by Pat Simmons
Grabbing her smartphone, she clicked a selfie, and sent it to Veronica. When her friend didn’t respond, Monica suspected she was wiped out.
Now, as she stood in front of the wall-length mirror, she admired the beaded form-fitting bluish-green dress. Even though it was strapless, she had a short faux fur cape to cover her chest area or she might be sick next. With her toes peeping from her clear shoes, she could be Cinderella. What would Tyson say? Or think? She smirked.
She stepped into her chariot—car—and drove off. Thirty-plus minutes later, she arrived at the downtown event where valets were waiting as she parked in the circular drive.
One assisted her out, and another escorted her to the door. The magnificent entrance had an elegant winding stairwell, leading to the second floor ballroom. Opting to take the marble stairs versus the elevator, Monica began her ascend.
As she neared the landing, she heard her name called. Cranking her neck around, she spotted Solae beside her husband, waving. When she reached the level, Solae sauntered her way. “Look at you,” they almost said in unison.
“Some firefighter is going to rescue you tonight, girlfriend!”
Monica blushed despite the fact she was developing stronger feelings toward Tyson since the dinner date a week ago. She didn’t need flowers or notes from him to be reminded of his attraction. Somehow, whenever they made eye contact, his eyes hinted of his thoughts. And no one at work had a clue what was going on between them.
“Where’s your friend?”
“Sick with the flu.” She pouted and Solae nudged her toward the entrance of the ballroom.
“That’s too bad. Well, come on, I’ll introduce you to my sister-in-law. Plus, Reggie’s girlfriend, Tracee, is here, so you’ll have a chance to meet her if he will release her from protective custody.” Monica laughed out loud before she could catch herself and replace it with something more subtle like a dignified giggle.
Solae looped her arm through Monica’s, then swept her into the room where there had to be three hundred people easily, yet there was space for mingling. “My husband has plenty of single firefighter friends.”
“Hmmm-mmm.” Soon she spied Reggie with a woman who could put Cinderella to shame in her stunning attire. “Is that Tracee?” She tried not to point.
“Yes.” She yanked on Monica’s hand. “If you don’t meet her now, you might not.”
She caught a glimpse of Solae’s husband off to the side, speaking with another man. But his wife was definitely in his view. Would Tyson look at her like that?
“I’m glad you could make it,” Reggie said as he pulled his girlfriend closer. “And this gorgeous creature is my lady, Tracee Matthews.” He planted a kiss on her cheek and she closed her eyes, seemingly to relish his gift. Not only did they make a stunning couple, the look of love on their faces glowed.
Next, she met Candace, Solae’s sister-in-law, and Royce, Hershel’s brother. Her friend seemed to be on a mission to introduce her to five eligible bachelors a minute. Monica gave Hershel a silent plea to get his wife.
Relieved, she made her way to the buffet table. The selection was endless. Besides the men, Veronica would hate she missed the food.
After generous servings of a little this and that, Monica snagged an unoccupied counter table. Once she said her grace, she sampled the meatballs and closed her eyes to savor the seasoning. She opened them and glanced around the ballroom. The ambiance was unmatched and there was a nonstop parade of firefighters in uniform, mingling with the guests.
As a matter of fact, one was coming her way when Tyson appeared out of nowhere, and intercepted. His stride was calculated. When her jaw dropped, she was glad that nothing was in her mouth.
His eyes locked with her, reeling her in like catfish. She had often heard a woman describe a man as gorgeous, Tyson wasn’t one of them. He was too rugged to be a pretty boy—he was one hundred and ten percent all male with the build to prove it. She thought he was handsome in a suit and tie, but the tux seemed to magnify his every muscle.
“It’s about time you got here, Miss Wyatt.” He winked. “You are incredibly beautiful.” His nostrils flared. Yes, Tyson gave her the attention she craved.
He didn’t stop walking until he towered over her. The faint whiff of his aftershave overpowered her senses.
“Thank you.” Monica blushed.
Stuffing a hand in his pants pocket, he looked around. “Where’s your date?” He smirked and wiggled an eyebrow.
“At home, sick with the flu, and Veronica will hate she missed it.”
“I guess I’ll have to fill in.” He grinned and stole a meatball and she feigned protest. Monica missed his private attention, like now as he seemed content to patiently watch her finish every morsel on her plate. After she dabbed her lips, he grabbed her hand and the tinkling started on contact and traveled up her arm until she shivered.
“Cold?” He looked concerned.
“No.”
“Come on, I want you to mingle and meet some of our clients.” He leaned closer to her ear. “Plus, I want to get lost in the crowd with you.”
Like Tracee had done when Reggie kissed her cheek, Monica closed her eyes and relished in Tyson’s declaration.
For the next hour, she was able to put faces to names she had heard staff members mention. Also, Tyson stayed at her side until she excused herself to the ladies’ room to freshen up. Minutes later when she strolled out, he was nowhere in sight.
