The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2) (19 page)

The restaurant was buzzing with energy as patrons sat at tables and enjoyed the food and atmosphere. The rich savory aroma of pastrami and other deli delights filled the air, and my mouth watered in anticipation of the Reuben sandwich I would share with Elaine. Neither of us could manage a full sandwich so we agreed to split one and share the fries as well. I thought about the thick cut steak fries – so good and filling.

Elaine mentioned the sawdust in my hair and so I told them about our trip to Nathaniel's studio and how I spent the last hour making frames for my canvases. My father seemed pleased that I was working on my art. Then, the waitress came to take our orders.

Finally, Drake arrived. When I saw him, a little thrill went through me, despite having just been with him. He looked fabulous in his camel coat and plaid scarf, his hair shiny in the overhead light, a dusting of whiskers on his jaw. He searched in the window and saw us, then he wound his way through the line until he was able to make it inside the restaurant. He smiled when he saw my father and Elaine and of course, a round of handshakes followed, with Drake and my father clapping each other on the back like old war buddies.

"Congratulations, young man," my father said, shaking Drake's hand. "Katherine's told us the news. You must be so relieved."

"Ethan, you don't know how relieved."

"We're so happy for you, Drake." Elaine kissed Drake on the cheek.

Then, instead of waiting for the server, Drake went right to the counter to place his order. He returned to our table with a Pastrami Reuben sandwich. We all ooh'd and ahh'd over it while he removed his coat, hanging it on the back of his chair.

Finally he sat down and handed over his plate of fries for us to sample.

The restaurant hadn't changed much over the years, and was built more for efficiency than comfort, but people were there for the food, not the décor. Around us on the walls were hundreds of framed pictures of celebrities who dined there. Drake glanced around, smiling as if the deli were an old friend.

"This was one of my dad's favorite places when he visited me at Columbia. We always came here for a pastrami sandwich and the fries."

My father laughed. "We came here as well a few times. I knew it would probably be one of your favorites."

Drake took my hand and squeezed it on top of the table. "Yes, it is."

Then Drake filled us all in on the details of the donation and how we'd be staying around for a while.

Finally, the talk turned to Africa and our impending trip being delayed.

"I'm sorry Kate has to wait, but once we get there, I'll keep her busy visiting my favorite places. I can't wait to introduce her to some good Kenyan food."

"I know something about African food," I said. "Rice and millet, spicy meats and vegetable stews."

"Wait till you taste
ugali
and
nyama choma
– a paste made from cornmeal that you eat with vegetables and grilled meat. Very simple food, but very tasty."

I smiled at Drake, excited for him to show me the Africa he knew, which he promised was far better than the one I came to know in Mangaize.

The waitress brought our order and we all dug into our food, eating with gusto for a few moments.

Elaine brought the conversation back to Liam and the donation.

"You must have been worried that you weren't a match," Elaine added.

"I thought I'd be a good match since we have the same blood type," he said. "Sometimes totally unrelated people can be a better match than your closest relatives."

My father cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was low. "I told Kate if you wanted to push paternal rights, I could help you with that."

Drake took in a deep breath. "Thanks, Ethan. I don't think I'll be pursuing any rights at this point." He shrugged. "Maureen wants to keep the fact I'm Liam's biological father quiet until he's old enough to understand. I can't blame her. Chris has been a good father so far. I don't want to intrude."

"That's very noble of you, Drake, but if you change your mind and want to push access, you have every legal right. You were married to her when he was conceived and he is your biological son."

Drake shook his head, glancing down at the tabletop. "No, it wouldn't be fair at this point to tell Liam his father isn't his biological father. It would be too traumatic. If I thought for a
minute
that Chris wasn't a good father I might feel differently, but from everything I can see, he's been good for both Maureen and Liam. I can't interfere."

My father nodded. "Well, if you ever change your mind, I know some pretty good attorneys who would be able to help with that."

"Thanks for the offer," Drake replied, his voice soft.

Drake said nothing more and I got the sense he found the whole idea of forcing the paternity issue to be terrible nor was he exactly high on his parenting abilities.

We spent the rest of our meal discussing the trip to Kenya, the upcoming nomination process for the open seat in the district, and everything but Liam. Drake seemed fine, if a tiny bit more reserved than normal. We had planned to do our scene that night, and given the news earlier, I hoped Drake would be up to it. Whatever the night would bring, I'd let Drake take the lead, as usual.

Drake finished up quickly. "I have to run," he said, putting on his coat once more. "I have another meeting so can you get a ride with your dad?" I nodded and he leaned down and kissed my cheek softly. "I'll let you know when I'm finished. We can discuss our plans for tonight."

He caught my eye, and I knew what he was referring to – the scene. Was he going to go through with it? A little thrill went through me at the prospect.

"You two have plans tonight? Going somewhere?" my father said, his face bright.

"We have something special planned," Drake said, smiling.

"Understandable," my father said, nodding his head in agreement. "You two take it easy. Will you be staying at Drake's place?" he said to me.

I glanced up at Drake. He nodded and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

"Maybe 8
^th
Avenue tonight," Drake said. "There are a few boxes I want to go through."

"Of course." I smiled up at him and he bent down and kissed me once more, this time on the mouth.

I watched him leave the restaurant, threading through the tables and lines of eager patrons, hoping for some of the world-famous pastrami. I felt excited about tonight, having imagined it now for months. I turned back to my father and Elaine.

