Page 17 of Plus One

“Thank you,” he said as they returned to the lobby. Camora looked puzzled. “For earlier. The room stuff.”

Camora paused. “Is there anything else—”

Her face, Maurice realized, wasveryyoung, flushed pink. This was probably one of her first gigs. A front-facing job at a place like this, old and iconic, wasn’t easy to come by on the mainland and likely tougher to secure here. And she might have compromised her ethics at his insistence. But Tommie’s room assignments were heavy-handed, not to mention dumb.

“Thank you for the tour.”

She nodded, smiling softly.

“I hope I didn’t put you in a tight spot.”

“Oh no, Señor. Please don’t worry.”

“Still, I’m grateful. I appreciate that.”

Back at the front, a young man stood behind the desk, finishing a phone call. Camora joined him and greeted the other guests.

Hotels were things Maurice had only experienced on TV. This place existed outside his imagination. It was both a dream world and a real-life refuge. The riot that usually occupied his nervous system quieted. All at once, he was exhausted.

He’d been up entirely too long—twenty-four hours.

Maurice sat on an ornate bench near the elevators, wishing he’d snagged a couple of those pastries off the table to quiet his rumbling stomach. He pulled his water bottle from his bag and drank most of it as he watched the flow of guests and staff increase along with the first blue-gray streaks of morning light.

He rested his head against the cool wall and breathed in the delicate fragrance of orchids and age as his nerves settled.

Checking his watch revealed that it was just shy of five thirty. His next alert would come in ten minutes: MORNING REFLECTION. At home, he’d craft his intentions for the day after reading his devotional and before entering his six o’clock prayers.

“Might as well get a jump on it.” He opened the bible app on his phone and navigated to the day’s verse.

Oh, that you had heeded My commandments! Then your peace would have been like a river, And your righteousness like the waves of the sea.

The words read like judgment, like condemnation when he worked hard to berighteousand havepeace.

He slapped his phone face down on the space beside him, ending his planned twenty-five minutes of reflection and prayer in the span of a few breaths.

The elevator’s bell caught his attention. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“I really wish you’d work a different shift,” Monique said, her shapely form draped in a simple, flowing dress as she exited the elevators. Blurry at first but then coming into sharp focus as she walked toward the front desk with her suitcase trailing behind her.

“I wish y’all could have come. The hotel is beautiful,” she continued, shifting her phone to her other hand. “The flight was no trouble. Baby, I’m fine.” She released a laugh. Warm, genuine, and nothing like the careful smiles she’d given him in the café.

He should look away, but Maurice couldn’t stop watching her. In the fullness of the morning light, she looked different. More vibrant.

She glanced up and met his eye. For a second, neither of them moved.

“I gotta go, Jay. Text me when you get in the house.” She ended the call.

Then Monique smiled—small, a little surprised, a little embarrassed —and crossed the lobby toward him.

Maurice stood as she approached and shoved his hands in his pockets, willing himself not to close the gap between them. He wanted to see up close how she’d changed. He wanted to know who she was talking to with such intimacy and care.

None of that was any of his business.

“Shouldn’t you be on a tour or something?” she asked. Half a smile quirked her mouth up.

Words wanted to tumble from his lips to ask a million questions. He tried to be light and casual, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

“Shouldn’t you be upstairs sleeping or something?”