Chapter 7 #2
The sound of the elevator opening downstairs alerted Promise of Monroe's entry. She smiled, silently thanking God that her man was finally home.
"Hey, ma. Can I call you back? Monroe just got here, and I wanna give him a little attention. I haven't seen him in a few days."
"Ok, Missy," her mother used her nickname. "Call me later. I love you."
"I love you too, Ma," Promise said, concluding the call and sitting her phone back on the nightstand.
Promise melted at the sight of Monroe entering her room, but the moment their eyes locked she noticed something was off.
She didn't know what it was yet, but peeped a sadness in his soul that she'd never seen in him before.
His presence had always been commanding, but it had never been heavy.
Both of these things mixed had Promise ready to pour into him.
Ready to nurture him. She sprung to her feet, walked into his space, and wrapped her arms around him.
She needed to hear his heartbeat, and wanted him to feel hers.
It was one of those things that had always calmed them both.
They were a safe place for each other in that way, so vulnerability wasn't uncomfortable in their relationship.
Monroe embraced Promise like a drowning man reaching for air.
Everything about Promise felt right with his soul, but after his discovery of Sienna being alive had shifted his entire world.
Everything that was certain wasn't any longer, and unanswered questions had kept him sleep-deprived since he saw Sienna’s face.
He'd gone over everything that had happened in his mind more times than he could count.
Nothing was making any sense. He'd come to Promise's house because when he was with her, she always had been a reflection of truth.
A true reflection of peace, and the normalcy he desperately needed.
Promise leaned her head back, peering into his eyes. "What's wrong, baby?" She asked softly, needing to know so she could try to fix whatever it was.
Instead of answering her question, Monroe pressed his lips to hers softly, then deepened the kiss, but this time it was with intense hunger.
Not because he wanted sex, but it was because he wanted to escape.
Wanted some relief. He didn't want to talk.
He wanted to feel. Needed to feel something other than the war raging inside his head.
Reluctantly, Promise pulled back, suppressing her need to give in to Monroe. Something in her spirit refused to ignore what she felt. She needed to know what was weighing heavy on his heart, and she wasn't willing to brush over it with sex.
"Come talk to me," Promise said, gently tugging at his hand as she attempted to lead him to her bed.
Monroe’s jaw flexed slightly. "Let me shower first. I'll be back," he said lowly, then disappeared into the ensuite, pissed because all he wanted to do was kneel in some good pussy.
As much as Promise wanted to join Monroe in the shower, she didn’t because whatever was happening inside of her man wasn’t light.
It was deeper than stress. Deeper than exhaustion.
It was the subtle changes in his energy and demeanor that had alarmed her.
Monroe always smirked when he saw her, he always looked at her like coming home to her was the best part of his day.
When Promise’s eyes locked with his, they were distant, but what really made her heart lurch in her chest was the way he’d held her.
Monroe had never held onto her like she was the only thing keeping him together before.
She couldn’t become one with him after feeling and seeing all of that, and the fact that he wanted to was a red flag for her.
It took Monroe about thirty minutes to take care of his business in the shower, and when he returned, he looked more drained than refreshed.
“Monroe, I need you to talk to me,” Promise pressed, the psychologist in her fully awake. “Please don’t tell me everything is alright because I can feel the shift in your mood and mannerisms.”
Monroe chuckled lowly. “This what’chu on now?
” Monroe quizzed. “You tryna assess a nigga like I’m one of them inmates you deal wit’ at work?
” he shook his head. “Nigga just came here to lay next to you, but you wanna ask all these questions.” Monroe knew his defensiveness was uncalled for, but there was no way in hell he could tell Promise about Sienna.
A volcano that had already erupted into their happiness without her knowing, and questioned if their relationship could handle it.
Promise was appalled at his response to her trying to be there for him.
“Nigga what?” Promise snapped before she could stop herself.
“Please tell me you ain’t bring yo’ ass over here with all this toxic energy,” Promise said, reaching over to turn the music down a little because for the first time, Monroe had her fucked up.
