Two Rivals, One Bed, page 17
The door opened with a server pushing a tray. He stopped as though barred on entering farther by the tension in the room.
“Should I come back later?” he asked.
Lionel held up a hand to the server, his eyes on Maeve. “Please, Maeve, can we sit down?”
Maeve huffed, took pity on the obviously uncomfortable server and walked to the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lionel’s subtle signal to the waiter, who gave Maeve a tenuous smile as he neared the table.
She returned it. “Charlie, right?”
His eyes widened slightly. “Why yes, Ms. Eddington. I didn’t think you’d remember.”
“How could I forget the level of service you gave us during my sister-in-law’s birthday dinner. Ivy still talks about your sweet serenade.”
Charlie’s face reddened at the praise. Lionel quietly took a seat on the other side of the table. Maeve ignored him.
“You’re still pursuing your music, right?”
Charlie nodded. Maeve could see his shoulders relax as he poured out two glasses of lemon water and set a basket of rolls on the table.
“I’m taking classes in music production, you know, just in case the singing thing doesn’t work out.”
“That can be a lucrative field,” Lionel offered. “I have a friend who worked on the latest production by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.”
Who asked you? Maeve’s lips itched to voice this opinion. Because of Charlie, she kept it to herself.
Charlie placed down a carousel of spreads for the bread, then straightened and rattled off the luncheon specials. Normally, Maeve would have jumped all over the herb-crusted beef tenderloin but she questioned whether she could get through the meal without throwing up. She’d bypassed breakfast and had been looking forward to the moment. Seeing Lionel had taken away her appetite.
“I’ll have the farm salad,” she said.
“Oh, come on, Wagyu beef is your favorite!” Lionel countered.
Maeve’s look conveyed the opinion that, considering the time that had past, he had a lot of nerve acting as though he knew about her dietary preferences, or anything else.
“Or it used to be, anyway. What about the lobster, or baby back ribs? This is a chance to stick it to me, you know. Lunch is my treat.”
“In that case, I’ll have a dozen of everything on the menu.” She delivered this request to Charlie with the straightest of faces. “Not really,” she added, much to the waiter’s relief.
“I’m not very hungry and have a dinner engagement.” Thinking of Victor gave Maeve some much-needed strength to get through this unexpected ex-love reunion. “The salad is all I want.”
“I’ll take the tenderloin,” Lionel said. He smiled at Maeve. “This isn’t exactly a celebration, but it’s been a long time. Could I interest you in a bottle of wine?”
“You’re right. This is no celebration.”
The door had barely closed on Charlie’s backside before Maeve spoke. “Bruce. That’s your middle name.”
Lionel nodded.
“Where did Parker come from?”
He had the decency to look embarrassed. “Karate Kid.”
One of their favorite movies. They saw it the week of Maeve’s sixteenth birthday.
“Add that deception to the mile-long list of things for which you may never forgive me.”
“It’s actually a short list, Lionel. Lying to me then and lying to me now.”
“I never lied to you, Maeve. I was madly, desperately in love with you.”
“So much so that you ran off with another woman. I don’t need anyone in love with me like that.”
“There’s so much you don’t know.”
Maeve looked at her watch. “I’ve got an hour. Why don’t you tell me?”
“I got tricked.”
Maeve arched a brow.
“You remember the Fourth of July weekend I went to DC with the family, to help my dad celebrate George’s fiftieth birthday?”
“You didn’t tell me the occasion.”
“I couldn’t. If I had, you would have wondered about not being invited.” He sighed. “It’s because George wanted me to be Hazel’s date.”
“Your wife.”
“She was, is, George’s oldest daughter, almost twenty-three at the time and with no real prospects for marriage. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Hazel is more average, back then overweight, and as a result suffered from low self-esteem. Dad asked me to escort her as a favor to his best friend. At the time, I thought it was no big deal, except the part about not telling you, of course.
“The festivities lasted all weekend. That Saturday morning is when I learned that Dad and George had a little more in mind than just my escorting Hazel to the party. Turns out George had been eyeing me as a potential husband for his daughter for quite some time, especially once I announced my plans for medical school. As for Dad, well, you know how into politics he is. He was the Point’s mayor then with an eye toward becoming a senator and later governor, or more. Hazel’s dad is one of the most well-connected men in all of the nation’s capital. A marriage between her and I would create a powerful family dynamic.”
