Unbreakable (Unrestrained #4)

by S. E. Lund

  “I want your happiness. I want your fulfillment.”

  “You have it.” Then she kissed me, her kiss soft and warm. It didn’t ask anything of me. Instead, it was a sign of love and affection. My mind said I should make love to her, but my body said sleep.

  My body won out. Thirteen hours of work every day for the past six weeks was grueling and had sapped me of any extra energy. I needed to sleep.

  “I’ll leave you to do whatever it is you artist-types do to wind down,” I said and yawned. “I have to go to sleep. Early morning again tomorrow.”

  “I know,” she said and got up, waiting while I stood and took her in my arms. “I’m going to check my emails and tidy up in my studio. I won’t be too much longer.”

  We parted at the door, Kate going to her studio and me to the bedroom. After brushing my teeth and stripping off my clothes, I crept into bed and slipped under the sheets. I would have liked to have Kate there with me so I could snuggle up against her as usual, but I understood how hard it was to come down after a day totally absorbed in her art.

  It made me exceedingly satisfied to see her so busy with her paintings. I knew it was what she really enjoyed doing, and so I felt as if she was finally discovering what she really wanted.

  To paint.

  To be my wife.

  I couldn’t be happier about both.

  I turned over and reached out my hand to find cool bare sheets instead of the soft warm flesh of my beloved, but despite going to bed alone, I felt a contentment I had never felt before. I felt as if my life was finally coming together. I received a fellowship to specialize in pediatric neurosurgery back at NYU, under the guidance of Fred Parker who was one of the top specialists in the field in the Northeast. I was going to be married to Kate, a woman who embodied everything I ever wanted in a partner and lover. I closed my eyes and drifted off, the low sweet strains of Debussy in the background lulling me to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kate

  I left Drake and went to my studio to finish up what I was working on when he arrived home. I should have gone to bed with him, because he liked to snuggle before he fell asleep, but my mind was in a state of euphoria after the day spent painting. It was like a drug, that state I went into when completely absorbed in a work. Time seemed to stand still, and the world fell away. All that existed was the canvas, the brushes, the paints and the idea of what I wanted to accomplish.

  Minutes turned to hours, and before I knew it, the day had gone.

  When Drake arrived home, I was shocked to see that it was already nine at night. I’d skipped breakfast and shoved a turkey sandwich down my throat for lunch but had nothing else but coffee for the entire day. The painting was going very well. Better than I expected. It really looked like my father and I got a choky feeling in my throat when I looked at it from a distance.

  The photograph I used had been taken before his stroke when he still looked like himself—stocky, vigorous, with eagle-sharp eyes and a beak of a nose. He would be fearsome to those who came before him in court. I always thought he was an old grouch. The “Drill Sergeant” as Heath and I called him when we were teens.

  Now, I knew him better than ever, and it was because I saw him through Drake’s eyes. I saw him for the compassionate and thoughtful man who took Drake under his wing when Drake’s father died.

  Drake helped me to see how lucky I was to have a father like him—a father who was present at family dinners on a regular basis, and involved in our daily lives. My father was always on top of things like homework and interests, school activities and friends.

  Drake had missed out on a family like mine. Now, he wanted to be the kind of husband my father was to my mother when I was growing up. Eventually, he wanted to be the kind of father to our children that my father had been to me.

  I still felt a thrill of excitement when I thought about marrying Drake. Even though we’d been living together for six months, I felt giddy when he came home after a long day at the hospital. He made my pulse race.

  But at that moment, I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I puttered around my studio, screwing lids back on tubes of acrylic paint, washing brushes in the en-suite bathroom sink. Once satisfied, I went to the kitchen and rustled around in the cupboard in search of my decaf chai tea. I wanted to sit down before I went to bed and read over my emails, make sure I didn’t miss anything important from Elaine or my father.

  After the kettle boiled, I took my steaming mug and went to my desk in Drake’s office and sat down, legs crossed, and checked my mail.

  Most of it was spam, but there were a few of note. One from the registrar at Columbia with more information on important dates for returning graduate students. Another was from Elaine with an update on how my father was doing with his rehab.

  One caught my eye and sent a shock through me.

  It was from Dawn.

  I chewed my bottom lip and hesitated before opening it. Did I want to read a letter from her at this time of night? If it upset me, I might not be able to fall asleep and it was already pretty late.

  My finger hovered over the trackpad, and then I clicked on the email icon.

  Her letter popped open and I read, holding my breath in hopes it wasn’t a lecture.

  Hi, Kate…

  Hope this finds you well. I hear from Dave Mills that you’re coming back in a few weeks and will be going to Columbia to work on your MA. I am so glad to hear that!

  You might be wondering why I was talking to Dave Mills. Well, it’s a long story but I went to one of your dad’s Doctors Without Borders fundraisers and Dave was there. We got to talking and that’s how I heard.

  I’m so glad that you are moving forward with grad school, Kate. I was afraid you would give it all up.

  When you get back, I hope we can put the past behind us and get together, maybe be friends once more. I miss you so much, you wouldn’t believe. It’s like there’s this great big hole in my heart where you used to be.

  I’m willing to try if you are.

  XOXOXO,

  Dawn

  As angry as I was with Dawn for trying to break us up, threatening to tell my father about Drake’s Dom tendencies, and for searching Drake’s past for dirt, I felt the same as her. She and I had been friends for so long, I couldn’t imagine my life without her somewhere in it. I might have to accept that we would never be friends again, but I could still feel sad about it.

