The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2) (20 page)

I sipped a glass of wine and watched, smiling as he hummed to himself, amazed at how domestic he appeared, a white apron around his waist.

"It won't take long," he said and turned to me. "I have a nice baguette that we could have as the starch."

"When did you get so domestic?"

He laughed and reached into a bag on the counter, removing the long thin loaf.

"I lived by myself for five years after the divorce. It was either learn to cook decent food or live out of restaurants."

Together, we set the table in the dining room, using some old linen Drake found in a box. He put a couple of large pillar candles on a plate and lit them, and we served ourselves and sat down at the table. I was just about to dig in when Drake took my hand.

"I'm not really religious," he said, squeezing my hand. "But I want to say how thankful I am about the tissue match."

I nodded, emotions filling me. "Me, too."

He smiled and let go of my hand. "I'm also thankful that I found you. Such a delicious morsel of prime womanhood."

"You're hungry," I said, grinning back. "You need to eat."

"I
do
need to eat," he replied and wagged his eyebrows suggestively. "But dinner first."

Of course, that sent a thrill through me, but I pushed it aside. Who knew what kind of mood Drake would be in later. If he really did want to get 'sloshed', as he called it, I doubted much would happen between us. Maybe a drunken grope, and giggly missionary position…

We ate our meal, and despite delaying our trip, we discussed the itinerary and the logistics of the move that would happen once we knew how Liam was.

"We'll be staying at the Hilton for a while until I can find a nice home for us. A colleague has suggested Kitusuru Village as a place to rent where there are a lot of expats living. Most of them are families with children, but there may be an area where singles and younger couples live. We'll see once we get there." He looked at me. "Do you have a preference for where to live? I mean, apartment or house?"

I shrugged. "I don’t really care. I have no idea what to expect because I spent all my time in the relief camp in Mangaize or in hotels."

 "I have a contact in Nairobi who's already looking for a nice house. I think it would be great to actually live in a house for a change, instead of an apartment."

"I've always lived in an apartment, except for our cottage in the Hamptons. It would be nice. Whatever you think, Drake."

"From what people who have lived there say, once you're inside the compounds, you won't know the difference between Nairobi and Los Angeles. They're gated communities. They're where most of the expats live. Very safe. Large estates with parks and shopping."

I nodded. Part of me wanted to see the real Nairobi, but the other part, the part who saw too much reality in Mangaize, didn’t. It was exciting to imagine where we'd live, and of course, searching for a place with Drake. It would make our relationship more real. We weren't merely fuck partners who got together for sex. We'd be living together, eating together, sleeping together. Just being ourselves with each other.

I almost had to pinch myself as I sat there, fork in hand, watching Drake eat his meal. He was busy talking about the hospital and the university. He finally glanced up from his plate, his eyes catching mine.

"What's going on in that mind of yours, Ms. Bennet? Something good, I hope, from that wistful smile."

I smiled more broadly. "Was it wistful?"

He nodded and reached out to take my hand. "Yes, very."

I shook my head, trying hard to put what I was feeling into words. "I've never done this kind of thing before," I said.

"What kind of thing?"

"Lived with a man. Planned to move somewhere with him. Planned to pull up roots and move to another continent."

"You went to Africa with Nigel."

"Not quite the same thing…"

He chuckled at that. "Not quite." Then he put his fork down and inhaled deeply. "I know this is a huge commitment, withdrawing from your semester, letting your apartment go, coming with me to Nairobi, living with me. Now with the delay, I know it seems like I haven't given you what I promised."

I reached out and took his hand. "You don’t have to feel bad about that at all. Of course, we'll stay here – as long as you want and need. I just want to be with you, wherever that is and whatever we’re doing."

He leaned over and kissed me. "I don’t know what will happen between us, Kate, but I can't imagine doing anything without you."

I smiled, emotion building inside of me. "Me either."

We turned back to our meals and ate for a while in silence, nothing more needing to be said.