“They spelled it out to you, just like that, and you went for it?”
“Of course not! My plan was to marry you, and Dad knew it.”
“So how were you tricked?”
“That Saturday night during the main event of the weekend, someone spiked my drink. One minute I was on the dance floor, the next I was waking up in Hazel’s bed. We were both naked. I didn’t remember anything but she swore we had sex. Offered what looked to be a used condom as proof.”
“Looked to be? You say that as though you’re not sure.”
“I hadn’t brought any condoms with me. There was no need. Anyway, two months later, Hazel called to tell me she was pregnant. She told her father, who of course told mine, demanded we get married and quickly so that his daughter’s reputation would not be ruined. Everything after that went by in a blur. The planning. The small yet elaborate ceremony on the island of Turks and Caicos.”
“What about the honeymoon? Do you remember that?” Maeve wanted to kick herself for wanting to know, but had asked anyway. Couldn’t help herself. Guess she wasn’t as over it as she’d like to believe.
“I’d already lost you,” Lionel pleaded. “I guess I was just...”
“Trying to make the best of a bad situation?”
“I didn’t know what else to do. My thought was to stay with her throughout the pregnancy and then orchestrate a private divorce.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“She lost the baby. Shortly after moving into our dream home, she lost our first child.”
“How convenient.”
Maeve immediately felt like a cad.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t apologize. I had my doubts, too. So much so that I did a bit of investigative work and couldn’t find one record of her as a patient in all of Prince George’s County, DC, or the entire east coast. She came up with some cockamamie story about a private doctor and doulas and what not, one that her parents wholeheartedly co-signed. I still didn’t believe it. But then Hazel went into a deep depression, one she couldn’t possibly fake. It lasted for months. Compassion replaced anger. Eventually I began to care for her. And then, about a year later, she got pregnant again.”
“I heard about that, the birth of your son.”
Maeve’s voice was soft, as the pang of hurt from that memory flitted through her heart. She was the one who’d planned to have Lionel’s children. It was their family they’d discussed for years, the one they’d raise together in Point du Sable.
“His birth changed everything,” Lionel admitted. “It was also right around that time that my dad got elected to the senate and I got approached to partner in a practice specializing in neuroscience with a good friend of Hazel’s brother. From the day our doors opened we were booked solid, especially with athletes and ex-military fearing the onset of CTE.”
“What’s that?”
“Chronic traumatic encephalopathy—repeated physical trauma to the brain. Life settled into a routine. Then a year after Justin’s birth, our daughter was born.”
Lionel pulled back the cloth from the basket of rolls and leaned forward to sniff them. “I used to dream about these,” he said, placing one on a bread plate and added a generous amount of maple butter before taking a bite.
He closed his eyes and moaned. Maeve knew the reaction was no exaggeration. Boxes of the club’s rolls were often overnighted across the country and around the world. To know how delicious they were and not have the stomach to taste one was testament to just how much seeing Lionel affected her.
She took a sip of water. “I still don’t get it. Whether or not Hazel tricked you into marriage, you stayed even after losing that child. Got her pregnant with two more. And then you abandon the family by divorcing them? Look, I’m no fan of your ex-wife. She destroyed what was supposed to be my life. But two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“They’re not my biological children.”
“Not your children? What the hell does that mean?”
Over the next half hour, he answered that question. Once finished, Maeve was almost sorry she’d asked. Remembering what had happened to Desmond, a situation that involved another baby surprise, made her more empathetic to his plight than she otherwise might have been.
“It’s terrible what happened to you, Lionel. No man deserves what you’ve been through.”
The food arrived. Lionel changed the subject by pulling out his wallet and showing Maeve a photo.
Her jaw dropped. “Our prom picture? Seriously, Lionel? After all these years?”
“I’ve carried it in every wallet I’ve ever owned since that night. It was a very special one, as you might remember.”
Maeve’s smile was bittersweet. “How can I ever forget?”
“I want you back,” he said, after pouring his sad story all over Maeve’s heart, taking her down memory lane and pointing out that aside from his horrendous betrayal, one for which he vowed to spend his lifetime making up, their good times had far outweighed the bad.
