by Jane Henry
He was more than willing to let it go.
***
Meredith stood in front of the mirror, drawing a mascara brush through her long lashes. She'd made Paolo his favorite pasta fagiole with homemade bread. He'd eaten his soup, sopped up an ample portion of bread, and praised her for the delicious dinner. She could tell he was trying. It was nothing like it was before, when his somber brooding fit would be all-consuming and piss her off. It was more... melancholy. As she finished applying her eye make-up, she blinked back tears.
Paolo had told her she wasn't allowed to keep things to herself. He wouldn't allow her to spin things in her mind, and let her fears consume her.
Then why was he allowed to?
She sighed. She'd have to make some time in the next day or so to try to connect with Little Lady, her friend she'd met on the forum online. Little Lady was submissive to her husband, Master Winston, her dominant. Little Lady was always a good sounding board for Meredith, and Meredith had so much to tell her since the last time they chatted. But going to Little Lady now would mean that she would have to tell her about her betrayal, how she'd intentionally gone behind Paolo's back and avowed her obedience to Mr. Brookstone. Meredith was ashamed of herself.
But Master Winston and Little Lady had been such amazing friends to her, as she'd uncovered her own desire for to submit to Paolo. They would understand what she did. And they'd be so supportive of her, she knew. Maybe Little Lady would help her sort out the feelings she had. She always had in the past. Little Lady knew about Paolo, and the accident, and she'd been a good friend through Meredith's turmoil and hurt. Meredith sighed. Although Paolo had told her yesterday she didn't have to ask his permission for everything—a declaration that had felt, for some weird reason, like a slap across the face—Meredith figured it would probably be wise to ask Paolo before she confided everything to Master Winston and Little Lady.
She applied lip gloss and pursed her lips together, then fluffed her curly hair with her fingertips. She was happy with nearly all of her appearance. But those circles under her eyes. Sigh. She hated them. Going back to her make-up case, she retrieved a tube of concealer, and went to work trying to hide them.
She knew why she had circles under her eyes. She'd gotten a terrible night's sleep the night before. She had the nightmare again, the one she had over and over again. It always began right before the accident. She'd wake shaking, sometimes crying, and last night had been no different.
Up until recently, she would be left to her own devices after a nightmare, but a few weeks ago, Paolo had realized she needed him. He'd woken with her, soothed her while her heartbeat slowed and her breathing returned to normal, and held her until she'd fallen back asleep. And last night, he'd tried. He'd woken up with her and held her, but he was so tired, he'd fallen back asleep shortly after. She'd lain in bed, listening to his breathing, staring at the wall, unable to fall back asleep until the sun rose and hit her window sill. She stifled a yawn. If Kirstin was indeed the same Kirstin she'd always known, tonight would be a late night. Meredith glanced at the clock, gave herself one more probing look, and left the room.
Paolo was watching the game on TV when she entered the room.
“Hey, sweetie. I'm going to leave now. I need to be there in twenty minutes. You need anything?”
“Come here,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. She felt a twinge at his command, a little pang of arousal—would it ever get old, the way he commanded her?—but she stuffed it down and trotted over to his chair. She knelt quickly next to him., perched on the balls of her feet, hands in her lap.
“You rang?” she teased. He pulled his eyes from the screen and smiled.
“No more than two drinks. If I know you, you'll be out late with Kirstin tonight. I want you parking near the door. In fact, I want you to call her to make sure you two park near each other. No going to your car alone.” She nodded as he continued. “And I want your phone on so I can reach you if I need you. Got it?”
She smiled and nodded again. He raised an eyebrow and her heart fluttered at the stern look on his face.
“Yes, sir,” she said, and she felt a glow of pleasure as his eyes crinkled in a smile. He reached his fingertips to her chin.
“Good girl,” he said. “Go. Have a good time. I'll see you when you get back.”
She nodded. “Do you need anything before I go?”
He smiled. “All set, babe.”
She stood, but paused to give him a quick kiss before she left. He kissed her back, but his eyes never left the screen. Ignoring the momentary irritation she felt, she focused on the fact that he'd just told her to take care of herself. She wanted to hold onto that, the feeling of protection she got from his command, but it felt too fleeting. She glanced at her watch and without another word, left.
