire world shimmied and swam before Nick’s eyes. ““That’s it, then. He’s got to be mine.”
“It’s not conclusive evidence, but it is pretty damned compelling. So what’re you planning to do?”
“Well, it looks like I can’t avoid paying Laura’s mom a visit now.” He sighed. “Just what I was looking forward to, after the last couple of weeks we’ve had.”
“Are you sure that’s such a great idea?”
“No, but it’s the only way I’ll find out for sure.”
“You don’t have to do it right away. Give yourself a couple of days to process.”
“I’d better not. I’ll go tomorrow, before I lose my nerve.”
“Oh.” Eric sat back, drumming his fingers on the center island’s varnished oak tabletop. “I’d hoped to get back to the city tomorrow, and put an end to this Crane fiasco.”
“Can’t you wait just one more day?”
Eric pondered it for a moment or two before nodding. “All right. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that, either.”
* * * *
Nick pulled up across the street from Catherine Mercer’s house and sat there staring at it in shock. Ally had told him the place looked like a candidate for the wrecking ball, but he’d assumed she was exaggerating. To be fair, most of the other houses on the street were in similar shoddy condition. The impact of two long recessions had plainly hit this neighborhood hard.
Steeling himself with a deep breath, he strode up the front path, trying not to gape at the debris littering the yard. He’d just raised his hand to rap on the door when it opened, revealing a dark-haired little boy in jeans and a plain black t-shirt.
Now Nick couldn’t help gaping. Time ground to a halt as he stood there with his jaw dangling to his chest. Again, Ally hadn’t done her description justice. The kid wasn’t just the image of him—it was as if he’d gone back in time and met himself thirty-odd years earlier.
“I-I, uh...” Nick jerked his thumb toward the street. “Did you see me, uh...”
“Coming up the path,” Seth finished, looking at him like he was the world’s biggest idiot. “What d’you want? If you’re a salesman, we don’t have any money.”
“N-No, I’m not a salesman, I’m an old friend of...” He was about to say, ‘your mom’s,’ but caught himself in time. “I’m a friend of your grandma’s. Is she home?”
The kid looked him up and down. “You don’t look old enough to be one of her friends.”
“Well, trust me, I am. Would you go get her for me?”
The door slammed shut and stayed that way until Nick heard shuffling footsteps on the other side of it. It swung open again on Catherine Mercer’s puffy, haggard face. Her hair had faded from dark auburn to iron gray in the eleven years since Nick had last seen her. Her plain white cotton blouse and polyester slacks, while clean, looked as if she’d plucked them off the rack at her local Salvation Army. Considering the rundown shape of her home, that was probably a safe bet.
Her expression hardened the moment she laid eyes on him. “I can’t believe you actually had the nerve to show up here.”
So she wasn’t going to greet him with open arms. No surprises there. “I heard about Laura a couple of weeks ago. I’m sorry.”
“You’re about eleven years too late on that score.” Tucking back a stray lock of hair, she added, “All right, you’ve salved your conscience. Get off my doorstep, and don’t come back.”
She tried to shut the door, but Nick jammed his foot in it. “I know about Seth, Catherine,” he ground out through gritted teeth, grimacing at the pain of his pinched toes. He’d seen actors do this in plenty of movies, but in real life, it fucking hurt. “I don’t think you want to have the rest of this conversation out here where the neighbors might hear us.”
A few moments’ hesitation, then she stepped back to let him in. Once the throbbing in his foot started to fade, Nick was surprised to discover that the inside of the house didn’t mirror the outside, at least not to such an awful degree. The living room looked well maintained, except for a crack in the far wall half-concealed by a cheap flea-market Monet print. Floor boards creaked under his feet as Catherine led him back to the kitchen.
The counters were cluttered with cooking utensils and various boxes of breakfast cereal. Seth sat at the kitchen table, cereal bowl pushed aside, punching at a handheld video game with mad double-thumb action. Catherine came up and took it from him. “You’ve spent enough time playing with that today. Grab your skateboard and go outside, get some fresh air.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “Aw, geez...”
“I know, I’m a big ol’ meanie. Now go on.” With an affectionate swat on the rear, she sent him on his way. He gave Nick a hard look as he stomped from the room. Catherine waited until the front door slammed before dropping into a chair, gesturing for Nick to do the same. “What do you want from me, Nick?”
“For starters, I’d like to know why I didn’t find out I had a son until two days ago.”
“Laura was planning to surprise you with the news on your wedding night. She actually thought you’d be happy about it. She’d only found out herself a few days before you decided to dump her.”
“Don’t you dare put all the blame on me, Catherine. I’m sorry I hurt her so badly, but that didn’t give her the right to keep this from me.”
“You lied to Laura for years. You humiliated her in front of everyone she knew. She had to move to another state to get away from your memory. Why would she deliberately invite you back into her life?”
“Is that why she sold her story to the Post? Because she needed the money to take Seth so far away from me, I’d never find him?” His mind whirled, overwhelmed by the enormity of it. He’d never dreamed Laura could be so vindictive. “What I don’t understand is... I saw her not long before she left for California. I went to her apartment in the city, and I didn’t see any sign of a baby.”
“I took care of Seth for her from the time he was born until they moved away. Laura was in no condition. She suffered horribly with post-partum depression.”
“And you let her take him all the way across country by herself?”
“She got better. The two of them had a good life in California. They were happy, until...” She looked away, blinking hard.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
“She got in an auto accident on her way home from work one night. They say she didn’t suffer, but I don’t believe them. She was in the hospital for three days before she passed, and no one called me. I never had a chance to say good-bye.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Of course you are.” Drawing herself up, she looked him square in the eye. “I suppose the next thing you’ll say is that you’re going to take Seth away from me. Well, I have no intention of letting that happen. He’s all I have left in this world, and if I have to sell everything I own to keep him with me, I will.”
“It doesn’t look like you’ve got that much left.”
“After paying for two funerals in as many years, no, I don’t. But that won’t stop me from fighting you on this to my last breath. Though I doubt I’ve got much to be afraid of. There isn’t a court in this country that would take him away from a loving grandmother and hand him over to a father who lives the way you live.” Her tone dripped disgust. “I’d sooner die than hear Seth call you ‘Daddy.’”
That was it. He’d heard enough. “Fine,” he said, getting up and heading for the door. “I’ll have my lawyer contact you.”
“Don’t you mean, Eric Courtland’s lawyer?” she sneered. “I’m not afraid of him either.”
The air outside had never tasted so sweet. Nick gulped it down like a man dying of thirst, grabbing hold of the front fence until his brain finally stopped spinning. He turned around to find Seth staring at him from the middle of the driveway. He’d never seen anyone stand so still.
Nick forced a smile and waved. “Hey.”
The boy didn’t answer, other than to scoop up his skateboard, head up the front steps and slam the door.
