Deliver Me

by Farrah Rochon

  “I’m going to see you in a few days, but I’ll warn you now, if your anemia doesn’t improve, you are going to have to go on restrictive bed rest. That means being in bed all the time, literally, until this baby arrives.”

  “Is it really that serious, Dr. Holmes?”

  “Your case borders severe. It’s a very real possibility, Amanda.”

  Lord, help her. She would really go insane. How would she survive being confined to her bed for eight weeks?

  “How much sleep have you been getting lately?” he asked, his shrewd eyes honing in on her, making her feel like she’d just been caught skipping school.

  “Not much,” Amanda admitted.

  “I’m not a mental health professional, but I know enough about your condition to know that lack of sleep will only exacerbate your symptoms.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “You need to remain well rested and free of stress,” he cautioned.

  “Telling me I may not have free medical care is not the best stress reducer,” she said under her breath.

  A smile pulled across Dr. Holmes’s face. He covered her hand with his. “Don’t worry about the Parenting Center. Just make sure you take care of yourself.”

  She left the hospital thinking the only way her day could get any worst was if she walked in front of a bus. By the time she pulled into the driveway behind Jeffrey’s truck, Amanda wasn’t so sure getting hit by a ten-ton moving vehicle was a bad idea. She was being tested, that was the only explanation she could devise. And Amanda had a feeling she was failing, horribly.

  After an entire day of running the road, all she could think about was soaking in a tub of steaming, lavender-scented water with a good book and a glass of wine. The wine would have to wait a few more months, but a bath and book were readily available.

  With more effort than usual, Amanda pulled herself from behind the Altima’s steering wheel. Soon, she would not be able to fit behind it. Of course, if Dr. Holmes followed through on his threat of restrictive bed rest, it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t be able to drive anyway.

  Amanda shook off the depressing thought and made her way up the footpath. She went through the front door and froze at the site before her.

  There were boxes everywhere. Stacked on the table. Shoved against the wall. Strewn across the sofa.

  Jeffrey was leaving.

  An ache settled in her chest at the thought that he could so effortlessly walk away from the life they shared, but after the accusations she’d wailed at him, there was not much he could say or do—except leave.

  This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  “Oh, no,” Amanda moaned as the familiar throbbing started behind her eyes. Her senses heightened. The light hanging from the ceiling fan became brighter, too bright. The air began to weigh down on her skin. Amanda tried to shut out the onslaught of sensation, but she was just too tired. She could feel what was happening to her, but she was powerless to fight it.

  Looking around the living room and dining area, an eerie sense of wariness crept up Amanda’s spine. Something about this was not right.

  The black lamp sitting on the dining room table was familiar, but it seemed out of place. The same went for the framed lithograph leaning against the wall. Wait... These were her things. From her apartment.

  “You’re here,” Jeffrey said, coming from the kitchen. He was still dressed in his blue coveralls.

  “What have you done?” Amanda growled low in her throat.

  “I cleaned out your apartment, and I cancelled the lease.”

  “You did what!” If the pictures were not so securely fastened to the wall, they would have shook from the force of her bellowed scream.

  “I won’t let you do this, Amanda. I refuse to lose you over a misunderstanding.”

  “Jeffrey, if you do not put every single piece of furniture back in my apartment—”

  He shook his head. “No. Your stubbornness is not winning out this time.” He took a step toward her, and she took a step back. Jeffrey wasn’t deterred. “I have spent over a decade of my life loving you. Eleven years ago, I vowed before God and family that I would spend the rest of my life loving you. I plan to honor that vow.”

  Amanda took a labored breath. She wanted to respond, but words escaped her. To her horror, she felt tears welling in her eyes, and before she could stifle it, a heart-wrenching sob tore from deep within Amanda’s soul.

  When Jeffrey rushed to her side and put his arms around her, she was too weak to pull away. A flurry of emotions went through her as she wept for what her marriage once was, and what it had now become. She wept over the love she still held for her husband and acknowledged that her heart was still undeniably attached to the man whose arms surrounded her.

  “Don’t cry, baby,” Jeffrey whispered soothingly. “Please don’t cry.”

  “Why.” Amanda swallowed another sob. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because I love you. I love you, Amanda,” he said again.

  She wrung free of his hold and push him a good foot away from her. The hurt in his eyes caused her physical pain. This was so unfair. She shouldn’t be the one hurting here. He’s the one who did wrong!

  No, he didn’t, Amanda pleaded with her own mind to understand.

  Yes, he did. She’d seen them together.

  “Don’t tell me you love me,” she growled. “If you loved me, we wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in right now.”

  “And just why are we in this situation, Amanda? In all this time, you never once told me why you wanted out. You just left.”

  “I don’t have to tell you.”

  “Yes, you do. Because if it’s for the reason I’m starting to suspect, I’m calling the lawyers tomorrow and putting a stop to this divorce.”

  “Just try it,” Amanda challenged. She crossed her arms over her ever-increasing breasts, primed for his reply.