“I want us back. I was robbed of a future that should have belonged to us. It’s all my fault. Had I the chance to do it over again, I would have stood up to my father, ignored my mother and left Hazel after the miscarriage despite the pressure to stay. When I learned you hadn’t yet married, I knew it was a sign from God that all was not lost. That there was still a chance for our happily-ever-after.”
“Life’s not that simple, Lionel. I just... I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything. At least not now. Consider giving me a slow yes instead of a fast no.”
“I’m seeing someone,” she offered.
“I don’t see a ring.”
“It’s new, but already my feelings for him run deep.”
She watched Lionel’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Thirty days, Maeve, that’s all I ask. Give me, us, thirty days to see if the love we had can be rekindled. In all the years I was married to Hazel, my love for you never died.”
Lionel’s eyes glistened. Maeve had a soft spot for manly tears. She steeled herself against them.
“Please, thirty days. And if after that you still say we’re over, I won’t bother you ever again.”
“I’ll think about it,” Maeve finally answered.
Lionel smiled as one lone tear slid down his face.
Damn. The last thing Maeve needed to do was start feeling sorry for the guy who’d broken her heart. She reached for her purse and stood abruptly.
“I’ve got to go.”
Lionel stood as well. “I’ll walk you out.”
“It’s okay.”
“Actually, I took a car service here and was hoping you could give me a ride to PDS Medical Center.”
Maeve looked at her watch. “Sure.”
They reached the lobby area. “Can you give me a sec,” Lionel asked. “I’ve got to use the restroom.”
“Make it quick.”
She leaned against the wall and casually checked emails.
“Hello, beautiful.”
The voice caused a jolt to her punany. “Victor, what are you doing here?”
“About to demolish Cornelius in a game of tennis.”
“Okay, honey, let’s go.”
At the sound of Lionel’s voice, Maeve’s head whipped around. Caught up in the Victor Vibration, she’d totally forgotten they’d just shared lunch.
“Is this one of your colleagues?” Lionel asked, looking from her to Victor. He lifted a hand toward Victor, while straightening to make full use of every one of the five feet ten inches the good Lord gave him. No match for six-four, but he tried.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Lionel Young.”
Victor looked borderline amused as he returned the handshake with a grip that were it any tighter could have crushed the neurosurgeon’s delicate fingers.
“Victor Cortez.”
Victor answered Lionel without taking his eyes off her. Maeve realized she was staring back at him as though he were the Adam to her Eve, the peanut butter to her jelly, the hot butter to her breakfast toast...and that Lionel was watching. She wanted to avert her eyes but couldn’t help it. The electricity between her and Victor still crackled, but that something had shifted could not be denied. That Victor felt it showed in his eyes.
“Some grip you got there, buddy!” Lionel said, adding a new level of bass to his voice. “Did you play football or basketball?”
This time Victor did look at Lionel. “Tennis. Polo.”
Lionel’s brow raised. “How do the two of you know each other?”
In every way imaginable and some we made up!
The way Victor smiled caused Maeve to believe their thoughts were similar and wary of what might come out of his mouth.
“He’s Harvard,” she blurted before he could speak.
“Ah,” Lionel said, in a drawn out manner, as though her reply explained it all. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Is it?”
A level of new understanding played across Lionel’s face. Before he could inquire further, however, Cornelius came through the club’s revolving door.
“Hello, Maeve.” They hugged. “Victor, I see you’ve met the brilliant surgeon taking the medical industry by storm. How are you, Lionel?”
“Good, good. Maeve and I were just leaving.”
Leaving, yes, that would be a good thing, the best of all worlds, really. Because continued close proximity to Victor might bring out more of Lionel’s curiosity and make her instantaneously combust. They reached the car.
Once inside, Lionel turned to her. “Maeve, my darling, nothing means more to me than winning you back. I’ll do anything, everything, whatever it takes.”
The seven-minute ride to PDS Medical was both the longest and the quietest of Maeve’s entire life. Enough time for her to replay what had just happened, and realize that forgetting the past and embracing the future would be easier said than done.