* * * *
Nick drove back to the lake house, so distracted he nearly reared-ended a couple of cars along the way. He found Eric in his study poring over his laptop and a metric ton of paperwork. His husband’s eyebrow arched when Nick flopped into the overstuffed leather chair across from him with a gusty sigh. “I guess I don’t need to ask how it went.”
“Laura deliberately kept Seth a secret from me. Catherine not only admitted it, she was proud of it. Thank God you and Ally dropped by her house that day, or I never would’ve found out.” Leaning forward, he dragged a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m suing her for custody.”
Eric shut his laptop and shoved aside the mountain of papers in front of him. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
Nick stared at him. “He’s my son. I want him with me.”
“Nick, he doesn’t even know you. You haven’t been part of his—”
“I didn’t get a choice! Laura took him from me, and now I...” Resting his forehead on his steepled hands, Nick tried to get a grip on himself. Why was Eric being like this? Why couldn’t he say what he needed to hear, just this once? “I’ve lost the first ten years of his life. All I want is to get that time back.”
“You can’t,” Eric said quietly. “It’s gone. You can only move on from here.”
“Fine, then. That’s what I’ll do, once he’s living with us.”
Eric studied his blotter for a long moment before replying. “Do you have cause to believe that Catherine’s mistreating or neglecting him?”
“Not really. I mean, the house is in bad shape, but it’s relatively clean and well-kept up on the inside, and Seth doesn’t look like he’s starving. It’s obvious that Catherine loves him, but she’s got to be at least sixty. A woman her age shouldn’t be taking care of a child.”
“Be that as it may, the situation sounds as if it’s working out. Why not leave Seth with his grandmother for the time being?”
“Because I want him with me. I want to be a father to him. How many times do I have to say it?” All of a sudden, the truth came hurtling down like an atomic bomb. “But you don’t want him, do you? You don’t want him because he’s not yours.”
For a moment, Eric looked as if he were about to deny it, then merely shook his head.
With that, Nick jumped to his feet, marching out the door and upstairs to his room. Grabbing his suitcase from the closet, he started shoving clothes into it. He barely slowed down even when he heard the soft pad of Eric’s footsteps in the doorway. “Where are you going?”
“To my mom’s for a few days. I need some time to think in peace and quiet.”
“While you’re thinking, you might want to ponder this. Between your mother and the new baby coming, we’ve already got an abundantly full plate. It’s not a good idea to bring any more... disruptions into our lives right now.”
“And here I thought the biggest obstacle would be getting the courts to give me custody. It never occurred to me that you’d try to make me choose between you and my own child.” Nick chuckled bitterly. “Well, guess what, Eric? You lose.”
“No, you will. You’re a bisexual man living in an unconventional relationship. The fact that we’re married under European law won’t matter to an American court. They’ll take one look at you, judge you as an immoral pervert, and that’ll be it. You’ll be lucky if Catherine even lets you see the boy again.”
“I still have to try. I don’t want Seth growing up thinking I didn’t even care enough to do that.”
“All right,” Eric said with a nod, “but ponder this, too. Seth’s just lost his mother. He’s been uprooted from his home, forced to move cross-country. He’s barely had a chance to settle into his new life, and now you come along threatening to take him away from the only family he’s ever had. Is that really how you want your relationship with your son to start?”
“What do you want me to do, Eric?” he snapped. “I can’t just sit by and let more years of his life slip away from me!”
“Keep your voice down, for God’s sake! Allison can hear us.” Eric stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “You need to ask yourself the real reason you’re doing this, because it doesn’t sound to me like you’re thinking of what’s best for Seth. You’re thinking of yourself. You hurt so badly because of what Laura did, you want to punish her for it, but her mother’s the only one left to take the brunt of your anger. Don’t let the pain you’re feeling keep you from doing the right thing.”
“Thanks for the armchair psychoanalysis.” Nick threw one last handful of underwear and socks into his suitcase, zipped it up and headed for the door. “Now get out of my way.”
Eric hesitated a moment, then stepped aside.
Nick wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful or disappointed.
Eric moved to the master bedroom after Nick left, working at the corner table while Ally slept. At last she stirred, sitting up slowly, wincing at her all-too-obvious aches and pains. “Did I sleep away the whole afternoon again?”
“Looks like it.” Smiling, he ambled over to sit on the edge of the bed, taking care to avoid her sprained ankle. “You hungry? I could bring something up for you.”
“No, thanks. I made it downstairs for lunch, I can do the same for dinner. Lying here for hours at a time makes me all stiff.” As if to emphasize, she stretched, moaning as the vertebrae in her back and neck gave an audible pop. “I heard you talking to Nick in the other room. Couldn’t quite make out what you both were saying, though.”
“He went to see Catherine Mercer this afternoon. She delivered a few home truths about Laura, which didn’t set too well with him. Now he’s got his heart set on suing for custody of the boy. I couldn’t talk him out of it. He’s gone to Mary’s for a few days to think it over.”
“Why would you want to talk him out of it?”
He did a double-take. “Are you saying you’d welcome Laura’s child into this house, to be raised right alongside ours?”
“Why not? We’d planned to have two, before Mother Nature decided it wasn’t in the cards. Now we can have the family we’ve wanted for years. It’s a win all around.” She gave him a long look. “Except for you, I guess.”
“I suppose I just always assumed that whatever children we had would belong to all three of us.”
“There is this little thing called second-parent adoption. But I guess only one of us can be the second parent.”
“Hence my problem.”
“Eric, there’s no state in this entire country that will let all three of us adopt a child. And unless that bisexual rights case is upheld by the Supreme Court, that’s the way it’ll stay.”
“That’s why I wanted our baby to be born in Europe, but of course, nobody ever listens to me.” He sighed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset, I’m concerned. And now I’m hungry, too.” Shifting clumsily, she managed to maneuver her legs over the side of the bed before reaching for her robe. “I’ll be glad when this ankle heals. It’s ten times more inconvenient than staying in bed all the time.”
Eric tried to help her, but she waved him off, preferring to brave the stairs with her crutch grasped in one hand, the banister in the other. Aside from the fact that it took her twice as long as it usually did to get down the single flight, he thought she did remarkably well.
Once they reached the kitchen, however, she plopped down gratefully and let him prepare the food. He’d fixed them both omelettes for lunch, so this time he decided to make a green salad with Ally’s favorite raspberry vinaigrette, then reheated the delicious vegetable soup Estellita had brought over the other day. Between the kitchen’s welcome peace and quiet and the abundance of Estellita’s leftovers, the appeal of informal dining was starting to grow on him.
Ally dug in as if she hadn’t eaten all week, though Eric noticed her chewing very slowly and delicately, favoring her still-swollen lower lip. With all the bruises and scabs on her face, she looked like a little girl who’d taken a bad tumble on the playground. He felt an inexplicable urge to take her in his arms and hold her tight, but managed to quell it. She was still too banged up for that.
“So when’re you heading back up to the city?” she asked, pushing aside her empty bowl.
