Page 48 of Maxwell

Between his family’s businesses and whatever trust had been set up in his name—because wealthy people always had a trust for their kids, didn’t they?—he could have coasted through life doing nothing at all. At the very least, he could have pursued a career more glamorous than pediatrics, which was among the lowest-paying specialties in medicine.

Instead, he had spent years grinding through one of the most grueling residency programs in the country. Then, before collecting a single paycheck, he had given six months of his time to a free clinic where he didn’t earn a single penny.

She couldn’t understand it and kept coming back to the same question.

Why?

Chapter Nineteen

Nicholas’s black Mercedes dropped Jasmine at the front door for the second time that week while Maxwell watched, irritated. He didn’t care if she saw him.

His leather jacket still smelled like cherries, and she was running around with this guy. Did his car smell like cherries? His sheets? Did he get the satisfaction of seeing Jasmine walk around in his clothes, the same way Maxwell had seen her warm and cozy in his jacket—a sight he’d enjoyed way too much?

She said she doesn’t love him, a voice whispered, but it didn’t matter. Jealousy was eating Maxwell alive, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

After they argued at her building, he had resolved to keep his distance, convinced there was no point in pursuing someone who had such a low opinion of him. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about their night together.

The unexpected joy he’d felt when he saw her text at Jayson’s party. How much he’d relished the hours they spent together at the arcade. All they’d done was talk and play games, but it was the best Valentine’s Day he could remember spending with a woman. He had been relaxed and simply had fun, with no agenda planned or expected.

She said she doesn’t love him, the voice whispered again, suggesting he had a shot.

If he was brave enough to take it.

* * *

Maxwell closed his laptop after he finished updating his patient notes. He should have left forty minutes ago, but he had fallen behind schedule spending extra time with a few patients and addressing their parents’ concerns.

The quiet in the office was disrupted by Jasmine’s distinctive footsteps in the hall. She was there, like him, working late. The logical side of his brain told him to throw his stuff in his backpack and go home. But the other, less logical side that had emerged recently, urged him to go talk to her.

Casting his eyes around his desk, he looked for a legitimate reason to go into her office. He found it in the form he’d set aside, which she’d asked him to fill out to let her know what he wanted to do for his own community workshop.

He knew exactly what he wanted the workshop to be about and filled out the sheet. Then he walked next door to Jasmine’s office before he could question his behavior and change his mind.

Her door was open, and he knocked twice on the frame.

Jasmine looked up. They’d done such a good job of avoiding each other, having her undivided attention gut-punched him.

“I filled out the workshop form,” he explained, holding up the sheet of paper.

“I’ll take it. Thanks.”

He walked over and handed it to her.

“When a Toothache Isn’t Just a Toothache?” she questioned in a surprised voice.

“It’s an important issue,” Maxwell explained.

“You think it’s enough for an entire workshop?”

“More than enough,” he answered with vehemence. “You’ll see in the notes that by the end of the workshop, parents will be able to recognize when a child’s dental pain is something that needs urgent care and not just a dentist appointment when they can get around to it. I’ll go over signs of infection, why they’re serious, and explain why kids often aren’t able to fully explain how bad the situation is. I intend for the content to be practical and easy to understand.”

“I’m sure it will be.” She tucked the paper into a folder on her desk. “Was there something else?”

He should answer with a resounding Yes, and he was tired of pretending there wasn’t. Maxwell closed the door in case another member of the staff was also working late. Jasmine watched him do it with a carefully neutral expression.

“I’m not going to take a lot of your time, but I want to know what’s going on. What’s happening between us.”

“Nothing is happening between us,” she said carefully.