Deliver Me

by Farrah Rochon

  Eli buried his face against her neck, and she gripped his bare backside and pulled him tighter against her. They were as close as two people could possibly be, fused almost into one. He quickened his already frantic pace and Monica felt herself tiptoeing the edges of sanity. She was on the verge of exploding, each fevered thrust bringing her closer to the brink.

  Eli crashed into her again and her body ignited.

  Her cries echoed off the cavernous walls and twenty-foot ceilings. She clenched the solid muscles of his back and wrapped her legs around him, cradling his slick body against her.

  They lay in the middle of the living room, their labored breathing the only sound in the empty house.

  “That was nice,” Monica panted between breaths.

  Eli’s head reared back. “Nice? Woman, you better say that was the best sex you ever had.”

  “Or what?” Monica asked. She ran her hands up and down his sweat slicked back.

  His dark eyebrows arched mischievously. “Or...I’m going to make you go through it again,” he finished, the beginnings of a sexy smile curling the edges of his mouth.

  Monica returned his grin. Her heated body burned even more at the knowing gleam in his eye.

  “In that case, it bored me to tears.”

  “It did, did it? Well,” he pushed himself off the table, reached down and scooped her into his arms. “It looks as if I’ll have to try again. One way or another, I’m going to make you admit this is the best any man has ever given it to you.”

  He carried her up the stairs, and proceeded to wring a confession from her after all.

  Hours later, the doorbell’s whimsical chiming roused Monica from her pleasant daydreaming. She groaned and rolled over. It felt too good lying amongst the plush linens. She could hardly move, much less get out of bed. But, darn it, Eli was still in the shower.

  Monica managed to lift herself from the cottony cocoon of pillows. She looked around for a robe, but didn’t see one.

  The bell sounded again. Monica slipped into a pair of scrubs Eli had thrown over a chair. She picked up a t-shirt from atop his dresser and pulled it over her head.

  She bounded down the stairs with a satisfied smile. The delicious ache coursing through her body was a stark reminder of her activities over the last two hours. But now she was ravenous, and her mouth watered at the thought of diving into the pizza Eli had ordered.

  A rapid series of rings resounded from the doorbell.

  “I’m coming,” Monica called out. She stopped in the living room on the way to the door and pulled a twenty from her purse.

  She pushed a wayward lock of hair from her eyes and opened the door.

  Monica froze.

  “Who are you?” A woman she had never seen before stood just outside the threshold. She was six feet if she was an inch tall, and glamorous enough to be on a New York runway. “Where is Elijah?”

  “In the shower,” Monica answered. “Who are you?”

  “That’s none of your business, but you can tell me what the hell you’re doing in my man’s house.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The woman trailed her gaze from the top of Monica’s head to the tips of her toes. “How dare he disrespect me, and with a piece of trash. You tell Elijah he will hear from me,” she said before turning and stalking down the driveway.

  Monica stood, suspended in disbelief as the woman stomped—in stilettos at that—to a white BMW convertible. As she watched her peel out of the driveway, the significance of the previous sixty seconds began to sink in.

  Eli had another woman.

  An overwhelming sense of betrayal gripped her stomach, nearly bringing her to her knees.

  It was Patrick all over again.

  The time they had shared, the love they had made; it had been a lie. He’d had another woman. He’d made a fool of her, had used her like a piece of...trash, just like the woman had said.

  Monica forced back the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She would not cry over this man—any man. She’d prepared herself for this, hadn’t she? She knew it would come eventually. But never had she expected it to hurt so much.

  Monica fumbled into the living room where her clothes still lay scattered across the sofa and hardwood floors. She gathered her slacks, sweater and underwear, and searched around for her shoes.

  “Is the pizza here yet?”

  Eli. He was out of the shower.

  She would be gone before he set foot downstairs.

  Monica tugged her shoes from under the upholstered chair and slipped both onto her feet. She grabbed her purse, reached in and pulled out her cell phone and punched in the numbers for directory assistance, instructing them to send a cab to the major street corner nearest Eli’s house.

  She closed the door behind her without a backward glance.

  It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

  The answering service picked up his call after the fifth ring. Eli closed the refrigerator door with enough force to rattle the shelves within. He snatched a glass from the cupboard and poured himself some orange juice.

  He punched in the numbers to Monica’s cell phone again.

  Nothing.

  He was trying hard not to worry. She wasn’t on call tonight, but an ER doc was never really not on call. It was the nature of their business.

  Eli finished his juice and picked up the phone again. He called the ER and was told Monica was not scheduled to be on until tomorrow morning.

  If she wasn’t at home, wasn’t at the hospital, and wasn’t answering her cell phone, then just where the hell was she?

  He tried to stave off the fear that was in danger of crippling him. He needed to focus, not lose his head. He would call the police department of each district Monica had to drive through to get to her apartment.

  Wait. Monica couldn’t drive to her apartment. Monica didn’t have a car. It was at the hospital, where they left it when he surprised her earlier this afternoon.

  What was going on?