“I’d planned to go tomorrow, but this situation with Nick has thrown a kink in the works. No pun intended,” he added with a wry smile. “I can’t very well leave you alone.”
“Sure you can. I can manage the stairs by myself, and Estellita brings us fresh groceries every couple of days. I was kind of looking forward to the alone time to get caught up on work. Besides, if I need anything in a hurry, Nick’s only a phone call away.”
He shook his head. “I’d better not. Look what happened the last time I left.”
She shot him an exasperated glare. “What about this Branford Crane thing? Isn’t the clock still ticking on that?”
“We shouldn’t talk about that. I don’t want to stress you out.”
“Honestly, I’m getting more stressed thinking about you leaving the matter unresolved. I’d rather not turn on CNN tomorrow and see naked photos of you plastered all over the screen.” She reached over to grasp his hand. “You need to go finish this. Do it for me and Nick, if for no other reason.”
He had no idea what he’d done to deserve such a stubborn, infuriating wife, but when she stood her ground so firmly, he hadn’t the heart to argue. Instead, he nodded, carrying her hand to his lips. “Consider it done.”
* * * *
Eric managed to get a lot done during his short plane ride back to the city. First, he gave Estellita a call and asked her to look in on Ally. Despite his wife’s protests, he was not about to leave her to her own devices for the next two days. His housekeeper did him one better, saying she’d call her daughter-in-law to go stay with Ally until he got back. She’d no doubt be annoyed at more of his ‘mother-henning,’ but given the circumstances, Eric could live with that.
He made a few more phone calls too, the last one to Branford Crane. Eric got a perverse curl of pleasure in the pit of his belly at the surprise in Crane’s voice when he picked up the line.
“I’d long since given up on hearing back from you, Eric. In fact, I’ve got a little package addressed to CNN sitting right here on my desk.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but you’d better hold off on that. I’ll be landing at LaGuardia within a few minutes. If you’ll show up at CI’s offices in an hour, I should have the board assembled.”
“Really?” The glee practically dripped from his tone. “I must say, I’m pleased, although I wasn’t expecting this result. You’re not known for caving so easily.”
“I don’t have much choice, do I? You applied the right amount of pressure in all the right places.”
Bran emitted a nasty chortle. “I knew you wouldn’t want your lover and your sweet little pregnant wife to find out about all those nights you spent on your knees to me.”
Eric’s stomach went tight at the mention of Nick and Ally. Threats to him were one thing; threats to his family were a murdering offense. He’d been dreading this for days, but now he found himself looking forward to it. Taking Bran down was going to be an absolute pleasure. “I’ll see you in an hour,” he said curtly, then hung up.
He called Mike Barrett from the limo taking him into Manhattan, and his CFO met him down in CI’s garage, climbing into the back for a quick conference. His eyes bulged when Eric told him what he intended to do. “Are you sure you want me there when you lay all this out for him?”
Eric nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll need a witness in case this goes south. I have no idea how he’ll react. He may even become violent. He’s not exactly at his most rational these days.”
“Think we should have security in the room as well?”
“Park them outside after Crane arrives. I’d rather not give him any reason to bolt.”
He’d called ahead to have Madeleine set up the boardroom. He and Barrett barely had a chance to sit down when she ushered Crane inside. His puzzled, almost crestfallen expression when he took in the nearly-vacant room was priceless. “I thought you said you’d called a board meeting.”
“I did,” Eric replied, standing up. “You’re looking at it.”
Bran’s lip curled, and he took a step toward the door. “Very funny, Eric. You’re going to pay for wasting my time like this.”
“But I’ve given you exactly what you demanded. The board is assembled.”
“Then where’s everyone else?”
“There is no one else. I own roughly ninety percent of the Courtland Industries stock now available on the market. So, for all intents and purposes, I am the board.” When Bran simply gave him a blank stare, he decided to elaborate. “When that rumor you started flooded the market with stock, I bought it all back. Then I got the bright idea of buying everyone’s stock back. I gave all the major stockholders a call and made them very handsome offers, and I have signed proxies in hand from those who declined. I was actually quite surprised that you didn’t beat me to it, until I found out that Crane BioGen’s stock price has plummeted thirty percent in the last two quarters, and it’s evidently teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. No wonder you’re so eager to jump ship to another company.”
“And since it’s plain that that’s not going to happen, I don’t see any reason to prolong this meeting. Badly played, Eric. Very badly played.” His mouth turned up in a grim, satisfied smile. It reminded Eric of a Halloween jack-o-lantern he’d carved when he was twelve, right before his father had smashed it to pulp with a well-placed boot. “You and your family are about to receive a great deal of unwanted attention.”
“That’s not going to happen, either. In fact, you’re going to hand over the original photos and videotape to me today, and you’ll be glad to do it, too.”
“Oh, will I? And why is that?”
“Because you’re the one who’s played this badly, Bran. You haven’t thought it through. If you release that material, the police and maybe even the FBI will be very interested in how they came into your possession. Rest assured, I’ll be more than happy to enlighten them.” He paused a moment for effect before adding, “And then every dirty deal you’ve made for the past thirty-odd years will fall under scrutiny. I’ve got the feeling there are plenty of people out there dying to tell what they know about you.”
Bran’s sneer remained in place, although its wattage had dimmed considerably. Another push and the lights would flicker out for good. He was already running on nothing but sheer bravado. “Let them talk. It’ll be their word against mine. And I have one of the best law firms in the city on retainer.”
“Then you’d better get them ready to file a defamation of character suit.” Reaching into his briefcase, he pulled out a thick file filled with all the information Nick had downloaded for him. He slid it across the table to Bran, watching with surprising detachment as Bran flipped it open and riffled through it, then dropped heavily into a nearby chair, his face going pale as ice.
“H-How did you get all this?” he demanded. “Medical records are confidential.”
“My husband’s researched over a dozen books. He runs random Google searches for fun. It took him about half an hour to hack your immunologist’s online filing system.”
Bran leaped to his feet. “That’s illegal! I’ll have you up on—”
“Illegal? That’s hilarious, coming from you.” Eric circled the table, staring the older man down. “Sit down and shut up. I’m the one running this meeting.” Bran flashed him a murderous look, but finally complied. “This is what you’re going to do, Bran. You’ll go back to your office, and you’ll messenger me the original photos and videotape. You’ll destroy all other copies. Then you’re going to sit down and write a press release announcing your retirement, or that file goes to the media. And the whole world will know that you’re not only HIV-positive, but you’ve already infected at least one other man.”
“What?” Bran blinked. “How the hell could you possibly—”
“Yours aren’t the only medical records I had researched. David Henning is dying from a treatable form of leukemia due to the ravaged immune system you’ve gifted him with. I guess you’ve been too busy blackmailing people to notice.”
“Oh, my God,” he breathed, slumping in his chair, one hand flying up to cover his mouth. “I didn’t know about David. I swear, I didn’t know.”
