He stepped back and grinned at her. That happy-go-lucky brutalist was about to shift into hype-man mode.
Monique braced herself.
Tommie took her hand and then spun her around. “You looking fly, cuz.” He twirled her again.
Monique’s expression morphed again into the nicey-nice smile that she kept handy whenever she was uncomfortable.
“You need to stop embarrassing her,” Lanie said, coming to give Monique a hug. “Glad to see you, love. Sorry about your cousin.”
“I’m not embarrassing her, am I, Monie in the Middle?”
She used to love that song. But with Tommie being Tommie right now, she had to work hard to act like she was amused.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, then,” Lanie said. Tommie stuck his tongue out at her. Forever a child… that was one of the best and most consistent parts about Tommie Lane, but also the wildest of cards.
Monique rounded the table, nodding at each person who looked her way as she eyeballed all the luscious plates piled high with dishes that looked familiar but better.
Auntie Deb caught her hand as Monique brushed it over her shoulder in passing, kissing her fingers. Monique’s cheeks warmed, and a bashful smile spread across her face. Her aunt’s wife was like magic. Small gestures with outsized impact. She had a way to make a person feel seen. It was a gift. “You hungry, love? Get whatever you want,” Deb said in her soft yet assertive way.
Moving on, Monique cleared her throat. “I could eat,” she said, noticinghimslide the empty chair beside him out in a silent invitation.
He pulled it out more as she approached.
“Monie! That’s my boy Maurice. Mo, that’s our Monie,” Tommie announced with a Joker-like grin.Creep. Monique rolled her eyes, her hand on the back of the chair.
Tommie waved a hand around the table. “That’s Sunny and Ricky, Lanie’s sister-in-law and brother.” He pointed his attention toward the catalogue-perfect couple sitting opposite him and Lanie. Sunny waved and smiled in a way that didn’t betray her name. Ricky looked up from his phone long enough to nod and take a large swallow from his cocktail.
“I’m Cassie,” a brown-skinned bohemian woman with a crown of roped locs atop her head spoke from beside Lanie. “And this is Taurion,” she said, introducing amuchyounger man who looked at Cassie as if she burped sparkles and rainbows and Dragon Ball Z.
Lanie, much louder than her petite frame should permit, shouted, “That’s my girl from way back when—we went to school together, right, Soro?” They did that Skee-Wee thing Monique had witnessed at every family function her entire life. The Divine Nine and that pink and green were a structural thread in her family’s tapestry, until she snipped it and didn’t pledge at all.
Jasmine hadn’t mentioned pledging yet, but if Aldonia Lane-Fairbanks had a say, her great-niece would be Skee-Wee’ing right along with them at the next gathering.
Nodding, Monique said, “Nice to meet you.”
“And, cousin, these are my parents.” Lanie moved behind an elegant couple whose faces looked like they’d been plucked from a portrait from a hundred years ago. Polished, poised, but kind.
“We’ll catch up later, sweetheart,” Mr. Turner said, just as his wife opened her mouth to speak. “Let the child eat first.” He winked at Monique, his mouth pulling into an indulgent grin that made her heart ache in remembrance of her grandfather.
All she could do was nod in a feeble attempt to forestall her emotions as she silently lowered herself into her chair.
Maurice smiled softly at her as he took his seat beside her. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mo… nie.”Was he trying to be cute?“The family’s told us all so much about you.”
Monique pinched her eyes closed.This trip was a bad idea. What had they said? Half the table was occupied by people she didn’t know: Lanie’s parents and brother, her friends. Monique was blood relation to everyone on Tommie’s side except Maurice.
Several hours ago, he was completely unknown to her too. “Well, there isn’t much to tell, so I guess they were short stories.”
Every time they’d crossed paths, he’d been in a state of shock. His shoulders had just looked like he forgot to take the hanger out of his shirt. So how was he all smooth as silk now, telling her the family said this and that about her? Monique narrowed her eyes at Maurice. Something wasn’t adding up.
Maurice leaned back and stretched his arm over the back of her chair.
What was he doing?
She’d been in his room approximately seventy-five minutes.Alone, fully clothed, and trying to recalibrate. The standby jury in her head could kick rocks.
The seating was tight with the twelve of them at a table that comfortably sat eight, maybe ten. Their knees touched. Maurice jerked his leg away. He shot a glance at her and let his knee brush against hers again. The warmth of his arm behind her enveloped her in an earthy familiarity. It was unsettling. She fought the urge to lean in.
Mrs. Turner spoke up. “From what I hear, Monique, you’re a great cook.”