Maxence: Just after midnight
Maxence kept his footing on the tilting floor and touched a wall of the ship to steady himself. With the wind and chop that night, even a superyacht rolled in the water. He clutched some fabric wrapped around a bunch of tiny things to his stomach so they wouldn’t spill all over the hallway.
At the door to the stateroom where he’d left Simone, Maxence knocked and waited, the adrenalin ebbing in his blood. He was supposed to be serene and imperturbable, not high as a kite from their brush with danger.
All his life, he’d been trying to tame himself.
When Simone opened the door, Maxence held out his offering, his big hands full of women’s clothes, sample-size products, and a white silk scarf. “I don’t know what you need for tonight, but you’re going to be on a plane all day tomorrow. I’ll look in the galley for vitamins with folic acid in a minute. I found some things in one of the other staterooms. It looks like Flicka must have been here because there are a bunch of women’s clothes in one of the closets. You can pick something else out if you want. The toothbrush is still wrapped in cellophane, so it’s brand new. I found a silk scarf for your hair while you sleep.”
Maxence held out his meager offerings with both hands, white cotton and silk overflowing his fingers and small, plastic vials mounded in the center.
Simone looked at the valiant but inadequate gifts he held out to her and burst into tears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Maxence said. “I know it isn’t enough. I know these stupid, little conditioners aren’t good enough. Maybe there’s some coconut oil in the kitchen. I can find something. When we reach Genoa tomorrow, I’ll see if I can find a store to sell us some better hair things.”
“I’m okay,” she sobbed.
“If you’re afraid of Estebe tracking us, I had Amnon turn off the radio. He won’t be able to track or contact us in any way.”
Simone was waving her hands in front of her face, palms out, negating his words. “No, no. It’s just so sweet.Youare just so sweet. It’s hormones. It’spregnancyhormones. I can’t watch a TV commercial without crying at everything,” she wailed.
Maxence glanced down the narrow hallway, his back nearly touching the wall on the other side. Gita and another crew member were watching him out of the corner of their eyes as they wiped down a spotless wall with window cleaner at one in the morning.
He asked Simone, “Can I come in?” and pushed his way into her stateroom, closing the door behind himself and locking it without waiting for her to answer.
Simone sat on the side of the bed, bending in half and sobbing into her hands. “I’m sorry. You’re so sweet. I can’t believe you brought me a silk scarf.”
“Tying up your hair in a piece of silk is protective for Black hair, right? I mean, I’ve heard. I mean, people have mentioned that, and I’ve heard. My hair is different.” He pinched a loose twist of his own silky, onyx-black hair between his fingers and dragged it out to where he could see the end of it just past his cheekbone and jaw. “I have this kind of hair. So, I wouldn’t know. You just have to tell me. I’m yammering on. Please tell me to shut up.”
“No, you’re sweet. I’m fine. It’s just pregnancy hormones. I appreciate it, but I just can’t stop crying. Ihatebeing pregnant.”
“You don’t even look pregnant. You barely look like you ate half a potato with supper.” Maxence toppled the tiny containers onto the bed and crouched in front of her, his fingers gently touching her knees and shoulders as he tried to make amends. “I can get something else. Just tell me what to get for you. As soon as we dock in Genoa, I’ll make sure you have it. Justpleasestop crying.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m trying, but there’s so much wrong. I just can’t stop.” She grabbed the hem of her gown and wiped her face with the crystal-beaded silk.“Ouch.”
Maxence unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons near his throat and dragged his tuxedo shirt off over his head, leaving him in just an undershirt. A chill from the air settled on his back. He wadded the shirt into a ball and offered it to her. “Here.”
She grabbed the shirt and buried her face in the wadded white silk. “I’m trying,” she sobbed. “I really am.It won’t stop.”
He gingerly patted her shoulder. “You did so well to hold it in while we were in the casino. It’s . . . it’s okay. We’re okay now.You can stop crying now.”
“Don’t be nice to me. It makes it worse!” she wailed.
She hadn’t objected to being touched, so Maxence stroked her silken shoulder and upper arm. “I’ll get you back to Mauritius. I’ll get you back to your family even if I have to fly the whole way with you. Justpleasestop crying.”
She was gasping into his shirt crumpled in her hands, nearly hyperventilating, so Maxence rocked forward to his knees so he could lay his arms around her shoulders and pull her face against his shoulder. “Come on, you’re with me now. Harmless ol’ Maxence from Le Rosey.”
She gulped against the white cotton of his tee-shirt, and it almost sounded like a laugh had tried to break through her tears. “That wasnotthe reputation you had in high school.”
“Oh, sure it was.”
Her arms sneaked around his waist. “You know it’s not.”
“We can pretend it was if it will make you stop crying.”
She leaned back enough to wipe her face with his limp shirt again, and then she looked up at him.
Red puffiness from weeping rimmed her dark, lovely eyes. He’d liked her in high school, both as a chemistry study partner and more, but they’d never managed to get together due to one intervening relationship or another.
