Monica’s eyelids slid shut. She pressed the back of her head against the door.
This was more than just a mistake. It was a disaster.
Chapter Fifteen
The tiny backing for her earring fell to the hardwood floor with a soft ping.
“Great,” Amanda hissed. If she stooped down to look for it, it would take her an hour to get up from the floor. Amanda closed her eyes and took a deep, irritated breath.
She fumbled through her wooden jewelry box searching for another pair of earrings that would match her dress and shoes, but came up with nothing.
She was being punished. She was convinced.
She crossed the hallway from the guest bedroom to the master suite.
She had kept her distance from this part of the house. The memories were too strong, even though she and Jeffrey had not been man and wife, in the true sense of the phrase, for some time now. Well, except for the night she had become pregnant.
The door was opened slightly. She pushed it a fraction wider, but stopped at the sight of Jeffrey’s naked torso.
He had a gorgeous body. Always had. She still missed snuggling up next to it at night. Even though her bipolar medications carried a risk of sexual side effects; until last year she and Jeffrey had never had a problem in that arena.
She stared wordlessly as Jeffrey pulled a plain white T-shirt over his head. He picked up a salmon-colored button down shirt from the bed.
“Jeffrey,” Amanda said, opening the door the rest of the way and entering the room.
His head came up, his eyes darting to her stomach, which she cradled in her palms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice etched with concern.
“Oh, nothing like that,” Amanda answered, quickly dropping her hands. Now she felt even more of a fool for asking what she was about to ask. “I need your help.”
She noticed his head rear back slightly and there was no mistaking the hint of surprise on his face.
“What do you need?” He slowly drew his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.
“My earring. I dropped the backing. If I try to get it myself I’ll never get up.”
The makings of a smile crept onto Jeffrey’s face, lifting one corner of his mouth into that sexy grin she had fallen in love with. Jeffrey strode to where she stood, stopping only inches in front of her. He was so close Amanda had to tilt her head up to see his face.
“What does it look like?” he asked. His voice had dropped at least an octave.
It took a second for his question to register. For some reason, her mind had become infatuated with looking into his golden brown eyes.
“Uh...like this.” Amanda tilted her head to the side and brushed the hair from around her ear. “It’s the little gold thing on the back that keeps the earring in place. It should be right around the dresser, if it didn’t roll too far when it hit the floor.”
Without another word, Jeffrey left the master suite.
Amanda looked around the room. This was the first time she had been back in here since the day she’d packed her bags and left.
Not much had changed. He’d replace the bedding, but then, Amanda knew he would. Jeffrey hated the lilac, floral comforter she’d purchased. He preferred the old white bedspread that was nearly threadbare.
Amanda tried not to glance at the tall chest of drawers to her right, but like telling someone not to think of a white elephant, her eyes went straight to it, and the picture she knew she would find there. It was the one of her and Jeffrey on a beach in Montego Bay, encased in a handmade frame decorated with various seashells they had collected from the shore.
That trip had been one of the happiest times in her life, right before they had made the decision to start a family. She wondered how different things would be if they had chosen to remain a childless couple.
She’d had the disease under control. Her doctor had found a drug regimen that kept both the mania and depression in check, even through the years of fertility treatments. It was when she’d actually conceived for the first time and her chaotic hormones had interfered with the drugs’ effectiveness that things started spiraling out of control.
Amanda placed a reverent had on her belly. She was willing to pay any price to have this baby, even her marriage. Dr. Berkenshire had tried to convince her that a divorce was not necessary, but Amanda knew how Jeffrey felt about living with someone with bipolar. She refused to subject him to a life of misery, the way her mother had subjected her father.
But, God, she would miss him.
Jeffrey returned, the tiny gold earring backing between his thumb and forefinger. His shirt was unbuttoned, and the T-shirt underneath clung to his chiseled chest and stomach.
“Do you need help putting it on?” he asked.
Yes. No. She didn’t know. When had this deluge of confusion overcome her body? Why did she all of a sudden picture herself in her soon-to-be ex-husband’s arms?
Amanda’s head started to pound. Looking into his eyes, she fought back tears. An overwhelming flood of dread washed over her, weighing down on her chest, nearly smothering her.
Oh, God, her head hurt. She couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the blood was rushing through her veins.
Why was her head spinning? What was she doing here? Why was she in her old bedroom? And with Jeffrey?
How could she be around him after what he’d done to her? The man had crushed her heart. She’d seen it with her own eyes. He had thrown eleven years of marriage away on a tramp who wasn’t worth the fake Jimmy Choo shoes she’d been wearing the day Amanda saw them together.
She had to get away from here. From him.
Stop it, Amanda chided herself. It wasn’t true. Jeffrey would never cheat on her.
But she’d seen them together!
“I’ve got it,” Amanda said, snatching the backing from his fingers. She turned to leave, but Jeffrey stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.
“Amanda, wait.”
“Let go of me,” she growled between clutched teeth. “I need to finish getting ready for church.”
“No. We need to talk.”
“I said let go of me.” Amanda tried to move, but his grasp was firm.
