Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Where are we going?” Jasmine asked as Maxwell helped her into the Range Rover.
The appealing fragrance of bergamot lingered inside the vehicle and made her want to press her nose against his neck and take a big whiff.
“Beppe’s,” he answered, closing the door.
As he walked in front of the SUV, her eyes followed him.
There was something hypnotic about the way his long legs moved in his tan chinos, with an effortless, easy swagger.
Each step smooth and deliberate. She quietly admired the way the black, collared linen shirt stretched across his shoulders, the top button undone, giving him a casual, cosmopolitan appearance.
He appeared so effortlessly attractive, she was glad she had taken such care with her own appearance. Her asymmetrical off-the-shoulder dress was purposely one size larger than her norm—loose, comfortable, and chic.
She had spent almost an hour styling her curls—diffusing, scrunching, begging every ringlet to behave until they fell into place around her face.
She had put forth more effort than she wanted to admit putting into a man she still wasn’t sure about, but there was no denying the final effect was perfection—big, full hair with soft curly bangs and the reddish-brown highlights doing their part to catch the light every time she moved her head.
“Have you ever been to Beppe’s?” Maxwell asked as he took the driver’s seat. His strong, veined hands settled on the wheel.
“No, but I hear the food is good. I thought for sure you’d take me to one of your brother’s restaurants.”
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“Then you’d think I was cheap.”
She laughed as he pulled away from the front of her building. “I would not have thought that. I promise.”
“Nice to know, but I couldn’t risk it.” He glanced at her. “You’ll like Beppe’s.”
Jasmine relaxed into the soft leather, excited about the dinner and spending time with Maxwell.
When they arrived at Beppe’s Cucina Italiana, the parking lot was already full, which wasn’t surprising for a Saturday night. Inside, the air smelled like garlic and butter and all the delicious spices the chefs incorporated into the food.
When the hostess greeted Maxwell by name, Jasmine shot a glance at him.
“It’s not what you think,” he said, leaning close. “I come here often—maybe too much. I rarely cook, which is embarrassing to admit since I have a really nice kitchen at my condo.”
They settled in their seats across from each other. “I can’t believe you don’t cook,” Jasmine said, picking up the menu.
“I can cook a little bit, but I’m no chef. I prefer someone else to cook, to be honest. That’s how I grew up.”
“Let me guess, you had a chef.”
“Yes.”
“Must have been nice.”
“Real nice, I can’t lie. Chef, housekeeper, plus my mother, and then my brother started cooking. Being the youngest, I never really had to learn.”
“You were spoiled?”
“Yes and no. I mean, I had the best of both worlds all my life.”
“Explain.”
“I have a wealthy father who exposed me to the finer things in life, and a mother who did her best to keep me grounded. She grew up on a farm and to this day has a huge garden and grows her own vegetables. She made sure I learned the basics, like how to make my bed and my own simple breakfast. The first lunch I ever cooked for myself was a hamburger with bacon and cheese,” he said proudly.
“Look at you.”
He chuckled. “Not a big deal to you, but to someone with a chef, et cetera, it was. And my omelets are legendary. If you’re nice to me, I’ll make one for you.”
“I doubt I’ll have room after this meal.”
“You’ll be hungry in the morning,” he said casually.
She lifted her gaze from the menu. He was watching, waiting for her reaction. “You’re being a little presumptuous, aren’t you?”
Instead of answering, he directed his attention to the menu. “We should start with the stuffed mushrooms. They’re excellent and not too filling.”
After the server took their orders, they sat in silence, with Maxwell staring across the table at her.
“You’re staring,” she said.
“Can’t help it. I like your hair, and that dress...” He took a deep breath.
“What?” Jasmine said with a laugh.
“I need to be good. I don’t want you to run out of here screaming.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay, then. I think it’s an incredible dress. Tempting. Sexy.”
“It’s not tight.”
“Doesn’t have to be tight to be tempting and sexy.”
“I see.”
He folded his arms on the table and leaned closer.
“So what happened to you and your boy Nicholas?”
“You really want to talk about Nicholas now?”
“For thirty seconds and that’s it. I’m nosy, that’s all.”
She moved her silverware around on the table. “I broke things off with him.”
“Why?”
“I realized we weren’t compatible. He wasn’t the person I thought he was.” She shrugged.
“Darn.”
“You’re so fake.”
He laughed and slowly sobered. “Seriously, though, are you okay?”
His concern surprised and impressed her.
“I’m all right.”
“Are you seeing anyone else?”
Jasmine shook her head. “Not at the moment.”
A smile spread across his face. She should have been annoyed by how pleased he looked, but her heart did a traitorous somersault.
“For the record, ending things with Nicholas had nothing to do with you,” she said, fighting a smile of her own.