“Mannn, I’ma go’head and go. I got a lot of shit goin’ on right now. Nigga ain’t got time for this shit,” Monroe said, walking over to the drawer he’d claimed after having Promises place set up for her.
Promise was taken aback by Monroe’s disposition, and the fact that he hadn’t raised his voice once had infuriated her even more.
“Let me get this straight. You brought your fine ass up in here thinkin’ you was gone transfer all that bullshit you got pinned up inside of you into my womb instead of communicating with me.
You feeling a way because I wanna talk to you about it?
You accusing me of tryna treat you like I treat inmates I work with when all I’m tryna do is be here for you! ” Promise was pissed.
Monroe headed straight to her closet, ignoring her because he knew he was wrong, but suddenly needing air.
He grabbed a fresh pair of grey Polo sweats and a white Polo t-shirt.
When he came to Promise’s house, he hadn’t come to argue or upset her nerves.
He’d come to take his frustrations out on her pussy, but his plan had blown up in his face.
“Oh, so know you ain’t got nothing to say?” she quizzed following him to the closet.
Still nothing. Monroe slid his feet into a different pair of shoes than the ones he came in, then brushed past Promise like she was invisible. He descended her stairs with lightning speed and left without a word.
Promise stood in the middle of her closet, stuck because she couldn’t figure out what infuriated her more.
Him coming into her space where they had always been open and honest with each other reserved, or that he hadn’t raised his voice once, then left without anything being resolved.
Something was terribly wrong, Promise could feel it.
Monroe had never acted this way with her, and the fact that this was happening now had unearthed an instability inside of her that she’d never had before when it came to her and Monroe.
Monroe's temper shot through the roof as he pushed through the double doors of Central Park Tower. Streetlights reflected against the wet pavement while drug dealers sat low inside their luxury cars occupying their blocks. Somewhere in the near distance, sirens wailed, and money moved beneath the surface of the city like blood through veins. He welcomed the coldness of the rain as it kissed his hot skin. He knew the way he'd left Promise was wrong. He knew he had brought his chaos into her peace, then left her standing in the middle of it with no explanation. That shit didn’t sit right with him. Promise didn’t deserve the version of him that had walked into her home, kissed her like he needed saving, then shut her out the moment she tried to reach him.
He had every intention of making it up to her, but he couldn't deal with it until he got to the bottom of this shit with Sienna and his mother. There was more to it, he could feel it in his soul, and he refused to rest until he knew the full truth. Reaching for his phone that rested in the cup holder, Monroe scrolled to Miko’s text thread.
He’d been an asset to the empire for years, and could discretely get access to sealed information on anybody in the world, all Monroe needed to do was send the name, and Miko knew what to do.
Macie Michelle Black.
Miko: On it.
He pressed the button on his key fob, hopped in his car, and jumped straight on the expressway.
Monroe was in a mood. He drove in silence for four hours going nowhere in particular, he just needed to be alone with his thoughts.
He dug deep searching for insight, and a solid strategy to help him get to the bottom of this chaos he struggled to make sense of.
At two o'clock in the morning, he was pulling up to his Uncle Mitch's estate.
Monroe felt like he'd been played, but his uncle was the one person he felt would keep it real with him.
Monroe signaled to security as he passed through the gate, and parked his car into Mitch's driveway.
Future's On One thumped lowly as he eased his car in park, and finished smoking his kush-filled blunt.
Meanwhile, Mitch sat in his study, drinking Hennessy, and meditating the same as he'd always done at this hour. But when he caught a side-view glimpse of Monroe sitting in his driveway, Mitch stood to meet his nephew outside.
With his phone in one hand, Monroe inhaled and exhaled smoke from his nose as he stared at Promise's picture.
Even with the distance that he'd created between them, he still felt her.
He always felt her. That was their bond, and the connection was so deep it was scary.
Promise was his peace. She ruled his heart.
She was reflective of his home in a world that never allowed him to rest. And Sienna…
Sienna was a reflective part of his past that he had unknowingly buried alive.
TAP..TAP...
Monroe looked up slowly when he heard the sound of knuckles tapping his window.
"What up, nephew?" Mitch greeted, stepping back as Monroe opened his door.