Twenty-Four
Victor considered tonight a special occasion, his first visit to Maeve’s house. He dressed casually but with care: off-white suede slacks, striped wool sweater and a pair of custom-made Tims. His curls were freshly cut, his face clean-shaven, his nails buffed, all courtesy of the spa at the Ritz, where he’d stopped after his lackluster game with Cornelius. All afternoon, his friend acted strangely. Was distracted during their matches. When casually mentioning the doctor, Lionel, Cornelius’s response had been vague. His behavior suspicious, Victor’s mind had immediately gone to Maeve’s equally strange behavior earlier that morning, and to the ex that was back in town. He’d just as quickly dismissed the notion that Lionel was the man they’d discussed. Maeve had been adamant about not wanting to revisit her past.
Once in his car, all weird behavior was forgotten. Victor’s mind had turned to making Maeve feel special. After placing an order with a jeweler he’d found online, he felt the plan complete. He’d wanted something as original and lovely as the woman who’d captured his heart. It was fairly common to bring flowers when meeting a date. Victor hoped the one he chose with diamond-dripping petals would meet with his lady’s approval.
His lady. When had Maeve gained that status, moved from counselor to cutie-pie that he wanted to claim as his alone? Victor wasn’t sure and just for tonight he wouldn’t allow himself to think about it. He wouldn’t go down the list of what-ifs, or recall all the failed relationships he’d either witnessed or experienced. He wouldn’t set up the fence around his heart or let the tape of his father’s voice play in his head.
You can’t trust women. They’ll let you down.
Treat women like royals, son. Keep an heir and a spare.
His dad would say this, often with an arm around one of those spares he recommended, laugh at his own narcissistic joke and smack the woman’s backside. Later, Victor would witness the collateral damage of such thinking, his mother—first sad, then angry—retaliating with her own vengeance, a move that would give his father the opportunity to tell Victor, See son, I told you they can’t be trusted.
All this before Victor was ten years old.
Nearing the impressive gates of the Eddingtons’ compound, Victor allowed himself the slightest moment to glimpse into the future and see himself a part of a close-knit family like the one Maeve enjoyed, with parents who still loved each other enough after thirty-five years to throw a party and then set sail on a two-week cruise.
“Good evening, sir,” he said to the guard on duty.
“Good evening. How may I help you?”
“I’m here to see Ms. Maeve Eddington.”
“Sure, one moment. May I have your ID?”
Victor reached for his wallet. “Wow, you guys really have it locked down over here, huh?”
“Should I come back later?” he asked.
Lionel held up a hand to the server, his eyes on Maeve. “Please, Maeve, can we sit down?”
Maeve huffed, took pity on the obviously uncomfortable server and walked to the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lionel’s subtle signal to the waiter, who gave Maeve a tenuous smile as he neared the table.
She returned it. “Charlie, right?”
His eyes widened slightly. “Why yes, Ms. Eddington. I didn’t think you’d remember.”
“How could I forget the level of service you gave us during my sister-in-law’s birthday dinner. Ivy still talks about your sweet serenade.”
Charlie’s face reddened at the praise. Lionel quietly took a seat on the other side of the table. Maeve ignored him.
“You’re still pursuing your music, right?”
Charlie nodded. Maeve could see his shoulders relax as he poured out two glasses of lemon water and set a basket of rolls on the table.
“I’m taking classes in music production, you know, just in case the singing thing doesn’t work out.”
“That can be a lucrative field,” Lionel offered. “I have a friend who worked on the latest production by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.”
Who asked you? Maeve’s lips itched to voice this opinion. Because of Charlie, she kept it to herself.
Charlie placed down a carousel of spreads for the bread, then straightened and rattled off the luncheon specials. Normally, Maeve would have jumped all over the herb-crusted beef tenderloin but she questioned whether she could get through the meal without throwing up. She’d bypassed breakfast and had been looking forward to the moment. Seeing Lionel had taken away her appetite.
“I’ll have the farm salad,” she said.
“Oh, come on, Wagyu beef is your favorite!” Lionel countered.
Maeve’s look conveyed the opinion that, considering the time that had past, he had a lot of nerve acting as though he knew about her dietary preferences, or anything else.
“Or it used to be, anyway. What about the lobster, or baby back ribs? This is a chance to stick it to me, you know. Lunch is my treat.”
“In that case, I’ll have a dozen of everything on the menu.” She delivered this request to Charlie with the straightest of faces. “Not really,” she added, much to the waiter’s relief.
