“So,” C says, basting the short ribs like he’s nursing a baby, “you seriously leaving us to deal with Dice’s grumpy ass?”
“He’ll survive.”
“I wouldn’t bet my grail on that.”
He says it with just enough weight to threaten the tears I’ve been choking back all day, especially after Dice sent me that mix of the songs that was so… us. I pivot fast, changing the topic to Lexie’s studio.
“Thanks for all your help,” she says.
“My pleasure, Amazon. Best of luck with everything.”
“You too.”
When it’s time to go, C gives me a quick hug. “Don’t stay away so long this time.”
“I won’t.” Though I don’t know what that means for Dice and me. Friends while apart, more than friends when I’m in town? Not enough either way.
Later at Mom’s, I pick at the herbed chicken and lime rice, half listening to the conversations while my mind stays on Dice. I tune in when Maurice starts talking about his return to Docks.
“Did you let the team know you appreciated their hard work while you were gone?” I ask.
He lifts his eyes from his plate, indulgent. “Yes, Charlotte.”
“And Dice? Did you tell him you like the new reports?”
“Did that too,” he huffs. “Now, can I get back to my chicken?”
“Sure.” I trade a discreet smile with Mom. It’s not much, but coming from Maurice, it’s practically a love letter. If he only saw what I see in Dice. If he only knew he’d been the reason Dice fought so hard not to be like his mother, he might realize how misplaced his judgment is. But that’s not my story to tell.
When the meal is over, I help with the dishes and say my goodbyes. Uncle Mo kisses my cheek. My father gives me an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Your mother’s been happy to have you home,” he says, then adds, “So have I.”
It’s a moment.
Mom hugs me long and hard, not hiding her tears. “I love you, sweet girl.”
“I love you, too, Ma. I’ll be back for Thanksgiving.”
“Too long.” She sniffles. “Take care of yourself and Queenie. Dice too.”
Back at Rayne’s, she sees I don’t want to talk—can’t right now—and leaves me to finish packing. I wheel my suitcases to the front. Other than the bed, the room is stripped bare. Almost like I was never here.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress in cotton shorts and a cami, I check into my flight. Queenie’s curled up on the comforter with Spider-Man, watching me like she knows exactly what I’m feeling.
My phone’s still playing Dice’s mix on loop. I glance at the screen—10:05. He’ll be here soon.
For the goodbye I don’t know how to give.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dice
You’re worth every hard good-bye.
Rayne answers my knock. One look at me, and she offers a consoling arm squeeze before stepping aside. “Lot’s in her room.”
I nod, drop her duffel bag on the floor, and head down the hall. The door’s ajar. She’s on the bed, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. The gold bracelet gleams on her wrist. My mix is playing. I tap lightly on the wood. Her head turns at the sound. Our eyes lock, and my heart punches slow and hard behind my ribs.
She stands. Queenie follows, slinking around my ankles before she strolls from the room like she knows this is it.
