Page 96 of Maxwell

“You missed Tracy’s piano recital and the Memorial Day cookout. What’s your excuse for that?”

He could hear the condemnation in Ethan’s voice and wasn’t in the mood. “What do you want?” he asked irritably.

“Monica told Skye you and Jasmine broke up.”

Maxwell’s head fell back in exasperation. He should have known better than to tell Monica anything. “Monica has a big mouth.”

“Are you done at the clinic?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Come over to my house so we can talk.”

“I don’t have time.”

“Based on everything I know, you have plenty of time. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Who the hell do you think you are? I’m not a kid.”

“Then stop acting like one. See you in an hour,” Ethan said again. Then he hung up.

Asshole, Maxwell thought, blowing out a frustrated breath.

The train rolled toward him, rattling on the tracks. He didn’t want to go to Ethan’s, but he needed to be shaken out of his funk. There were only two people who could do it effectively, he figured. Thiago was out of town, so that left Ethan. He wasn’t sure which one of them was worse.

When he arrived at his brother’s, Mona, the housekeeper who lived on the property, opened the front door.

“Hi, Mona,” he greeted her.

“Good evening, Maxwell. How are you?”

“All right. Where is...” Skye, Ethan’s wife, appeared in the foyer holding their one-year-old, Angel, who was sucking on a pacifier.

Mona quietly walked away, leaving them alone.

“Hi, Maxwell,” Skye said. She was a full-figured, very curvy woman with tawny-gold skin and dark eyes.

“Hey, Skye. Hey there, Angel.” He reached for the little girl, who was the same complexion as her mother. She pressed her face into Skye’s neck.

“She just woke up from a nap, and she’s cranky.” Skye gently rubbed her daughter’s back.

“I can see the sleepiness in her eyes,” Maxwell said, stroking his niece’s curls.

“How have you been?” Sympathy filled Skye’s eyes.

“I’ve been better,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear this now, but it will get easier. Ethan’s waiting for you in the study.”

“Thanks.”

As she walked away, he went in the opposite direction to Ethan’s home office, knocking first before he entered.

“Glad you could make it.” Ethan was seated behind his desk.

“Did I have a choice?”

His brother’s skin was a dark shade of mahogany and, like all his brothers, he was tall. He stood, looking relaxed in a polo shirt and slacks. “Can I get you a drink?”