Ouch. Shit, okay I knew what a surrogate was.
“We need a gestational carrier. It would be our embryo, just someone else to carry it.”
Yup, he thought I was an idiot. He stood and started to pace. Seemed I had that effect on people today.
“Until Blue realizes she has to put all her trust in a stranger, forty weeks completely out of her control. And worse—she misses out on every little kick and movement. What if something happens, because let’s be honest, bad shit happens. What then? How the fuck will I make that okay for her?”
I had nothing. “Sorry, man. I’ve got nothing. But knowing Lil and knowing you, you’ll figure it out.”
He stopped to lift his chin, the universal sign he heard me and nothing else needed to be said. Damn if his son didn’t do the same exact motion to me. We tossed our sweat and blood stained towels into the laundry bin. Since neither of us showered at the gym, we grabbed our duffels and headed for the exit. I tried not to think about my cell buried at the bottom of the bag, and what, if any, messages were waiting for me. Surprisingly my fists, cheek, and left ribs throbbed like a mother. Unexpectedly, the burn behind my chest had turned to an intense deep ache. I wasn’t sure which was worse: anger or disappointment.
We did our fist bump, hand shake, but before he split Chase asked, “So, that bad, huh?”
I nodded. He left it at that. Worse for you, brother.
Six texts and three voicemails all said the same thing—Please call me. I ignored them long enough to shower, pop four Ibuprofen, return the two hundred emails I missed during the afternoon, and touch base with Avery. She was my safest bet, filling me in on Dad’s condition, but fortunately, too overwhelmed with the drama of her life to notice I avoided all questions Talia, aka Barbie, aka Tack’s mother.
I popped a cold one and sat on the couch wearing a clean pair of running shorts. The beer was more to ice my hand and cheek than anything else. I flicked through a few channels before shutting the TV off and tossing the remote. Silence … until my phone chimed again. This text wasn’t from Talia.
Hi stranger, long time no PLAY.
Nightcap? Like old times.
Stop by *kiss face*
I considered it. I probably didn’t even need to walk down the block. If I picked up the phone, she’d be here in five. No questions, no strings. Two consenting adults needing and willing. If I recalled correctly, Angie, or was it Andie, rivaled my stamina and liked to take control. The state I was in, that sounded pretty damn appealing.
You know where I live.
My finger hovered over the send button while my head mind-fucked itself. Why not? I had nothing to lose. Nothing else to lose, at least. Except not being able to look myself in the mirror. My current page was torn to shreds, but I had no intention on creating a new one that involved using women for anger release. I wasn’t that guy and I wasn’t about to begin now. I chucked the phone to the other side of the couch and took a deep breath, wincing at the sharp pain behind my right ribs.
I fetched a new beer, intent on drinking this one, and grabbed a pool stick from the wall. New distraction. Unable to avoid the giant mirror that hung in my dining room aka billiard room, I surveyed the damage. My cheek had a small cut and my left eye was already bruising. Not bad, considering. Barely able to breathe, I wasn’t sure how I was gonna lean over and shoot. I didn’t give a damn. I positioned myself in line with the cue and cracked, pocketing the eight ball and … scratch. Of course. Just that kind of day or life.
The doorbell chimed, followed by a soft knock. Cursing, I realized I must have accidentally hit send. Time to man up.
“Sorry, sweetheart-” I swung open the door to familiar caramel eyes.
She cringed. Must have been my banged up face. “Guessing that endearment is not for me.” Or not, it was her turn to look over her shoulder. Yup, just the two of us in the empty hall.
“What are you doing here, Talia?” My body betrayed me as I felt the tightness in my chest relax, breathing easier despite the bruised ribs. “The doorman told me you already came by and picked up your bag.”
When I got back from the gym and all her stuff was gone, I was even angrier if that was possible. But her in front of me now left me questioning my brain’s betrayal as well.
“Are you okay?” Her gaze focused on my left eye.
“No,” I snapped. She blinked. “Again, why are you here?” I was still pissed. I wasn’t sure if pissed was even the correct adjective. All this talk of betrayal … seemed fitting.
“We need to talk.”
“No, we needed to talk five months ago—make that—you needed to talk nineteen years ago. I’m done talking.” My grip on the pool stick tightened.
“Please, Ace, please. Just hear me out. Don’t be like this.”
“Like what? By all means, share. What exactly am I being like?” I questioned sarcastically.
I hurled the stick across the room. Balance, cock, torque, strike. She jumped at the sound of it crashing against the wall. I didn’t fucking flinch.
“A stranger.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “Can I come in and talk to my friend? Please?” The way she said friend sliced deep, was I being a dick? This conversation was inevitable, so I backed up, giving her space to enter.
I closed the door and watched her walk to the pool table, dropping her coat and bag. With her back to me, I noticed the slow rise and fall of her shoulders giving away her struggle to calm her breathing. I kept my distance with my arms crossed. She wanted to talk then she needed to talk. When she finally turned around, she pretended her cheeks weren’t wet, straightened her blouse, and squared her shoulders. Great, Dr. Pryce was ready to talk. That should have been a small relief, knowing that my TP still had the power to question my resolve. But it wasn’t. It fueled my fire.
“Asher, I wanted to tell you, so many times. I did. You have to believe that. I’m so sorry I hurt you, but I had my reasons. And I know it sounds convenient, but I was going to tell you this weekend, I swear. That’s why I came a day early.”
“Last night, this morning? What, it didn’t seem like a good time, with me laying my heart out for you?”
“I … I needed to talk to Tack first.”
The mention of his name singed my already raw esophagus.
“So there wasn’t a single opportunity over the last five months to tell him about us? I don’t know, Tal, he seems like a smart kid. You mean to tell me it never came up during the half dozen times you’ve been here, the reason why you’re in Boston? I get it now. I get why you were always more than willing to fly out here. Bullshit it was easier for me. It was easier for you. You know that old saying ‘kill two birds with one stone’.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Really? Do you really want to go there—talk about fucking fair?” What was this, romper room? Share your toys, kids. Shit, this was turning juvenile.
“I was afraid … I was afraid of seeing that look, of having my best friend look at me like you are right now.”
“You should probably be more afraid of the look our other best friend is going to have when you tell him he has a son you kept from him for almost twenty years.” My body seethed with anger, but my eyes were cold as ice.
“Asher!” she snapped. “It’s not what you think. Tack is-”
“DON’T lie to me, Talia. Don’t. You don’t have to be a brain surgeon to put two and two together.”
Talia didn’t miss my choice of expert, flinching again. She rubbed her temples, feigning a headache, and shook her head back and forth. Was she kidding me, was she honestly going to try and deny the obvious?