Page 22 of Maxwell

Jasmine read the message, and the corners of her mouth curled into a private, pleased smile. Afterward, she tucked the card into the pocket of her red blazer.

“Well? Don’t keep us waiting,” Keisha said.

“There’s nothing to tell. I got some flowers,” Jasmine said, obviously fighting a smile.

“Who did you get flowers from?” Keisha asked.

Jasmine stared at her. “Keisha.”

“Jasmine.”

After a beat, they both laughed.

“Tell us,” Renee begged.

Jasmine looked past Maxwell—as if he wasn’t there—to Renee. “Nicholas sent the flowers.”

Patricia let out a wistful sigh.

“Yay,” Keisha said in a low voice, quietly clapping.

“How romantic,” Renee murmured.

Who the hell was Nicholas?

Right then, Dr. Roberson came from the other hallway, reading something on his phone. As he approached the desk, he looked up, his gaze landing on the arrangement. A warm, satisfied expression crossed his face.

“Dare I ask who sent these?”

“You know who sent them,” Jasmine said.

“Nicholas?”

“Yes.”

Maxwell listened to his boss make a low sound of approval, and his skin crawled, like a bunch of ants were running from his neck into his hair.

“Very nice,” Dr. Roberson said. “I’m on my way to my meeting. I’ll see you all later.”

Maxwell took that as his cue to leave while the women continued quietly chatting. He had work to do, which included preparing for his next patient. Before he left, he caught Jasmine looking at him, her eyes darting away as she was pulled into conversation by Keisha and Renee. Patricia had already returned to her office.

Walking out of the reception area, he heard Keisha say, “Girl, you’re so lucky. He’s such a nice guy.”

A nice guy.

Exactly the kind of man Jasmine had said she preferred.

But how long had she and this nice guy been seeing each other? Three weeks ago, Maxwell had been pounding her through the goddamn mattress in her apartment, yet Nicholas was well known. They all knew his name. He was definitely more than a one-night stand.

Her relationship was none of his business, but he couldn’t help wondering about this Nicholas guy. What makes him so special? Maxwell thought.

He sank onto the chair behind his desk and went over his notes before the next patient arrived, compartmentalizing whatever he was feeling to focus on the work.

His eleven-thirty appointment was a seven-year-old named Maddie, who’d had a persistent cough for ten days. After the exam, he wrote a prescription for her mother and told her to do a follow-up in two weeks.

On the way back to his office, he glanced at Jasmine’s closed door, which meant she had probably left for lunch already. As he was deciding where he wanted to go to eat himself, he removed his white coat and hung it on the coat tree inside his office, when movement in the parking lot caught his eye.

Through the blinds he saw a tall Black man dressed in a suit, with Jasmine walking beside him. Was that Nicholas?