Chapter Two
Meredith pulled into the parking lot, scanning for a parking space, a difficult feat on a crowded Friday night. Finally, she breathed with relief as she pulled to the side into a vacant spot, and dialed the number on her cell, feeling a bit sheepish at what she knew she would have to say.
“Hey, babe,” came Kirstin's voice on the other end. “I'm almost there.”
“Okay. I'm just calling because...” she paused. Now that she was about to say it, it sounded juvenile. “Well, Paolo thought it would be a good idea to park near each other so we don't go out alone when we're done,” she blurted out in one quick breath.
She smiled at Kirstin's ringing laughter on the other end of the phone. She'd missed that unreserved, joyful laugh. “I guess Mr. Paolo hasn't changed a bit, huh? Still all overprotective and macho?”
Meredith's eyebrows shot up. She felt a zing of surprise. Her friend remembered over a decade ago that her husband was “all overprotective and macho?”
Had Paolo been “overprotective and macho?”
She'd been afraid his instruction would sound controlling or childish, but in an instant, Kirstin made it better.
“Oh yeah,” Meredith thought, stifling a giggle. “He sure is.” You have no idea.
“All right, babe. I'm pulling in now. Let's do this.” But try as they might, they could not find two spaces next to each other, and Meredith ended up right back to where she was before, with Kirstin at the furthest end of the lot. They met each other at the door a minute later, and Kirstin again threw her arms around Meredith, practically choking her with the force of her hug.
“Oh, geez,” Meredith gasped. “What are you, like, lifting weights or something?”
Kirstin's laughter rang out again. “Something like that. Caleb's really into fitness and health, and he drags me along, kicking and screaming. But he's not here tonight, so let's go get something deep fried and smothered in chocolate.” She casually looped her arm through Meredith's, and pulled her through the door to the restaurant.
“That sounds really yummy,” Meredith crooned. “But first, let's get something cheesy and sinful, accompanied by something undeniably alcoholic.” If she was limited to two, she'd make them count.
“God, I missed you, Mer,” Kirstin said. “Out in Cali, they're all into tofu and sprouts.” She gave a shudder. “I mean, Caleb can get me to eat sprouts, but I so draw the line at tofu.”
Meredith grimaced as they approached the podium to find a table for two. As their waitress led them to a corner table, past the bar, Kirstin spoke over her shoulder.
“Is Paolo still making that awesome Portuguese shit he used to make? What that man could do with a potato was downright sinful.”
Meredith paused, following Kirstin to their table. “Well, not really,” she said. “He doesn't really cook anymore, ever since the accident.”
Kirstin slid onto a seat, slung her bag over the back of her chair, and sat down quietly. Meredith followed suit, picking up the drink menu and perusing. Finally, Kirstin leaned in.
“You need to fill me in, babe.” Meredith didn't look up, eyes still focused on the menu. It was still so raw, sometimes. She'd gotten used
to talking about the accident with people she didn't know, such as doctors, or people she worked with. But it suddenly felt different talking to someone she did know. She felt the old pang in her chest, the sting of tears behind her eyes, and she nodded mutely, as the drink menu swam in front of her eyes. She stole a look at Kirstin, and Kirstin's large, merry eyes had sobered.
“Order a drink first, honey,” she whispered. Meredith smiled.
“Good plan,” she whispered back. She looked back at the menu, but there were too many. “I don't know. I haven't had a drink in ages. What's good?”
Kirstin snagged the menu. “I'll give the Cali peeps this much,” she said. “They might dine on shit like tofu, but they know how to drink.” Her finger ran over the menu. “You like berries, right?”
“Love 'em,” Meredith said, surprised Kirstin remembered. How much did she remember?
“Go for the raspberry mojito,” she said. “It's the freaking bomb here. But let's make sure we do get something decadent and sinful, because if you haven't been drinking, that'll knock you on your ass.”
Meredith shot Kirstin a wicked grin, feeling a side of her that had lain latent during Kirstin's absence spark to life again.
“I wanna be knocked on my ass.”
