“Are you sure?” Mom levels one of her most serious looks at me.
“Absolutely,” I say.
“And I can help,” Maeve chimes in. “If it’s needed.”
“I think Taylor’s also coming over,” Mom says as she moves to gather her bags which are always packed and ready on one side of the room.
“Okay,” I say.
“And she’ll probably want to stay over,” Mom says.
“Okay,” I say, a little slower this time. I wait to feel the sharp slice of panic, a little churn of discomfort, but neither sensation comes. If anything, I’m relieved Taylor is coming over and will sleep next to Jessica tonight.
“And I can make my own way back to the hotel,” Maeve says. “You have Ubers in Las Vegas, right?”
“You want to go? Now?”
“No, not now,” she says in a voice I’m not used to from her. It’s too quiet.
“Thank you, Lawrence.” Mom comes up and kisses my cheek before turning away again. But then she stops, turns back around and raises the hand holding her keys up to my head.
“You oiled your locs,” she comments. “They look good.”
And then she’s gone.
I turn to Maeve. “Feeling smug about that?”
She’s trying to quash her smile by pulling her lips into her mouth but it’s useless. “Only mahoosively so,” she tells me and bumps her arm into mine.
Chapter Thirty-One
Maeve
Ishould probably go.
Jess and Taylor, who I now see isn’t her friend but her girlfriend, have just gone up to bed, a process that was quite eventful as Loncey wanted to carry her up but Jessica refused. This resulted in a brief heated discussion but in the end Loncey relented and carried up both Taylor’s and Jessica’s bags instead. I followed behind with Taylor, and an over-excited Prince who bounded up and down the stairs multiple times as we all climbed them once. Loncey and I waited in the doorway to Jessica’s room as Taylor brought in a bowl full of warm water for Jessica so she could have a quick wash and do her skincare.
“I’m sorry, do you have tickets for this show?” Jessica had asked raspily with an arched eyebrow before we’d mumbled our goodnights and fled.
“I like your sister,” I’d said after we’d got downstairs and took our masks off. “I fucking hate that she has to deal with all the shite she has to deal with.”
Loncey nodded, chewing on their lips. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”
And now I should go. We’re standing opposite each other at the foot of the stairs, immediately in front of the front door.
But I don’t want to go.
“It’s late, Maeve,” Loncey says. “What time is your flight?”
“Not until late tomorrow night,” I say quietly. “I’ve got the hotel until the following day so I didn’t need to be homeless all day tomorrow.”
Loncey’s lips are back in their mouth again and their expression is thoughtful. Eventually they speak. “I should take you back.”
I find my head is shaking perfectly of its own free will. Or at least that’s what it feels like.
“I’d like to,” I begin, then swallow. “I’d like to see your cabin. And your paintings. I’d like to see them in real life, I mean.”
Their eyes open up a little more and it almost looks like shock but as soon as it comes, it passes.