After we tidied up from our meal, Drake brought a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses to the living room, where we sat by the fireplace. He poked the logs into renewed life and we sat in front of it, the bottle of vodka on the coffee table.

"Now, Ms. Bennet, I intend to get you
drunk
."

I laughed, and snuggled in closer to him. "Are you sure you want to? You have no idea what kind of drunk I might be. And besides," I said, poking his arm. "As a physician, shouldn't you be advocating for moderation?"

"Moderation in most things, yes," he said and poured two shots. "But in love and when it comes to vodka, there's a time for indulgence."

Then Drake proceeded to get me drunk, as we did shot after shot of vodka. Luckily, I had eaten and so the alcohol was slower to affect me than if I had been drinking on an empty stomach, but I felt it.

"I'm not much of a drinker," I said after the third shot. "I can't do anything more or I'll throw up. How romantic would that be?"

He laughed and put the bottle of vodka down. "OK,
OK
," he said, his voice betraying reluctance. "I'll let you off the hook for now. I really need to relax and forget everything for a while. Doing a scene requires my total concentration and I have to be sober. I feel like getting drunk tonight. I hope you don't mind too much."

"Whatever you need or want, Drake." I laid my head on his chest, his arm around me, pulling me against him as we sat on the couch.

In the end, he didn't get too drunk, at least that I could see. He wasn't a huge man. At six feet tall and a medium build, he could drink a lot more than I could, but he didn't strike me as a hard drinker.

The alcohol did make him slur his words a bit. He had a karaoke app on his phone and got up in front of the fireplace and sang along with an old song that played on the sound system – "House of the Rising Sun" it was called. I felt tipsy enough that I laughed and clapped for him. He played the whole song out, acting the lines, his face overly dramatic.

When it was my turn to sing, I tried to refuse, claiming I had a terrible singing voice.

"No, no,
no
," he said, taking hold of my arms and pulling me up. "You have to sing something. What's your favorite oldie?"

I tried to wrestle out of his arms, but he grabbed me from behind and wrapped his arms around me, laughing.

"No escape, Ms. Bennet. You must sing or I'll have to go all Dom on you."

"
All Dom
," I said, giggling when he tickled me. "Oh, all right!" I said, giving in. I had only sung karaoke a few times with my friends from college. "How about something by ABBA?"

"
ABBA
?" he said, making a face of mock disgust. "The 19
70s
?
Sacrilege
…"

Then he searched through the songs on his karaoke app and found 'Take A Chance On Me."

"Here," he said, handing the phone to me. "This is perfect."

"Oh,
God
," I said, standing in front of him while he took a turn sitting on the couch, acting as my audience.

He sat back, his arms on the back of the couch, and nodded. "Sing."

I sang the song, enjoying it after the first verse. I had enough vodka in me to relax and let go and started to dance to the music while I sang, remembering videos I'd seen of the band in all their 70s disco glory. He wolf-whistled and clapped when I was done and I was so pumped and enjoying myself, I sang the next song on the ABBA karaoke playlist. "Fernando."

After Drake took one more turn singing,
Born to be Wild
by Steppenwolf, we collapsed onto the couch and listened to some 60s music on one of Drake's playlists. I was feeling quite tipsy by that point, a little giddy, and relaxed enough that I didn't really care what happened.

Drake had kept up the shots of vodka for himself, and soon, he was so drunk, he fell asleep on the couch, his head back, his mouth open. I shook his shoulder and he blinked awake.

"Maybe you should have some coffee," I said. He shook his head.

"Water," he mumbled, getting up from the couch, pulling me along with him. "And aspirin."

We went to the kitchen where he fumbled in the cupboard for a glass and then almost dropped it in the sink. I took over, pushing him gently out of the way.

"Let me do this," I said and poured a glass for him from the Brita he had in the fridge. He drank the water down while I watched.

"Nurse Bennet, are you taking care of me?" he said, an amused expression on his face.

"You're lucky it's not Nurse Ratched."

He laughed out loud at that and when he was done, he put the glass down and pulled me into his arms.