Kirstin grinned back. “We do have a lot of catching up to do.”
***
They talked and laughed over cheesy nachos and deep-fried buffalo wings, Meredith licking her fingers and smearing the tips on piles of napkins, as they recounted the past decade. Kirstin asked questions about Carlos, who she remembered as a chubby eight-year-old with a Lego addiction, and she shook her head when Meredith pulled out her phone and showed Kirstin a picture of her full-grown son on campus.
“Not possible,” she murmured. “Who is that man and what has he done with your baby?” She shook her head. “God, but time flies.”
Meredith went to put her phone down and saw she'd missed a call from Paolo.
“Oh, hey,” she said. “I missed a call from Paolo. Hang on a second. I'll be right back.” She walked to the lobby, dialing home. Would he be upset she hadn't picked up? He knew she was out, of course, but she still wasn't sure where things stood with their new arrangement.
Was it wrong for a submissive to miss a call from her dominant? Was neglecting to answer the phone something worthy of punishment?
But the phone just rang and rang, and finally went to voice mail. Meredith glanced at the time. It was still early, too early for him to have gone to bed. Well, that was weird. She felt a twinge of fear. What if something had happened to him? What if he'd fallen, and hurt himself? She shook her head. She left Paolo alone every day she went to work, and he was far from a dependent invalid. He was fully capable of taking care of himself, and she was being ridiculous. He was probably making some food, or maybe dozed off in his chair. She shoved her phone back in her pocket and went back to the table, unable to completely quell her unease.
“All good on the home front?” Kirstin asked, and Meredith nodded.
“Yep.”
Kirstin sat back, nursing a margarita. “So, we've talked about your job. We've talked about Carlos, and I've told you about my job in Cali. Now, let's get this over with.” She leaned forward. “I'm not going anywhere, Mer. So spill, honey.”
Meredith didn't need Kirstin to spell it out. She swallowed. “Right.”
Maybe it would feel good to spill. She took a deep breath.
“It was a car accident. Just over six months ago.” She picked up her mojito—Kirstin was right, she loved it—and took a large swig. As the drink coursed through and warmed her, she felt a surge of courage, and ran with it.
“We were driving home from dinner. Wasn't his fault. The other driver had a heart attack, lost control of his vehicle, and jumped the barrier.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” Meredith looked down at her hands. “It was awful, Kirstin. Terrifying. We got hit so hard we spun out, and I remember screaming, and watching as Paolo's head hit the dash. There was blood everywhere. Shattered glass. People screaming.” She picked up her glass and took another long sip as her hands shook. She felt ice hit her lips and was surprised to see her glass was empty. The waitress came to the table, and Kirstin silently pointed to Meredith's empty glass, ordering another. Meredith vaguely noted two.
“The side of the car got so far pushed in,” Meredith said, shaking her head, angry that she felt emotion rising that she was unable to completely control. “I couldn't get him out. I kept trying to pull him, but his legs...” her voice caught, and when she continued, her voice had dropped again to a whisper. “It took two other guys, just people driving by who stopped to help, and four firefighters to get him out. They wouldn't let me anywhere near him.”
Kirstin shook her head. “You two are lucky to be alive.”
“Yeah,” Meredith whispered. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “He has what's called an incomplete spinal cord injury. The symptoms differ hugely from patient to patient, and sometimes after a few months of therapy, they improve. He has limited mobility in his legs, but he still has some lower body function.”
Kirstin quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Feeling the buzz of the alcohol, and the silent question she knew her friend was asking, Meredith laughed ruefully. “I know what you're thinking. Yeah, he can still get it up,” she said.
Kirstin giggled. “Well, thank God for that.”
“Yeah.” Thank God for that.
Meredith shrugged. “So that's where we are. He can't do the work he always did, but he's itching to find something. You know he's always been good with his hands.”
Kirstin grinned mischievously. “I do remember you sharing a few stories. You know… about his hands. And how good he was with them.”
