Page 91 of Maxwell

She had seen it in so many ways. Not only because of his ability to problem-solve or clearly articulate a diagnosis or recommendations to the parents. He was a good doctor because he cared, and his gentleness with even the most skittish child made their experience memorable instead of traumatic, so they didn’t dread future visits.

“He’s a great doctor,” Maura said, continuing to watch her. “But now he’s gone, and you look like your best friend died. Are we going to keep dancing around the reason you’re missing work, or are you going to tell me what happened?”

Jasmine pulled the throw tighter around her shoulders. “Doesn’t matter what happened,” she mumbled.

“Clearly it matters, since you probably haven’t left the apartment all week.” Maura sat forward, elbows to knees. “Talk to me, Jay.”

She looked at her sister. “Maxwell cheated on me.”

Maura drew in a sharp breath. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Jasmine said in a sharp voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m... I’m in shock.”

“No one was more shocked than I was.” Jasmine swallowed hard. “I went to his place. Popped up unannounced. We weren’t supposed to see each other until Saturday, but I wanted to surprise him. I had big plans for the weekend, starting with something simple and heartfelt. I put a photo from our trip to New Orleans in a nice frame and included a note, telling him about my feelings and how he’d basically changed my perspective on relationships. I wanted to do what you had told me to do, which was just enjoy the relationship. Nicholas had told me himself that I didn’t do anything for him, and it dawned on me that I was letting fear keep me from giving freely in my relationship. I’d been holding back, and it made me selfish, like he said.”

“Not selfish. Cautious.”

Jasmine inhaled and exhaled. “Whatever the reason, I wanted to change, and Maxwell made me feel comfortable enough to share my deepest feelings.” She regretted throwing the gift bag at him. She had been hurt and emotional and not thinking straight. Because of the card, he would know the depth of her feelings, and she absolutely hated that. “I intended to leave a gift bag with the photo and the note as a surprise in his bedroom. I was the one who had a surprise.”

Her voice wavered, and she pressed her lips together as the memory came back. Curling her fingers into the throw, she fought the surge of emotion attacking her.

“I, um, let myself in with the key and walked down to his bedroom. When I entered the room, there was a woman in his bed, like she belonged there. The smile died on her face when she saw me.”

“Oh, Jay.” Maura jumped up and came to sit beside her, placing a hand on her knee.

“I just stood there, like an idiot, Maura. I honestly didn’t understand what I was looking at. I was so confused, I wondered if I was in the wrong condo.”

“What happened next?”

“I don’t remember much except rushing out of there. I vaguely remember her calling after me, but I just wanted to leave. I was so humiliated. I got to the elevator, and Maxwell was coming off carrying groceries. It seemed so normal and made me wonder, was he going to cook for this woman, the way he did for me? Then he had the nerve to deny knowing anything about a woman being in his apartment, but when she came to the door, he knew her name well enough. Jenny.”

She’d never forget her name.

“Do you know what I had planned for the rest of the weekend?” Jasmine asked.

Maura shook her head.

“I was going to cook for that asshole. Mole poblano. His favorite Mexican dish. He mentioned once how much he loved it, and how the family chef had made some for him once and shipped it to Boston as a treat—an example of how people cater to him, and I was about to cater to him too! I contacted his mother, and she and Rodolfo—the family chef—worked with me in the kitchen, in secret without Maxwell’s knowledge, to teach me how to make freaking mole poblano. Do you know how hard it is to make that damn dish from scratch?”

“No, I don’t,” Maura murmured.

“It’s an all-day process. There are two dozen ingredients! A bunch of spices,” Jasmine said, counting on her finger. “More than one kind of chile, Mexican chocolate, tomatoes, onions, seeds, and the list goes on. And I. Was going. To make. Authentic mole poblano from scratch. For him.”

She had bought all the ingredients, using the list Rodolfo had provided. Everything was still at her apartment, along with the cute little apron she had purchased to wear over the lingerie she had also bought. The whole weekend was supposed to be her way of catering to him, to show him how much she cared for and adored him.

Nicholas’s words still haunted her. Not once have you bought me something or surprised me. She had wanted to be a better girlfriend to Maxwell, but she had wasted her effort.

“I know it hurts now,” Maura said gently, “but this is a learning experience⁠—”

“No.” Jasmine cut her off with a firm shake of her head. “You’re wrong. It’s not a learning experience, and if it is, I don’t want to learn anymore. I’ve learned enough. Why does all my learning include pain? Why can’t I learn and be happy? I loved him, Maura. I loved him.” She had so much more to say but ended on a sob.

More than anything, she wished she hadn’t fallen in love with Maxwell and experienced being in what she thought was a loving relationship. Now she had to spend the rest of her life knowing what she was missing.

Maura wrapped Jasmine in her arms. “I’m sorry, sis.”

“Why can’t I get this right?” Jasmine sobbed into her sister’s shoulder as Maura gently rocked her.