He looked so devastated, Eric’s heart almost went out to him. Almost. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t want to use the medical records, but you forced my hand. Agree to my terms, and the files stay in my safe. But if you cross me again, the gloves come off. Believe me when I say, you’ll come out of this fight far more damaged than I will.”
“Fine.” Bran rose slowly, wobbling like a drunken man. “I-I’ll send the... documents over as soon as I get back to my office.”
“Thank you.” Eric circled back to the head of the table, then hit the intercom. “Madeleine, Mr. Crane’s ready to leave. Send in security to escort him to his car, please.”
* * * *
A small, square package containing the photos and videotape arrived by courier an hour later. Eric invited Mike Barrett into his office for a celebratory waste-paper basket bonfire.
“I’m think I’m just as relieved to see this over with as you are, and I wasn’t even the one being blackmailed,” Barrett remarked, accepting the glass of scotch Eric had poured for him. “I hate to admit it, but I actually felt a little sorry for him. Makes me glad I get tested regularly.”
“Me too. Or at least I did, back in my bad old days.” Eric chuckled. “Since Bran was only diagnosed five years ago, I doubt I’ve got anything to worry about.”
“Thank God for that. To good health and happiness all around.” They clinked glasses and drank to it. “Speaking of which, I hope Allison’s okay. You haven’t said anything about her since you got here this morning.”
“She’s fine, although a bit worse for wear. I’d like to get back home later tonight, if at all possible. I’m not as sanguine about leaving her alone as I used to be. Never thought I’d fall prey to expectant father syndrome.”
“Understandable. And you know I’ll be glad to step in if you want to take some time off.”
“I appreciate that,” Eric replied, genuinely touched. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you what a fine job you’ve done as acting CEO here at corporate the past few years. Would you be up for the challenge on a more permanent basis?”
Barrett’s glass froze a millimeter from his mouth. “Are you serious?”
“I am. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m cut out for the job anymore. This Crane business has just hammered the point home.”
“Well, if you’re offering, I’m accepting, unless we need to run it by someone else.”
“No need. Since I’m now ninety percent owner, I’d say you’ve got the job.” Reaching over the desk, he shook Barrett’s hand. “Congratulations, Mr. CEO.”
A soft tap on the door interrupted them. Madeleine poked her head in, looking more than a bit upset. “Are you watching the news?”
Eric’s stomach lurched. Did Bran have something else on him, something he didn’t already know about? “Any reason I should?”
“It’s on CNN right now. Branford Crane shot himself this afternoon. He’s dead.”
The weather had turned warm for the middle of May, so Nick helped Mary hobble out to the porch. They sat in the swing his father had built when Nick was nine years old, sipping fresh hand-squeezed lemonade. A nice breeze kept the temperature pleasant, though Mary was so wan and fragile, Nick feared it might knock her over.
Turning her face toward the sun, she closed her eyes. “I’ve always enjoyed days like this. I suppose now I’ll have to savor them all the more.”
God, he hated it when she talked like that. Tamping down the reply he wanted to give, he said instead, “I should probably put up the screens before it gets too hot. Looks like we’ve got an early summer in store.”
“Why don’t you get Miguel to do it? He’s coming out tomorrow.”
“I can handle it. I like keeping busy.”
“I know you do. But I’d rather spend the time with you.” She took another shaky sip of her lemonade. “How’s Allison? I hope Carmen’s taking good care of her while Eric’s gone.”
“I talked to her this morning, and she’s fine. Still complaining about her ankle and having to stay in bed, but that’s par for the course with Ally.” He’d filled his mother in on Ally’s accident the day he arrived, though he’d soft-pedaled the more distressing parts. He still gotten the feeling she’d puzzled out the rest of it on her own. “Apparently Eric got back last night. I thought he’d be gone at least a couple of days.”
“He certainly goes back and forth a lot. No wonder he looks so thin and exhausted.” She sighed. “Tell him from me that he needs to start slowing down—and you too, in fact. You’re not twenty years old anymore. With a child coming, there’s no excuse for you not taking better care of yourselves.”
He nodded obediently, suppressing a bemused grin. “Yes, Mom. I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Don’t make fun of me, Nick. If I’d told my doctor when I’d started feeling poorly, instead of ignoring the symptoms, I might...” Her voice caught, and she fumbled in her robe pocket for a clean tissue. “I might’ve lived to see that baby. And n-now I-I’m... not going to make it.”
Oh, Jesus. Now he was going to cry. He hated this. Hated watching her slip away by slow degrees, hated pretending there was nothing wrong so he wouldn’t upset her. Hated waking up every morning with this horrible depression hanging over his head like a rain cloud. Even worse, he hated the thought of Seth growing up without ever knowing his other grandmother.
It wasn’t fair to Seth, and it wasn’t fair to his mother either. Telling her would no doubt be a shock, but then he remembered how devastated and betrayed he’d been when Eric and Ally had kept that information from him. Even if he were in his mother’s condition, he would have wanted to know.
“Mom, I need to tell you something,” he said softly, taking her hand. It felt like a wisp of skin with sharp bones poking through. He came close to losing it right then and there, but sucked in a breath and pushed on. “Remember when we were reading Laura’s obituary awhile ago, and it said she had a son named Seth? Well... Seth is my son, too.”
Her mouth fell open, her glass tipping in her hand. Nick had to take it from her before she dropped it. “A-Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be. I saw him the other day. He looks exactly like me. And Laura’s mom confirmed it.”
“I-I have a grandson,” she breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t know myself until just recently. Laura was apparently so mad at me over... well, a lot of things, that she did everything in her power to make sure I’d never be a part of Seth’s life. If Ally hadn’t gone to Catherine’s house to pay her respects, I probably never would’ve found out he existed.”
“Do you think I could see him?”
The question threw him for a moment, though it wasn’t like he hadn’t expected it. “I’m not sure Catherine would allow it. She hates me as much as Laura did. But if you want, I’ll ask her.”
“Please, Nick. I’m never going to have the chance to meet your new baby, but now that I know about...” She broke down at last, pressing the tissue to her eyes. “I’d like to see him, even if it’s only once.”
“Okay, okay,” Nick murmured, rubbing her back, trying to calm her down. “I’ll go see her this afternoon, I promise.”
* * * *
Ally watched with gentle amusement as Eric rolled over on his back with a groan, blinking at the soft light from her laptop. He’d arrived home around midnight, fell face-first into his pillow and hadn’t moved since. She’d woken up around eight, and, not wanting to disturb his coma-like slumber, hadn’t bothered to turn on the lamp when she’d started working.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said, quickly flicking on the light before shutting and setting aside her laptop. “Or is that a bit premature?”
“I’ll let you know after I have my first cup of coffee.” Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he propped himself up on a pile of pillows, opening his mouth in a wide yawn. “My head feels like King Kong’s been using it for a basketball.”
“That sounds like something I’d say.”
“Obviously your colorful expressions have wormed their way into my subconscious. Or in other words, you’re rubbing off on me.”
