Page 73 of Plus One

She found the stairs, whose stone was worn smooth by centuries of weathering. Treacherous was a word, but Monique kept moving one uneven step at a time. The ocean kept coming. Wave after wave. Crashing, curling, swirling. Breaking apart and beginning again. It didn’t care that Chickie was dying. It didn’t care that Maurice had run from her. It didn’t care about her family’s wounds and who deserved forgiveness. The ocean was too busy being to concern itself with Monique’s self-pity. It just kept coming. Relentless, unstoppable, and indifferent to her feelings.

She’d been performing strength for so long she’d forgotten that she was acting. Over time, she’d forgotten that being strong wasn’t the same as being whole. That showing up wasn’t the same as living.

Chickie demanded she live, not survive.Live.

What did that mean?

It meant not waiting for permission to be angry. It meant wanting something for herself and maybe demanding that people show up for her the way she showed up for them.

It meant choosing, even if the choice was hard, even if it meant being alone. Especially if it meant being alone.

A wave surged higher than the others, nearly cresting the stonewall. Monique laughed, bitter and sharp. The ocean didn’t care. And maybe that was the point.

She sat there as the water rose and fell around her. As the sun climbed higher. As the afternoon stretched toward evening. The wedding would happen whether she was ready or not.

Monique stood. Walked back through the villa. Through the bustling city streets and back to the hotel.

She had a wedding to get ready for.

She had a promise to keep to Tommie.

And she always kept her promises, even when they were hard.

CHAPTER 18Maurice

At nine o’clock on a Sunday morning—New Year’s Eve—Maurice stood on the dock surrounded by fishing gear that he had no idea how to use while he waited for the other men to join him.

He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be back in Monique’s room, having breakfast with her. But he’d blown that. Gotten scared and bounced like a coward while she slept. He had lied to her.

“No girls allowed,” Tommie said, coming toward him. “Staring at her balcony won’t make her come out.”

“Romeo, o Romeo, wherefore art thou,” Mr. Turner added in a falsetto that made Tommie and Richard laugh.

Ouch.Was he that obvious?

Taurion passed him carrying a crate. “Don’t let it discourage you, my man. Keep showing up.”

Their captain, Carlos, navigated them out to deep, open water where he said fish lived and men told the truth. The boat rocked gently. Richard scrolled through his phone. Taurion claimed a seat at the bow, feet up, smoking a cigar, and sipping something dark. Mr. Turner and Tommie were actually fishing.

Maurice sat at the stern, as he’d learned it was called, and tried to follow the instructions Tommie gave him.

His phone was heavy in his pocket with the picture he’d taken of Monique last night, where moonbeams had kissed her cheeks and played in her hair, and her eyes were as big and bright as the universe. He’d peeked at that picture maybe a hundred times already today. Her smile was playful, unguarded. Inviting. Her lips…

He pulled his phone out and looked again.

“You hear me, B?” Tommie asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“What I say then?”

“Umm…”

Tommie gave him a look that was short on patience. “Are you gonna be this articulate tonight?”

“Get the cotton out your mouth, son,” Mr. Turner added, “and tell us what’s got you all in your head.”

“I know the answer,” Tommie said, teasing, casting his own line. “Starts with an M and ends with an E.”