Page 87 of Maxwell

For a split second, pure joy moved through him at the sight of her. They didn’t have plans to get together today, so her presence was unexpected but welcomed. But then he took a good look at her and saw her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, filled with tears that hadn’t yet fallen onto her cheeks. In one hand she clutched a small gift bag with white tissue paper sticking out the top of it.

“Jasmine, what’s wrong? What happened?” He stepped out of the elevator, alarmed.

“How could you?” Her voice trembled, cracking on each word.

“How could I what?” Maxwell searched her face, genuinely lost. “What’s going on?”

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. He had never heard her laugh like that before. “Are you really going to stand there and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Maxwell took a step closer, but she retreated, putting distance between them that felt like a physical blow. He swallowed. “What’s going on, babe?”

“There’s a half-naked woman in your condo,” she spoke in a flat, emotionless voice.

“What!”

“Don’t play dumb. I came by to surprise you. When I let myself in, there was a woman in your bed.”

“Hold up. Wait a minute. That’s impossible. What you’re saying doesn’t make sense. You’re the only woman with a key to my place.”

Then a woman stepped into the hallway wearing a gray shirt that he recognized. She looked from one to the other, her expression going from confusion to alarm.

Maxwell recognized her right away. “Jenny?” His newly divorced friend, who he’d run into at Jayson’s party, was standing in the doorway wearing one of his shirts, which brushed the top of her bare thighs.

Jasmine’s head whipped in his direction. “You do know her.”

“I-I don’t... I mean, yes.” He lifted his free hand, as if he could physically stop the situation from getting out of control. He spoke the next words as he looked at Jenny. “I have no idea why she’s in my house.”

He wasn’t sure Jasmine even heard him, because when he turned to look at her again, she had stepped into the elevator and hit the down button. Her delicate jaw set in a rigid line, she refused to look at him.

“Jasmine, wait!”

He rushed to the closing doors, but they shut him out. Furious and confused, he spun toward Jenny.

“How the hell did you get into my house? And why are you wearing my goddamn shirt?”

“Maxwell, I—” She wrapped her arms around herself, looking embarrassed and not thrilled to be standing in front of him like that. “You should talk to Jayson. He’s the one who let me in.”

Her answer floored him. Why would Jayson do such a thing? He didn’t have time to come up with an answer, much less analyze his friend’s behavior. He’d deal with Jenny later. Jasmine was getting away, filled with hurt because of what she had seen. He had to stop her. He had to explain that this was all a big mix-up.

Maxwell dropped the grocery bags, uncaring if the eggs cracked and the ice cream melted. He bolted for the stairwell. He was on the fourteenth floor, which meant he had a long way to go, and he’d already lost time.

Racing down the stairs, he took them two at a time, one hand skimming the rail for balance. His shoes slapped the concrete steps, the sound echoing inside the stairwell like the interior of a cave. He always thought of himself as someone who was in good physical shape, but by the eighth floor his lungs were burning. He wasn’t sure if it was from exertion or panic. By the time he reached the fourth floor, his chest was heaving, but a single thought was looping through his brain.

Don’t let her leave, don’t let her leave, don’t let her leave.

He dropped to the ground floor and pushed his way into the foyer. Racing past the concierge desk, he pushed his way out the front door, his gaze swiping right and left for a glimpse of Jasmine’s white Acura. Then he saw it, two rows away, her taillights prominent as she backed out of a parking space.

He raced toward the vehicle. “Jasmine!”

He ran up beside the car and slapped his palm flat against the glass. “Please, babe. Stop. We need to talk. This is all a big misunderstanding.”

She looked at him, and he felt as if his chest had caved in on itself. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unbidden.

“Babe, please. Let’s talk. I promise, it’s not what you think.” He yanked the handle. Locked.

Jasmine reached over and picked up the gift bag from the passenger seat. She rolled the window down just enough to toss it through the gap. The bag hit his chest and dropped to the blacktop at his feet. The tissue spilled out and so did the corner of a small silver frame.

Jasmine slid her window shut and sped away with a screech of tires. Maxwell stood in the middle of the lot, breathing hard as if he had run a marathon.