“After eleven years, I should think so.” Their hands found each other, fingers entwining. “Wow. Eleven years. Doesn’t feel like that long.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I suppose it means the time’s flown by, but I don’t want it to. This situation with Mary’s made me realize how precious every minute is.” She sighed. “Does it feel like twenty years for you and Nick?”
“Only when I look in the mirror and see all the gray hairs.” They both laughed. He sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. “There are a lot of things that bother me now that never used to.”
“Like what?”
“Death, for one. That was always something that happened to old people. But my mother was in her early fifties when she passed. That’s not so far away.”
His contemplative tone tugged at her heart, and not in a good way. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“No.” He gave her a genuinely puzzled look. “Why would you think that?”
“When your heart problems first flared up, you didn’t tell us for months. I hope we’re not looking at a similar situation here.”
“I'd never keep something like that from you again. Although I do seem to have a problem where other matters are concerned. Speaking of which, have you heard from Nick?”
“We talked this morning while you were still snoozing. He sounded really demoralized. I don’t think Mary’s doing that well.”
“I should go over to see him and apologize. I just hope he’s ready to hear it.” He leaned in for a kiss, gentle and sweet. Luckily, the swelling in her injured lip had gone down quite a bit over the past couple of days, so she kissed him back.
To her surprise, it didn’t hurt that much. So she kissed him again, more deeply this time, and with greater urgency. Considering the rather prominent erection pressing into her thigh, she thought he’d appreciate her enthusiasm, but instead he pulled back. “We really shouldn’t.”
“I seem to recall the doctor saying we shouldn’t fuck, but... other activities were fine.”
“Maybe so, but I still think it’s too soon.”
“So I guess the sum total of my sex life for the next seven months is going to be listening to you and Nick banging your brains out next door. Terrific, just terrific.” She flopped back with a frustrated groan. “Eric, I’m pregnant, not sick. A little oral sex won’t kill me. So get down there now!”
“Yes, ma’am!” he replied before moving downward with a grin, careful not to bump her ankle. Parting her thighs, he puffed warm, delicious breath on her clit, then started to lick, flick and suck. His tongue felt like sleek, slick velvet heaven.
Lying back, Ally wound her fingers in his hair and prepared to enjoy her husband’s lovemaking for the first time in nearly a week.
* * * *
“I thought you said I’d be hearing from your lawyer,” Catherine Mercer sneered at Nick from behind the relative security of a safety chain. “Looks like I’ll need one of my own to keep you from harassing me.”
“I need to talk to you.” It took every last shred of his will to school his tone to calmness, when all he really wanted to do was scream. “It’s important, or believe me, I wouldn’t be here.”
“I have nothing more to say to you. Leave, or I’m calling the police.”
“Catherine, please. It’s my mother. She’s dying. She wants to see Seth.”
The door shut all the way, then opened again a few seconds later, minus the safety chain. Catherine stood there, hands on her hips, studying him as if he were a criminal whose face she’d come across in a police mug book. “You’d better not be lying to me.”
“I’m not. I swear I’m not.”
Standing back, she gestured him inside. “I’m sorry about Mary. She was always very kind to Laura. But you don’t honestly think I’m letting Seth go anywhere alone with you.”
“I’m not kidnapping him, if that’s what you think. But if you’d like to come along, you’re welcome to. I’m sure Mom would enjoy seeing you.”
“Fine. But you’ll have to get Seth in the car first, and he’s not exactly your biggest fan.”
Oh, great. Between Laura and Catherine, they probably had the kid convinced he was the love child of Hitler and the Boogeyman. “Where is he?”
“In his room. Down the hall, first door on your right.”
It was a narrow rectangular room decorated with sports and gaming posters, a shelf full of action figures and an old Star Wars bedspread. It reminded Nick of the tiny room he’d grown up in back at his parents’ house. Seth sprawled on the bed, flipping through a gaming magazine. He glanced up for a moment when he saw Nick, then went back to reading.
“Hey. I’m Nick,” he said, wincing inwardly the moment the words were out of his mouth. How much more lame could he get? “We sort of met the other day.”
“I remember.”
“Your grandma said she talked to you about me.”
“She said you’re my dad.” He shoved the magazine aside and sat up. “I already figured it out. Mom told me I looked a lot like you.”
“Is that why you were staring at me from the driveway the other day?”
The boy stared at him again, this time as if he were some exotic animal in a zoo. “Why’d you come back?”
“To see you. And I thought you might be curious about me.” Stepping over to the bed, he sat down at the foot of it, keeping a cautious distance between them. “What’d your Mom tell you about me?”
“Just that I reminded her of you. She didn’t like to talk about you that much. I used to ask, but then I stopped. It made her cry.”
As if he didn’t feel guilty enough. “I guess you must be pretty mad at me.”
Seth shrugged. “No. But I don’t want to go live with you either.”
So the kid was completely indifferent to him. Nick would’ve been more comfortable with yelling and screaming—that, he knew how to handle. “Fair enough. But I was wondering if you’d like to go for a drive. Your other grandma—my mom—would really like to meet you.”
That seemed to perk him up. “Do I have another grandpa too?”
“No, sorry. He died a long time ago.”
“Oh.” His deflated expression made Nick’s heart sink. The thought of himself being the only male role model this poor kid had left depressed him even more. “Where does she live?”
“On a farm, a few miles outside a little town called Seneca Falls. It’s kind of a drive from here.”
“A farm? You mean, with cows and horses and stuff?”
“Well, it’s not a working farm anymore, so there aren’t any animals. But there’s a barn. It’s pretty cool.”
His eyes lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. So, would you like to go?”
“Sure, but I’ll have to ask grandma.”
“Grandma’s fine with it,” Catherine replied from the doorway. “Go put on your sweater and your good sneakers. I think you left them in the kitchen.” When Seth scampered off to do just that, she gave Nick a small, grudging smile. “You’re good with him. I’m actually a bit surprised. He doesn’t usually warm up like that to people he’s just met.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “That was warm?”
“For him, yeah. He’s pretty much stayed here in his room since he arrived. It’s all I can do to get him to go out and ride his skateboard for a few minutes. He’s a traumatized little kid, Nick. Please don’t raise his hopes and then leave him hanging, because I don’t think he can take it.”
The three of them climbed into the SUV and headed out for the farm. Nick couldn’t help noticing the open, almost joyous wonder on Seth’s face as they entered the more rural areas. He practically hung out the car window goggling at the scenery and livestock.
When they finally pulled up in front of the house, he let out a long whistle. “It looks like Dorothy’s house in The Wizard of Oz!”
Nick laughed. “Well, there’s no Wicked Witch, but I should probably tell you something about your other grandma. She’s been sick lately,” he added in a more serious tone, “so she might look a little... scary, but she really isn’t. She’s very gentle and sweet, and she can’t wait to meet you.”
