“You don’t know?”
He shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“Neither do I.” She rested her head on his shoulder again, this time sliding her hand over his.
“But I’d like to figure it out with you.”
They sat in silence for a long time as the party continued without them. Monique stood. “I’m gonna go.”
He nodded in understanding as she pressed the button to change her flight. “See you around, Mo,” he said as she moved quickly through the garden and to the elevators.
“See ya ’round,” she whispered, catching sight of him approaching the lobby and watching her go.
In her room, she peeled out of her dress and shoved it into her bag, along with the rest of her things. Her phone buzzed a few minutes later.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
A car is waiting to take you to the airport.
Monique changed the contact to M<3 and then finished packing.
CHAPTER 21Maurice
Maurice stood in the garden doorway watching the elevator doors close on Monique. The party continued behind him. Music. Dancing. Tommie and Lanie laughing with family.
He wanted to rush through the rest of the reception and allow himself to be pulled, to close the gap between him and Monique.
How could he dare to embrace her? Him with his history of violence, of rejection and rejecting, of hardness of heart and contrariness. Yeah, he was a hypocrite of the first order.
God, he wanted to love her out loud and in the open. Secrets and shadows were never meant for Monique, and he couldn’t bear to drag her toward the abyss that he’d found solace within.
He was in it now—in this in-between space of emerging from water, heart pounding, nose burning, body heavy, ready to fall back but needing to leap or at the very least find the strength to pull himself up and out of the heaviness of his past.
But watching her leave—really leave—felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. And they refused to let up.
“Mo?” Tommie appeared at his elbow. “You good, B?”
“She’s leaving.”
“Figured she would.”
Tommie looked at the party, then back at Maurice. “So what you gonna do about it?”
He was a hypocrite. “I don’t know.”
Tommie jabbed a thumb behind him. “The photographer wants more pictures. Come on. You can figure it out inside.”
They weaved through the small crowd, past the attempts to stall them and heap praises and congratulations on their shoulders. None of that mattered.
The winding path to the door brought him to an alcove where Lanie was posing for photos. The photographer was directing her. “Hold up,” Tommie said, “we’re back.” Maurice and the photographer stopped moving.
Maurice looked around before stepping closer to where Tommie now stood beside his bride, their bright white garments a contrast against the variegated backdrop of greenery.
“Congratulations,” Maurice said, wrapping the couple in his arms, “but I gotta go…” How would he explain that he was dippin’ out of their wedding to chase Tommie’s cousin halfway across the country? It sounded crazy in his own head. But it felt right in his heart.
“Of course, you do,” Lanie said, pulling away but still holding his hand.
“Yeah, if you didn’t go, we’d kick you out anyway.” Tommie didn’t drop his arm from Maurice’s shoulders.