“I’m glad it all went so nicely,” she said, relaxed. They both knew that wasn’t always the case, and it was heartbreaking when that happened. She had been at deliveries before where the baby died during the delivery, or was stillborn. It was the part of her work she hated. But tonight had been exciting and fun, with a good result. “We did triplets earlier this week. That was pretty scary. You missed that one,” Sasha said easily.
“I heard about it. I was off. Once in a while that happens, but not often.” She laughed, knowing exactly what he meant.
“I was on call tonight, having dinner with friends, when they told me to come in,” she said, while he assumed she’d been on a date. A woman with her looks could have been out every night, he thought to himself.
“Lucky for me they did,” he said honestly, smiling at her, as she headed for the lockers to change back into the clothes she’d worn to dinner. “I hope we get to work together again.” She disappeared through the swinging doors to the lockers and he didn’t see her before she left. He said something to one of the nurses on duty when he went to check on the twins. “That was some hot resident on the delivery tonight,” he said with a grin, and the nurse laughed at him. She knew Sasha well.
“Don’t get too excited,” the nurse warned him.
“Married?” He was instantly disappointed, but it wouldn’t have surprised him. Most of the doctors he worked with were married. Some lucky guy might have snatched her up.
“She doesn’t date anyone here. She does her work, and she doesn’t fool around. She’s a serious woman. I’ve never even seen her chatting with the guys.”
“Maybe she has a boyfriend,” he said, looking dejected.
“I don’t know what her story is, but whatever it is, she’s not telling. She’s great to work with, but she never gets personal with anyone.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” he said, suddenly feeling tired as the tensions of the evening melted away, and he realized he didn’t know her name and asked the nurse.
“Sasha Hartman. Good luck,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, and a moment later the resident from the NICU left the building too. His name was Alex Scott, and Sasha hadn’t given him another thought as she got back to the loft and climbed into bed. Her only thought was that it had been a good night’s work, and before that she had had fun at Max’s restaurant with her friends. She didn’t need or want more than that.
Chapter 4
As he had promised he would, Max cooked dinner at the loft on Sunday night. He brought all the ingredients from the restaurant, and made two kinds of pasta, a big salad, and steaks for everyone. He had brought several loaves of French bread, freshly baked focaccia, half a dozen different cheeses, and a chocolate cake that had been baked that afternoon. Everyone was in good spirits, and gathered around the kitchen while he cooked. Morgan and Claire set the table. Oliver opened the wine to let it breathe. Greg made dressing for the salad. Abby was there, but Ivan had his meeting with the accountant, and was planning to read Daphne Blake’s play after that, so he didn’t come. And Sasha came home from work right before they sat down, and joined them wearing the familiar blue scrubs. Greg had put some music on, and the atmosphere was festive as Max poured the wine, and Morgan set the plates down at each place piled with food. It was a feast, and the kind of Sunday evening they all loved. They laughed and talked a lot. It was a family gathering of good people, good feelings in the home they loved. Abby seemed a little tense at first without Ivan, but she relaxed after her second glass of wine, and since she wasn’t on call that night, Sasha drank too.
“Where’s Valentina?” someone called out from the other end of the table, and Sasha answered.
“She’s still in St. Bart’s with a new guy. He’s French.”
“And rich,” Morgan added, and everybody laughed. She was sitting next to Max, and he put an arm around her as she thanked him for dinner. It was delicious, and they ate everything.
Claire made coffee for those who wanted it, and Abby served it. Everyone pitched in, it was a perfect evening, and at midnight, Oliver and Greg left. Greg had early practice the next day, and Oliver had to take an important client to Good Morning America at seven A.M. The others lingered for a while, and Claire and Sasha did the dishes, while everyone else sat and talked. No one wanted it to end. And after they all thanked Max for bringing the food and doing the cooking, he and Morgan went to bed. She had to be up early the next day too.
They disappeared into her room, and talked quietly, sitting on the bed. He loved spending nights with her there, although he teased her about it and said it was like sleeping in a girls’ dorm, but he loved the warm, welcoming atmosphere. It felt like a home, not just an apartment shared by four women. It made him sorry sometimes that he and Morgan didn’t live together, but he knew he could stay with her anytime he wanted to, and he usually did two or three times a week, but they both liked having time on their own too, and they both had busy lives, and jobs that demanded a lot of them.
He lay down on the bed and beckoned to her. “Come lie next to me.” They hadn’t been alone all night, and in the sanctuary of her room, he wanted to make love to her. She had the same thing in mind. After four years together, they often didn’t have the opportunity during the week, or weren’t in the mood if they got together late at night after he left the restaurant, but Sunday nights were special for them, when the stresses of their work week were forgotten, and they could just be two people who loved each other, and had the time to do something about it.
They lay in each other’s arms afterward, and a few minutes later, he was sound asleep, as she smiled at him. He was such a good man. She didn’t know how she’d been lucky enough to find him, but she knew it was a blessing that she had. She and Oliver had both been lucky with their partners, and they had created the kind of relationships they wanted, which were nothing like what they’d seen when they were growing up. Her life with Max was perfect just the way it was, and the loft in Hell’s Kitchen was her home, the women she lived with the sisters she’d never had. Max understood how much that meant to her, and he no longer tried to change it. He accepted her as she was, independent, hardworking, successful, kind to him, and phobic about marriage.
—
In the living room, Claire and Abby were sitting on the couch, and Abby had admitted to her that she was worried about Ivan, and told her about Daphne Blake and her play.
“I know he wouldn’t cheat on me, but she’s all over him, and she’s so young, and she has a rich father who wants to back a play. What if she traps him somehow? You know how men are. They’re so naïve.” Claire thought Ivan was anything but naïve, but she didn’t say it to Abby, and tried to reassure her as best she could, without saying what she thought of him again.
“You’re not exactly old, for God’s sake,” Claire said, sounding frustrated at how unaware Abby was of her many virtues, and Ivan’s equally numerous flaws, dishonesty being at the top of the list. She was sure that Ivan was lying to her about the girl, but she didn’t want to upset Abby. “She’s five years younger than you are, and who cares if she has a rich father? Ivan is in love with you.”
“I hope you’re right,” Abby said, sounding calmer and more confident than she felt. They both went to bed a little while later, and Claire strongly suspected that Ivan was cheating on her friend, and had before, possibly many times. There were so many nights he didn’t spend with her, with thinly veiled excuses, or just didn’t show up, or wouldn’t answer his cell when Abby called. But Abby always gave him the benefit of the doubt.