Meredith giggled. Meredith had an immediate vision of Paolo, his large hands pinning her wrists above her head, or holding her over his lap, the heavy fall of his hand on her upturned bottom… Yeah, he was still good with his hands all right. Meredith's giggle didn't go unnoticed. Kirstin gave her a long, probing look, then nodded, as if accepting what happened and making the decision to move on.
“You do what you gotta do,” she said softly, taking another sip of her drink as the waitress pushed another mojito in front of Meredith.
“Yeah,” Meredith agreed, taking another sip. It felt good. The warm drink, the ease she felt slipping back into confidence with a good friend, the rich food settling in, the privilege of being able to talk about this with someone she knew. But she was ready to move on past the accident story.
“So now, your turn,” Meredith teased, snagging another pile of nachos and easing them onto her plate. Kirstin nodded.
“Fair enough,” she said with a smile. “As you know, I found my asshole of an ex-husband in bed with his secretary. And I bought his story that they needed to work in the home office from time to time because of the location. His office was out-of-the way but our house was nearer the city, the main hub, and he'd swing in after a meeting with a client. They didn't need the fucking office. They needed the fucking hot tub.” She took another sip of her drink as Meredith shook her head.
“Jerk,” she mumbled. Kirstin's eyes twinkled.
“Yeah. I used stronger words at the time, but as Caleb says, 'you hold onto that shit, it holds you'.” She looked down. “Problem was, having no kids to take up our time, we had a pretty ramped up social life. Easy to do in Cali, babe. But they were all his people. People he'd met on the job, you know? So when we were done, so was my flimsy circle of shallow friends.”
Meredith shook her head. “Well that sucks,” she said, feeling as if her sentiments somehow weren't strong enough for the injustice she felt for her friend, but Kirstin's soft smile told her she hit her mark.
“It does. It really really sucked. So there I was. Stuck out on the other side of the country from my family. I'd given fucking everything up to get out there, to pursue the dream, and up until I found my husband in bed with anothe
r woman, we were living the dream. We had it all. Fancy cars, big wardrobe, awesome jobs, the social life. And then it all went up in smoke. You know why, Mer?”
Meredith shook her head. Kirstin had given her space to tell her story. Now it was Kirstin's time. Meredith would listen. Kirstin leaned forward, her blue eyes teeming with emotion.
“Because it was smoke, babe,” she whispered. “All of it. No kids. No family. No one who really gave a shit about me. And at the end of the day? No one I really gave a shit about.”
Meredith swallowed. She'd spent the past six months feeling bad for herself, with Paolo being withdrawn and her son gone away to college. She'd felt lonely, and consumed with sadness, and she'd wanted so badly to feel important to someone again. She wanted so badly to be understood and cherished. But Meredith had more than smoke. She knew that.
“I'm sorry,” Meredith said simply. Kirstin smiled and her eyes grew wistful.
“I know you are, Mer,” she said. Then her face brightened. “So now the story gets exciting.” Meredith leaned forward eagerly, taking another swig of mojito. Had the room grown warmer? She felt like she could sit here talking with Kirstin for hours, and she wouldn't tire of it. Life was good.
“Okay, so this is the part of the story where we meet the tattooed hottie?”
Kirstin laughed her musical laugh and nodded.
“The tattooed hottie biker,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows. But her face softened as the laughter died down, and her eyes warmed. “He's so good to me, honey. So, so good.” Meredith reached her hand out and squeezed Kirstin's.
“You deserve good, Kirstin,” she said. Kirstin nodded, threw back the rest of her margarita, and raised her arms over her head, clasping her hands behind her mane of red hair.
“There was this big fucking gala thing,” she said. “I would've gone if I hadn't thrown my husband's ass on the street. It was like the biggest thing ever, everyone was talking about it, everyone was there.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. So I have nowhere to go, I'm bemoaning the fact that I can't wear this goddamned sky blue sheath dress I bought that I looked like a fucking goddess in, so I take myself to this local bar. It's not fancy, but it's not sleazy, it's just comfortable, you know? Drown my sorrows in a drink and maybe some guy will hit on me and make me feel better than shit.” At this, her jaw clenched, and Meredith saw for a moment the hurt that her husband's betrayal caused her friend, and for that, she hated him. But Kirstin moved on.