  Eli grabbed his wallet and plucked out the card Nia had given him. It was late, but he didn’t give a damn. This was important.

  She answered on the second ring.

  “Nia, I’m sorry to call so late, but I think something has happened to Monica.”

  “I hope you can explain it, because that heifer would not say two words to me.”

  “You talked to her?” Eli’s heart jumped to his throat.

  “I talked. She didn’t.”

  “When was this?”

  “About five minutes ago.”

  Relief crashed over his body like a tidal wave, making Eli weak. “Thank God,” Eli breathed. “Did you get her on her cell?”

  “No, at her apartment. Look, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m not used to my best friend giving me the cold shoulder. You remember my warning, don’t you?”

  Despite his worry, Eli managed to smile. “Yes, I remember very clearly.”

  “Okay, now,” Nia answered. “I’ll be there in a few days for the banquet. Don’t make me have to work a beating into my schedule.”

  “I made you a promise,” Eli said, “You can keep your schedule open for more important things, like eating.”

  “Now you’re talking. Tell that mother of yours to make the gumbo extra spicy.”

  “I will,” Eli answered. “Thanks Nia.”

  “You just make sure my girl is okay. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  He disconnected and immediately dialed Monica’s home number. Nia had just talked to her. If she was home, why hadn’t she answered his call?

  Eli felt his temperature escalate with each ring. He hung up and debated whether to hop in the Rover and drive over there.

  He glanced at the oval clock on the counter. It was after midnight. He had a C-Section scheduled for seven A.M. He needed to get to bed. Getting answers to his questions would have to wait until tomorrow. Monica would be at the hospital. She may be able to run from his house, but she could not—would not—ru
n from her responsibilities at work.

  Leaving only the light above his stove illuminated, Eli made sure the doors were locked and went upstairs to bed.

  The next morning, he was waiting at the nurse’s station in Methodist Memorial’s ER. One of the nurses informed him that Monica was in with a stab wound. She came out of emergency room one, shucking latex gloves from her hands.

  “Monica,” Eli called. She looked over and headed in the other direction. He took off after her. When he caught up with her, he grabbed her arm. Monica flung off his hand. Turning to face him, her usually warm brown eyes were cold as ice.

  “I’m working,” she snapped and tried to turn away.

  Eli caught her by the elbow. “Monica, what the hell is the matter with you? Why did you leave last night without saying anything? And why haven’t you answered my calls? I called a dozen times last night.”

  She looked down at where his hand still held her elbow, but Eli refused to relinquish his hold.

  “This isn’t working,” she finally said.

  “What isn’t working?”

  “This. Me. You. This whole dating thing.”

  After the nightly telephone calls the entire time he was in Mississippi? After the hours they spent in bed yesterday?

  “What do you mean it ‘isn’t working’? Everything about it works.” This was the closest he had ever allowed a woman to get, and she thought it wasn’t working?

  “For you maybe, but not me. I didn’t realize you expected me to be one of several. That is one thing I am not willing to do.” The double doors swung open and two paramedics wheeled in a gurney with a large man strapped to it. “Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

  For a minute, shock had him rooted where he stood. It wasn’t until one of the nurses nudged him with a crash cart that Eli was able to move.

  He had no idea what to make of the last few minutes—no, scratch that—of the last few hours. Eli felt as though he was in some alternate universe. Everything seemed out of whack. The Monica he had been with just a day before was nothing like the woman who had just left him standing in the middle of the ER.

  And what the hell did she mean when she said he expected her to be one of several? Several what?

  It made no sense.

  The beeper on Eli’s hip vibrated. He unclipped it and checked the reading. Damn. If he didn’t leave right now he would be late for his scheduled C-section. Eli looked down the corridor at the door where Monica had disappeared with the patient. He couldn’t wait for her, but he would be back.

  The day turned out to be more hectic than Eli could have ever imagined. What were the odds of delivering three sets of twins in the span of ten hours?

  By the time he got back to the ER Monica had already left. Without a second thought, he got in his SUV and drove down to the French Quarter. He didn’t bother to call; she wouldn’t have answered anyway.

  Eli spotted Monica’s Honda. He waited for a horse-drawn carriage to pass before he pulled up to the curb and parked behind her car. His heart beat triple time as he jumped out and headed for her building. Eli bounded up two steps at a time, making it to her door in ten seconds flat.

  “Monica, open up.” He rapped on the door with his knuckles. “We need to talk.”

  Nothing.

  “Monica!” Eli pounded harder. Someone down the hall opened a door, but he didn’t bother to look back. His only concern was the woman behind this door, and getting an explanation for her actions last night and this morning.

  Eli could not fathom what had gotten into her. The statement she’d made this morning continued to whirl through his mind.

  I didn’t realize you expected me to be one of several.

  Since taking their relationship to a more serious level, Eli had banished all other women from his mind and his life. He’d explained about Tosha, and thank God, had not heard from Alicia in weeks. What made her think he wanted her to be one of several…?

  Eli knocked again.