“Dammit, Amanda, I’m tired of this. Would you sit down and talk to me?”
She spun out of his hold, her body shaking in anger.
“Do you think I care about what you’re tired of, Jeffrey? Do you think I care about what you want? I’m tired of a lot of things, too, like a lying, cheating husband.” His stunned expression didn’t register. She could see nothing pass her own fury and confusion. God, she was so confused.
No, she tried to tell herself. Jeffery wouldn’t betray her.
But she saw them!
“I’m tired of living here with you, pretending everything is okay when we both know it’s not,” she screamed. “I’m tired of having to look at your face and remember what you did to me. I can’t do it anymore, Jeffrey? It’s over! I don’t care how many flowers you bring, or gourmet dinners you prepare. Nothing is going to change. It’s over! ”
Amanda stormed out of the room, barely making it to the guestroom before collapsing on the bed in a heap of silent sobs.
When Eli found himself standing before Monica’s front door for the second time in twelve hours, he felt better than he had the first time. He could hardly sleep last night, thoughts about the impending conversation taking precedence over everything, even sleep.
After the explosion of mutual desire they had shared at the club last night, Eli was determined to take this so-called pretend relationship to another level.
Alex was right. It was stupid to write off all female doctors because of the actions of one. Monica was not Elizabeth. Monica possessed scruples, something that other woman wouldn’t know about.
Eli did not deny she was using him, just as Elizabeth had, but at least Monica was truthful about it. She had not tried to manipulate him into helping her with the banquet. She was honest, and one hundred, eig
hty degrees different from Elizabeth Graves.
And Monica was attracted to him. Of that he had no doubts. The minute his eyes had drifted to hers, and he’d seen the desire and lust, Eli knew her feelings mirrored his own. She wanted him.
He knocked. Nia opened the door.
“Eli. Hi. Come on in.”
“You do that all the time,” Eli asked as he followed her into the apartment’s small foyer.
“Do what?” She motioned him to follow her deeper into the apartment, granting Eli his first view inside Monica’s private domain.
“Open doors in strange cities without asking who’s on the other side of it?” he asked, taking a seat on the blue leather couch.
The room was decorated in warm colors: soft browns, reds, and muted yellows with touches of green and blue. Framed African prints and masks hung on the walls, and several small wooden sculptures sat on end tables and the mantle over the fake fireplace.
“You sound like my husband.” Nia said. “You know that man sent an intern from his law firm to the house, pretending to be a carpet salesman? Needless to say, Phillip went ballistic when I let him in without question.”
“I don’t blame him. The world is a scary place. You can’t trust people. Is Monica getting ready?” Eli asked, too wired to engage in another second of idle chit chat.
“She’s not here,” Nia answered. “And I’m angry because I just found out I have to fly home today, and we haven’t spent any real time together.”
Eli could feel his blood begin to boil. “Did she say where she was going?”
“Nope. When I woke up this morning she was already dressed. She said you would probably stop by and told me to tell you something came up and she had to cancel.”
“Do think she went to the hospital?” Eli asked, giving Monica the benefit of the doubt. He hoped whatever her excuse was, it was a good one.
Nia shrugged. “Not sure. She didn’t seem dressed for the hospital. I was just about to throw some clothes on and walk down to Canal Street for some shopping. I haven’t spent nearly enough money here, and now that the knuckleheads I work with have completely screwed up one of our largest accounts, I don’t have time to do any real damage to the credit card.”
“I’m sure you can put a hurting on it, even with limited time,” Eli said, rising from the sofa.
“I’m still going to try to make Sunday dinner at your Mom’s. You said her cooking was better than the Praline Connection. I’m not taking your word for it, though. I’ve got to find out for myself.”
“You’re welcome to come over. You need me to pick you up?”
“No, just give me the address. I’m not sure what part of the city I’ll be in, so I’ll just grab a cab.”
He jotted down his mother’s address and gave Nia a parting kiss on the cheek. Eli didn’t know whether to feel hurt, anger, or outright rage as he exited the apartment building.
Monica had backed out on him.
He had a mind to drive over to the hospital to see if she was there, but decided against it. He wouldn’t chase after her. They had a meeting with the banquet committee tomorrow; she wouldn’t be able to run from him then.
Eli hopped in his SUV and drove out to Armstrong Park. He needed an outlet for his pent up energy, and since Monica wasn’t around exercise would have to do.
He grabbed his gym bag from the back of the Rover and dipped into a restroom, changing into running shorts and his old pair of cross trainers. He ran back to his truck, deposited the bag on the front seat, then took off on the concrete path that wound through the park.
Eli started out on a slow jog; grateful the park wasn’t crowded. He needed the solitude to clear his mind.
He had to figure out what to do about Monica. Their situation had changed, whether she wanted to admit it or not. When they had first agreed to this pretense, neither could have known this intense craving would surface. But it could not be denied any longer.
The thought of turning their relationship into something more serious scared the hell out of him. He had gone back and forth over all the reasons he should break things off completely. Opening himself up for the pain that could eventually come was just plain stupid. He’d felt that pain before, and he’d made a promise to himself that he would never feel it again.
