The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2) (13 page)

So much had happened in such a short time. I felt like a different person from that young woman who went to the fundraiser that night, reluctantly, doing it only to please my father.

I spent the rest of the day drawing, music on the sound system, my playlist set to shuffle, the music selection eclectic, ranging from classical to alternative. When the light started to fade, I looked out the window at the street. Then, my cell chimed, indicating a text. I took it out and it was from Drake.

Where are you? I'm home and you're not here.

I texted right back.

I needed some air so I went for a walk and stopped in at 8
^th
Avenue. I'm going to take a taxi home.

Of course, Drake couldn't stand the thought I'd be taking a taxi.

Let me come by and pick you up. I'll be there in ten.

I responded, knowing that he'd likely drive over no matter what I wanted. Although he desired our equality outside of sex, there was still a protective streak in Drake and he'd worry that I was walking outside when it was dark.

OK. See you outside.

That wasn't good enough for Drake.

Wait inside and I'll text you when I drive up.

I smiled. He was so protective.

I'm a big girl, Drake. I can take care of myself…

I waited to see what he'd write in reply.

Let me take care of you, Kate. It makes me feel all Dominant…

I laughed at that and texted him back.

Yes, Sir.

I put my cell away and stood by the front window, watching as big fat flakes of snow fell outside.

Then the landline rang. I went over to where the phone sat on a small table in the dining room. The phone had an old answering machine and I saw that there was a flashing light, indicating that there were unanswered messages waiting.

The machine clicked on after three rings and a female voice came on the line.

"Drake? It's me. I tried your place in Chelsea and got no answer. I don’t have your new cell number. Listen, sorry to bother you after all this time, but Steve told me you were leaving New York Presbyterian for a year. If you're going away to Africa, we need to talk ASAP. Call me at my mother's. The number's still the same. "

I frowned as the message ended and the caller hung up.

Who was
she
? Obviously someone who knew Drake well enough to say 'it's me' and think he'd recognize her voice and knew her mother's phone number. Was it his ex? Why would she be calling him now, five years after they split?

I waited at the window, my stomach starting to tighten, the nice mood I was in from Drake's texts dissipating. I stared at the street below, watching to see Drake drive up. The streets were pretty busy but soon I saw his car approach from the south.

As I waited for his text, I wondered who this mystery woman was and what she wanted from Drake. His car drove up and double-parked on the street below the apartment. My cell buzzed and I read his message.

Ms. Bennet, your chauffeur awaits…

I texted him back, trying to match his playful tone, despite my sense of unease about the woman who contacted him.

Ha ha! Should I start calling you Mr. Darcy? Or was it Heathcliff?

There are a few voice messages on your phone and while I was here, a woman called and said you should call her before you leave. Should you come up and listen to your messages?

There was a noticeable pause before he responded.

Hmm. Maybe I should pop up and check. Let me park and I'll be right up.

I remained standing by the window, watching him drive to a parking garage down the block. I tried to squelch the jealousy threatening to break through as well as the guilt I had for hearing his voice message. I couldn’t help it, but I still felt embarrassed that I heard a private message of his.

His key turned in the deadbolt and then he entered the apartment. Dressed in his camel coat and a plaid scarf, his hair peppered with a few snowflakes, Drake was gorgeous. He smiled when he saw me, his blue eyes crinkling in the corners, and instantly, my heart melted.

Before doing anything, he came right to me and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me, and it made my heart swell that he wanted to give me attention first before listening to his messages. He really did seem happy to see me whenever we'd been apart.

When he released my arms, he turned to the answering machine and stood beside me, looking at it as if he was reluctant to listen to his messages. As curious as I was, I didn’t want to intrude.

"If you want, I can wait downstairs in the entry while you listen."

He shook his head and went to the ancient machine, hitting the play button to listen to the messages. The first one was a message from a band member named Brent, indicating he'd left a message at Drake's home but wanted to leave one at his hideaway as well. The man wished Drake a great sabbatical, inviting Drake to get in a jam session before he left for Africa if he hand time. Several sales people tried to interest Drake in carpet cleaning or renovations and then we came to the final message from the woman asking Drake to call her as soon as possible, before he left for Africa.

I said nothing after the message was over, trying not to appear too interested. Of course, I was dying to know who it was.

"Maureen," he said. He ran his fingers through his hair and I could sense the unease in him as he heard her message. "I should call her, see what she wants to talk about."

"I can leave if you need privacy…"

He shook his head quickly. "No, you don't have to leave."

Then he dialed a number and held his cell up to his ear. He waited, standing beside me, running the backs of his fingers over my cheek, smiling softly at me. Despite the smile, I could see a bit of tension in his jaw, in the way he held it tightly shut.

Finally, she must have come on the line.

"Hey," he said. "It's me. What's up?"

He listened, and then frowned, his frown growing more intense with each passing moment, his face actually blanching. He turned from me, staring out the window, one hand on his forehead. Finally, he exhaled heavily, and then sat on the edge of the couch, holding his head in his hand.

"Why didn’t you
tell
me?" A long silence followed. "Why?"

