Page 83 of Plus One

How could he believe in that, those words scribbled by some man to exercise control over others? The words weren’t bad, but they had been weaponized—she bore the scars of those battles. Her nervous system recognized the impending doom.

She broke through the doors and into the lobby, gasping for breath as if she had been sucked into the vacuum of space. Her throat ached with the need to scream, and her vision blurred from the threat of tears.

This was for the best. She had done what she’d set out to do. She’d attended the wedding and had something that looked like a holiday fling. Now it was over.

Real life bulldozed their short-lived fantasy. And she’d probably never see him again. It wasn’t like she had a practice of going out East, and Tommie and them almost always did drive-bys when they were in her area.

She’d never see Maurice again after tonight.

Monique had managed to collect herself in time for the wedding party to spill into the garden and terrace, where wrought iron tables circled the blue and yellow-tiled fountain that gleamed in the candlelight. Water trickled from a lion’s mouth and into the basin below, adding to the ambient music that filled the space.

She sat off to the side, on the ledge at the wall of windows that opened to the terrace. The ocean breeze brought the scent of jasmine and salt. A waiter passed and offered her a cocktail. She took it just so she could do something with her hands.

Cassie and Sunny found her. “You okay?” Cassie asked.

“Fine.”

Sunny gave her a look like she knew her. “Monique…”

“I’m working on it.”

Maurice leaned against the terrace wall talking with Tommie, but his eyes were trained on her.

She looked away.

“It’s weird seeing him in that collar,” Sunny said.

Monique knew what she was doing and pretended to sip her drink.

“It looks good on him. Natural,” Cassie said, hiding her smile.

“Elaine said he used to preach back in Philly. But now he just focuses on Returning Home. I had them work on this rehab we were doing, and, oh my God, girl!” Sunny pulled out her phone and showed Cassie pictures. Monique tried not to look, even though she desperately wanted to.

Maurice moved around, greeting people she hadn’t seen before tonight like they were old friends. Maybe they were. But he never came closer.

Dinner was on small plates and café tables. People mingled, danced, touched. The scene was intimate. Designed for folks to lose time, to stay. Pockets of comfortable seating, ideal for conversation, were scattered throughout the space.

Her phone buzzed. The Baddest Baddies.

ELEANOR

How was the wedding?

MONIQUE

Fine

CHICKIE

Did you cry? I always cry at weddings.

MONIQUE

No.

She was sort of telling the truth. She’d been crying all day; what difference did a thirty-minute intermission make?

Music swelled, and people made their way to the terrace to get closer to the band and the dance floor.