Seth thought about that for a minute, then nodded gravely. “I visited my grandpa when he was sick. He didn’t look too good either. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”
His mother was sitting on the couch playing solitaire when they walked in, but she froze the second she laid eyes on Seth, then started trembling. Nick came around to sit on the arm of the couch, sliding a steadying arm around her shoulders. “Mom, this is Seth.” He beckoned Seth closer. “Seth, this is your Grandma Mary.”
Seth stepped forward, holding out his hand. His grandmother took it, pulling him into her arms. Seth’s eyes locked on Nick’s, silently asking if it was okay. Nick nodded, and Seth relaxed into his grandmother’s embrace.
Catherine stood in the doorway watching, her own eyes shiny. She turned away when she noticed Nick noticing her, plainly mortified at being caught with her guard down.
She took two steps and walked right into Eric. “Pardon me,” he said in that honey-smooth tone that never failed to send Nick’s pulse racing. Taking Catherine’s place in the doorway, he beamed at the heartfelt scene playing out in front of him. And when he turned his gaze to Nick at last, everything that had been wrong with the world for the past few days was suddenly right.
* * * *
“Nick, he’s the image of you!” Mary cried, once she’d made Seth stand back so she could take a better look at him. “Same features, same wavy hair...” She wagged her head in pleasantly stunned disbelief.
Eric had pretty much the same reaction. Seeing Seth by himself that one time had been startling enough, but with the boy and his father together in the same room... well, it was as if Nick had found his own Mini-Me.
Mary finally stopped fussing long enough for Seth to gather up the deck of cards and start shuffling. When the two of them settled into a spirited game of Hearts, Nick got up with a sigh of obvious relief, leaving them to it.
“Looks like they’re getting on famously,” Eric remarked.
“Yeah. Of course, I’m amazed I got him to come with me at all.”
“I’m not.” He cocked his head toward the kitchen door. “Shall we take a walk?”
Laura’s mother looked daggers at both of them from her seat at the kitchen table, but in a few seconds, they’d escaped her gimlet glare. It was a nice day, Eric realized, warm enough to go outside in one’s shirtsleeves, but not so horribly hot that the slightest exertion became a chore.
“How’d things go in the city?” Nick asked at last. “You’re back earlier than I expected.”
“It’s over, and that’s all I want to say right now. I’ll fill you in on the gory details once I’ve had time to properly decompress.”
“Okay. Then I guess you just came over to say hello?”
“And to ask you to come home. We miss you. I miss you. It’s too damned quiet over there with you gone.”
“I guess all my stomping up and downstairs was good for something.” Nick grinned. “But you’ll have to give me another day or so. There’s some stuff I still need to sort out around here.”
“Of course. But I also wanted to let you know that I’ve had a chance to rethink our talk of a few days ago, and I’ve had a change of heart. I can’t stand between you and your son. If you still want him to come live with us, it’s fine with me. I’ve talked it over with Allison, and it’s fine with her too.” He smiled. “I should listen to you both more often. You’re my moral compass.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a lot to think about these last couple of days.”
“You have no idea.” Wrapping his arms around Nick’s waist, he drew his husband in for a kiss. He tasted like fresh, cool water after the world’s most brutal draught. “Think you could drop by for dinner tonight?”
“I doubt it. I’ve still got to drive Seth and Catherine back to Rochester. I’ll be pretty late.”
“If you’d like to drop by at bedtime, that’s fine too.” Another kiss, and they parted, albeit reluctantly. “I should get back. Allison’s going crazy with nothing but her laptop for company.”
“I’ll see you soon, I promise.”
Eric stood there admiring the impressive rear view of Nick striding back to the house, his glance suddenly diverted by a momentary rustle of the kitchen curtain. Whoever had been spying on them gave a start, and disappeared.
Of course, his mother insisted that Seth and Catherine stay for dinner, so it was past nine when Nick got them both in the car and headed back for Rochester. Seth rode up front with him, while Catherine crawled into the back seat and promptly dozed off. Seth, on the other hand, was still bouncing in his seat with excitement as they drove past the last farm before the highway.
“Looks like you had a good time,” Nick observed. “Are you glad you came?”
“Yeah, it was cool when you piled up all that hay in the barn and let me jump in it. And Grandma Mary’s nice. She’s fun to play cards with. But I had to let her win a couple of times.”
Nick laughed. “I’m sure she appreciated it. You like games, huh?”
“They’re fun. I like figuring stuff out.”
“Me too. I guess that’s why I became a reporter.”
Seth stopped looking out the window and looked at Nick instead. “Yeah? You work for a website?”
“A newspaper. Well, I used to. Now I write books for a living.”
“That’s kinda cool.” He settled back in his seat, falling quiet for a few minutes. “Who was that guy you were walking around with outside? Is he a writer too?”
“You mean Eric?” Alarm jolted through Nick like lightning. Just how much had the boy seen? “No, he’s not a writer. But what were you doing watching us, when you were supposed to be playing cards with Grandma Mary?”
“I got thirsty. Grandma Mary told me to go in the kitchen and ask the nice Puerto Rican lady for some juice.” He fidgeted, running his thumbnail along the armrest. “I saw you guys kissing. Is he your boyfriend?”
“I don’t think we should be talking about this. Your Grandma Catherine wouldn’t like it.”
“It’s okay. A lot of my classmates back in California had two moms or two dads. And my mom told me you were gay. She said that’s why you broke up with her.”
Nick hesitated, biting his lip, weighing what he wanted to say. He darted a quick glance toward the back seat to make sure Catherine was still conked out before replying. “No, he’s not my boyfriend,” Nick said slowly. “He’s my husband.”
Seth’s brow furrowed. “But... two guys can’t get married!”
“Not in New York, but they can in Massachusetts, and a few other states. Eric and I have been living in Europe for the past few years. It’s legal there.” There, he’d said it, and the world hadn’t come crashing down around his ears. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a big deal after all. Seth certainly didn’t seem disgusted by the news. He might as well come clean about the rest now, before he lost his nerve. “It’s also legal there for a person to marry more than one other person. Eric’s married to a lady named Allison. So when I married him, I married her, too.”
“Why would you want to marry a guy and a girl? Are you only gay part of the time?”
Nick had to choke back a chuckle. “That’s one way of looking at it, I guess. There are lots of different kinds of people in this world. Some love people of the same sex. Some love people of the opposite sex. And there are some who love people of both sexes. They’re called bisexuals, and that’s the kind of person I am.”
“Sounds kinda weird.”
“I suppose so, to someone your age. But give it a few years, and you’ll understand better.”
They drove along in silence for a few more miles, until Seth finally asked, “Did you love my mom?”
Oh, Jesus. He’d been dreading this one. “Not as much as she deserved. But I love you very much, Seth. I’m sorry I haven’t been around, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to make it up to you. I really do want to be a good Dad.”
Seth pondered it, then asked, “Can we come back out to the farm sometime?”
“Sure, anytime you want. Grandma Mary would love to see you.”
“Cool.”
