Page 32 of Lovesick

“I’ll be back later,” he said. She nodded.

* * *

After a quick shower at home,Max called ahead to let George know Lou was awake and well and that he was on his way over to pick up Tim. Thank God he wasn’t scheduled to work. The store was open for limited hours on Sundays, but he’d only agreed to man the office one weekend a month. On his way, he picked up the Times. It wasn’t what it used to be, but he still read the Sunday print version.

“Jesus.” He stopped on the street before he got to the garage next door where he parked his car. The front page, below the fold, thank God, was splashed a photo of him carrying Lou, his son next to him, holding his coat. The headline was perfect: “Company Doctor Saves the Day.”

Putting the paper under his arm, he rushed to his car, an old Subaru Outback. He’d held onto it ten years, a son and a divorce later, still harboring his plan for a trek to Appalachia, the one he’d had in mind when he’d bought the car back then. He’d planned to do some domestic work with some of his friends with Doctors Without Borders.

Shaking his head, he jumped into the car, looking forward to seeing his son. And then getting back to see Lou. In that order, he reminded himself, but he acknowledged it was a closer call than he would have guessed twenty-four hours ago.

The gap between their two words stabbed at him as the butler took his coat after letting him into George and Margo Regal’s overly posh penthouse. At least it was over the top by his standards. But then he’d been happy living in a small apartment in Brooklyn close enough to the trains to hear them coming and going. Hell, he’d lived in a tent on his last trip with Doctors Without Borders and hadn’t found a reason to complain, because they at least had clean water.

Tim came running to him, followed by Margo, who held a baby, and George, who held a newspaper. The flushed look of delight on Tim’s face, plus the smear of something like strawberry jam on his mouth, answered any question as to how his son was feeling. Not at all missing his father.

“Hey, tiger, it looks like penthouse living agrees with you.” Max lifted him and gave him a small whirl around, the sound of his giggling lifting his heart like nothing else. So far this was turning into a banner day. Especially in contrast with the night before.

He put Tim down and greeted George and Margo, exchanging an extra nod with George.

“How is she?”

“Yeah, Dad. How’s the pretty lady? Did you still save her?”

“According to the newspapers, I did.”

George laughed. “I was wondering if you’d seen the headlines.”

“Did you read the Times article?” Max asked as Margo took his hand and led him further into their home, with its magnificent windows overlooking Central Park and a priceless view of the city. He let out a whistle.

“Sure. I’ve been fielding calls from the press all night,” George said. “They did a good job. Guess they have a stake in Regal’s success. We’re one of their biggest advertisers.”

“Makes sense.” He wondered how Lou would take it. He didn’t picture her relishing the role of damsel in distress being rescued by a doctor with a shining stethoscope.

“Come in and have breakfast,” Margo said, leading him to the dining room.

“Yeah, Dad. It’s super good. They have a cook and everything.”

He laughed and so did Margo. George ruffled his hair.

“You have a wonderful boy, Max. He beat me in Super Mario Brothers.”

“Yeah—and I never even heard of that game before,” Tim said.

“I don’t want to impose on—”

“Nonsense. We have business to discuss, if you need an excuse to stay,” George said, his smile perfectly gracious and no less sincere. Max felt like another species right now, made acutely aware of his rough-around-the edges upbringing. But when Tim bounced into a seat in front of his half-finished plate of pastry and bacon, Max pulled out the chair next to him and sat.

The others sat as well and, when the butler came to him with a silver pot and offered coffee, Max congratulated himself on nodding with a smile without dropping his jaw or stammering that he could pour it himself.

“You waited all night with Louise,” George said. “I appreciate it. I’m sure she did too.”

“I’m not surprised,” Margo said. “You seemed very shaken last night when she got sick.”

“I was shaken. A lot.” He didn’t know why he admitted that to these people. They were nice, but they weren’t exactly his friends. They were his bosses, the people he worked for. But there was something about the Regals that spoke of honest sincerity, that made him feel confident enough to allow vulnerability.

“You care for her, don’t you?” Margo spoke softly.

Max darted a glance at Tim who was busy stuffing a chocolate croissant in his mouth. He picked up his coffee mug and took a sip. The exquisite taste and aroma distracted him enough to forget about answering the question.