His Broken Submissive : Mercy

34 Becca

"Ah." I nod.

"More like she put her stuff in and he shut the door on her." His fists ball as he retells her story. "The stores are all closed he's being an ass with his friends in the parking lot and it starts to pour."

"Shit," I breathe out.

"So she had no phone and nowhere to go, takes her last quarter to a payphone, dials a past friend's phone number because it was about the only one she could remember. They hung up on her, can you believe it?!"

"If she called here day or night I'd grab her, no questions asked," I assure him, stunned by the utter lack of compassion.

He leans in, struggling to keep his voice low. "So not only does the prick trigger her, but now this friend," he says with air quotes, "reinforce what the prick was saying by hanging up on her. So she's out of money and collect calls the only other number she knew. They refuse."

I shake my head at a loss for words. Becca can be blunt and energetic but never in a million years deserves this kind of treatment. Even Anne thinks highly of her and that's tough praise to earn.

"Her last-ditch effort was knowing you guys lived nearby so she walked... like forty-five minutes in the pouring rain. She got chased by a dog and fell... like what bull shit is this?"

"Poor thing," I mumble, imagining her shitty day. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"I was actually meaning to talk to you before this... Izzy is the only girlfriend Bec has... her and Jack are mostly it. I mean Anne's there but..."

I can't help but chuckle. Anne has her pets but overall her actual social circle is quite small.

"What I'm trying to say is that Izzy is good for her. I was thinking maybe they could spend more time together?" Tony cringes, no doubt feeling guilty for setting up adult playdates.

"All good man. Izzy was talking about spending more time with her friends too. Maybe, Becca, Izzy and Nat can set up some girl time or something?" I shrug, not really knowing what that entails.

"She'd love that," he admits with a relieved grin.

Marilyn and Izzy have been talking a lot about work-life balance and boundaries. This lifestyle can blur the lines but it's important to have spaces to decompress and friendships to support.

The last thing I want to do is to handicap her progress in any way. I also see the effect her friends have on helping her come out of her shell. I'm sure this sassier side I'm seeing has a lot to do with Becca.

"What kind of pasta do you like?" Izzy asks from the doorway.

Tony cocks his head and shrugs. "I'm easy Iz, whatever's good," he mumbles, making her smile drop.

She slips away and I can't help but feel guilty. Izzy made the sauce from scratch and is now making pasta from scratch, all she wanted was feedback and we've both left her hanging.

"So, you're a cook eh?" I say, leaning in close and keeping my voice low. "What other kinds are there but spaghetti and penne?"

Tony's eyes widen and he tosses his head back as a full belly laugh fills the room. "Seriously?!" He snorts as he recovers from his fit.

I shrug, being hopeless when it comes to anything related to cooking.

"There are as many kinds of pasta as there are birds in the sky." He shakes his head with a smile still on his lips. "Most of them have the same ingredients but the shapes are different to hold the sauce."

"Oh." I frown remembering the onions and why I hire people to take care of this for me.

"Rigatoni, fusilli, ravioli, fettuccine?" He lists waiting for me to catch on but all I've got nothing. "You've been sheltered."

"Izzy spoils me," I reply with a chuckle. "I don't know what half the stuff is that she feeds me, but it all tastes great."

"So I've heard." Lord knows Anne sings Izzy's praises every chance she gets.

I stand up and nod to the kitchen, signalling for him to follow. We pause just inside the doorway and watch as Izzy and Becca work away at the island. They have an assembly line of sorts, only pausing long enough to giggle and flick flour at each other.

Seeing Becca more herself lets me relax, happy there are no lasting effects. Izzy is busy teaching her to make shapes as she grabs some leftover dough to put in her machine.

"This is looking less like dinner and more like mad science," I tease. Izzy lights up and excitedly waves us over.

"I made you bowties," Becca announces, passing over a bowtie-shaped pasta to Tony. "But if you don't like it we also made shells, rotini, penne... um?"

"Linguini," Izzy fills in.

"Bowties sound fantastic princess," Tony says, earing a big smile from her.

"And what about me?" I ask, turning my attention to Izzy.

"Rotini," she answers finishing off the last of her dough. I scan the different piles of pasta wondering which one that is.

Izzy picks up a spiral one and passes it over to me. "It's got the ridges so it holds the sauce better."

I chuckle as I look closer. "Do you know that this is my favourite pasta?"

Izzy rolls her eyes and groans. "It is not!"

"No, no, it is! Scouts honour, I just didn't know it had a name!" Her cheeks flush and she side-eyes me like she still doesn't believe me.

Finally her resolve cracks. "You were a boy scout?" She asks in a small voice.

"All the way through eagle scout," I admit.

She tilts her head and watches me like she's not fully convinced.

"How do you think I got so good at knots?" I tease with a crooked grin.

The kitchen breaks down into laughter and the last wisp of the dark cloud that was hanging over Becca disappears. Tony joins Izzy behind the counter to finish cooking dinner and Becca pulls up a stool beside me to stay out of their way.

Midway through she pats my arm and mouths thank you. I smile and nod, whispering anytime, wanting her to know she's not alone.

Going with the relaxed evening Izzy and Tony dish up bowls to take into the living room to eat while we watch movies. Izzy lingers a moment, chewing on her lip, lost in thought.

"You good angel?" I whisper, trailing my knuckles across her cheek.

Her gaze snaps to mine and she blushes. "Very good," she assures me. "I was just thinking..."

"About?"

"Your eagle scout days," she replies with a giggle.

"Don't believe me?" I chide, slipping my hand on her hip and drawing her close. She swallows hard, her pupils blown as she looks up at me. "Hmm?"

"I do Sir," she breathes out, barely a whisper. "I was thinking about the knots... will you show me sometime?"

I grin, taking in her flustered state. "Kitten, I can't wait."