Perfectly Adequate(89)

“Eli …” she whispers, making a solid effort to keep those tears from leaking down her face.

“Tell me you’re okay, Dorothy. Tell me you’re okay, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“Not the same.” I grimace, feeling her pain as if it were my own … because it is my own.

“I’m fine.” She blinks, losing the battle with her emotions.

“Yeah…” I whisper, resting my forehead on hers for a few seconds before ghosting my lips along her tearstained cheek “…I’m fine too.”

My pulse pounds so hard it’s deafening. When our mouths lock, reality ceases to exist. I’m just so tired of doing the right thing when it feels so wrong.

When she unties my scrub pants, I let go.

I let go of reason.

I let go of worry.

I let go of everything that’s not in this room … in this moment.

We tear apart long enough to discard our tops. Then our mouths collide again while my hands work the hook to her bra. Dorothy doesn’t even try to speak. This is how I know she’s fine. Because “okay” Dorothy would have lots to say. She would invite her conscience to come between us. Okay Dorothy would warn me that she’s not wearing the right bra or underwear to do this.

I miss okay Dorothy. But the part of my soul that’s been starving without her feels some gratitude for her pain because she’s giving me this. She’s feeding my soul, bringing me back to life.

Her hands slide into my hair, deepening our kiss, moaning into my mouth, pushing me back toward a single bed. We kick off our shoes. My hands cup her breasts.

“Eli …” She tips her head back, eyes closed, as I add her bra to the pile of clothes at our feet.

I slide her scrub bottoms and panties off in one smooth motion as my mouth covers one of her breasts. I can’t get enough of her. My hands and lips move along her skin, desperate to consume every inch of her.

We fall onto the bed, both of us working together to get my bottoms and briefs off. With them still clinging to my right ankle, I settle between her legs, guiding her left knee toward her chest, and push inside of her. Our mouths crash together again.

Hungry.

Desperate.

The perfect union of all that we’ve held back.

The legs of the old metal-frame bed scrape along the floor as the springs whine beneath the thin mattress. Dorothy’s fingers curl into my backside while I drive into her. I don’t want it to end, but the need spurs me on. She spurs me on with her tongue mimicking our rhythm and her back arching off the bed, letting me know she’s close.

I need. I need. I need.

I love this woman. She makes me crazy. All of my senses culminate in her presence. I am the best version of myself with her. I just … love this woman.

“Jesus …” she pants, closing her eyes as her head eases to the side and one of her heels digs into the back of my leg.

I press her other leg an inch closer to her chest, like my entire being wants to crawl inside of her … possess her.

Keep her forever.

My neck stretches back, face twisting as I release.

My mind and my heart instantly prepare for her to push me away, pull on her clothes in under thirty seconds, and run out on a wave of regret because the only thing that comes close to the size of Dorothy’s heart is her conscience.

But … she does what she’s always done best. Shocks the hell out of me.

Her eyes flutter open, lips curl into a perfect smile, and she cups the back of my head like I’ve done to her so many times. Then she pulls me back down to her for a slow kiss.

Our kiss ends when something on the floor makes a vibrating sound. It’s one of our phones.

“Eventually,” she whispers, brushing the pad of her thumb along my eyebrow.

I squint.

Her lips form a faint smile. “Eventually I’ll be okay. And so will you.”

A goodbye.

This is goodbye. A redo because the one in my office was horrible. But nonetheless, it’s goodbye. I don’t know if saying goodbye to Dorothy Mayhem can ever be anything but horrible.

I nod because all words remain congested in my throat.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE





The Man in the Yellow Hat


Sex isn’t closure. It’s not a goodbye. And it doesn’t satisfy the heart. It’s a false moment of hope where the body gets its way while the mind turns a blind eye to reality.

My reality?

I have a family.

Tonight I’m dressed as The Man in the Yellow Hat. Julie is a banana, and Roman is Curious George. Roman wanted us to be superheroes, but Julie fell in love with the monkey theme. I really think she was just pissed off that Roman insisted we be superheroes “like Dorfee.”

Julie gives Roman a real banana as a snack before we head out and fill his belly with candy. I snap a quick picture of our little monkey eating the banana and send it to Dorothy because I know she’ll love it.

Me: Not a superhero, but still pretty dang cute!

It’s the first contact I’ve made with her since the on-call room weeks ago, other than the occasional quick passing glance at the hospital. I’m not even sure why it’s such a knee-jerk reaction to take the photo and send it to her. But … it is.