The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2)

by S. E. Lund

  "I don't think Drake would want to push the paternity thing. He's still pretty sour on fatherhood, and whether he even knows what being a good father is. Drake will be coming by later this afternoon. We can talk about it then."

  He nodded, and then his landline rang and he turned to read the display. "Sorry, sweetie," he said, his hand on the receiver. "Chief of Staff. Gotta take this. Talk to you later."

  He ended the call and the window in my phone closed.

  I saw a flag on my text message icon that indicated I had a text. I opened it, and it was Nathaniel, replying.

  Come by and make your canvas. I have lots of wood and fabric, gesso – everything you need. I'm busy working on a series of paintings for my final show in April, but you're welcome to come in any time. Jules and Keith are also working on pieces so it might be crowded. Love to catch up with you, sug.

  If Nathaniel was busy working on a collection for a show, I'd have to find somewhere else to work, but I could always work at 8th Avenue. There was room in the kitchen, and lots of ambient light during the day. I'd have to make sure Drake didn't see the canvas though. I really wanted it to be a surprise.

  While I was texting him back, my cell rang. It was Elaine.

  "Hi, Katie," she said, her voice pleased. My father must have given her the news. "How are you? Your father told me about the tests. I'm so happy for you both. Drake must be so relieved."

  "Very relieved," I said.

  "Your father wanted me to invite you both to lunch. He feels like Katz's today. What do you think? Can you two make it?"

  I smiled, having wanted to go to Katz's for some time. "That sounds perfect. I'll ask Drake when he calls me."

  "Let one of us know and we'll meet you there."

  "Thanks for calling."

  I ended the call and sent Nathaniel a text.

  Hey, thanks so much for the offer. My boyfriend and I will be by later before lunch. He'd like to check out the studio. Hope that's OK.

  He texted me back right away.

  No prob, sweets. See you then.

  Then I texted Drake with the invitation to go to Katz's with my father and Elaine. I mentioned that Nathaniel was happy to let me use the studio to work on the canvas and that we could go by before lunch if we wanted.

  He texted me back in a few minutes.

  Katz's sounds good. Haven't been for a while. I can pick you up at around eleven to go to the studio. Will you be ready?

  I let him know that would work fine and went to shower and get ready to go out.

  Drake arrived at ten forty-five and texted me that he was on the street. I picked up my backpack with my sketchbook and pencils and left the apartment.

  "So, where is this artist's hideaway?" he said when I got in the car. "Where do young artist-type pot-smoking hipsters hang out now? When I was in college, it was in Soho, but it's really expensive there now."

  "In an old commercial building on West 36th and 7th Avenue. It's not too far from your place in Chelsea."

  "That's some pretty expensive real estate."

  "His dad is like Rockefeller-rich in the oil business and could probably afford to buy a whole city block in Chelsea," I said, remembering Nathaniel's description of his father's ranch, his collection of old cars, and his lizard-skin cowboy boots. Nathaniel was always drawn to New York City and couldn't wait to leave Texas.

  We found a park & lock that was nearby the building. The door to the building was open so we went right in. We took the creaky old elevator to the studio, which was on the fourth floor and took up the east and north sides of the building so that it got day-long ambient light and early morning light. It would be a great place to work for a morning person like me.

  From the elevator, we could already hear music blaring from the studio – some progressive rock that I didn't recognize. The door was down the hall to the north and was unlocked. I pushed the door open and the familiar scent of linseed oil, paints, and paint thinner filled my nose, taking me back two years to when I met Nathaniel and we spent time in the art studio at Columbia.

  We went through the doorway and Drake stopped and took it in – the wide-open space of the room, which was as big as his apartment on 8th Avenue. There were large tables by the windows, a kitchen area with sinks, and a bathroom off to the side. The walls were splattered with paint, canvases of various sizes resting against them. Art work hung on the walls. Drafting tables sat off to one corner where Nathaniel sat, working on a piece. He did uber-realist paintings of the city and its people, collaged with photos from other media, including magazines, newspapers and books. He was an artist, while I was just a painter.

  I went up behind him, Drake following in my wake, and tapped him on the shoulder.

  He turned around and when he recognized me, his face broke into a huge smile. He reached over to the sound system and turned the music down.

  "Hey, sug," he said. He craned his neck to check out Drake. Finally, he stood and gave me a hug, a sisterly hug – thankfully. I could feel Drake's eyes on us, and quickly broke the embrace.

  Drake stood there a few feet away with a bemused expression on his face, his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked like a millionaire businessman and the difference between him and Nathaniel was striking. Nathaniel wore a toque with a marijuana plant emblazoned on it, his long blond hair peeking out beneath the bottom, a row of tiny silver hoops piercing his eyebrow. His t-shirt was black with Jamaican flag colors, a silkscreen print of Bob Marley on the front. Beneath the picture was the quote "Man is a universe within himself." His arms were both tattooed from his wrists to his shoulders. He wore low-slung jeans with a Jamaican-colored belt tied at his waist. He was lean and tall, his pale blue eyes always wide.

  "This is Drake," I said, not really knowing how to introduce him. Drake stayed where he stood a few feet from the entry. He looked really out of place.

  "Dude," Nathaniel said and waved his hand. "Come in, I don't bite unless I'm asked."

  Drake forced a smile and stepped closer, glancing around at the space. Nathaniel turned to me. "You look as sweet as ever, Katie. I heard you won the thesis prize. Way to go."

  I smiled and glanced at Drake, who regarded Nathaniel with obvious amusement. Nathaniel's southern twang was still quite pronounced despite living in Manhattan for half a decade.

  "We're leaving in March to go live in Africa for a while."