  But Jeffrey didn’t take the bait. His response held no anger, only anguish and exhaustion. “You can fight it all you want. I’m not giving you up for something I didn’t do.”

  Amanda had to take another deep breath before she could speak again. “I cannot believe you can look me in the face after telling that lie,” she said.

  Jeffrey held his hands out to her. “Where is the lie, Amanda? What is it you think I’m holding back from you?”

  “I. Saw. You.” She could barely get the words past the lump in her throat. She was so confused she could barely think. The lights overhead became even more intense. Everything seemed to be coming at her at once.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” Jeffrey said. “What did you see?”

  “I saw you! You and your whore! You had her in my house; most likely in my bed. You have no respect for our marriage, or me. You threw it all away, Jeffrey. Eleven years of shared laughter, and heartache, and love.”

  If she didn’t know better, Amanda would have believed that was genuine confusion she saw on his face. Jeffrey shook his head, his expression one of bewilderment.

  “I don’t know what you saw.”

  His voice was raspy and raw, and Amanda was hard pressed not to slap him across the face for attempting to play games with her. His secret was out now. There was no need for the lies to continue.

  “You are unbelievable. I’ve just told you that I saw you with my own two eyes, and you’re still playing dumb?”

  “Whatever you think you saw, it had nothing to do with me cheating on you.”

  “Why deny it, Jeffrey?” Amanda asked laconically, growing tired of the conversation.

  Jeffrey stalked up to her, his tall, broad frame looming above her. “I’m denying it because I never done it. I have never given you reason to doubt me, and it hurts like hell that you could even think I’d do something like this.”

  Amanda was suddenly struck with a bout of fatigue that made it hard to stand. A pulsating rhythm beat like a drum at the base of her skull. She could practically hear the blood rushing t
o her head.

  She had to lie down. And she had to get away from Jeffrey and his denials. She didn’t have the energy to keep up this battle. It was time they both accepted what lay ahead of them.

  Amanda had to force her tongue into action. It, along with the rest of her body, had become unbelievably weak.

  “Look, Jeffrey,” she managed to mutter. “The divorce is inevitable. We just need—”

  Before she could finish, everything in her world went black.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “This was not what I had in mind for our first date as an official couple.”

  Eli pushed the bright orange oversized shopping cart up the paint aisle.

  “I know,” Monica said. She entwined her arm with his, thrilled that he was willing to change his plans without hesitation. Simply, because she’d asked him to.

  Over these last few weeks his easygoing demeanor and flexibility had been a pleasant surprise. When she was with Patrick, Monica had always found herself apologizing for her crazy hours. But that wasn’t the case with Eli. They understood each other’s hectic schedules, so there were never hurt feelings when dates had to be cancelled or pushed back an hour or two.

  “I’m just so tired of those white walls. They take away from the rest of the décor. It needs color. I want to make the apartment my own.”

  “You pay rent. That’s about as much ownership as your landlord expects you to take.”

  She pinched him on the arm. “Don’t be smart. It’s just that I never painted the walls in any of my other apartments before because I knew I wouldn’t stay for long. This time, it’s different.”

  “So this is a commitment thing, then?”

  “Sorta,” Monica admitted. “I like New Orleans. I think I’m going to hang around here for a while.”

  “Did I have any bearing on this decision?”

  “I’m not telling,” she laughed. “Your ego is big enough as it is.”

  Whether he knew it or not, Eli had more of an impact on her decision to make New Orleans her permanent home than Monica was willing to share with him, less he use the knowledge to take advantage of her. Although, she was starting to suspect Eli wouldn’t do what she had come to believe was typical of all men. He would not use her words to hurt her.

  She thought back on the various elements that had factored into her decision to set roots in this city. There was a spirit here that had seeped into her bones. Despite the crushing blow it had suffered, the will to rebuild remained strong. The resilience of the people she served everyday in the ER was inspiring.

  The fact that the staff at Methodist Memorial had made her feel at home had also played a huge part in her decision to stay in New Orleans. Monica loved her job more than she ever thought possible. And the charity banquet preparations were going even better than she could have hoped for.

  She had Eli to thank for much of that.

  He had taken his role seriously, and since their relationship had escalated to this new level, he seemed to work even harder.

  “Are you sure you like this color,” Eli asked, holding up the color sample Monica had handed to him on the way to Home Depot.

  “The Venetian Red is perfect for the kitchen and living room. She took the color palette and held it up to the tiny fabric sample she’d cut from the under hem of the chair in her living room. “Don’t you see how well it goes with the rest of the décor?”

  “I guess,” Eli shrugged.

  Monica snorted. “As if you know anything about style. I’ll bet your house is still sporting colors from the Eighties.”

  He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Why don’t you come on over and find out?”

  A tingle of excitement swept across Monica’s skin. “Eventually,” she promised with a shy smile.

  “From your beautiful lips to God’s ears.” He nipped playfully at her ear.

  If he continued with this pursuit of the Most Charming Man in America award, Monica would find herself in his bed earlier then she had anticipated. Elijah Holmes was becoming impossible to resist.