But he also knew not to let go of a good thing when he found it. And Monica Gardner was a good thing. A really good thing.
It was time for a renegotiation of their deal...as soon as he could get Monica to sit still long enough to talk to him. This avoidance game she was playing couldn’t last forever. That was the beauty of working together.
As the mist from the pond blew across his skin, Eli checked his watch, surprised at how much time had elapsed. He took in his surroundings and realized he had run farther than he’d originally planned. He had to double-time it as he reversed directions and headed back to where he had parked.
Eli stopped over at the hospital, anyway. He told himself that it made more sense to come here and shower than to drive all the way to his home in Old Metairie, but if showering was the only thing on his mind, why did he use the ER entrance instead of the one he usually used?
In the end, it didn’t matter. Monica wasn’t in the ER, and according to the nurse he questioned she had not been there all morning.
Where in the hell had she run off to?
Though, the more important question was why had she run? The answer was obvious, she was afraid of what they’d discovered last night.
It was nearly two-thirty when Eli pulled in behind Alex’s F-150. As always, the smell of Margo Holmes’ cooking perfumed the air. Smelled like fried okra and baked chicken on today’s menu. Eli could only hope Mama had some of her creamy mashed potatoes to go with them.
He made his way through the throng of green foliage on the back porch and stopped dead in his tracks when he opened the door and found Monica and Nia sitting at the small kitchen table with his mother and Alex.
“It’s about time,” Margo said, rising from her seat, and giving Eli a kiss on the cheek. “We were about to start eating without you. Let’s move to the dining room. Tobias. Jasmine,” she called out.
Carrying Jasmine piggyback, Toby came through the door that led to the side of the house where the bedrooms were.
“It’s so nice to finally use this table again,” his mother said. “With just the four of us, we usually just eat in the kitchen.”
The dining room table was decked out with a lace tablecloth and satin placemats. Mama had broken out her wedding china to set the table, and even had a short vase filled with fresh flowers for a centerpiece.
“Everything looks great, Mama,” Eli said, taking a seat directly across from Monica.
She avoided eye contact, choosing to focus her attention on the place setting in front of her.
Toby sat across from Nia, and Alex and his mother sat at the opposite heads of the table. Jasmine sat in the chair Alex had dragged from the kitchen table and placed between his and Eli’s spot.
“What’s up, my little African Violet,” Eli whispered to his niece.
She rolled her eyes. “Hi, Uncle Eli.”
“Are we ready to eat,” Margo asked.
Nia’s “Yes, indeed,” was heard above everyone. “I was told this is the best food in New Orleans, and I’ve been waiting to find out if it’s true.”
“I can assure you,” Toby said, “it’s the truth.”
“Since Tobias is home, I think he should have the honor of saying grace,” Margo said.
“Sure, Mama,” Toby answered. “I know E has probably forgotten how to say grace, since it’s been so long since he’s gone to church.”
“Just say the damn prayer,” Eli snarled.
“Elijah Marcus! Not at the dinner table, and especially not in front of company. I apologize, ladies.” Mama looked over at Nia and Monica. “My sons tend to revert to adolescences when they get together.”
“As do most men,” Nia remarked, eliciting a laugh from
the women at the table.
Eli caught Monica’s lame attempt at a smile. If she didn’t relax soon, his mother would know something was up.
Eli looked at Monica across the table, and—surprise, surprise—she actually looked back. He sent her a silent, but unmistakable message: Don’t blow this! Convincing his mother they were a couple was the whole point of their deal. If they didn’t start acting like one, Mama would definitely pick up on it.
“Tobias, grace,” his mother said. They all held hands and bowed their heads.
“Heavenly Father, bless this food, the cook who slaved over it, and the people who are about to tear it up. Amen.”
“That was very adult,” Alex commented, tearing his dinner roll and placing half on Jasmine’s plate.
“Thank you,” Toby responded. “Now can we eat, please? This is the first meal I’ve had in four months that didn’t come from a box.”
Ceramic dishes filled with mashed potatoes, baked and fried chicken, smothered greens, fried okra and buttered corn made their way around the table.
“I’ve told you about eating that processed garbage, Tobias,” Margo chastised.
“It hasn’t killed me yet.”
“But Mama will,” Alex laughed. “You’re going to have to get some dry ice and start shipping him meals if you want that fool to eat right.”
“She won’t have to ship it too far, right, Toby?” Eli asked. Toby gave him a murderous look, which Eli returned; making sure his brother knew mentioning his possible return to New Orleans was payback for the crack about church. Too bad Mama didn’t catch the hint.
“You’ve been quiet, Monica,” Alex said.
Everyone’s attention turned to where Monica sat, nibbling a piece of chicken. Eli’s heart skipped a beat.
“Alex is right, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” his mother asked.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Monica answered.
“She couldn’t get a word in with all this talking,” Toby said in Monica’s defense.
“This is great,” Monica said, “My family never ate meals together.”
“That’s so sad,” Margo said. “I cannot imagine sitting at the table without my boys around me.”
Deliver Me Page 16