Page 43 of Maxwell

“With one of your girlfriends?”

“To the arcade,” she said, answering the question without actually lying to him. She grimaced, because technically it was a lie of omission since she hadn’t gone with a girlfriend.

“You really love that place, don’t you?” he asked, mildly amused.

“I have a lot of fond memories of going there with my friends, and it’s a laid-back way to have a good time. I wish you would come with me one of these days.”

“It’s not really my thing. I’d much rather play a round of golf or do something more interesting.”

His words stung a little bit.

“How are the flowers holding up?” he asked.

“Beautiful as ever and in a prominent position by the window,” she informed him.

“So your coworkers were really impressed, huh?”

“Yes, like I said, all the women in the office loved them and knew that I was a very lucky girl.”

“Well, you deserve it.” Nicholas yawned again. “I have to run. I’m exhausted, but I wanted to talk to you and let you know I was thinking about you. I miss you.”

Normally she would tell him that she missed him too but couldn’t let the words leave her mouth tonight. They were stuck in her throat. “I’m glad you called,” she said instead.

After they hung up, Jasmine lay in the dark, thinking about Maxwell and how she had been tempted to invite him upstairs. She had made a terrible mistake in bringing him to her apartment for their one-night stand because every time she laid in bed, she thought about that night and how in sync their bodies were and how intense and beautiful and toe-curling their lovemaking had been in this very bed.

She didn’t want to think about it, but it stayed on her mind. Literal torture.

With a groan, she rolled onto her side and prayed for sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

“You and Brick didn’t go anywhere last night?” Jasmine asked her sister, Maura.

Maura, like her other three sisters, was tall at almost five ten. The tall gene had skipped Jasmine. The family joked that the height and color had run out by the time she was born, since her sisters were also darker than she was. People often assumed Jasmine was biracial because of her complexion and eyes, but it was their mother who was biracial.

They were taking a leisurely Sunday walk in Piedmont Park, dressed in leggings and oversized long-sleeved shirts before grabbing brunch on the Beltline.

“We didn’t want to deal with all the crap involved with going out. We can’t hang like you young kids on Valentine’s Day.”

Amused, Jasmine shook her head. She was used to her sisters referring to her as a kid.

“We didn’t want to make reservations, get dressed up, find a parking space, rush through dinner because it was a busy night, et cetera.”

“Young people problems?” Jasmine asked, tongue-in-cheek.

“Exactly. Too much of a hassle. Takes the fun out of the holiday. Brick and I hired a babysitter and took the kids to her place for the night. On the way home, we picked up groceries and cooked dinner together. We watched a movie and fell asleep on the sofa. He woke up first, woke me up, and we went to bed.”

“How romantic.”

“It was romantic. Trust me, one day when you’re married and have kids, you’ll appreciate those kinds of moments. We never have time alone because of those two little demons.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my niece and nephew like that, please. Thank you.”

They walked the path in silence for a bit. The weather was a little warmer today and more people were out and about taking advantage of the sunshine. Spring was on the horizon.

“What did you do last night?” her sister asked.

“Went to the arcade. With Maxwell.” She lowered her voice on the last part because she had told her sister about the shocking coincidence that her one-night stand was now a doctor at the practice.