Seth ran out of gas at last, nodding off long before Nick pulled up in front of Catherine’s house. Between the two of them, they managed to get him into his Han Solo pajamas and tucked up in bed. He started snoring the moment his head hit the pillow. Nick grinned. From what Eric and Ally had told him about his own nocturnal wood-sawing, it obviously ran in the family.
“Thank you,” Catherine murmured once they’d stepped from the room, shutting the door behind them. “It was good that he got to see her, just this once. I had no idea Mary was so sick.”
“I was actually sort of hoping we could make it a regular thing. Seth and I talked about it on the way back, and he liked the idea.”
Catherine’s mouth tightened, and she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Not out here. Seth might hear us.” Turning, she strode back down the hall to the kitchen, with Nick hard on her heels. In the brighter, harsher fluorescent light, she looked even older and more worn out than Nick had noticed earlier. Caring for Seth alone was obviously taking its toll. “I appreciate everything you’ve done today, Nick, but I’m the one with custody. I’ll decide where Seth goes, and with whom.”
“I don’t intend to challenge you on custody. Seth seems happy with you, and right now stability’s the best thing for him. But I do intend to be a part of his life, whether you like it or not. I don’t want to go to court to make that happen, but if I have to, I will.”
“Taking him to see your mother is one thing, but I will not have him exposed to your... lifestyle.”
“Get over it, Catherine,” he snapped. “I have a right to see my own son. And your case may not be the slam-dunk you seem to think it is. A judge might just rule that a forty-something father of means trumps an old woman living in a ramshackle house, and never mind his sexual orientation. Not everybody’s as homophobic as you are.”
“I-I’m not...” Dropping onto a nearby chair, she ran both hands through her hair, drawing in a deep breath. She was clearly even closer to collapse than Nick had suspected. “I don’t hate gays. But you hurt Laura so badly, it’s hard for me to trust anything you say. How do I know you won’t get tired of playing daddy in a few weeks, and leave me to pick up the pieces?”
“I suppose you’ll have to take it on faith. But I swear to you, I intend to stick around for a long time.” He pulled out another chair and sat down. “Doing this all by yourself must be rough. I want to help you. Let me give you some money so you can start fixing this place. I also want to send Seth to a private school. He’s a bright kid. He deserves a good education.”
“I won’t take Eric Courtland’s money. Not from the man you left my daughter for.”
“It’s not Eric’s money, it’s mine. I make a pretty decent living from my books. I can afford to cover Seth’s expenses, and then some.”
Finally she nodded, wiping her eyes. “All right. For Seth’s sake, I accept.”
* * * *
Eric took another shower after dinner, then stretched out in Nick’s bed with the morning paper. He’d barely had a chance to relax and catch up on world events in days, but now that the opportunity had presented itself, he found himself yawning. He was just about to switch off the light when he heard the front door creak open, followed by a familiar heavy clomp up the stairs.
Nick appeared in the doorway, looking every bit as weary as Eric felt. He didn’t say a word, just toed off his shoes and socks, yanked his t-shirt over his head and unzipped his jeans, stripping them off along with his boxers, letting it all fall to the floor. Then, with a bone-deep sigh, he shoved the newspaper aside and crawled in next to Eric, wrapping his arms around his waist.
Eric kissed him softly on the forehead, carding one hand through his husband’s curls. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“Me, either. But I’ve got so much noise going on inside my head right now. This is the only place it quiets down.” He breathed deeply, his eyes drifting closed. “I thought you’d be in the other room with Ally.”
“She needs her sleep, and I’m too restless. Besides, I find your bed rather comforting.”
“That makes two of us.” Scooting over a bit, he rested his head on Eric’s chest. “So what happened in the city? Must be good news, if you came home so quickly.”
Eric sighed. He’d been hoping not to tell the story twice in the same day, but since the subject had come up, he might as well deal with it now and get it over with. “Yes and no. I confronted Crane, and showed him the medical information you found. But he didn’t react the way I’d expected. I’d assumed he already knew about Henning, but he didn’t. He was pretty distraught.”
“Jesus,” Nick breathed. “I mean, I know the guy was blackmailing you, but that’s still an awful way to find out.”
“And that’s not even the worst part. After the meeting, he went back to his office and shot himself.”
Nick looked up at him, plainly stunned. “You’re kidding me.”
“I only wish I were. A man is dead because of something I threatened him with. I’ll carry that with me for the rest of my life.”
“Eric, it wasn’t your fault. There’s no way you could’ve anticipated something like that.”
“It’s kind of you to say so, but we both know that’s not true. I should have weighed all the possibilities before I acted. But then he made this threatening comment about you and Allison, and all I wanted was to destroy him. I didn’t care how.”
“You thought you were protecting us. No one can blame you for that.”
“And that’s the same excuse I gave myself when I told you I didn’t want Seth in our lives. Sometimes I take it too far.”
“Have you told Ally about this yet?”
“He didn’t have to. I’d already seen it on the news,” came Ally’s voice from the doorway. Limping to the table, she dragged over a chair and carefully lowered herself into it. She still moved stiffly, but at least she apparently didn’t need the crutch for short distances anymore. “I’m surprised you didn’t.”
Nick smiled and sat up. “We’re not letting Mom watch the news anymore. It gets her too upset. And I forgot my laptop.” He shifted to make room for her before flipping the covers back. “If you want, you can—”
“I’m fine here. My back’s stiff from lying in bed all day.” Then she looked at Eric. “Don’t blame yourself. Crane had you backed in a corner. Did he really think you’d walk away from the company without a fight?”
“In essence, that’s what I ended up doing. I stepped down as CEO yesterday.”
They both stared at him in shock, but Nick found his voice first. “Talk about out of the blue. Why’d you make that decision?”
“Because I’m sick of it, and to be honest, I’ve felt that way for a long time. I’ve spent the better part of my adult life doing a job I never wanted in the first place. I don’t want our child to grow up thinking he’s got no choice but to step into my shoes.”
“I’m surprised, but still a bit relieved,” Ally said. “Every day I could see how stressed out you were. I was starting to get scared that you’d have another heart attack.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your concern, although I wish you’d told me sooner.”
“Would it have done any good? We both know you get around to these things in your own time. Now you just have to figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life.”
“Besides enjoy myself for a change, and help raise our child?” He grinned. “Let’s see, I’ve got a doctorate in political science that I’ve never used. Maybe I’ll teach, or...”
“Run for office again?” Nick supplied.
“It’s a possibility, albeit a slim one, considering this country’s pervasive bigotry.”
“All the more reason to stand up and fight,” Ally said.
Nick glanced at her, then at Eric. “I agree.”
For a long moment, all Eric could do was stare. “Are you serious? Not too long ago you said you never wanted to set foot here again once your mother was gone, and now—”
“I was angry and frustrated and depressed that night. But the last few days have made me realize how much I miss living here. The other day I drove into Seneca Falls to run some errands, and people I hadn’t seen since my dad died came up and said hello to me. They seemed honestly happy to see me. They even asked about you and Ally. So maybe things are changing. Besides, I can’t be a good father to Seth if we’re living on two different continents.”
