Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Maxwell checked his reflection in the hallway mirror one last time. His hair was neatly cut and his full beard trimmed. Although he had looked fine on Friday night, he’d gone to the grooming lounge on Saturday after leaving Jasmine’s apartment.
He paused for a moment, reflecting on the night they had shared. He had been tempted to leave his number on her nightstand but recalled what she had said at the club.
I’m not looking for anything serious.
Women often said that but didn’t really mean it, so he’d quietly left her bed and pulled on his clothes, leaving her apartment because he definitely wasn’t looking for anything serious.
He was still young at only twenty-nine and not remotely interested in settling down, though all his siblings were either married or engaged at the moment.
“Dropping like flies.” He patted a stray curl into place. “Looking good,” he said to himself.
As he had done most of his life, Maxwell had laid out his clothes the night before.
His friends and siblings teased him about his habit, but he had always been the type of person to stick to that schedule.
Therefore, he had never shown up wrinkled or had to rush before an appointment because he didn’t know what to wear.
If he had to sum up today’s appearance in one word, he would say he looked neat. He wore dark pants and a crisp white shirt, a royal blue and yellow-striped tie, and dress shoes that had been polished the night before.
He dropped his personal phone in his right pocket and placed his spare phone in the heavy-duty black backpack he slung over his shoulder. Then he picked up the small potted plant from the console table near the front door and left.
He had grown up in a house so large that he had often joked they could have had a stranger secretly living with them and not known, but now he resided in a simple two-bedroom condo.
Well, not so simple. The spacious pad was located on the fourteenth floor of prime real estate in Midtown—a gift from his eldest brother, Ethan, a successful real estate developer.
The condo’s proximity to restaurants and entertainment made it convenient for him to run out and grab a bite to eat or stop into a store to pick up a few items before he arrived at home.
As he pulled out of the below ground parking garage, excitement pulsed in his veins. Although he had worked as an intern and done volunteer work in a local program, this was the official start to his career as a pediatrician.
Bright Futures Pediatrics had been in business for over thirty years, owned and operated by Dr. Gerald Roberson. They were one of three operations Maxwell had interviewed with, checking out their online reviews, how long they had been in business, and doing deep research into their history.
Bright Futures had been the most impressive when he interviewed with Dr. Roberson last year. He and the older man had immediately developed a rapport, turning the meeting from an interview into something that felt more like new friends having a casual chat.
At some point, Dr. Roberson had mentioned that his daughter, Jay, ran the place, speaking with a voice full of pride and amusement. She was, however, on vacation at the time, so Maxwell never got a chance to meet her, but he looked forward to that meeting this morning.
He pulled into the parking lot at seven fifty-five.
The doors opened at nine, but staff was expected to be there by eight o’clock.
Standing in front of the locked doors, he waved to get the attention of the receptionist behind the glass window at the front desk.
When she saw him, he heard a click and the doors opened, letting him into the clean, white foyer.
The receptionist was somewhere in her mid-thirties, with her natural hair pulled into a puff on top of her head, glasses perched on her nose.
She stood as he entered and slid open the window. “Good morning, Dr. Santana.”
“Good morning, Keisha. Good to see you again.”
Her eyebrows raised. “You remember my name.”
Six months had passed since he interviewed and met her.
“Of course. I also have something for you.”
He set down his bag and brought his other hand from behind his back, revealing the small potted plant, which he placed on the ledge of the reception window.
Keisha stared at it. “What is that?”
“It’s called a Haworthia.” He eased the plant closer to her.
“When I came in for my interview, we chatted for a bit, and you mentioned the guilt you felt because you had a habit of killing plants, though you loved having them around. This guy is almost impossible to kill, thrives on neglect, and doesn’t need much light. ”
Clearly caught off guard, she looked from the plant to him. “You remembered that?”
“I remember a lot of things.”
She picked up the plant, which was nestled in a gray container. She carefully turned it around in her hands as if it were as fragile as an egg. Then she read the words Maxwell had written on the attached card.
Unkillable. Do not consider this a challenge.
Keisha burst out laughing. “You know what, I like you.”
He grinned. “I was hoping we’d be friends.”
“We definitely are now. You have any problems around here, you come to me.” Keisha carefully placed the plant in the corner of her desk, adjusting it a couple of times before she was completely satisfied. “Dr. Roberson is in his office. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thanks.”
While he waited, Maxwell scanned the bright, welcoming waiting room.
In addition to soft chairs, a play area occupied one end of the space, where puzzles and picture books had been placed on a low table surrounded by plastic chairs in primary colors.
