Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Feet tucked under her on the sofa, Jasmine stuck her hand in the bowl of popcorn as she and Maxwell caught up on episodes of Temptation Island.
She groaned. “She knows. Look at her face. She knows what Aaron did.”
“She’s going to forgive him. Watch. She wants that ring more than she cares about his behavior, and then she’ll cry about it in the confessional.” Shirtless and wearing cargo shorts, Maxwell reached into the bowl between them and grabbed a handful of popcorn.
“I hate to admit it, but you’re probably right. No one on this show makes good decisions. It’s so messy.”
“Yet here we are, four episodes deep into the new season, being judgmental.”
“Your fault. You wanted to check it out, and now we’re hooked.”
They had been spending most of their nights together for the past three weeks.
Three weeks of her spare toothbrush in his bathroom and of learning that he was very particular about how he folded his clothes.
He actually refolded them if she didn’t do them the way he liked.
Three weeks of no one at the practice knowing they were seeing each other.
It was a secret, for now. She had told her sisters and friends, though.
Saturdays were their lazy days. That’s when she rolled out of bed late and went to find him in the pottery studio.
They ate breakfast together, which they alternated preparing.
His omelets were delicious—fluffy and stuffed with bacon, ham, green peppers, and cheese.
He had fallen in love with her French toast, declaring it his new favorite breakfast. Sundays they went walking at Piedmont Park before grabbing brunch, something she used to do alone or with friends if she could convince them to join her.
Watching TV together was one of their pastimes.
They both loved Abbott Elementary, and she had gotten him hooked on Sweet Magnolias.
They were working their way through the series and were currently on Episode 3 of Season 4.
Though he didn’t enjoy the HGTV shows as much as she did, he sat through them with her, both of them arguing over which houses they would choose for the house-hunting shows and expressing their amazement during the home renovation ones.
Maxwell’s phone vibrated on the table in front of them, and he picked it up. Jasmine kept her eyes on the TV screen though she was tempted to see who had texted him.
“Jayson,” he said, reading the message.
His honesty was new and different compared to other men she had dated.
Even Nicholas, whom she’d trusted, had moments when he’d step out of the room to take a call or turn his phone face down, causing her to wonder about the caller.
She didn’t have those moments of concern with Maxwell.
He was open and transparent, putting her mind at ease.
Based on conversations they’d had, she knew he hadn’t always been this way in his relationships.
Hell, she recently found out he had two phones and was pleased to learn she had been given the number reserved for family and close friends.
“What’s he up to?” Jasmine asked.
“He’s flying to Miami for a party tonight and wants me to go with him.” He tapped out a message and then replaced the phone on the table.
“What did you tell him?” Jasmine asked.
“I told him no. I’m spending the night with you.”
“You’re gonna make him hate me.”
Maxwell laughed, leaning back against the sofa. “He won’t. He’s too busy partying and chasing women.”
His comment triggered a question in her mind, but Jasmine didn’t ask it right away. She continued to watch the show with Maxwell, both of them commenting on the behavior of the cast members on the island.
Finally, she asked, “Do... do you miss doing that stuff?”
He frowned in confusion at her. “What stuff?”
“What Jayson’s doing. Flying off on a whim to go party.”
His face softened. “Nah. That’s not my scene anymore. This is.”
“You don’t miss it, even a little bit?” she pushed.
Despite their declarations of love and the easygoing nature of their relationship, she occasionally had doubts.
“I can still do it, but I don’t want to. I’ve known Jayson since high school and consider him my best friend. We have years of history, and we still hang out, but I’m not interested in doing the same wild stuff we did before. He understands.”
The doorbell interrupted Jasmine’s response. Maxwell unfolded himself from the sofa and came back with a large pizza box balanced in one hand.
“Half pepperoni, half sausage because somebody can’t commit to one topping,” he said, setting it on the coffee table.
“I commit to wanting both.” Jasmine pulled a slice free.
He shook his head and headed toward the kitchen. “Beer or lemonade?” he asked.
“Beer.” She blew on the hot slice before biting into it. Cheese stretched between her mouth and her hand. “Mmm, so good,” she said, loud enough for Maxwell to hear.
He returned with napkins and two Heinekens. By the time they finished watching the show, the pizza was almost gone.