“I’m not very hungry and have a dinner engagement.” Thinking of Victor gave Maeve some much-needed strength to get through this unexpected ex-love reunion. “The salad is all I want.”
“I’ll take the tenderloin,” Lionel said. He smiled at Maeve. “This isn’t exactly a celebration, but it’s been a long time. Could I interest you in a bottle of wine?”
“You’re right. This is no celebration.”
The door had barely closed on Charlie’s backside before Maeve spoke. “Bruce. That’s your middle name.”
Lionel nodded.
“Where did Parker come from?”
He had the decency to look embarrassed. “Karate Kid.”
One of their favorite movies. They saw it the week of Maeve’s sixteenth birthday.
“Add that deception to the mile-long list of things for which you may never forgive me.”
“It’s actually a short list, Lionel. Lying to me then and lying to me now.”
“I never lied to you, Maeve. I was madly, desperately in love with you.”
“So much so that you ran off with another woman. I don’t need anyone in love with me like that.”
“There’s so much you don’t know.”
Maeve looked at her watch. “I’ve got an hour. Why don’t you tell me?”
“I got tricked.”
Maeve arched a brow.
“You remember the Fourth of July weekend I went to DC with the family, to help my dad celebrate George’s fiftieth birthday?”
“You didn’t tell me the occasion.”
“I couldn’t. If I had, you would have wondered about not being invited.” He sighed. “It’s because George wanted me to be Hazel’s date.”
“Your wife.”
“She was, is, George’s oldest daughter, almost twenty-three at the time and with no real prospects for marriage. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Hazel is more average, back then overweight, and as a result suffered from low self-esteem. Dad asked me to escort her as a favor to his best friend. At the time, I thought it was no big deal, except the part about not telling you, of course.
“The festivities lasted all weekend. That Saturday morning is when I learned that Dad and George had a little more in mind than just my escorting Hazel to the party. Turns out George had been eyeing me as a potential husband for his daughter for quite some time, especially once I announced my plans for medical school. As for Dad, well, you know how into politics he is. He was the Point’s mayor then with an eye toward becoming a senator and later governor, or more. Hazel’s dad is one of the most well-connected men in all of the nation’s capital. A marriage between her and I would create a powerful family dynamic.”
“They spelled it out to you, just like that, and you went for it?”
“Of course not! My plan was to marry you, and Dad knew it.”
“So how were you tricked?”
“That Saturday night during the main event of the weekend, someone spiked my drink. One minute I was on the dance floor, the next I was waking up in Hazel’s bed. We were both naked. I didn’t remember anything but she swore we had sex. Offered what looked to be a used condom as proof.”
“Looked to be? You say that as though you’re not sure.”
“I hadn’t brought any condoms with me. There was no need. Anyway, two months later, Hazel called to tell me she was pregnant. She told her father, who of course told mine, demanded we get married and quickly so that his daughter’s reputation would not be ruined. Everything after that went by in a blur. The planning. The small yet elaborate ceremony on the island of Turks and Caicos.”
“What about the honeymoon? Do you remember that?” Maeve wanted to kick herself for wanting to know, but had asked anyway. Couldn’t help herself. Guess she wasn’t as over it as she’d like to believe.
“I’d already lost you,” Lionel pleaded. “I guess I was just...”
“Trying to make the best of a bad situation?”
“I didn’t know what else to do. My thought was to stay with her throughout the pregnancy and then orchestrate a private divorce.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“She lost the baby. Shortly after moving into our dream home, she lost our first child.”
“How convenient.”
Maeve immediately felt like a cad.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t apologize. I had my doubts, too. So much so that I did a bit of investigative work and couldn’t find one record of her as a patient in all of Prince George’s County, DC, or the entire east coast. She came up with some cockamamie story about a private doctor and doulas and what not, one that her parents wholeheartedly co-signed. I still didn’t believe it. But then Hazel went into a deep depression, one she couldn’t possibly fake. It lasted for months. Compassion replaced anger. Eventually I began to care for her. And then, about a year later, she got pregnant again.”
“I heard about that, the birth of your son.”
Maeve’s voice was soft, as the pang of hurt from that memory flitted through her heart. She was the one who’d planned to have Lionel’s children. It was their family they’d discussed for years, the one they’d raise together in Point du Sable.