"Probably wants go through Liam's things. He's very sentimental."

"He's a keeper," Elaine said to me, raising her eyebrows.

I smiled back. "That he is."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I went home with my parents and sat at the table in the formal dining room and worked on my sketch. When my father came in and wanted to look over my shoulder, I hid the drawing. I didn’t want my father to see it.

"Aww, can't your old man see it?"

"No, Daddy," I said, closing the sketch book. "When it's done. You know how artists are…"

"Yes, your mother was the same. Never wanted me to see what she was working on until it was done." He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval and kissed the top of my head.

Much later that afternoon, Drake texted me that he wanted us to meet at 8
^th
Avenue, maybe have a very light supper and talk about our trip.

I know you were probably hoping we'd do our scene tonight, but frankly, I'm not really up to it. I thought a quiet evening at 8
^th
Avenue would be in order. I want to go through my father's things. There's something I want to get for Liam, just in case… Maureen might not agree to it, but I'll try anyway. I think Liam should at least have something from his namesake.

I texted him back, agreeing and that was that. Finally, I said my goodbyes to my father and Elaine and took the limo to the apartment on 8
^th
Avenue because of the weather. When I arrived, Drake was waiting for me, dressed in a white linen shirt, which was untucked over faded jeans, his feet bare despite the cold. He looked beautiful, his shiny black hair a bit wild, scruff on his jaw, his eyes bluer than blue because of the white shirt.

"There you are," he said and took my coat after I closed the door. I shucked off my boots and went inside the living room. Something soft was playing on the music system – something folksy, which I didn't recognize. It had to be one of Liam's songs from the sixties. I stood next to the music system and checked the playlist on Drake's new iPhone, which was hooked into the system.

California Dreaming
by the Mamas and Papas.

"This is an oldie," I said. "One of your dad's?"

He nodded and searched through albums that were lined up in a shelf on the wall. He pulled out the album cover, and I saw it was an original from 1965 showing the band sitting together fully dressed in a bathtub.

"Appropriate, given we're in the middle of a storm in New York," Drake said. "John Philips wrote the song in 1962 during a New York snow storm. I love New York, but wait until you see Kenya. It's so beautiful in places and the weather is always warm."

"You sure you still want to go in March?"

He shook his head. "We'll stay here for a few weeks until I can see if the transplant takes. Maureen doesn't want me involved. I'd have nothing to do but sit around moping, waiting for news. If we go to Kenya, I'll be busy teaching and doing surgery. There's nothing I can do here anyway and I could always fly back if anything happened with Liam."

He put the album down and went to the sideboard where he had a couple of shots of Anisovaya waiting.

"Here," he said, handing one to me. "I need this. I think I want to get drunk tonight. What do you say?"

I smiled at him. "Sounds perfect. We can be hung over tomorrow. I have nothing planned besides working on my canvas. I can do that hung over."

"Me neither.
Za vas
!" he said and held up his shot.

"
Za vas
," I replied and together we shot back the vodka. Then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me as if he wanted to catch the taste of the liquor on my tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he lifted me up as he kissed me, his kiss warm and deep. He held me up like that for a moment and then let me slide down his body.

"First," he said, brushing hair off my cheek. "I thought we'd make a nice light dinner after that mountainous sandwich at lunch. Then, we can talk about our plans and get sloshed."

"Sloshed?"

He grinned. "My father's term for floor-licking pissed."

"I like it," I said and leaned my head against his chest. "I don't know if I intend to lick any floors though…"

He laughed at that and embraced me more tightly, nestling his face in the crook of my neck.

"Sweet Ms. Bennet. What would I do without you?"

"I don't even want to think about us not being together," I said softly. He started to rock me in his arms. Then another song came on, this one by the Beatles. I didn't know the title, but I grew up listening to my father play his old albums and I knew Paul McCartney's voice.

"What's this?" I asked, slipping out of his embrace and turning to the sound system. I picked up the iPhone and checked the playlist. The Beatles, the album titled
Rubber Soul
. Dated 1965.

"
In My Life
," he said, coming up behind me, his arms slipping around my waist. "Another appropriate song, because I
do
love you more," he said, kissing my neck. I put the iPhone down and laid my arms over his, which circled my waist. "I love you, Kate," he said softly.

"I love
you
," I said, my throat choking up a bit. We stood like that for a while in each other's embrace, listening to the beautiful song, so lovely, yet sad in a way or maybe it was the sadness I felt for Drake and his son. We stood and listened until the end of the song, our arms around each other and then when it finished, and another song started to play that I didn't recognize, he let go of me.

"Come to the kitchen," he said. "I've got some vegetables for a salad. I thought we'd have some chicken."

I smiled as he led me out of the living room to the kitchen, happy that he seemed to want to be so domestic with me. It was such a change from only a few months before when he promised we would never do romantic couple things – cook meals together, go out for lunch.

The agreement we wrote up and that I was so obsessed with had never really been enforced. In truth, I was glad. It was never necessary. Drake would never push too hard. Not only was he not that kind of Dom, he really didn't want anything but my own pleasure.

While I prepared the produce for a salad, Drake was in charge of the chicken. When I finished arranging the salad, I watched as Drake prepared the chicken breast, dredging it in flour and then sautéing it in a pan on the stove.