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He didn’t ask for any details and I knew it upset him to think about Dawn. It wasn’t hard to understand. She had almost broken us up twice. Not to mention the fact that she threatened to damage Drake’s reputation.
“She wants to put the past behind us when I come back to Manhattan.”
“What do you want?” he said and finally, he turned to face me.
“I wish that she had never threatened you so we could still be friends. But maybe she is responsible for us being together now.”
Drake frowned. “How can you say that?”
“She forced us both to think seriously about each other. Maybe we wouldn’t have if she hadn’t forced our hands.”
He pursed his lips for a moment, and then shrugged. He took a sip of his coffee, and leaned against the counter.
“You may be right. I still think you can’t trust her, Kate,” he said and looked at me pointedly. “She seems awfully judgmental and rigid.”
“She had that kind of family. She was judged harshly. Believe me, she judges herself more harshly than anyone else. If she had been born in the middle ages, she’d be one of those people with hair shirts and floggers.”
Drake laughed at that and finished his coffee. “She might be a secret subbie underneath her righteous exterior.”
I smiled. “I doubt it. If so, it’s really deep and buried.”
He nodded and came over to me, his hands on my shoulders. “It’s up to you, of course. Whatever you decide, I’ll do my best to cooperate. I’ll practice a fake smile when I meet her and be meek and mild. If it makes you happy, I’m happy.”
He kissed me briefly and then stroked his hand over my hair. “She can still do harm to us—to me. The department head of surgery at NYP knows about the restraining order and is fine with it, but if word got out about my participation in dungeon scenes in the BDSM community, it might be difficult to attract patients. I doubt many would be interested in someone who they would think liked pain.”
“You don’t like pain,” I protested.
He shook his head. “To the average person, a Dom might as well be a sadist. They don’t understand that there are different reasons for people to be into BDSM. Kate, I like my practice and life in Manhattan. I don’t want anyone besides the two of us deciding what to do with our lives.”
I nodded and before he left, I leaned up once more and kissed him quickly. “I agree.”
Then he left and I faced the entire day to myself, with only my paints and empty packing boxes to keep me company. Instead of staying up, I went back to bed and pulled the covers over my head.
I slept in until I woke up again and spent the rest of the day painting but I didn’t even get to the packing part of my plan. I was able to finish my painting of my father before Drake arrived home so instead of greeting him the way I had the day before, with me all disheveled and smelling like acrylic paints, I had a quick shower, fixed my hair, brushed my teeth and put on the cute little sundress he liked so much. If I wore it when he arrived home, he’d be pleased. Maybe pleased enough to ravish me the way I was hoping. I glanced at myself in the mirror and adjusted my hair.
Then I kicked myself mentally. Drake wouldn’t be home until at least eight o’clock. He’d have spent over twelve hours teaching, seeing patients and in the OR. I couldn’t expect him to have much energy left for sex.
Still, I wanted to remind him of the first time he saw me in the dress and so I wore it, trying to squash down any hopes of seducing him.
That wasn’t my role in our relationship. He’d grown quite lenient with me when it came to sex, encouraging me to let him know that I wanted sex now and then first thing in the morning. He’d be happy to comply if he had time. I didn’t want to change him too much. I wanted the Drake I met, only more open to letting me into all parts of his life, rather than just one small corner.
He’d done that wonderfully. Initiating sex was something Drake liked to control, but he’d grown more flexible. He’d shared his music with me, although I still hadn’t seen him perform with his band. When we went back to Manhattan, I hoped he’d invite me to a performance.
Everything in its own time.
Drake arrived home after eight and sat at the island in the kitchen with me, eating some food I ordered in from a small restaurant in the shopping mall in our community. It was fresh spicy fish with rice and vegetables. I’d miss the food when I went back to Manhattan, but was determined to find similar recipes so I could cook for Drake and we could remember our time in Nairobi.
“Anything more from Dawn?” he said, his voice quiet.
“No,” I said, although I had been thinking of what I’d say in reply to her email. I could have just ignored it and let her email pass into the oblivion of my computer’s trash bin, but her email had opened a
scabbed up sore in my heart. I thought about it at odd times during the day.
“I had an interesting conversation with Dave Mills you might like to hear about.”
I frowned. “What?”
He took a sip of wine. “He was at a DWB fundraiser. Dawn was there. Guess who she was with.”