  "Africa? Cool," he said, eyeing me up and down. "So you’re going to get back into art? I've got lots of wood for frames, and tons of canvas. There's gesso and all the tools. If you need any help, let me know. We'll whip up a couple of canvases in no time."

  "Sounds great. When can I come by?"

  "If you want, you can stay now and we can get started. I need a break. The schedule's over on the counter by the sink," he said and pointed to the kitchen. I smiled and went over, Drake following me. On the counter was a clipboard with a calendar. There were several names on each day, one for each room in the space. Nathaniel had the large room and others had two of the three small rooms. One room was open several days in the next week. I took a pen and marked my name in the spaces that were open, eager to get started.

  I turned to Drake and smiled, my stomach filled with butterflies. "I can't wait."

  He smiled back and ran his fingers over my cheek. "I'm glad you'll be able to work on your art." He bent down and kissed me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nathaniel watching me from the other side of the room. When he saw Drake kiss me, he turned away, smiling.

  "Who are the other two guys?" Drake asked, his tone soft.

  "I don't know – a couple of Nathaniel's friends.

  "So you'll all work together here?"

  "We'll each have our own rooms."

  Drake sniffed the air. "Smells like he smokes pot here too. Are you OK with that?"

  I shrugged. "He's a big boy. I'm not interested in getting high on anything but human endorphins. I'll be here to paint. I might get high off the paint thinner, but that'll be accidental.
" I grinned up at him. "Drake Morgan, are you jealous?"

  He laughed and took me by the arms. "Always. Totally. Completely. I may have to come by and see these other characters before I approve."

  "Drake…" I said, frowning. "You don't get to approve."

  "Just kidding," he said. "Of course, you're free to do what you want outside of our agreement. I'm just curious to know the competition."

  "There's no competition so don't even go there."

  "I'm a man, Kate. I go there without even thinking."

  "I love you," I whispered and pulled him down to kiss me. He kissed me back, the kiss deep, his hand cupping my face.

  "I love you," he whispered back. I ended the embrace and glanced back over to where Nathaniel sat, working on his canvas. "Do you have something to do for an hour? I'd like to start working on making a canvas while I'm here. You could pick me up at 12:15 so we can get to Katz's by 12:30."

  "Sure. I can pop by the foundation. I'll text you when I'm back."

  I walked Drake to the door and kissed him once more. Drake held onto the door for a moment and watched me walk back to where Nathaniel was. I waved at him and finally Drake closed the door and left.

  Nathaniel turned to me. "Pretty rich looking boyfriend you got, Katie."

  "He's a doctor," I said. "And he inherited a lot of money."

  "Cool. So you want to make a couple of canvases?"

  "I only need one," I said, not wanting to use up too much of his supplies.

  "Make two. Always good to have another one in case something happens to the first. There've been too many times when someone has fallen over and ripped one of my canvases and I've been so upset, having to wait for a new one. If you have a second, you can start right away if something happens to the first."

  "Sure."

  We spent the next hour cutting the wood, mitering the corners, building the frame on which I'd stretch the canvas. The frames alone took up all my hour, so I'd have to come back and finish stapling the fabric onto the frames, and apply the first coat of gesso to the canvas.

  My cell chimed just as I was measuring out some canvas on the cutting table. I took out my cell and saw a text from Drake.

  Your carriage awaits, my Lady…

  I laughed and texted him back.

  I'll be right down.

  "Thanks for everything," I said to Nathaniel. "I've got some time on Wednesday in the small studio so I guess I'll see you then."

  "Come back later today or tomorrow. You can work in here. I'll help you get the canvases ready."

  "Thanks," I said. "You are wonderful."

  "I am," Nathaniel said, smiling.

  I said goodbye and took one last look at the studio, excited to once again be working on a piece of art instead of writing about it.

  Drake was waiting by the passenger side of the car, and before I could get inside, he bent down to kiss me.

  "Hey," he said. "You've got sawdust in your hair."

  I ran my hand through my hair and sure enough, there was a sprinkling of sawdust in it.

  "We cut wood for the frame and then we had to miter the corners and make dados."

  "Sounds complicated," Drake said and opened the passenger door.

  "No, it's pretty straight forward once you have your dimensions. My canvas is pretty big so we had to do a lot of bracing so the canvas would be strong enough. I didn't even get a chance to stretch the canvas yet. I'll do that tomorrow."

  I smiled at him and got in. He closed the door and came around the other side.

  "You didn’t have any time on the sheet tomorrow."

  I nodded. "Nathaniel said I could come in and work in the main studio."

  "How nice of him," Drake said, deadpan.

  As we drove off, he was quiet. I reached out and took his hand.

  "You know the first time we met outside of class, Nathaniel was stoned and called me 'dude.'"

  Drake laughed at that, glancing at me, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

  "Well, he must have been really stoned because there is no way any man in his right mind would call you dude."

  "He's harmless, Drake."

  "No man is harmless, unless you're going to tell me he's really gay, and even then, they've been known to change teams."

  I laughed. "No, he's just a manslut. He'll gladly sleep with any pretty thing that will have him. No steady girlfriends. He's not my type in the least. You are."

  "I am, Ms. Bennet," he said and touched the collar around my neck as if to remind me of its existence. "And you're mine."

  Ten minutes later, Drake dropped me off outside Katz's and went in search of parking. The streets were filled with bustling pedestrians, all trying to thread their way through the crowd. Katz's was busy, as usual, but I managed to get in line and was told it would be a ten-minute wait – great for Katz's. People loved it so much, they were willing to wait. Then I saw my parents inside and passed through the line and went right to their table.

  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.