Page 104 of Plus One

Breaking into his thoughts, Monique tightened her grip on his hand. “Speaking of knowing what to say… the wedding. Your sermon was so goddamned beautiful that it scared the shit out of me.”

“You think so?”

She nodded.

“When I didn’t see you at the top of the ceremony, I don’t know. I felt lost for a minute. Then I saw you back there in that dress, like a single, bright flower against all that darkness, and I could breathe again.” It all sounded crazy to his ears, but it was the truth.

“I’m so fucking sorry for behaving like that. I should have answered when you called,” she said.

He shook his head and managed to pull over. He couldn’t let her speak her truths to the side of his face. He needed to give her his full attention. “I don’t need an apology.”

“But I hurt you.”

“You were doing what you needed to do.”

“I was hiding.”

“And that’s okay too.” Traffic passed, ignorant of the largeness of what was happening in his rental sedan. “I’m here now—I found you.” He unbuckled his seat belt and placed a hand on her sodden cheek. “Shhh, don’t cry or you’ll make me cry.”

She looked up at him with those dark eyes that were as big and bright as a new moon night. “Kiss me, Mo, please.”

The first brush of their lips was as soft as a whisper yet inspired a fresh wave of tears. Monique threw her arms around him. “I know you said to stop apologizing, but I don’t deserve this. All this kindness. All this love that you keep giving. I’m such a mess.”

He peeled her off him and wiped her tears, kissing her with more confidence this time. Maybe she would believe. “I don’t see you that way.”

“You haven’t known me long enough. Just wait.” Monique wiped at her running nose with the heel of her hand, trying to joke. She looked so fragile, but not weak. Never.

She was delicate and wondrous, like something unearthed that had survived neglect and misuse but still held its beauty and power. It was all there in her. He simply wanted to help her shore up her strength.

“So, is that an invitation?” he asked, reaching up to brush another tear from her cheek.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as his calloused thumb passed over her soft skin. She let out a wince of a moan. Instinct told him to pull back, for fear he would mar the perfection there.

“Let’s go to your hotel,” she said, breathless.

He drew his hand back, now unsure of the mood. Was he being too much? But the way she was looking at him was familiar—that same look they’d shared in those wee hours and intimate moments in the dark and quiet of Puerto Rico. She had kissed him then, touching and desiring him in ways that he’d never imagined.

And he had touched her then too, bringing her pleasure. It was a task he would probably never get tired of.

Although he was practiced in reading people, Monique was sometimes difficult to read. The playfulness that often colored her words could be a film that made the meaning hard to decipher. And the way that Maurice survived all this time was because of his ability to perceive meaning and intent.

He secured the both of them into their seat belts again, plugged the hotel address into the GPS, and moved back into traffic. He took her hand, and said, “For what it’s worth, I’m so very sorry about your friend.”

Monique nodded and turned her attention out the passenger window. “Yeah. Burying people is not something I ever want to get used to.”

“Hear, hear,” he replied.

The rest of the drive to the hotel was silent except for the GPS and their breathing. Maurice stole glances at Monique, whose attention remained fixed out the window, her hands worrying the hem of his coat she still wore. She eventually fell asleep.

They pulled into the parking lot of the hotel near the door. He didn’t move. He didn’t kill the engine. He just sat there in silence, listening to her breathe.

After a few long minutes, she sucked in a gasp of air as she woke. “Where are we?”

“My hotel.”

She unbuckled her seat belt and moved to open the door. “We going up?”

“Monique… are you sure? I can take you home.”