Page 31 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“That should do it.”

I was hopeful. However, the orgasm had taken the sharpest edge off, but the emptiness remained. If anything, my body wanted Elijah more now that I’d given it a weak imitation.

The toy couldn’t kiss me. It couldn’t hold me against a door or look at me as if every filthy thought in its head belonged to me. It couldn’t wrap a warning in that deep voice and leave me aching after I came. I dropped the vibrator onto the nightstand.

“This is some bullshit.”

My phone laid beside it. All I had to do was call. Elijah might still be awake. It wasn’t that late, and he’d wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. I could tell him I changed my mind. Ask him to come back. My fingers closed around the phone. His name waited in my recent calls. I pictured him answering in that calm voice.

Frankie.

I would tell him to come back to me. He’d ask if I was sure, and this time, I would say yes before he finished the question. The image of him pulling up outside sent another pulse through me. My thumb hovered over his name. Then my gaze drifted toward the open bedroom door. From where I laid, I could see part of the hallway and the faint outline of Malik’s wheelchair near the wall. His framed school photograph hung beside the thermostat. A row of his therapy bands sat in a basket beneath the console table, and the medication organizer I filled every Sunday rested on top.

Signs of my son lived in every room. That was why I had hesitated. It wasn’t because I didn’t want Elijah. My aching body had made that obvious. I wasn’t frightened of sex or worried I would regret sleeping with him.

I’d looked through the glass and remembered what waited on the other side. If Elijah entered, he would see the wheelchair first. Then the pictures. He might ask questions, and he deserved honest answers. I have a son. That part was simple. Everything after it wasn’t. Malik had cerebral palsy. He had hydrocephalus. He depended on a shunt to drain fluid from his brain, used a wheelchair, and required more care than a quick description could explain.

Those truths weren’t shameful. Malik was the most precious person in my life. That was exactly why I refused to introduce him as an afterthought while Elijah stood inside my house with my dress pushed up around my waist. Having that conversation was deeper than a rushed explanation before getting laid. I set the phone back on the nightstand.

“Damn it.”

I could have gone to Elijah’s house. The thought irritated me immediately. His home wouldn’t have required any explanations. I could have followed him there, spent the night satisfying every need still moving through my body, and returned before it was time to pick Malik up from my mother.

Except none of that had been planned. One minute, Elijah and I was saying goodnight. The next, my legs were wrapped around his waist, and neither of us could breathe without the other. How was I supposed to think through logistics with that man’s tongue in my mouth?

I needed a plan.

Spontaneity was cute for women whose responsibilities ended with themselves. My life required arrangements. Malik needed someone I trusted. I needed time that belonged to me without watching the clock or worrying that a call from my mother would interrupt something.

Elijah and I could choose a night. I could take Malik to Mom’s, pack his medicine and clothes, and make sure everything was taken care of. Then I could go to Elijah’s place without mixing two parts of my life before I was ready.

Simple.

This wasn’t going anywhere serious. The statement sounded less convincing in the silence. I ignored that. We were attracted to each other. Intensely. He needed to get his rocks off, and so did I. We could spend one planned night together, satisfy whatever had ignited on my porch, and continue getting to know each other without pretending sex meant more than it did.

Adults did that every day.

I smiled at the ceiling. “That’s it.”

I would arrange it myself. No waiting for Elijah to decide when to make his next move. No tossing around in bed fantasizing about what could have happened. I would choose a night, ask my mother to keep Malik, and tell Elijah exactly what I wanted. The thought sent a fresh tremor through my stomach. I reached for my phone again, tempted to send him a message. I was wide awake now. The cold shower had awakened me, the orgasm had failed me, and planning sex with Elijah started a whole new collection of thoughts.

I needed sleep before I invited that man over for breakfast. Then I remembered the Dramamine. I pushed myself out of bed and crossed the hall. The bathroom floor chilled my bare feet as I opened the medicine cabinet. The small yellow box sat behind a bottle of ibuprofen. Dramamine was for motion sickness, but one pill put me to sleep whenever insomnia refused to release me. It wasn’t the intended use, but at this hour, I wasn’t interested in arguing with what worked.

I popped one tablet from the foil, swallowed it with water from the sink, and returned to bed. The vibrator remained on the nightstand beside my phone, evidence of two failed solutions. I turned off the lamp and pulled the sheet over my body. Darkness settled around me.

My thoughts wandered back to Elijah, but they no longer chased each other. The sharp edges softened as the medicine began dragging heaviness through my limbs.

Soon, I would find out whether Elijah Valentine could satisfy the hunger he’d left behind. My body warmed at the thought, but my eyelids finally grew heavy. I smiled into the darkness. I would figure it out tomorrow. And before I could imagine his mouth on mine again, sleep pulled me under.

6

frankie

9:24 A.M.

Saturday

My mother took one look at me and pursed her lips.