He pulled out his phone, showing her the heavy-duty case. Three more text notifications popped up on the screen when he unlocked it. He cleared the alerts.
Monique took the phone with reverence. “Okay,” she said, her voice going high and excited as she handed him Sunny’s hat. “Okay, I’m going in.”
She leaned over the tide pool and started shooting. Her whole body changed: focused, intent, giddy. She laughed when a shrimp moved. Gasped when she spotted something else. Giggled when a wave crashed. Took shot after shot.
Maurice watched her work and felt something crack open in his chest. This. This was joy.
His phone, still in Monique’s hands, buzzed with another incoming text. He froze. She glanced at him and then back at the tide pool. Respecting his privacy even as she borrowed his device.
Maurice should feel grateful for that. Instead, he felt exposed. All those messages sitting there like evidence of everything he hadn’t told her.
“Lunch is ready!”
Tommie’s voice carried across the beach with the help of that stupid portable PA system he’d brought.
Monique sat back, breathing hard, grinning. “That was amazing. Thank you.”
“You get what you wanted?”
“So much more.”
They stood together. Maurice gathered her towel, hat, and bag without thinking, carrying them as they walked back.
Monique flipped through the photos on his phone, occasionally making small, excited sounds. He could listen to her happiness all day long.
Maurice placed the ridiculous hat on her head. She looked up at him, completely unguarded.
That smile.
At the cabana, they claimed a spot at one of the picnic tables, heads together, scrolling through photos.
“I’ll send you everything,” Maurice said.
“That would be dope. Lemme give you my number.” She kept scrolling.
“I already have it,” he confessed. And he’d been desperate to use it as confirmation, maybe, that she was the same person.
Monique paused and looked up from the phone in confusion.
“How?” Her thumb hovered over a photo Maurice had forgotten was there.
A group of men and women holding certificates. Smiling. Proud. Maurice and Deb in the center, arms around shoulders. The banner behind them readReturning Home - Building Futures.
Maurice shrugged. “Group texts. Process of elimination.”
“What?” The space between her eyebrows folded down in a way that told Maurice to brace himself.
But Monique, he’d observed, didn’t often do what he expected. Instead, she looked back at the phone. The graduation picture was still on the screen. Her gaze touched on every smiling face before tilting up and meeting his.
“You work with Deb?” Monique asked slowly, expression unreadable.
Maurice coughed around his bite of sandwich. Took a long drink of water.
“Yeah,” he said carefully. “I work with Deb at Returning Home.”
“Why was that so hard for you to say? You work with Deb doing what?”
Here it was again. The third time. Tell her the truth. His phone buzzed on the table between them. Another text notification slid across the screen where Monique could see it.