Ally nodded. “I want our child to grow up knowing his parents can walk down any street in this country with their heads held high. And that’s not going to happen if we spend the rest of our lives hiding out in Tuscany.”
“So... you’re okay with the idea of moving back here permanently?”
Nick smiled. “I think that’s what we just said.”
“And now that we’ve got that settled,” Ally added with an impish grin, “how about giving your poor invalid wife a little entertainment?”
Eric burst out laughing, and so did Nick, invitation flickering in his eyes. But before Eric could swoop in for a kiss, Nick pounced, rolling him onto his back, two huge hands closing over Eric’s wrists, firmly pinning him down. Eric’s breath quickened, head swimming from every last molecule of blood in his body rushing straight to his cock.
Nick kissed a warm, wet trail up Eric’s chest and throat. He hesitated when he reached the throbbing pulse-point, then nipped it, making Eric shudder strongly enough to shake the bed. But then he pulled back, lips hovering barely an inch from Eric’s, near enough to feel the soft puff of his breath, yet too far to do anything about it. God, he’d become such a delicious tease.
“What Crane gave you, all those years ago,” he whispered, “do you need that from me?”
It took a moment for the enormity of what he was offering to sink in, but when it did, it left Eric blinking back tears. “No. You’re not wired that way.”
“I know you still want it. Every time we’re together, I know you want more.” He looked up at his own hands, still pinning Eric down. “I mean, rough sex is one thing, but I don’t think I could ever actually... hit you.”
“Think you could smack my ass while you fuck me?” He’d been half-joking, but the tiny gasp Nick let out told him he’d hit upon a heretofore undiscovered kink. His own pulse raced in response. “Jesus, Nick... it’s been days. I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
“Me either. Get on your stomach now.”
Eric scrambled to obey, rolling an extra pillow underneath him while Nick rummaged in the bedside table for supplies. He’d just finished settling himself when he felt Nick’s thick fingers breaching his hole, coated in cool slickness. Relaxing into the deep, welcoming ache, he drifted in bliss until the fingers were suddenly withdrawn.
He groaned with a disappointment that swiftly faded as he felt Nick’s hands on him again, stroking his back, nails dragging lightly over his skin. Shivering, Eric held his breath as Nick put one hand on each cheek, kneading and pinching until they grew pleasantly warm. Then he pulled both hands back, bringing them down with a hard simultaneous slap.
Eric cried out from the brain-melting shock of that first blow, even as he braced himself for more. Nick did it again, and again, the vibrations from each successive smack shaking Eric to his core. His cock had turned to steel; if Nick didn’t fuck him soon, he’d shoot all over the sheets.
Apparently his non-stop moaning had done the trick, or else Nick had suddenly learned to read minds, because the next thing Eric heard was the tell-tale crinkle of a condom wrapper, and then Nick’s cock slid inside him. Mind short-circuited with arousal, it was all Eric could do to simply hold on, hands twisting in the sheets as Nick pounded his burning ass, draping himself over Eric’s back, teeth sunk into his shoulder. Then came a full-throated yell from a voice Eric dimly realized was his, right before the world flashed white.
* * * *
He woke up with his husband and his wife curled up on either side of him. Ally beamed at them both, whispering, “I really am the luckiest person in the whole wide world.”
“No,” Eric murmured, “I am.”
Ally gave birth to a blond, blue-eyed baby girl at the hospital in Geneva the first week of December. Nick brought Seth to visit the day after, hiding a grin behind his hand as his son gaped, wide-eyed, at the perfect pink bundle in her arms.
Eric stood there at Ally’s side, beaming down at his wife and daughter. Nick knew he’d been disappointed when the ultrasound had revealed the baby’s sex a few months earlier. But the moment the delivery room nurse had laid her in Eric’s arms, still red-faced and squalling, he’d taken one look and became instantly smitten.
Nick had had pretty much the same reaction. She was so small, sweet and delicate, and it was his job—well, their job—to love and protect her to the best of their ability. He hoped he’d prove himself worthy of the task.
“I want to name her Mary Elizabeth, for her two paternal grandmothers,” Ally said softly. “And Thompson-Courtland, for her two daddies.”
Nick’s eyes stung. They’d lost his mother in August, and the grief was still raw. He’d been grateful that she passed in relative peace, slipping away one afternoon with him holding her hand. He still couldn’t believe he’d never see her again. Forcing a smile, he leaned in to give Ally a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“And that’s not the only news,” Eric added, holding up his Blackberry. Its web browser displayed the New York Times headline, ‘Supreme Court upholds bisexual rights case.’
“Oh, my God.” Ally glanced from Nick to Eric and back again, with a smile as radiant as sunshine on a spring morning. “That means we can get married—all three of us, together, here in our home country. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“I did,” Eric replied. “Amazing what a few months away from the corporate grind can do to restore one’s faith in humanity. The law goes into effect on the first of January. Shall we make it a New Year’s wedding?”
“What do you say, buddy?” Nick ruffled his son’s hair. “Want to be our ring bearer?”
“Do I have to wear a suit?”
“Afraid so,” Ally answered. “But there’ll be cake.”
Seth nodded. “That’ll work.”
“There’s just one more formality,” Eric added, reaching for Nick’s hand, and Ally’s. “Nick Thompson, Allison Taylor... will you both marry me?”
Ally nodded. “Of course. Now and forever.”
Lost in Eric’s intense blue gaze, Nick couldn’t form a reply at first. Hard to believe they’d been together for the better part of twenty years. Even through long periods of heartache and turmoil, they’d always found their way back to each other. If Nick was Eric’s compass, then Eric was Nick’s true north, married by natural law.
“If I did it once, I can do it again,” Nick replied quietly. “I’ll marry you every year for the rest of our lives if you want.”
Eric wrapped his arms around him, kissing him soundly. “I may just take you up on that.”
http://www.lyricalpress.com/cat_grant
"I've been writing off and on ever since I was old enough to hold a pencil. I still remember my very first 'published' story, a Jonny Quest adventure I penned in sixth grade. My teacher liked it so much, she had one of the other students illustrate it. That other student went on to become a Hollywood horror-film director.
"I've poked around in many different genres. I've written fan fiction for a number of different TV shows, tried my hand at horror and fantasy, but in the end I came back to what I enjoy most - writing about the intimate relationships between men and women, and how love doesn't always happen the way we expect.
"As a bisexual American, I am deeply involved in the struggle for GLBT civil rights. If Eric, Nick and Ally's story has moved you, please consider lending your voice to our cause. Thank you all for reading, and for lending your support."
Cat’s Website:
http://www.catgrant.com
Reader eMail:
Bittermint2007@gmail.com
Book I: The Arrangement
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Book II: Strictly Business
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Book III: By Chance
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Book IV: Complications
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Print Compilation: Strictly Business, By Chance and Complications
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