He threw up his hands. “Hey, I never said it did. But methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“God save me from conceited men,” Jasmine said, taking a sip of her water. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“No. Which means we’re two single people having dinner.”
When the mushrooms arrived, they each took several onto their plates. Jasmine hummed her approval, savoring each bite.
“You know what you’re talking about,” she said, dabbing the corner of her mouth. “I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.” Maxwell took a sip of wine.
“Have you always wanted to be a doctor?”
He nodded. “Since I was a kid.”
“There was nothing else you wanted to do?”
“I’ve never dreamed of being anything else. Not realistically, anyway. I love watching my dad’s old movies and watching my brother on screen, killing it. In my dreams, maybe I could be an actor. What about you?”
“I’m addicted to home renovation shows, like the ones on HGTV, especially the shows where they have to preserve the house’s architecture. In my dreams I imagine doing that work.”
“Knocking down walls and laying carpet?” He sounded amused.
Jasmine nodded vigorously. “It seems so satisfying to take something that’s ugly and in bad shape and fix it up.
But when the sink at my apartment gets clogged or the oven stops working, reality sets in, and I realize I’m not that girl.
I just call the property manager and have someone come in and fix the problem.
That’s why I haven’t moved out of my apartment.
I don’t want to deal with the responsibility of homeownership when I could pick up the phone and have someone else take care of it. Awful, right?”
“No, that’s real, but you know you can call someone when you’re a homeowner, right?”
“But then I’d have to pay for the repair,” Jasmine said.
“True. I’ve had an easy life, so I understand wanting to keep your life uncomplicated.”
“Have you ever had to work hard at anything?” she teased.
“I’m working hard right now.”
At first she didn’t understand what he meant, and then it dawned on her that he was talking about her.
“How am I doing?” he asked.
“Okay,” she answered.
“Okay? I need to work harder.”
“You don’t have to work too hard,” she said in a low voice.
His eyes lit up. “Good to know.”
They kept talking, the teasing back along with the humor. When their meals arrived, Jasmine almost melted into her chair at the taste of the lobster ravioli.
“So good,” she whispered.
“Try some of this braciole.” Maxwell reached across the table with his fork.
Without thinking, she opened her mouth. Only after she was chewing did she realize what she had done. Eating off his fork had felt so natural, as though they had been sharing bites with each other for years.
“I’m getting that next time,” Jasmine said.
“I haven’t had a bad meal here yet.”
Jasmine sipped her wine. “My dad told me you volunteered for six months before you started with us.”
He nodded as he finished chewing. “In Southwest Atlanta. My plan is to go back at some point to help out again. I didn’t want it to be one and done, you know?”
“I’m sure they appreciate the help. Did you learn anything different from what you did at Boston Children’s Hospital?”
He lowered his glass from his lips, his expression turning thoughtful.
“During my residency, I became really good at treating symptoms fast and moving on to the next patient. The hospital is like a machine, but down there, I could spend more time with my patients. Twenty or thirty minutes instead of five or ten. Sometimes I’d see three siblings at the same time because their parents couldn’t afford to take off from work to bring their kids in on another day.
That was their only shot at having their children examined.
Working in those conditions clarified more than ever the importance of the work we as doctors perform.
What medicine is supposed to be. Not overhead and insurance codes and productivity metrics, but showing up for people, answering questions, listening to solve problems.”
Jasmine heard the passion in his voice and knew without a doubt he wasn’t putting on an act. She was learning about the core of the man he was.
“Is that why you chose pediatrics?” Jasmine asked quietly, wanting to know more.
Maxwell didn’t answer right away, using his fork to move a piece of meat around in its tomato sauce.
“When I was growing up, I had a friend named Deidra. She was a tomboy. I used to see her when I spent time on the farm my mother’s family runs.
Deidra was a badass. She could outrun, outfish, out-everything all us boys.
” He laughed, the smile disappearing as quickly as it came.
“She died when I was ten. I didn’t find out the details until almost a year later.
I overheard my mother and my Aunt Florence talking about how she had an infected tooth.
Her family didn’t catch it in time because they couldn’t take her for regular checkups.
The infection spread, and by the time they understood the severity of the situation, it was too late. ”
Jasmine didn’t dare move. She was so enthralled by his explanation.
“No one should die because they can’t afford a simple checkup,” Maxwell continued, his jaw tight. “But a kid—a fucking kid?”
He shook his head, and she didn’t only see the pain on his face. She heard it in the rawness of his voice. Now she understood why he had been so oddly intense about the dental workshop.
“I can’t change what happened to her. I can’t fix the system that made it happen, either. I wish I could.” He released a dry, humorless huff. “But I wanted to do something. So I fix what’s in front of me, one kid at a time. No more Deidras.”
“That’s very noble,” Jasmine said softly.
“I’m not doing it to be noble.”
“That’s what makes it noble.”