He listened to her speak for a moment and then he took his phone and threw it across the room where it struck the far wall and fell to the ground.

"Let's go," he said and turned to the door, not meeting my eyes.

I went to the phone and picked it up to find that the screen had cracked. Then, I followed him out and down the stairs, barely stopping long enough to lock the door behind me, my heart in my throat, wondering what it was she said that could make Drake, the otherwise carefully controlled man I knew, explode.

As we went down the stairs, my heart raced. I'd never seen Drake like this and it alarmed me. Whatever it was she said infuriated him – or scared the hell out of him.

"
Drake
," I said when we arrived in the lobby. "Tell me what's wrong." He stopped and I caught a look at his face. It was paler than pale, his blue eyes pained. "Tell me!"

He shook his head, opening the door for me. I left the building, taking the steps to the sidewalk. We walked down the street to where he'd parked. I waited for him to open the door. When he got to the car, his hands were shaking so much, he dropped his keys before he'd unlocked the doors.

"
Fuck
," he growled as he bent down to pick them out of the snow, wiping them off on his coat.

I got in the passenger side and he closed my door, then came around to the driver's side and got in. He sat for a moment, and stared at the console.

"Drake, you're scaring me." I reached out and took his hand in mine and squeezed. "Tell me what's wrong."

Finally, he turned to face me, his face blanched. He exhaled heavily.

"I have a son."

CHAPTER TEN

We drove through the quiet streets, east towards my father's apartment on Park Avenue.

"Oh,
Drake
," I said, completely flustered, my cheeks hot. I struggled for words, not sure of what to say. "Maureen was pregnant when you broke up?"

He nodded, still so upset that he seemed unable to speak.

"Does she want you to meet him?"

"She didn’t say anything more than he was mine and we needed to talk."

I was silent for a moment. "I'm so sorry. You can drop me off at my father's."

He sighed as we came to a stoplight. "I don’t know what she wants, but why else would she come back to Manhattan? You're my life, Kate." He was silent as if considering. Then, he squeezed my hand. "I want you with me all the time. If you're willing, I'd like you to come with me. She has to know you and I are together."

"Do you think she wants you back?"

He shrugged. "I have no
idea
what she wants. She married this guy Chris who she met before we broke up. She said she'd tell me when we met."

"Where?"

"The hospital in Washington Heights. A coffee shop we used to go to. It's familiar ground, I guess."

I watched out the window as we changed direction and drove north to NYP.

I said nothing as we found a parking space. We walked hand in hand into the lobby of the building. A tall blonde woman stood silhouetted against the window, dressed fashionably in a long black cloth coat and cream scarf. She was very lovely, and just about the opposite of me in every way.

We walked up to her and she frowned when she saw me, looking me up and down, her grey eyes judging. "Is this your current
slave
?"

"This is Kate McDermott. Kate, this is Maureen Johnston, my ex-wife."

I nodded at her, a bit hurt that she thought of me as Drake's 'slave'. She glanced at me briefly and then turned her attention to Drake.

"I need you to come with me."

"Where?" Drake said.

"To Morgan Stanley. The oncology ward."

"Your son—"

"
Our
son," she corrected. "He's got leukemia. He needs a bone marrow transplant and so I thought you'd agree to be tested. You could be a match."

Drake frowned, his face flushing. "Yes. Of
course
."

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" she said and sighed. "I suppose this has come as a shock."

Drake made a funny sound in the back of his throat, but didn't reply. We followed Maureen down the long hallway to a small coffee shop where we purchased some coffee. We went to an empty table surrounded by other visitors and patients.

"So, tell me," Drake said, his hands around his cup, his face blanched. "How is it I have a son and I never heard about him?"

Maureen took off her scarf, removed her coat. She sat down and stirred her coffee. Finally, after taking a sip, she spoke, her voice low.

"I didn’t think he was yours. I thought he was Chris's. It wasn't until we tested Chris as a donor that we found out he wasn't related. It was then I knew." She glanced up at us, her face red. "I must have miscalculated my dates. I probably didn’t want to think he was yours."

Drake sat there for a moment, his mouth open. "So you
were
sleeping with Chris before we split..."

"Drake, I could have been sleeping with an entire college football team for all you'd have known. You were so busy in Africa and with lectures and surgery and your band to even notice that I was having an affair."

"And how do you know he's my son? I should be tested—"

"
Drake
," she said, her voice sounding frustrated. "It was either you or Chris. I wasn't seeing anyone else. Yes, you should be tested, but given it's the same leukemia as your brother, I assumed he's yours."

"Of
course
…" Drake stammered. "They'll find out when they test me for compatibility." Drake said nothing for a moment, holding his cup between his palms. He didn't meet Maureen's eyes, focusing instead on the table and his cup. "So you were fucking us both, obviously."

"I didn’t mean to. You were pretty insistent when you were around. I tried to talk to you but you were always shushing me, trying to get me into bed. I finally gave up."

I stood up at that, embarrassed to be listening in to their private conversation. Drake grabbed my hand.