“His birth changed everything,” Lionel admitted. “It was also right around that time that my dad got elected to the senate and I got approached to partner in a practice specializing in neuroscience with a good friend of Hazel’s brother. From the day our doors opened we were booked solid, especially with athletes and ex-military fearing the onset of CTE.”
“What’s that?”
“Chronic traumatic encephalopathy—repeated physical trauma to the brain. Life settled into a routine. Then a year after Justin’s birth, our daughter was born.”
Lionel pulled back the cloth from the basket of rolls and leaned forward to sniff them. “I used to dream about these,” he said, placing one on a bread plate and added a generous amount of maple butter before taking a bite.
He closed his eyes and moaned. Maeve knew the reaction was no exaggeration. Boxes of the club’s rolls were often overnighted across the country and around the world. To know how delicious they were and not have the stomach to taste one was testament to just how much seeing Lionel affected her.
She took a sip of water. “I still don’t get it. Whether or not Hazel tricked you into marriage, you stayed even after losing that child. Got her pregnant with two more. And then you abandon the family by divorcing them? Look, I’m no fan of your ex-wife. She destroyed what was supposed to be my life. But two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“They’re not my biological children.”
“Not your children? What the hell does that mean?”
Over the next half hour, he answered that question. Once finished, Maeve was almost sorry she’d asked. Remembering what had happened to Desmond, a situation that involved another baby surprise, made her more empathetic to his plight than she otherwise might have been.
“It’s terrible what happened to you, Lionel. No man deserves what you’ve been through.”
The food arrived. Lionel changed the subject by pulling out his wallet and showing Maeve a photo.
Her jaw dropped. “Our prom picture? Seriously, Lionel? After all these years?”
“I’ve carried it in every wallet I’ve ever owned since that night. It was a very special one, as you might remember.”
Maeve’s smile was bittersweet. “How can I ever forget?”
“I want you back,” he said, after pouring his sad story all over Maeve’s heart, taking her down memory lane and pointing out that aside from his horrendous betrayal, one for which he vowed to spend his lifetime making up, their good times had far outweighed the bad.
“I want us back. I was robbed of a future that should have belonged to us. It’s all my fault. Had I the chance to do it over again, I would have stood up to my father, ignored my mother and left Hazel after the miscarriage despite the pressure to stay. When I learned you hadn’t yet married, I knew it was a sign from God that all was not lost. That there was still a chance for our happily-ever-after.”
“Life’s not that simple, Lionel. I just... I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything. At least not now. Consider giving me a slow yes instead of a fast no.”
“I’m seeing someone,” she offered.
“I don’t see a ring.”
“It’s new, but already my feelings for him run deep.”
She watched Lionel’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Thirty days, Maeve, that’s all I ask. Give me, us, thirty days to see if the love we had can be rekindled. In all the years I was married to Hazel, my love for you never died.”
Lionel’s eyes glistened. Maeve had a soft spot for manly tears. She steeled herself against them.
“Please, thirty days. And if after that you still say we’re over, I won’t bother you ever again.”
“I’ll think about it,” Maeve finally answered.
Lionel smiled as one lone tear slid down his face.
Damn. The last thing Maeve needed to do was start feeling sorry for the guy who’d broken her heart. She reached for her purse and stood abruptly.
“I’ve got to go.”
Lionel stood as well. “I’ll walk you out.”
“It’s okay.”
“Actually, I took a car service here and was hoping you could give me a ride to PDS Medical Center.”
Maeve looked at her watch. “Sure.”
They reached the lobby area. “Can you give me a sec,” Lionel asked. “I’ve got to use the restroom.”
“Make it quick.”
She leaned against the wall and casually checked emails.
“Hello, beautiful.”
The voice caused a jolt to her punany. “Victor, what are you doing here?”
“About to demolish Cornelius in a game of tennis.”
“Okay, honey, let’s go.”
At the sound of Lionel’s voice, Maeve’s head whipped around. Caught up in the Victor Vibration, she’d totally forgotten they’d just shared lunch.
“Is this one of your colleagues?” Lionel asked, looking from her to Victor. He lifted a hand toward Victor, while straightening to make full use of every one of the five feet ten inches the good Lord gave him. No match for six-four, but he tried.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Lionel Young.”
Victor looked borderline amused as he returned the handshake with a grip that were it any tighter could have crushed the neurosurgeon’s delicate fingers.
