A shiver moved through her body, and Maurice moved closer.
“And I’m supposed to go to this wedding tonight and pretend that Chickie isn’t likely breathing her last breath. That cancer didn’t almost kill me too. I’ve witnessed so much death, Maurice. I’m tired. But this wedding doesn’t correct anything. I can’t act like I believe in what Tommie and Lanie are selling. Not when I know death better than I know life and love.”
“What do you need?”
“Hell if I know. I just need for it to stop hurting.”
“Monique—”
“And last night—” She pressed her hand to her chest, right over where he knew a wound was. That same spot she favored when she was upset but covering it up. “I let myself want—” She stopped. Shook her head. “But Chickie’s dying. And I’m standing here acting like I get to have this. That I get to have you.”
He took a breath to slow his racing heart and not make this moment about him.Show that your yes means something. Show up.“Your friend is dying. That’s real. But you’re also scared and thinking—what? That you’re next? That last night wasn’t real?”
Her face crumpled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe not in your specific case.” Maurice’s voice was steady. “But I know what running, hiding, and living small looks like. I know what it looks like when someone thinks they don’t deserve to be happy. I see that in the mirror every day.”
She wiped her face roughly. “So, what do you want me to do? Stay here? Pretend everything’s fine when I really don’t want to be here? I made promises to her too.”
“I get that. I want you to do what you need to do.” He didn’t move. Didn’t do anything but rest his hand on hers. “Go home. Be with Chickie. Grieve. I won’t ask for anything you can’t give right now. Not even that you forgive me for this morning.”
Earn her trust every day.
“I like you, Monique, more than what’s logical. I want to be what you need when you need it.”
“Maurice—”
“I’ll be here when you’re ready.” He paused. “Please understand that I’m not scared of your diagnosis or your scars. I want you. All of you.”
Monique stared at him. Her throat worked. Her eyes went glassy.
“The wedding,” she said finally, clearing her throat. “The wedding starts soon. You should probably go, and I gotta fix my face.”
Maurice nodded and stood. He paused with his hand on the doorknob.
“I’m sorry about Chickie,” he said without turning around, his heart heavy. “Above all, I’m sorry you think you’ve had to carry this alone for so long.”
Then he left. Let himself back into his room, where he sat on the edge of his bed with his hands shaking and his heart wanting.
Wanting her to be free from fear and the guilt of surviving. He understood all too well. God, he understood.
But he had to let her decide. That was all he could do.
CHAPTER 19Maurice
Although it was a holiday afternoon, the hotel was silent. Staff moved about in a choreography that seemed more like interpretive dance, prepping for Tommie and Lanie’s sunset wedding and New Year’s Eve reception.
Life moved forward while he stood still, and it wasn’t anything new. Maurice paced the hall near the elevators, his heart and attention leaping at every ping. But Monique still hadn’t shown. He wrestled with going back up and checking on her. Maybe she had changed her mind and was leaving now? She was grown, and nobody else seemed worried. So why was he going out of his mind?
He wanted to see her in her dress and the way the skirt flowed over her hips when she moved.
Tommie rounded the corner, looking dapper in his tux. “You good, B?”
“Yeah.”
“You look terrible.”
Maurice checked his phone. No messages.