Recovery (Doctor Dom Volume 5) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella) Read Free Page A

unblemished in who they are. She is so fucking amazing and she doesn’t see it.”
    I thought about Lisa as I spoke to Jackie. She wasn’t clingy. She wasn’t demanding or possessive. When we’d been on a date and I’d been called in, she didn’t even pout for a second. She just took care of the check so we could leave.
    She was an adult, and she acted like one, and I didn’t have to be responsible for her emotional state. With or without me, she was a happy person, content in who she was. And because of that, I could be myself around her, warts and all. If I was grouchy, I didn’t have to worry that her feelings would be hurt. If I wanted to skip the cuddling and the pillow talk in favour of sleep, I could, and she would understand.
    I was too old to be interested in tempestuousness. In tantrums and crying jags. In yelling matches. Jackie had heard enough of that when I’d been married to Andrea.
    “I’m afraid to fuck this up because I love her,” I told Jackie. “I love her precisely because she’s her own person, and I’m my own, and we can both live without each other. I want her because I can choose her freely, with no sense of obligation. She is the purest expression of my love, because there is no guilt or feeling of responsibility behind it. And I’m miserable without her.”
    I booked my next appointment the following Monday.
    ***
    That all went very well, and my session with Jackie had helped me a lot.
    I was a neurosurgeon. My hands were always rock-steady – they had to be. But when I reached for the phone to call her on Friday, my hands were shaking, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Lisa:
    Patrick had said he’d call me on Friday, and I knew he would. I still wasn’t sure if we were going to break up, but in any case, he would call when he said he would, because that was who he was. There was a straightforwardness about him that was very attractive. An honesty and a sense of integrity.
    I was still profoundly glad to hear from him.
    Do you still love me? Are we breaking up? These thoughts rattled around in my head. I strove for a neutral tone, and instead ended up sounding hesitant. “Hey,” I said.
    “How’s your week been?” Patrick asked me. His voice didn’t sound hesitant. He sounded as he always did on the phone. Warm and attentive.
    “Okay,” I responded. “Kind of slow. I’m waiting on some permits from the city.” I sounded stilted now, as part of me was struggling to interpret each and every question he asked as if it were a clue that could reveal what was going to happen to us in the future.
    “Dinner tonight?” he asked me after a few moments of slightly awkward silence.
    “I’d like that,” I responded softly.
    “Tell you what,” he replied. “Why don’t I cook? I’ve been feeling guilty after the grief I got from Doug and James about not cooking for you.”
    Were we doing dinner at his place so that I wouldn’t create a scene in public if we broke up? If that was what was happening, his caution was unnecessary. I would be utterly devastated, but I would keep calm until I made it home. Then, I would fall apart. But I was private enough that there’d be no tears in a restaurant.
    “You don’t have to cook if it’s too much trouble,” I started.
    “I’d like to cook for you,” he replied, and the tight knot of fear around my heart eased very, very slightly. He sounded sincere.
    “Okay,” I said. There was a hopeful smile on my face, and I could hear it in my voice. “Can I bring something? Dessert? Wine?”
    He laughed aloud, amused. “I thought you were the dessert,” he teased, and that tight knot eased some more. I grinned automatically, and I relaxed for the first time during our conversation.
    “I’ll just bring wine then,” I said dryly, and he laughed again.
    “Come whenever,” he told me. “Any time this evening. I’ll plan on having the food ready by six thirty or so, but you can come early and hang