  He knew she was in there. He pulled out his cell and called her. He heard the phone ringing from outside the door, but she didn’t answer.

  Maybe she was in the shower. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  As Eli stood outside, waiting impatiently to give Monica sufficient time to shower if, in fact, that’s what she was doing, he allowed his mind to roam to some of the other crises occupying his life right now.

  Amanda Daniels, for one. She had opened her eyes for a few minutes, but had slipped back into a semi-conscious state.

  Eli cursed the Mississippi State legislature for their inability to resolve the insurance situation. Not saying that Amanda would not have loss the same amount of blood during delivery, but Eli would have felt better if he had been here. He had let his patient down.

  She did give birth to a beautiful baby girl, though, and hopefully the words he’d softly spoken in Amanda’s ear about holding her baby would penetrate the new mother’s subconscious.

  Eli looked at this watch. If Monica were in the shower, she would be out by now. He pounded on the door again.

  “Monica, stop ignoring me. Open this door.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Nestled among the plush throw pillows, Monica picked one up from the sofa and held it to her chest, resting her chin on it. It took every bit of power she possessed not to run to that door. She wanted so badly to open it.

  God, had she not learned anything?

  How many signs had she had that Patrick had been cheating on her? But she’d chosen to turn a blind eye. With Eli there was no need to interpret any signs. The proof was smack dab in front of her face—at his front door, as a matter of fact.

  How could she have been so stupid as to fall victim again to a lying, cheating man? The threat of tears resurfaced, but Monica tamped them down. She would not shed so much as a single tear.

  Determination setting her shoulders rigid, Monica rose and went into the kitchen. She tried to ignore the knocking.

  Her instinct was to head for the freezer and the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food Ice Cream, but she opted for an apple and a handful of granola instead. She would not be the typical grieving woman who, after a breakup, stuffed her face with junk food and couldn’t fit into her jeans the next week. Oh, no. She would go to the gym everyday, just to show Elijah Holmes exactly what he had lost by being a two-timing asshole.

  “Monica, stop ignoring me. Open this door.”

  If he didn’t stop soon, someone was going to call the police. She didn’t want him to get himself arrested.

  Wait a minute. Why should she care? Had he cared about her feelings?

  Monica continued peeling the skin from her apple, letting it fall into the sink. When she was done, she cut the fruit and put it in a bowl, then scooped up the skin and deposited it in the trashcan. She grabbed her bowl of cubed apple, sprinkled the granola on top and mixed in a carton of French Vanilla fat free yogurt.

  There, now that was much healthier than Phish Food, though one teaspoonful of ice cream wouldn’t hurt. Monica stopped at the freezer and retrieved the carton.

  Eli hammered with such force Monica was sure the door would have splintered if it were not made of such solid wood. She ignored his pleas as she skimmed a spoonful of ice cream, capped the container and returned it to the freezer.

  The phone rang.

  Monica picked up the bowl and went back over to the sofa, expecting to see Eli’s number on the caller ID. Instead, it was her brother’s cell phone.

  Why was he calling her? Monica picked up the phone, “Phillip?”

  “No, it’s me.”

  “Nia, why are you calling from Phillip’s cell phone?”

  “Because he mistakenly took mine with him to the store.”

  “What’s going on?” Monica asked as she settled back on the sofa. She spooned a helping of the apple, yogurt, and granola mix into her mouth.

  “That’s what I want to know,” Nia said. “I got a call from Eli.” />
  Monica let out a loud sigh. Even though she knew Nia would be on her side, she was not up to telling the story of how Eli’s other girlfriend showed up last night. She was still in a bit of shock, and not at all in the mood to hear Nia’s ranting. Her friend would definitely rant.

  “Start talking, girl,” Nia said.

  Nia also was not going to let her off the hook.

  With another sigh Monica relayed the events from when she opened the door at Eli’s expecting to find a pizza delivery guy. Ever mindful of the pair of ears on the other side of the door, she kept her voice level at a minimum.

  “I told him I would kick his ass,” Nia growled. “I told him. Did he not believe me? So, what did he say when you confronted him?”

  “I haven’t confronted him,” Monica answered. “I don’t want to hear anything he has to say.”

  “You at least have to listen to his excuses. They always have an excuse.”

  “I should have known better, Nia. His reputation is legendary. The nurses are constantly talking about which woman he has on his arm any given week. Did I think things would be different because he was seeing me?” Monica shook her head. “I walked right into this, blindly stupid, as always.”

  “Don’t you dare start berating yourself, or I’ll kick your ass, too.”

  In spite of herself, Monica laughed. “I know, I know. It’s not my fault, although to be honest, it’s not Eli’s either. He never actually said we were exclusive. I assumed it.”

  “He’s the one who should be making the excuses, Monica.”

  She rested her forehead in her palm. “You’re right.” She had made excuses for Patrick’s behavior, too.

  “Well, the two of you are still working on the banquet, right? What do you plan to do about that?”

  “I’m going about my work the way I have from the beginning. I don’t care what he does.”

  “It’s going to be uncomfortable to work side by side with him.”