Page 24 of Plus One

Awareness dawned.Shit.With her face scrunched in only slight embarrassment, Monique replied, “My board meetings tend to get heated and run long. Job hazard?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Am I in trouble?”

Chancing a glance around the table, no reprimands, verbal or otherwise, had been lobbed her way. Everyone was engrossed in planning the rest of the day. A task that she, apparently, wasn’t a part of.

Maurice shook his head, putting his glass down. “You’re fine. I think I was the only one who heard you.”

That was trouble, in Monique’s opinion. He’d heard her tantrum. Sheesh. Could she be more of a weirdo?

“You okay?” Maurice asked. “You go into another board meeting just now?” He chuckled with a deep vibrato that seemed attuned to some unknown enzyme in Monique’s cells. It wasn’t unpleasant.

She smiled at him. “We have a very involved board.”

“Really? Yet you’re productive.”

Okay, so he wasn’t freaking out. He might even have a sense of humor. “There have been periods of inefficiencies, but mostly, yes. The board is extremely productive and effective.”

Maurice nodded as if he understood and accepted what she was implying. “What industry? You said these meetings were a job hazard.”

Her mail route had been her world for fifteen years, walking the same block in all weather with the same elders on their stoops, the same shops and supply catalogues, the same cats perched in windows and dogs hopping at fence lines. She knew her route by every crack in the pavement and mural on the walls—because she’d walked it. Lately, as the neighborhood changed, audiobooks and podcasts became the only voices in her head. Monique couldn’t remember when she’d started talking back.

He didn’t need to know all that, though.

She shifted and rested her cheek on her fist, turning toward Maurice. Something was different about him, now that they both were rested, fed, and refreshed. He didn’t exactly look how she remembered him.

How had a few hours changed him? She wasn’t joking about Maurice being at home here. Sure, he was Tommie’s homeboy, but it was like he’d donned a cloak of confidence in the last few minutes. Eyes that looked light in the candle glow early that morning now showed flecks of blue and gold and green dancing in the brown of his irises. His well-moisturized chestnut brown skin held a smattering of moles and freckles and glistened in the afternoon sun. Although his beard was black, it didn’t look artificially so. The closer Monique inspected, the more she spotted shimmering strands of silver among the perfectly sculpted hairs, shaped to somehow sharpen his jaw yet make him look more youthful.

He was a truly beautiful man.

Attraction hadn’t been in her vocabulary for years, especially not with what she’d been dealing with recently. Her greatest concern, aside from her kids, was avoiding developing witchy hands and track lines from all the needles and medicine. She’d mostly been successful, but it seemed like age and trauma always showed up on her hands.

Scars and discolorations from injuries she’d long forgotten about were now broadcast in 4K. There were few times when Monique had regrets. Sitting beside Maurice and appreciating how he’d activated his confidence made her wish she’d taken better care of herself. Could he help her—and not just in the physical sense?

She pulled in a deep breath and pressed her eyes shut. Ask for what you need, she heard Dr. Tedrow direct in her mind.I need…

The words wouldn’t come to her. Not right now. Not even in her head.

Returning to their conversation, she gave a gesture cutting off his line of questioning.

“Top secret?” he asked with a smile.

“Something like that.”

I need… to be wanted.

CHAPTER 7Maurice

The luncheon reached that awkward phase where plates were pushed aside and conversations waned. Folks were ready to disperse, but no one wanted to be the first to move.

For the first time in his life, Maurice lingered. Usually, he’d slip away to recalibrate and recharge. Today, his social battery wasn’t drained in the slightest.

Why is that?

Monique sat beside him, expressive and interesting. She made him curious.

Monique smelled like orchids and coconut, with a sea breeze chaser. When had he cataloged those scents? He’d never even seen the ocean before today. When he was around her, his nose and chest burned in a way that he could only describe as…delicious.

There was something going on with her, though. A ripple of what he thought was pain passed through her body, and her hand pressed into her hip. Deb announced that Monique should stay close. All the whispers and thick emotions that filled the atmosphere when the table focused on her made her appear as though she had her own gravitational pull.

Monique couldn’t be too far into her forties. Her skin was a rich, smooth brown, decadent. Luscious. Not frail. But there was a certain economy in her movements that he’d seen before—in folk fighting something quiet, their bodies keeping their own counsel. Somehow, he just knew.