Indiscretion: Volume Four (13 page)

I sucked in a breath. What did that mean for Max’s company? Hell, what did that mean for me? “That’s terrible,” I said with genuine concern.

“What’s worse is that the Richfields and I shared the same supplier, and since we’re building in the same time frame, the safety board is questioning the integrity of my building. Can you believe that?” He made a noise of disgust.

“What does that mean?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“It means they’ve shut down my site—indefinitely!”

I sunk down into a kitchen chair as the news hit me, and my dream of buying into the brokerage came crashing down. A site shutdown meant no sales. No sales meant no bonus. And no bonus meant no buying into the brokerage.

“That’s awful,” I managed to squeak out.

“It’s worse than awful. This is a worst case scenario.” More anger seeped into his voice. It seemed the longer we continued this conversation, the harder it was for him to hold it in. “Until they’re able to confirm that we don’t have the same issue, we’re all out of business. I have no doubt those Richfield scumbags would cut corners and use inferior materials, but for their fuck-ups to mess up my own business is a new low—even for Winston Richfield,” he said with a bitter edge to his voice.

I was a little taken aback at Mr. Cullen’s cursing. I’d never heard him do it before. I could only imagine how irate he was, especially at the fact that this blow had hit us in a roundabout way, as a result of the Richfield family.

“How long do you think the shutdown will last?” I asked carefully.

“Months likely,” he muttered. “We’re farther along in our build so they’re going to have to rip apart portions of the building to conduct their investigation. This shutdown isn’t temporary like the one we’ve had the past week.” He let out an exasperated sigh.

“I understand.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see it—the reality of it all setting in.

“I’ll be in touch when I know more.” He hung up abruptly after that, leaving me to my shock and disappointment.

I stared at the table in front of me, not really seeing anything. I was a kaleidoscope of different emotions. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt of course, but the Tribute site being shutdown affected my future plans. Even if there were no problems with the construction of the building, it wouldn’t be reopened in time for me to make use of the offer the Broker had given me. I’d have to continue living deal-to-deal, always looking for the next pay check.

The sense of security I’d hoped to find was suddenly out of reach. Disappointment and despair lay heavy on my chest. I wouldn’t be achieving all the hopes and dreams I’d had for myself—again. It was a tough blow. One I’d been dealt before when my mother had died and I’d given up my dream of being an architect.

My fate was sealed now, but I couldn’t help worrying about what all this meant for Max, and how he’d feel about it. Did this mean he’d be leaving town immediately?

In a trance-like state I got up from the chair and made my way over to the counter, needing more coffee to help me sort this all through in my mind. As I waited for the Keurig to finish, the silver lining of my situation slowly came into view, like the sun rising over the horizon.

I wasn’t going to get my bonus—that was a given now. Which meant that this thing with Max had the potential to be whatever I wanted it to be. I could tell him what I was feeling. How this had turned into more for me—I could admit to him that I loved him.

With the builds on hold, Max would probably have to go back to New York early. This may be my last chance to tell him how I really feel and let the chips fall where they may. Was I really strong enough to do that? Worry that he’d reject me had me scared to admit my feelings to him.

I thought of Kurt on my front porch the other day, the sadness in his eyes when he talked about my sister, wishing he’d gotten up the nerve to share how he felt about her before she left for school. I didn’t want to be him months from now—desperate and wishing I’d done things differently, despite the fear inside that Max didn’t feel the same.

I prepared my coffee and went to sit on the front porch, sighing as I sat back into the rocker. Was I ready for this? As I thought back to all the time Max and I had spent together, I was sure he felt something for me, too. It was entirely possible he didn’t love me, but I didn’t think for a second that he didn’t feel
anything
. Especially not after sharing the heartbreaking details of his past, something he claimed he’d never shared with anyone before me.

He’d trusted me with that information and that was huge, and was a testament to the fact that he cared for me. It had to be. I felt special and privileged that he’d opened up to me in that way and allowed me to see a side of him that no one else ever had. He’d hired a bodyguard to watch over me for goodness sakes. He had to feel something.

I had no idea how we could ever make it work. We lived entirely different lives in completely different states.

