The Mating of Michael (30 page)

Michael was coming over.

James showered as quickly as he could. He got dressed in jeans and a decent button-down shirt. He sat in the living room near the front door waiting. He was terrified and elated. What did Michael think of the book? What if he hated it? James had put Lamb through some pretty brutal things, and he hadn’t minced words. Lamb was abused, and James hadn’t whitewashed Lamb’s own complicity in that. But still, his heart shone through.

What if Michael didn’t want it published? What if it hurt his feelings? James loved Lamb, just as he loved Michael.

Ultimately, of course, the book didn’t matter. Because James was about to see Michael again, and the only thing that really mattered was that Michael forgave him, that they were all right. He’d been distracted through his long writing session, but now he didn’t think he’d survive another five minutes without seeing Michael, holding him.

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and stared at the door, his ears perked for the sounds of a car outside. It took forever, but he finally heard it—a car pulling up in front of his house. It sounded like Michael’s car. There was a tentative knock on the door.

James wheeled the chair forward a few inches and opened it.

The most beautiful boy in the universe stood on his doorstep, his dark hair mussed and his brown eyes slightly reddened and glistening. Dark smudges under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his big brown jacket, but James could see he’d lost weight. Even his skinny jeans were a little loose on him now.

It hurt James to see the evidence of Michael’s pain. “I’m sorry,” he croaked out.

Michael’s brow crumpled like a car hood meeting a tree. He stepped forward and threw himself into James’s lap, putting his arms around his neck and burying his face in James’s shoulder.

“I should have told you about it. I’m so, so sorry. It was completely and horribly wrong of me. But I was so scared you’d hate me. I was scared I’d lose you. But it still was wrong and—”

That was about all the words Michael could choke out. James made shushing noises and held him tight. The front door was wide open as James sat there, holding a fragile Michael on his lap. He looked out onto the quiet, dark street and felt so happy, he thought he might explode into a million stars.

Michael was in his arms. He was home.

“Never again,” James said, stroking Michael’s hair. “We’ll never keep anything from each other again, and we’ll never be apart.”

“No,” Michael agreed, nodding into his neck. “Never.”

There was so much more James wanted to say. But he had already spilled all his words into the computer, and if Michael had read them, he knew how James felt. So he just held Michael, squeezing him over and over, rubbing his back, kissing his hair. For the first time, he felt as if he could fully accept Michael’s love for him. He didn’t know if it was because he understood Michael well enough now to know the size of his heart, or whether almost losing him had finally banished the last of his own self-doubts, but he felt Michael’s love down to his bones, warm and so exquisite he wanted to dance for joy.

At last, Michael got restless. He pulled up to look at James and wiped at his red eyes.

“James, the book is brilliant. I can’t even believe it.”

“Really?”

“Babe, it’s the best thing you’ve ever written. It’s better than
Turncoat
. It’s fantastic.”

James nodded, his chest tight with happiness. “Good. So you don’t mind? That it’s about you? More or less?”

Michael gave him an incredulous look. “I… I’m so fucking honored. And I’m so fucking touched. I mean… fuck.”

“That good, huh?” James smirked.

“You blew my mind,” Michael said with absolutely sincerity. “You’re so amazingly talented.”

“I know,” James said with a smirk. He brushed Michael’s hair out of his eyes. “You’re not bad yourself, as muses go.”

“Listen,” Michael said, getting solemn. “I don’t know if you heard the messages I left on your phone or not, but I meant what I said. I’ll quit doing surrogacy. Nothing is more important to me than you are. I don’t want to do anything that upsets you.”

James thought about it. It was tempting. Part of him wanted to hold Michael close and not share, ever. But he knew telling Michael to quit would be the coward’s way out.

“I think we should talk about it. Maybe we can set some boundaries. I’d like to know who you’re working with and exactly what you’re doing and why. But I don’t want you to quit. I know you help people, and I’d be an ass to take that away just because I’m insecure. I trust that you love me. And I’m stronger than that.”

