Page 13 of The Love Dose
“Just making sure all is well.” Paul walks purposefully into the living room, scanning the place like he’s a guard dog on the prowl.
Paul and my late husband, Bernard, were the closest of friends. They grew up together, served in the army together. They were brothers in arms.
When Bernard collapsed on the dance floor, swing music blaring around us, Paul handled every last detail. When I fell, he drove me to the emergency room, waiting there, hovering nearby. Makes sense he’d be here for this too.
“I guess you heard,” I say, heading to the bar where I pour a finger of Jim Beam, offering it to him.
“Yes. Rachel called me. I’m sorry things are turning ugly.”
Rachel is Bernard’s daughter and one of the plaintiffs against me, along with her brother Josh. “Me too.”
I don’t expect Paul to side with me or get in the middle of this family feud. He’s known Bernard’s kids since they were born.
“They have no right,” he says, downing the drink in one fell swoop.
I’m surprised by the sentiment and plop on the sofa. The first time I met Paul I was flabbergasted. Bernard was so refined while Paul can seem . . . scary. As the story goes, the two met back in grade school in a rough-and-tumble Brooklyn enclave. They remained inseparable even when their lives took them in different directions. Bernard succeeded in business far beyond anyone's imagination. Long before I came on the scene, Bernard brought Paul on as his driver and quasi bodyguard. But it's far more than that. Paul was Bernard's confidante, the underboss to the don. Figuratively, of course.
I take in a deep breath, readying for what I’ve been dreading to say. “I may have to let you go.”
The words are sour in my mouth.
Paul doesn’t react immediately and I wonder if he understands what I’m getting at. Then his gaze breaks from mine and he nods. “I see.”
My stomach drops. “It’s the last thing I want. But if they get their way, all I’ll have left is this apartment and the Mercedes.”
His brow lifts. “They want the rest?”
I nod. “Everything.”
Paul pauses a beat then says, “I’ll be fine. It’s probably time I slowed down anyway. I’m no spring chicken.”
Paul, always the pragmatist. “I’m sorry,” I say and mean it to my core. “Maybe it’s best if you take a break from chauffeuring me. I don’t know what’s coming round the bend but I’ll personally see to your severance package.”
He sucks in his lips and nods.
“Want some ice cream?” I ask.
I have no clue where the idea came from. It’s late and I’m a mile past tired.
Paul gives me a look. “What flavor?”
I scoot over to Paul and put my arms around his thick neck. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“I do.”
Paul is not one to emote. We have that in common.
“Come on,” I say, standing and taking hold of his hand. “Let’s go raid the freezer.
Chapter Ten
Calvin
I’m standing at the nurse’s station, on my third coffee of the night, trying desperately to keep awake as I read my last patient’s test results. One of the other ER attending physicians taps me on the shoulder. “You look like you fought a bear and lost.”
“Thanks, doc.”
My colleague takes the pen light from his lab coat pocket and flashes it in my eyes.
