A bleary-eyed Jasmine answered. “Hey, Mom. You sleep okay?”
“Actually, yeah, I did.” Although the city sounds could be heard in the distance, reminding her of home, a persistent chirping set the rhythm that had lulled Monique into an easy slumber.
“You eat yet?”
Who was the parent here? “Yeah. Room service—”
“Fancy lady,” Jasmine said, yawning. “What y’all doing today?”
“That’s what I was calling about.”
Jasmine sat up in the bed, giving the call her full attention. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
Monique nodded. “I was just calling to say thank you.”
Jasmine’s posture softened. “You deserve it.” She shrugged.
“I’m serious, Jas. This bathing suit is damn near perfect. Look.” Monique propped the phone and stepped back, giving Jasmine a full view.
“Oh, that’s real cute. I’ll tell Jay he did good when he gets back from work.”
“Your brother picked this?”
Jasmine nodded. “Him and Auntie Deb did when she was in town last.”
Deb had a habit over the past few years of doing what the kids calleddrive-by visits. Always in town for a day or two. Always with Avery in tow. Always bracketed by some meetings or site visits Monique was never clued in about. Because when had Deborah Fairbanks ever done just one thing at a time? She’d been too sick and too sad to pay much attention. She was just glad that someone looked in on her kids.
“Have a good day, Ma. Don’t forget your sunscreen and coverup. I’m going back to bed. Okay?”
Sunscreen? She didn’t have any of that. “Okay, Jazzie. Love you, girl.”
“Love you too, Ma. Talk to you later.” The call ended.
Monique stood there for a moment, staring at her reflection. The navy swimsuit looked good—better than she’d expected. But Jasmine’s reminder about sunscreen sent her rifling through her toiletries bag.
Nothing.
Monique grabbed her room phone, then stopped. She could call and ask Maurice if he had any. He was right next door, probably already awake and organized with SPF 50,000 in his meticulously packed bag. But that felt like… something. An excuse to talk to him. An admission that she wanted to.
She put the phone down.
Instead, she pulled the hooded coverup over the swim dress—long-sleeved, lightweight, meant to protect sensitive skin from the Caribbean sun—and packed her bag. Camera. Towel. Water bottle. The jumpsuit her friends had teased her about, folded carefully at the bottom. Armor, all of it.
At 9:50, Monique made her way downstairs.
CHAPTER 12Maurice
Sleep and Maurice had never been good bedfellows. The surprise of a good, albeit short, night’s sleep had him wanting to return to his room and recapture that…peace?
After Monique left his room, he spent a good part of the night in reflection. That brief conversation with her had him assessing everything. She’d given a lot of herself yesterday, and he’d thrown her scraps. Somehow, he’d make it up to her, show her just how grateful he was for their… whatever this was.
Pacing the lobby, he waited for the others to arrive. Hawkishly, he monitored the elevator bank, having been undemocratically elected to be their party’s Julie on this Love Boat.
“What you peeping at?” Tommie said, slipping behind him too close and sudden that Maurice didn’t have a breath to react. Clapping him on the back, Tommie laughed. “Somethinghas your attention. I never could sneak up on you.”
“Come on, man. You play too much,” was the best Maurice could do. Tommie was right. His guard was always up. Head always on a swivel. He could never risk not being aware. So why now? What changed?
“How was your night?” Lanie asked, pulling Maurice into a hug.