  When was the last time she had engaged in love play in public? Monica could barely recall even kissing Patrick outside of the bedroom. He’d told her they were under constant scrutiny because of his father’s position in the community, and needed to avoid anything the media could turn into a scandal. His rule had changed after he got married. The few times Monica had run into him and his wife, they’d looked to be on the verge of getting a motel room.

  Apparently, Patrick wasn’t against public displays of affection, as long as they were not with her.

  Eli had no qualms with allowing the world to see how he felt about her. Whether they were at Ethel’s, his mother’s, or even in the hospital halls, Eli constantly bestowed light touches and soft kisses.

  Monica was still unsure of the decision to make their relationship known at the hospital, but to her chagrin, no one seemed surprised. In fact, when she finally imparted the news to some of the ER nurses who had become more than just co-workers, but friends, many asked why it had taken so long. The nursing staff claimed to have seen the sparks between Eli and Monica ever since their first encounter.

  Eli wrapped his arms around her, and Monica nestled her back against his chest, melting into the solid strength of his arms. They rocked slightly side to side as they waited for the sales associate to mix the paint combination.

  “Do you want Chinese or pizza?” Eli inquired softly in her ear. His sensual voice could make even the most mundane question erotic.

  “Why don’t you choose,” Monica answered.

  “Hmm...well, I say we forgo painting for tonight, make another stop—this time to the grocery store—and I cook dinner for you at my place.”

  Monica turned around so sharply she nearly bumped his chin. “You cook?”

  “Of course I cook. You’ve met my mother. Do you honestly think I could grow up in that house and not learn my way around a kitchen?”

  “Dr. Holmes, you continue to surprise me,” she grinned.

  “That’s a good thing. I’ve heard dullness has a bad affect on relationships.”

  He let her go and deposited the three paint cans into the basket. “So, what do you say? Do you think you can live with those depressing white walls until next weekend?”

  Monica hesitated. She knew accepting this invitation may lead to more than just dinner, but she was willing to take the risk. Sleeping with him was inevitable. Eli had left the decision of when it would happen to her, but Monica knew sooner or later it definitely would happen.

  A mixture of excitement and fear spread through her belly at the thought of it possibly happening tonight.

  “I’m in the mood for steak,” she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

  Although Eli said he had T-bones in his freezer, they stopped at the grocery store since the meat would have to defrost. In addition to the steaks, they bought baking potatoes, a bag of Caesar salad mix and a bottle of Merlot.

  Standing in his kitchen, Monica had to admit she was impressed. The layout was worthy of a gourmet chef, and the rest of the open living, dining, and kitchen area looked to be straight out of the pages of Architectural Digest.

  “What’s with the face?” Eli asked.

  Monica doubted he realized how sexy he looked with that apron tied around his waist. He sprinkled cayenne pepper on the steaks and rubbed the two pieces of meat together, then set the glass dish aside.

  “Just admiring your house,” she answered. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Why don’t I give you a tour while the steaks marinate,” he said, untying the apron at the back.

  Wrapping her arms around him, Monica stilled his hands. “Leave it on. I like this look on you.”

  The grin on his face spread from his mouth up to his eyes. “Far be it for me to go against the lady’s wishes. You’re not going to attack me in a fit of passion when I pick up the grilling tools, will you?”

  She raised a brow. “And you would have a probl
em with that?”

  “Hell no.”

  Laughing, Monica grabbed him by the hand. “Come on. I want to see the rest of this place.”

  Impressive didn’t begin to describe the house. The décor was both rich and inviting, and even though he used more neutral colors than the bold ones she gravitated to, the soft browns, muted golds, and pale yellows suited him. The intricate woodwork on the banister and crown molding must have taken months to complete.

  “Eli, this is beautiful,” Monica called out as she stood in his granite and marble bathroom. “You can fit my entire apartment in this shower.” She turned to where he stood in the doorway and sent him a teasing smile. “I guess this is what you get when you’re Super Doc, huh?” She turned back to admire the chrome and gold-plated fixtures.

  “This is what you get when you learn to appreciate the finer things in life,” he said, his voice hushed, sensual.

  Monica had the feeling he was no longer talking about the house. She became aware of him right behind her. The massive bathroom suddenly became too small. Slowly, she turned to face him, and the smoldering look in his eyes confirmed her thoughts.

  Eli continued. “I treat my home the way I treat everything else in life.”

  “And how’s that,” Monica panted, mesmerized by the intoxicating timbre of his softly spoken words.

  He stepped an inch closer, their bodies nearly touching. Eli’s voice was almost a whisper as he said, “When I see something I want, I go for it. No matter the cost.”

  Elijah Holmes had the power to tear down her defenses. After an entire year behind the wall she’d erected around her heart, Monica could feel the barrier slowly crumbling. She didn’t want to shield herself any longer. She wanted to give herself fully, freely over to him.

  “I used to worry about paying the price for what I wanted,” Monica admitted.

  “And now?”

  “Now...now, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about the price anymore. I want to go for what I want.”