“Victor Cortez.”
Victor answered Lionel without taking his eyes off her. Maeve realized she was staring back at him as though he were the Adam to her Eve, the peanut butter to her jelly, the hot butter to her breakfast toast...and that Lionel was watching. She wanted to avert her eyes but couldn’t help it. The electricity between her and Victor still crackled, but that something had shifted could not be denied. That Victor felt it showed in his eyes.
“Some grip you got there, buddy!” Lionel said, adding a new level of bass to his voice. “Did you play football or basketball?”
This time Victor did look at Lionel. “Tennis. Polo.”
Lionel’s brow raised. “How do the two of you know each other?”
In every way imaginable and some we made up!
The way Victor smiled caused Maeve to believe their thoughts were similar and wary of what might come out of his mouth.
“He’s Harvard,” she blurted before he could speak.
“Ah,” Lionel said, in a drawn out manner, as though her reply explained it all. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Is it?”
A level of new understanding played across Lionel’s face. Before he could inquire further, however, Cornelius came through the club’s revolving door.
“Hello, Maeve.” They hugged. “Victor, I see you’ve met the brilliant surgeon taking the medical industry by storm. How are you, Lionel?”
“Good, good. Maeve and I were just leaving.”
Leaving, yes, that would be a good thing, the best of all worlds, really. Because continued close proximity to Victor might bring out more of Lionel’s curiosity and make her instantaneously combust. They reached the car.
Once inside, Lionel turned to her. “Maeve, my darling, nothing means more to me than winning you back. I’ll do anything, everything, whatever it takes.”
The seven-minute ride to PDS Medical was both the longest and the quietest of Maeve’s entire life. Enough time for her to replay what had just happened, and realize that forgetting the past and embracing the future would be easier said than done.
Twenty-Four
Victor considered tonight a special occasion, his first visit to Maeve’s house. He dressed casually but with care: off-white suede slacks, striped wool sweater and a pair of custom-made Tims. His curls were freshly cut, his face clean-shaven, his nails buffed, all courtesy of the spa at the Ritz, where he’d stopped after his lackluster game with Cornelius. All afternoon, his friend acted strangely. Was distracted during their matches. When casually mentioning the doctor, Lionel, Cornelius’s response had been vague. His behavior suspicious, Victor’s mind had immediately gone to Maeve’s equally strange behavior earlier that morning, and to the ex that was back in town. He’d just as quickly dismissed the notion that Lionel was the man they’d discussed. Maeve had been adamant about not wanting to revisit her past.
Once in his car, all weird behavior was forgotten. Victor’s mind had turned to making Maeve feel special. After placing an order with a jeweler he’d found online, he felt the plan complete. He’d wanted something as original and lovely as the woman who’d captured his heart. It was fairly common to bring flowers when meeting a date. Victor hoped the one he chose with diamond-dripping petals would meet with his lady’s approval.
His lady. When had Maeve gained that status, moved from counselor to cutie-pie that he wanted to claim as his alone? Victor wasn’t sure and just for tonight he wouldn’t allow himself to think about it. He wouldn’t go down the list of what-ifs, or recall all the failed relationships he’d either witnessed or experienced. He wouldn’t set up the fence around his heart or let the tape of his father’s voice play in his head.
You can’t trust women. They’ll let you down.
Treat women like royals, son. Keep an heir and a spare.
His dad would say this, often with an arm around one of those spares he recommended, laugh at his own narcissistic joke and smack the woman’s backside. Later, Victor would witness the collateral damage of such thinking, his mother—first sad, then angry—retaliating with her own vengeance, a move that would give his father the opportunity to tell Victor, See son, I told you they can’t be trusted.
All this before Victor was ten years old.
Nearing the impressive gates of the Eddingtons’ compound, Victor allowed himself the slightest moment to glimpse into the future and see himself a part of a close-knit family like the one Maeve enjoyed, with parents who still loved each other enough after thirty-five years to throw a party and then set sail on a two-week cruise.
“Good evening, sir,” he said to the guard on duty.
“Good evening. How may I help you?”
“I’m here to see Ms. Maeve Eddington.”
“Sure, one moment. May I have your ID?”
Victor reached for his wallet. “Wow, you guys really have it locked down over here, huh?”