Michael’s face crumpled again, in a good way, and he hugged James tight. “Oh, God, I do love you. We can do boundaries. Boundaries are good.”

“Okay.”

James was starting to feel the heaviness building in his groin, just from having Michael warm and sweet on his lap. When Michael began to kiss his neck, he groaned.

“Fuck, yeah, makeup sex.” He looked over Michael’s shoulder at the open door and saw a woman with a dog walk past on the other side of the street. “Babe….”

“Yeah?” The word was muffled around kisses.

“Want to maybe shut the door?”

Michael looked up and laughed at the wide-open doorway. He jumped off James’s lap and closed it, then turned with a mischievous, dead sexy look in his eyes. “There are oodles and oodles of sexual payment due for that story of yours.”

James grinned and began wheeling backward toward the hall. “Mmm. What would be an appropriate tribute? A lick a word? The book is sixty-five thousand words long.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, stalking James. “Sure. Just give me a week.”

James laughed. “It’ll take longer than that. If you want to leave my skin intact.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Am I?” Michael asked hopefully.

“No, Mr. Lamont. You are my prisoner for life.”

Michael smiled. “Good.”

June, 2015

“A
ND
THE
winner of the best science fiction novel of the year is….
Sentimental Cyanide
by J.C. Guise.”

James released Michael’s hand, which he’d been clutching for dear life, and met him in a hug.

“I knew it,” Michael whispered in his ear. “You’re my hero.”

James pulled away and gave Michael a kiss before he floated his way, on a wave of applause, to the stage. It was the third time that night he’d had to go up to the podium.
Sentimental Cyanide
had also won for best artificial life form and best sci-fi novel with a romance subplot.

He was on top of the world tonight and so, so grateful.

A beautiful girl handed him the spaceship trophy, and he found himself, once again, in front of the lowered mic in his wheelchair.

“Thank you.” He hesitated, trying to swallow down his emotions.

The room stilled. James licked his lips, his mouth dry. Somehow, he managed to find his droll voice. “I’ve already thanked my wonderful agent and editor and publisher, and the people who support me so stupendously earlier tonight. I guess there’s not much else to say except that, having not been at the top of my game, or my life, for a number of years, this is all the more meaningful to me.”

Every person in the room was looking at James. And it was hot under the TV lights.

“A science fiction writer without dreams is a rather pathetic creature. I lost my dreams for a while. But fortunately for me, the universe is full of marvels and wonders—and one of the most marvelous things in it is my partner, Michael. Stand up, babe.”

Michael, seated a few tables from the stage, looked abashed, but Amanda prodded him with a smile. From their table at back of the room, James could hear Michael’s mom, Kathy, and his mom, Lynn, cheering Michael’s name. Michael stood, looking all sorts of delectable in those black leather pants.

James looked into Michael’s eyes. “
Sentimental Cyanide
would not exist without you. Thank you for reminding me that love is the most powerful force in the universe.”

Michael got a little starry-eyed. He blew James a big kiss.

James waited until the “aws!” died down, and then he deadpanned. “Excluding, of course, antimatter and the Iln machine.”

Everyone laughed.

“I’m thankful every day for the work I’m able to do and for the people who never stopped believing in me. As a writer, you put your work out there, and you never know how it will return to you.
Troubadour Turncoat
brought me my heart, and
Cyanide
gave me a second chance. I’m a lucky man. Good night.”

A
FTER
THE
awards show, they all went out to celebrate. They got a table at James’s favorite restaurant, Wild Ginger. Amanda came, as did Felicia, and Michael’s mom, Kathy. And then there was James’s mom, Lynn, and his step-dad, Ryan. Lynn was so thrilled to be included it was almost embarrassing. But James had met her for coffee over the summer, and they’d slowly been building up a cautious relationship ever since. Michael liked Lynn, and he thought it was healing for James to forgive her, but he didn’t push. James could be stubborn. It was best that he took things at his own speed.

As for Felicia, Michael adored her to pieces. He and James had driven down to visit her at Children of God a few times, and they’d immediately formed a bond. For now, Michael was just ecstatic to have all of his favorite people together, especially to celebrate his love’s well-deserved success.

