Page 110 of Plus One

“Yes. Really. It’ll take some doing to move up their timeline, but I’ll move to Chicago. I’ll—” He cupped her face. “We’llbuild a life together. If you’ll have me.”

She coughed like something caught in her throat.

“With what we just did in this room, I think we’re past formalities.”

He laughed. “Fair point.”

She kissed him again, softer this time. “Thank you for showing up today. For being what I needed without me having to explain it.”

“I’ll always show up, Monique. That’s what love is.”

Love. The word sat between them, too big and too soon and exactly right.

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess it is.”

They kissed again, ratifying a contract—an oath—between them. Setting a seal upon their hearts as their clothes fell to the floor. They came together again. Broken pieces reshaping themselves into something new—like kintsugi, all their imperfections made golden.

CHAPTER 31Monique

Much later, their food containers sat empty, and city lights pushed through the curtains. Monique lay with her cheek on his chest, tracing circles on his skin. “When do you think you’d move?”

“How soon do you want me?”

“Yesterday.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating under her palm. “I need to have some serious conversations with Deb and Avery, who will head up the Chicago program. I’m happy to come on in my same role. That’s where I think I’m most effective anyway.”

“The actual skills-building part?”

“It’s not just that, love, it’s how I get to use whatI’velearned every day. The conversations we’ve had at miter saws have been some of my most satisfying work.”

“How so?” She was raking her fingers through his chest hairs.

He stilled her hand. “You’re making it hard to concentrate.”

“Huh?” Monique looked at their joined hands resting over his heart. “Why do you do your best work at a miter saw?”

“The focus. When you’re measuring lumber, getting your angles right, when your hands are busy—if you’re skilled enough, experienced enough—your mind can focus on more than one thing. That’s when real talk happens.” Maurice’s voice went soft, like he was remembering. “A guy told me about his daughter while we were cutting baseboards. Had like a hundred and fifty of them to do, so it got to be an automatic kind of thing. But this brother, out of the blue, told me he hadn’t seen his daughter in twelve years. He cried, but his hands never stopped moving.”

He kissed her temple.

“Sometimes hard things are easier to say when you can’t look someone in the eye.”

Monique chewed on that for a minute. “Therapy over a miter saw.”

“Exactly. One of my guys called it that.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “They’ll talk about things while cutting lumber that they’d never say in an office. Something about working with your hands opens you up—creates space for truth.”

“You’re good at it. Justin texted me. He said y’all talked while you worked on the furnace.”

Maurice raised his eyebrows. “He did?”

“Said you told him his mother taught him what courage looks like.” Her voice went soft, and she didn’t say anything for a breath. “Thank you for that.”

“I meant it. And it’s what I do with the guys in the program too—help them see their own strength. Teach them to measure twice and cut once. How to read blueprints. How to use a level.” He paused. “But really, I’m teaching them the same thing I’m learning myself—that it’s never too late to build something beautiful and lasting. That your hands can create after they’ve destroyed.”

Monique never knew that she loved a philosophical man, but when Maurice got deep and introspective, it did something to her.

“It’s where I belong.” He took a deep breath. “Deb knew that. That’s why Returning Home is structured the way that it is: trained therapists on the crew, as foreman or other leadership—like me—folk who’ve lived it. You gotta read people and deescalate quick.”