"Let's go to bed," he said. "I'm not up to much good so I hope you're OK with us just sleeping."

I squeezed him tightly. "Whatever you want, Drake."

He took my hand and led me to the bathroom, where we both stood side by side and brushed our teeth.

I turned to him, helping him undo his shirt buttons.

"I'm sorry if you're disappointed that we didn't do our scene," he said, his voice low, his eyes on my face while I undressed him.

"Shh," I said, helping him off with his shirt and turning to the button and zipper on his jeans. "We have all the time in the world for that. You needed this tonight."

"I did," he said, watching me while I undressed him. "But seeing you undress me makes me a bit hard."

"If you ignore it, it will go away," I said and grinned up at him. "I seem to recall you telling me that on a fateful night in November…"

"That it will," he said and closed his eyes. "Oh, Katie, I am so
drunk
…"

"You
are
." I led him to the bed and after I pulled the blanket and sheets back, I pushed him down onto it. He fell back, laughing, his eyes closed. He managed to get under the blankets and after quickly undressing, I slid in next to him. He turned just enough so that I could crawl into his arms and then we lay there in the dark and listened to the sounds filtering up from the street. There was a storm outside and the wind blew against the windows, wet snow pelting the glass.

Within a moment or two, he was back asleep, his breathing deep and slow.

I woke in the early morning, and checked the clock radio beside the bed. It was only about six thirty, but Drake was gone, the sheets cold where he had lain. I got up and was hit instantly with a headache, my mouth dry. I peered out into the living room and saw him sitting with a guitar in hand, playing. When I went to the bathroom, I saw that he'd showered and dressed, and so after I did, I went to the kitchen where coffee had been brewed and there was fresh squeezed orange juice in a small carafe and a bottle of aspirin. I took two aspirin myself and drank down the juice. Finally, I made myself a coffee and went into the living room.

Drake saw me and smiled, as he stopped playing. I went to him and leaned down to kiss him.

"Good morning," I said. "You seem no worse for wear after last night."

"Drink plenty of water and take two aspirin," he said and smiled. "Works every time."

"What are you playing?" I said and sat down on the couch, my knees underneath me. I had to turn around and watch over the back of the couch to see him.

"Playing an old Beatles song I like. Do you want to hear?"

I nodded, surprised that he was willing to play for me. Drake had always been so reluctant to sing or play in front of me, but perhaps that wall had been broken down completely and now he didn't mind.

"I'd love to hear you sing and play. You have a really nice voice."

"I get by," he said and started to strum. He played around for a moment. "It's called,
And I Love Her
."

It was a very emotional song, and I recognized it from listening to the Beatles compilations on YouTube. Beautiful, it brought my emotions to the surface and I had to bite my cheek to keep tears from my eyes.

When he was done, he looked at me, his face so open and honest. "I
do
love her," he said, his own voice emotional. "I love you, Kate. Thank you for being here for me."

I stood up and went to him. "I love
you
." I bent down, my hands on either side of his face and kissed him. "Thank you for letting me be here with you."

I let go of him and went back to my place on the couch, my back to him while he continued to strum the guitar for a few moments. I tried to get control over myself, and succeeded only with a great deal of effort. Lucky for me, because he brought his coffee and sat down on the couch beside me after a few moments.

"What's on the agenda for today?" he said, and then he frowned. "Oh, yeah. I remember. You're going to spend time with Mr. 'Hey,
Dude
.'"

I nodded. "I want to go work on my canvas for a while this morning, but after that, nothing."

He nodded, a bit of a frown on his face as if he was still jealous. "I can do some work at the foundation if you're going to be at the studio, but we should plan on spending the afternoon together."

"Sounds great."

He put his arm around me and we sat and finished our coffee, content to enjoy a few quiet moments together before our days began.

I dressed in something really casual, an old pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie, my running shoes. Nothing I couldn't get gesso on without concern. I pulled my hair back and put on very little makeup – just a bit of mascara and lip gloss.