“So how’s work going, Michael?” his mom asked, giving him a quick squeeze.

“Good. Things have been busy. I have three surrogacy clients right now, and I’m doing thirty hours a week with Happy At Home.”

Michael had lost his favorite patient, Marnie, last year. It had hit him hard. But she’d had a good life and a good death. She was ready to go.

She’d been buried in flaming hot pink.

Tommy, too, had moved on, though fortunately less drastically. He’d joined a burn victim support group and made some new friends. He’d decided he didn’t need the massages anymore. He told Michael solemnly he wanted to “save himself” for someone special. Michael still went over there to play cards once in a while and to visit with Mrs. Chelsey.

“Do you have any interesting cases right now?” his mom asked, fully in nursing mode.

“With Happy At Home, I did a week of hospice recently with a really sweet old man. His family loved him so much.”

His mom smiled sadly and pushed the bangs out of Michael’s eyes. “I’m sure that was hard, honey.”

“Yes but… it was beautiful to see someone with that many people who love him there at the end.” Michael exchanged a look with James, a look that said they were glad to have each other.

Michael’s mom smiled. “It’s so great of you to support Michael’s work, James. I’m proud of you for that.”

“So am I,” Felicia said, with a tone that said she’d expect no less.

James quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s fascinating. The only ones I really dislike are the E.D. patients. I don’t understand why they get to wake Michael up at three a.m. if they get an erection, but I have to wait until seven.”

Poor Ryan choked on his cup of coffee.

“James!” Michael laughed. “You are such a liar! First of all, I’ve never actually had an E.D. patient call me in the middle of the night. And secondly, you can wake me up anytime and you know it.”

James smirked. “I know. But it does get such interesting reactions from people. Sorry, Ryan.”

Ryan coughed into his napkin. “S’all right. I’m good.” He gave Michael a weak smile to prove it.

Actually, Lynn and Ryan had been great about their relationship. And James…. James was amazingly open about Michael’s surrogacy work. He’d attended staff parties at Expanded Horizons, and they’d even gone to Jack and Tony’s a few times for dinner. Michael discussed patients with him in the abstract, even though James never knew their names or specific details about them to protect the patients’ privacy. They had an agreement that if there was ever something James was uncomfortable with, Michael would work with Dr. Halloran to find an alternative. But so far, that hadn’t happened. Maybe because the two of them were so connected and so in love—and so smoking hot in the bedroom—there was no room to feel threatened.

It was more than Michael had ever expected—to be able to have love and have his work too.

“So is Cyanide 2 going to be done by the end of the month, as promised?” Amanda asked James.

Michael couldn’t believe his ears. “What?”

James glared at Amanda. “Why, yes it is. However, it was
going
to be a surprise.”

Amanda looked horrified. “Oh God, James, I didn’t know.”

But Michael was so excited he couldn’t even stay in his seat. He jumped up. “The book you’ve been working on, the one you haven’t let me see, is
Cyanide 2
?”

“Surprise!” James said flatly.

“Oh my God, babe! But how is that possible? Lamb dies at the end of
Cyanide
.”

“Did you
see
him die?”

“Well, no… but Rebben fired on the ship and….”

James quirked an eyebrow.

“Tell me how he did it!” Michael demanded.

“Noooo.”

“Oh come on! What’s the fun of sleeping with my favorite author if I don’t get to read stuff early?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on!”

“No.”

Michael heaved a sigh and slumped back in his chair. He wasn’t going to pout. Even though he really wanted to.

“It was going to be a surprise. And your birthday is coming up in a few weeks…,” James said leadingly.

“Really?”

“… so you’ll be a year older, and therefore mature enough to wait until the book comes out next year.”

Lynn laughed. “James!”

But Michael wasn’t fooled. “It is a birthday present, isn’t it,” he said softly. He couldn’t resist getting up and going around the table to James’s wheelchair. He sat in the lap of his true love and gave him a passionate kiss.