“How about Houses With History next?” Jasmine picked up the remote.
“Sure. The last one they renovated—the house that was also a museum—was interesting,” Maxwell said, slouching against the back of the sofa.
Jasmine flipped the TV to the show. “You know who should go on here? Trevor’s family.”
“Our Trevor?”
She loved how he referred to the kids as “our” or “my,” showing how deeply he cared about them.
Jasmine nodded. “Keisha told me the Thompsons bought an old house in Inman Park and have been trying to fix it up, but it’s been a nightmare. Every time they fix one thing, they discover another—”
Maxwell sat up. “When did they move in to the house?”
His sudden interest surprised Jasmine. “Uh, I’m not sure. About six months ago, I think.”
He raked his fingers through his curls in an agitated way.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s it. Dammit. Why didn’t I see it before?” He was talking to himself.
“See what?”
Maxwell jumped up and rushed from the room.
“See what?” Jasmine called after him.
He disappeared down the hall. When he returned, he was flipping through one of his medical texts.
“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Jasmine asked.
Maxwell sank onto the cushion beside her, determination on his face.
“What you said got me thinking about the symptoms we’ve been seeing in Trevor.
He complains about stomach pain and hasn’t been eating, so his mother thinks he’s being picky about his food.
He’s irritable, and everyone thinks it typical toddler behavior.
Your dad also noticed his developmental decline.
He’s not advancing like other kids his age.
Those symptoms together point to one thing. It’s the house.”
“How can the house be the issue?” Jasmine asked, confused.
“Lead-based paint.”
She gasped. “Are you saying lead-based paint is causing those problems?”
Maxwell nodded vigorously and began to read from his text.
“In children, the effects of lead-based paint poisoning include behavior issues, learning disabilities, lower IQ, and hearing loss.” He kept reading quietly to himself, rushing over the words.
Then he looked up at her. “Has Mrs. Thompson mentioned she has joint pain, headaches, issues like that?”
“Not that I know of. Her main concern has been for Trevor when they come in.”
“Adults can see major problems too. Fertility issues, kidney damage.”
“Oh my goodness. Is any of this reversible?”
“Depends on how long they’ve been exposed and how much is in their system. For the parents, most likely they can recover, but Trevor is another matter. Could be a mixed bag. The stomach aches will probably go away, and he’ll regain his appetite, but the learning delays could be permanent.”
“No,” Jasmine whispered. “What do we do?”
Maxwell slammed the text shut. “First thing tomorrow, we call the family and have Trevor come in for testing. I can do a basic in-house test and have the results within minutes. If the numbers come back elevated, I’ll need to draw a bigger blood sample and send it to an outside lab for confirmation.
We should have the answer by the end of the week. ”
“I don’t know if I should wish for him to have lead poisoning so we’ll know what’s wrong or hope he doesn’t have it so there isn’t permanent damage. Of course, then we have to keep looking for the source of the problem.”
“I’m kicking myself for not thinking of this sooner,” Maxwell said. He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.
“Babe, he was ill before you came on board, and my dad has been a doctor for decades and didn’t figure out what the problem was. Lead poisoning isn’t something that comes up every day. You can’t beat yourself up because you didn’t know.”
“I know, but...”
“No buts.” Jasmine kissed his bare shoulder. “Those kids are lucky to have you as their doctor, and we’ll do what we can for Trevor tomorrow.”
“First thing.”
“First thing,” she promised.
Later that night, when Maxwell was spooning her under the covers—their favorite position—she realized they’d gone straight to bed and hadn’t had sex all weekend.
It reminded her of what her sister, Maura, had said to her once, about how spending alone time with her husband and falling asleep next to him was romantic.
Jasmine had teased her at the time, but right now, wrapped in Maxwell’s arms in the middle of the night and listening to him quietly breathing behind her, she understood what Maura meant.
It was romantic. Everything they did together. Watching him create pottery with his hands, binge-watching television shows, eating pizza and omelets and French toast together, and problem-solving—which would likely save a little boy and his family from further damage.
The plain old comfort of being with someone you could do the most mundane things with was unmatched. Someone who made you feel safe—not just physically but emotionally. She finally understood and appreciated what her sister had said.
“Love you,” Jasmine whispered, though Maxwell was fast asleep.