  I didn’t think we could ever go back to the way we were, because Dawn did too many things that crossed the line, but at least we could be civil. I wouldn’t be inviting her to be maid of honor at the wedding or anything, but a détente would be preferable to outright animosity.

  My mother always said to me that it was important for a woman to keep her female friends close even after marriage and children because no one else understands who you are quite the same way. Other than Dawn, I really didn’t have any close female friends and I felt bad about losing her. It would mean that Drake was all I had. Then I realized that we might move away from Manhattan at some point and I would only have Drake regardless of what happened with Dawn. That didn’t scare me in the least because he was always fun and interesting and enjoyable to be with, no matter what we were doing.

  Still, a woman without friends outside of her relationship could become lonely. I decided I would put myself out there and make a point of meeting other people because no matter where we lived, Drake would always be busy with his surgery and his band, the corporation and the foundation. I didn’t want him to give those things up because they made him the man he was and I loved that man.

  Maybe, as the years went by, and as Dawn came to realize what a wonderful person Drake was, and how good a husband and father, she’d ask for forgiveness instead of just asking for tolerance.

  I wasn’t sure Drake would want me to forgive her even if she were truly repentant. Although people do make mistakes, bad judgments and are flawed, what Dawn did crossed the line. Still, I was so torn. I was flawed and had ma
de mistakes before. Could I find it in my heart to forgive her?

  Whether to forgive Dawn was the least of my worries and I didn’t bother to respond to her email. I didn’t need that at the moment. I needed something to help me go to sleep and thinking about Dawn would only delay sleep, not speed it on.

  Instead of fretting about Dawn, I sipped my chai tea and read over Elaine’s and my father’s Facebook feed, soaking up the pictures and posts that documented their lives back in Manhattan.

  As much as I loved Kenya and Nairobi, and as much as I enjoyed our house and the art class, I missed Manhattan and my family. It would be so great to go back, start work on the 8th Avenue apartment to get it in shape and dig in to my MA thesis research.

  I’d have to meet with my thesis advisor and work out a new thesis topic, but I was sure that we’d agree on what approach to take. Then, I’d start to do the legwork, and search out appropriate research subjects to interview. I felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of starting back at Columbia, especially now that I was determined to focus on art instead of politics.

  For the first few weeks after returning, I'd be busy with school, the apartment, and then the wedding. Although it would be a small wedding at my father’s apartment, with only a few friends and family, it would still require planning. I had to find a dress, and pick out a gift for everyone who took part, and then there were the vows, and the honeymoon…

  I finished my tea, and scribbled down a list of to-do items in my journal and decided it was time to go to bed. When I crept under the sheets beside a naked Drake, all warm and sleeping quietly with his back to the door, I thought how lucky I was to have him all to myself. I snuggled closer and closed my eyes, letting his warmth penetrate me and the sound of his breathing lull me to sleep.

  As was his usual practice, Drake woke early and had showered by the time I woke up. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was only 6:30 a.m. I didn’t want to get up but I did want to see Drake off. I rose from the bed and went to the kitchen where I found Drake , humming some sixties tune to himself, fixing a cup of coffee and eating a bowl of granola. I tried to stifle a yawn, and stood at the kitchen’s island, running a hand over my sleep-mussed hair.

  He turned and saw me.

  “There you are,” he said and came right over, bowl and spoon in his hands. “Sorry if I woke you.”

  “No problem,” I said and leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss him briefly on the lips. “I wanted to talk to you before you went.”

  “What are your plans for the day, Ms. Bennet?”

  I considered. “I want to finish the painting and do some more packing.”

  “How late did you come to bed?” he asked and slurped the milk from his bowl.

  “Just after midnight. I had a cup of tea and read my emails. Speaking of which…” I said and hesitated, not sure I should bring up Dawn’s email.

  “What?” he said and put his bowl into the dishwasher, before turning to face me, his eyes on mine. “Tell me. Is it Ethan?”

  I shook my head, wondering how to tell him. “No,” I said and made a face, scrunching up my eyes. “Dawn.”

  His eyebrows rose at that and he turned to get his cup of coffee. “Oh.”

  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.”

  I bit my lip and shook my head, wracking my brain to think who she would have gone with to a DWB fundraiser .

  “I have no idea.”

  Drake smiled, and his expression was smug. “Kurt.”

  My mouth actually dropped open.

  “What?” My heart pounded in my ears. “No way…”

  “Yes way,” Drake said, fighting to keep from grinning, but I could see that he was almost bursting.

  “She went with Kurt? My Kurt?”

  “Your Kurt?” he said, pulling back in what I thought—hoped—was mock horror.

  “I mean, the Kurt I dated briefly,” I said, catching myself.

  Drake took a deep sip of his wine, one corner of his mouth curved up slyly. “The very one.”

  “She never mentioned it in her email, but maybe that’s why she wrote me.” I thought about Kurt and Dawn together and it completely blew me away. I had met him at one of the DWB fundraisers that she attended with me, and we had often gone to pubs with Dawn and a few of our friends from Columbia. They knew each other. Had she been lusting after Kurt all this time?

  “She must have been wanting him all along.”

  “Maybe. Maybe she is a secret subbie. I guess she’s second best to you.”

  I laughed at that. “Dawn is very pretty. You haven’t met her. She’s tall and athletic. Not in the least bit submissive, as far as I can tell. The opposite. I’d think she’d rather beat a man than be beaten on.”

  “I saw her with you at the pub that night, but she’s not my type. Come on, Kate,” Drake said and took another sip, his eyes twinkling. “You know that very many strong people like to give up control in the bedroom. Achievers who have to be in control during the day. It’s a relief to give up control.”