There was also a basket of toys, a mat in front of a television mounted on the wall, and another basket filled with stuffed animals.
Colorful handprints ran along the lower part of one of the walls, with framed illustrations of animals above them.
Approaching footsteps caught Maxwell’s attention.
“Good morning!” Dr. Roberson greeted him with an effusive handshake. He was a tall, portly Black man, in his seventies, with silver hair and a boisterous personality.
“Good morning, Dr. Roberson,” Maxwell greeted him back.
“Welcome! How was the drive in?”
Maxwell shrugged. “It’s Atlanta, which means of course I hit traffic, but nothing too bad since I was going in the opposite direction of the drivers headed into the city.”
Bright Futures Pediatrics was located outside of the city limits in Gwinnett County. On a good day, Maxwell could make the drive in about thirty minutes, but the traffic made him take almost forty.
“Let me show you to your office. Jay isn’t here yet, but once she arrives, she’ll get you signed up and in our system.”
Dr. Roberson briefly clapped him on the shoulder and then steered him down the hall. They stopped in front of a door with a nameplate on it—Dr. Maxwell Santana.
Dr. Roberson pushed open the door. “This is your office.”
Maxwell slowly walked in. The distinctive smell of lemon furniture polish and cleaning supplies filled the air.
His office.
The space was small, especially when compared to the massive offices his older brothers ruled their empires out of.
It contained a simple wooden desk, a couple of bookshelves, and a file cabinet. Two windows next to each other were covered in white blinds. Nothing fancy, but the kid inside of him was jumping up and down, unable to believe this was really happening. His dream had come true.
“I hope you like it,” Dr. Roberson said, sounding a little anxious.
Maxwell turned to face him. “I love it.”
The older man’s face brightened. “Glad to hear it. I can’t tell you how good it is to have you here.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m happy to be here.”
“My daughter should arrive soon...” His voice trailed off, and he cocked his head at the sound of jingling keys. “I stand corrected. Sounds like she’s already here. Put down your bag and I’ll introduce you.”
Maxwell placed his backpack on the desk and followed the doctor two doors down to a now open office.
“Morning, Jay. The new doctor is here. Dr. Santana.”
Maxwell stepped into the office with a smile on his face, which faded when he saw the person on the other side of the desk. Jay was Jasmine, the woman whose bed he had sneaked from only days before.
She looked up from rummaging in a large purse and froze, her lips parting slightly, her eyes widening a fraction. She was clearly as surprised to see him as he was to see her.
“As I mentioned, she was on vacation when I interviewed you, but this is the heart and soul of Bright Futures Pediatrics. She runs a tight ship, but if you need anything, this is the person to talk to. She’s my youngest. Her name’s Jasmine, but we call her Jay.”
“Because I was his last hope for a boy, but he ended up with four daughters.”
“Four daughters?” Maxwell repeated. “That makes Dr. Roberson a very lucky man. I’ve read research that suggests a man’s lifespan increases by an average of seventy-four weeks for each daughter he has.”
Jasmine’s eyebrows shifted higher. “And why is that?” she asked.
“They’re not completely sure, but the theory is that having daughters encourages men to take fewer risks, make healthier lifestyle choices, and encourages emotional connections that reduce stress.”
“Interesting. Dad, that means we added about five and half years to your life. You’re welcome.”
“Oh goodness, Dr. Santana, you might have created a monster,” Dr. Roberson muttered good-naturedly.
With an amused smile, Jasmine extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She looked Maxwell right in the eyes, and frustratingly, he couldn’t read her expression, which was a bad sign. She was probably pissed about the way he’d sneaked out of her apartment.
Shit.
“Nice to meet you, finally. I’ve heard good things.”
As his hand enveloped the softness of hers, his mind’s eye flashed back to Friday night.
Spotting her from the VIP upstairs. Their conversation in the booth.
Their seductive, teasing dancing. Their fingers threaded together as he pinned her to the mattress, listening to her sweet little moans as he stroked in and out of her delectable body.
She looked way different today. Instead of her hair pinned up in a simple bun on top of her head, she wore it in silky loose waves down her back, and for the first time he noticed the reddish-brown highlights.
She wore a pencil skirt, jacket, and a kelly-green blouse underneath that brought out the green in her hazel eyes.
Very professional. Nothing like the red beaded halter top and tight jeans she had worn on Friday, which he had enthusiastically stripped from her body near the entrance of her apartment.
Jasmine’s unwavering gaze held his. “Welcome to Bright Futures, Dr. Santana.”