As she peered through the crowd, a sense of fear came over her. She couldn’t shake the dread that something was about to happen, and the feeling was building. As if she was the Incredible Hulk, Monica had to get out of there before she turned into a spectacle and embarrassed herself and Tyson.
Evidently, driving wasn’t the sole culprit sparking the panic attacks. Did she have to add crowds to the list? Now wasn’t the time for her to gather data. If she didn’t start for home immediately, she might find herself stranded on a dark highway and that thought did freak her out.
Tyson rounded the corner and his eyes sparkled. “Hey, you.”
She tried to keep a steady voice. “I think I’m going to head home.” She struggled to smile.
He didn’t hide his disappointment. “But it’s early. Is everything—” He paused as his gazing intensified.
“Yep. Veronica was supposed to come with me. Since I’m alone I don’t want to be out late.”
“I can trail you home if you stick around,” he offered.
That wasn’t an option. She shook her head as her heart pounded and shouted to get out of there fast. “Good night.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked, matching her steps beside her toward the entrance.
No, it’s not, but she wasn’t going to tell him that, so she lied. “Maybe I’m getting a touch of the bug Veronica has.”
“Then you shouldn’t be driving,” he argued, keeping a steady grip on her elbow as he guided her down the winding stairwell.
She handed a valet her ticket. “You stay. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”
“No, that’s not okay.” His nostrils flared as he frowned.
When her car arrived, she was saved from sparing with him. Tyson tipped the man and shooed him off from opening her door. Perspiration was beginning to line her upper lip as she climbed inside. When she reached for the door, Tyson wouldn’t release it.
“I’m praying you get home safely.”
“Thanks.” She yanked her door shut, shifted into drive, and sped off. “Lord, if You’re listening, please help me make it home.”
#
Monica was lying to him. Tyson could sense it. She had avoided eye contact, a hint that she was keeping something from him. He grunted as he folded his arms and watched her taillights until she turned the corner.
Was she having another attack? How was that possible? His heart said to go after her and make sure she was all right. His head said to take her at her word and go back into the ball and take care of his business.
Decision made, he spun around to head back to the party at the same time the valet, who he handed his ticket when he placed a tip for Monica in his hand, pulled up in his SUV. He stared at his vehicle. He calculated the time it would take to drive to her condo and come back to the ball.
Since he wouldn’t be in a mix-and-mingle mood until he heard from her, Tyson whipped out his cell and sent Reggie a text, although he doubted his friend would take his eyes off of Tracee long enough to read it. Hey, had to make a quick run. Be back before it’s over.
He slipped the phone back into his jacket breast pocket, tipped the valet again, and took off after Monica with one hand on the wheel and another struggling to secure his seat belt.
“God, please don’t let anything happen to her,” he whispered as he got on Highway 40, searching for her car. It didn’t take long before he spotted her Mazda 6 in the slow lane, driving under the minimum speed limit. His heart dropped as he sent more prayers up for her safety. The slow speed was as dangerous as someone speeding.
He rubbed his face in frustration. Tyson didn’t want to spook her, so he stayed a couple of cars back. He was confused, but relieved when she turned off the highway at the St. Louis Zoo exit, a couple of miles before connecting with I-170 to her house. He followed her on Skinker Boulevard for blocks until he figured out she was taking the streets to her house, but even on the street she kept hitting her brakes.
He wanted to curse out his frustration, but he couldn’t do that and pray, so he kept mumbling, “God, keep her safe, let her be okay, and help my sanity.”
Monica’s twenty-minute drive from downtown to Olivette via highway turned into a forty-minute journey through the city, University City, and finally, Olivette.
Tyson was getting a tension headache. When she reached her complex and parked in the driveway, he considered calling an ambulance, not for Monica, but for himself. His nerves were shot. Since she didn’t leave any room in her driveway for him to pull alongside, he blocked her in at the curb and hurried to the driver’s side and tugged on the door.
“You followed me,” she stated as if she wasn’t surprised. “I noticed a vehicle following me and I thought about calling the police, then I recognized you.”
“And that wasn’t an easy task. I wish you had, because we both could have had our vitals checked.” He lifted her out of the car.
She collapsed on his chest, shaking. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the front door, then planted her back on her feet. “Baby, what happened back there?” he asked, taking her keys, then opening her door.
She shrugged off her cape as she walked into the house. Closing the door, he followed her to the sofa. “I freaked out.” A tear trickled down her cheek.
Please don’t cry. Sitting next to her, he willed her not to cry as he wrapped his hands around hers. “How do you feel now? You’re still beautiful to me.” He smiled and squeezed her hands until he got what he was hoping, she smiled back.
“Better that I’m home.”
“Good.” He massaged her fingers. “Listen, I don’t know what caused you to have an attack.” Rubbing her hands and staring into her dazed eyes that pleaded with him—for help, understanding, what? She was his damsel and his heart.
Tyson had broken so many rules with his attraction to Monica, but he was willing to risk one more. “Do you think a kiss would trigger them?”
Brightness replaced the darkness in her eyes and she leaned closer. “I don’t think so.”
Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her gently. He brushed kisses against her lips to convey that everything would be all right. When she pulled away, Tyson didn’t release her. He rubbed her back, coaxing her to rest her head on his chest.
After a few minutes, he reluctantly loosened his hold. He cupped her cheek with his hand and immediately felt the softness of her skin. Only Monica could make him debate everything as he got lost in her eyes. “I have to get back to the party, but if you need me to stay, I will.”
She lowered her lashes and nodded. Tugging her to her feet, he walked backward to the door, gently pulling her with him. “So we’re clear. The kiss means you belong to me.” He winked and reached for the doorknob.
“Expect flowers in the morning.” He stole one more kiss. “Good night.” He exhaled before trekking back to his SUV. One thing he failed to tell her was he was probably in love with her, but that declaration might trigger something within him—fear that he was going down.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Was it her imagination, or was her crisis drawing her and Tyson closer? Monica wondered the next morning. Before she could call to check on Veronica and get her take, her phone rang. “Hey, I was thinking about you. Feeling any better?”
“My fever broke during the night, but I don’t have the strength to get out of bed.” She sounded weak. “How did last night go, Cinderella?”
She finger-combed the tight curls in her hair and wandered into her living room. “The good news, you missed plenty of food, fine firefighters—”
“Uh-uh, that sounds like bad news to me.”
Monica shook her head. “Me having another crisis was definitely the bad news of the night.”
“Oh-no.”
“I know. The panic attacks are getting out of hand, but Tyson kissed me and made it better.” She grinned.
“What!” Her strength seemed to come to life. “I missed everything, and I hate to hear about these anxiety episodes, but something good did come out of it, kind of, right?”
“I think so, which is what I wanted to ask you. Instead of the attacks chasing him away, he’s meeting them head on. Confusing, huh?”
“No, sister, it’s romantic.”
“So you don’t think he considers me a charity case? I mean, this isn’t the ideal attraction.”
“Hmph. I’ll be his 501(c) (3). He’s the type of man every woman is waiting for and to know he’s praying for you through this, you should be laying out your Sunday best now. Tyson Graham is a keeper.” Her voice cracked. “And this was the weekend we were going to church. I hate to bail out on you again.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I might go by myself again. I know Solae would be glad to see me. Get some rest. I’ll make you some homemade soup and bring it over.”
“No, you rest today. I’m really concerned about you too. If you don’t get a handle on whatever is freaking you out, you won’t be able to drive to the corner, leave the house, or God knows what else.”
“I know, hurry up eight more weeks.” Monica prayed she could hold off that long.
“You are too independent for your own good, girl! If Tyson wants to spend his money on you in that way, let him. Ooh…” She paused. “My tooth, my back is aching, and I think I need to see a foot doctor. You think he’s got me covered?”
“You’re crazy.” She chuckled, then sobered as she ended their call. Truth be told, last night did damage Monica’s psyche big time. But she’d only experienced that feeling while in her car. Now, she’d been out in public. What next? “God, I’m scared,” she mumbled, staring at her reflection in a wall mirror. “Really afraid.” She was about to cry. No kiss, no matter how good the kisser, could erase that feeling of detachment from her surroundings.
I am the Great Physician, she heard His whisper. I heal the body and soul.
“Then heal me please,” she pleaded as the doorbell rang. Half hoping, half expecting Tyson to be on the other side, Monica hurried to answer. Flowers greeted her instead. Her heart warmed, forgetting he’d mentioned sending them and he had.
“Thank you,” she told the delivery man and offered to give him a tip if
he would wait, but he declined.
“Mr. Graham made the delivery worth it.” He jogged back to his truck.
After closing the door, she carried them to the kitchen counter. She tore the wrapping away and reached for the card. We’ll get through this together. Promise. Call me when you’re up to it. Hugs and kisses.
She was in awe at his commitment to her. Inspired by his words, she called him.
“Did you rest well?”
“Yes.” She paused. “Thank you for leaving the ball and coming to see about me. Words can’t begin to describe how special you made me feel.”
“You have no idea how special you are. Asking you out was a game changer for me. No other woman has gotten to me like you.”
She smiled, flattered, and fingered a flower petal. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I’ll never regret how we met. Will you include me in your plans today?”
Monica nodded before answering him. “I’m not doing much except cook Veronica soup and take it to her.” When he asked where she lived, she assured him not far. “Ten minutes tops.” On a good day, but after the scare last night, she might need extra time. She didn’t tell him that.
“How about I bring sandwiches to go along with the soup and I drive you? Please don’t fight me on this. I don’t want you behind the wheel today.”
“Is this my boss talking?”
“No, this is from your man. See you soon.” He disconnected before she could protest.
#
Tyson had prayed throughout his restless night for Monica, because she was fighting an enemy she couldn’t see. He also had never told a woman he loved her, but he was close to professing it. Once he said it, there would be no turning back. But her episodes couldn’t be ignored, no matter how much he tried to push them to the back of his mind.