I sat for a long time contemplating. Did I have it in me to risk humiliation and rejection and confess my feelings to Max? Or should I let him walk out of my life, never knowing what would’ve happened if I’d told him the truth?

Max

I sat in the doctor’s office at the hospital, waiting. Must be a universal thing—doctors were always late and running behind. I shouldn’t be complaining, I suppose. I had a lot of experience being the late one.

Papers littered the desk in front of me, piles and piles of organized chaos. Certificates hung on the beige walls and what looked like medical encyclopaedias lined the bookcases to my right.

The door behind me opened, and I turned to see the same doctor that had assisted me in the emergency room last week. He was in his sixties and balding with a small belly.

I stood to greet him, and he paused by my chair to shake my hand. “Good to see you again, doctor.”

“Same to you, Mr. Richfield.”

“Please, call me Max. Mr. Richfield is my father.” I laughed in that ‘ha ha, it’s not really funny, but we’ll both laugh anyway’ kind of way. Only he didn’t laugh.

He nodded, his face serious. “Very well, then. How are you feeling?” He moved to sit behind his desk and steepled his hands in front of him.

I took my seat. “Pretty good. More tired than normal, but the forced R and R has helped with that.”

He scribbled something down in his notes. “Any more dizziness, issues with your eyesight…anything like that?”

I shook my head. “No, that all seemed to go away after a few days, and the bruising on my face is coming along nicely.” It had faded from the angry black bruise originally there, to a gross mix of blue and yellow.

He gave me a nervous laugh. “I see that. I would’ve liked for that bruising to have been a little farther along in the healing process.” A crease appeared in his forehead, and he made a few more notes in my file. “I need to check you for a few things. You can stay there. No need to get up on the exam table.”

He walked over and checked my blood pressure, listened to my heart, then did that thing with the light in your eye that doctors do. When he was finished, he leaned against the desk, facing me with his arms crossed over his chest.

On a long sigh he looked over to me, his expression one of regret. “When you were admitted last week, we took some blood and ran some routine tests. I reviewed the report yesterday in preparation for our meeting and had them run some other tests because of what I saw. I wanted to be sure before I said anything.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I wasn’t sure where he was headed with this, but it wasn’t good. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it…I’m sorry to tell you, Max, but you have leukemia.”

My breathing stopped. My heart stuttered. My ears were ringing. I sat there, unable to speak. Unable to make any logical sense of the words that had come out of his mouth. I’d heard them, but it still didn’t make any sense.

Cancer. I had cancer?

“I can see you’re in shock, which is completely normal.” He pursed his lips for a moment, then continued. “I realize it’s not what you bargained for, coming in here today.”

“But up until the accident I’ve been fine. Totally healthy. I don’t understand.” My mind was racing, unable to process all the thoughts that bombarded my brain.

“You have a form of acute leukemia,” he continued, his grey eyes holding a reserved sadness, probably the way he addressed all patients. “It develops very suddenly and progresses quickly, so by the time you’re symptomatic you’re at a dangerous stage in your illness. You mentioned how tired you’ve been…that’s likely due to the leukemia and not the concussion.”

I shook my head and stared at the floor, unable to believe it and still in shock, when something dawned on me. “Night sweats. I’ve been having them the last few nights.”

He creased his forehead and nodded. “It’s a symptom of the disease, I’m afraid. You need to undergo some further testing to figure out exactly what kind of acute leukemia you have based on what blood cells are involved. That will determine the type of treatment and chemo drugs that are likely to yield the best results. Regardless, you need to be seen by a doctor that specializes in this type of cancer immediately. I can recommend someone in the area, but I know you aren’t from here, so…” His voice tapered off, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

Jesus.
I nodded mechanically. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but yeah. New York City had world-class doctors—I’d be an idiot not to return home. It was just…
Chloe.

Fuck. Double fuck. Fuck, shit, damn.

I ran my hands through my hair, elbows on my knees, and stared down at the grey carpet under my feet. I needed to ask the one question I figured anyone who’d just been told they had the big ‘C’ had to ask.

“What are my chances?” A painful lump formed in my throat as I waited for him to say something. Unshed tears stung the back of my eyes.

He exhaled. I couldn’t imagine having to do this for a job, deliver this kind of shitty, life-altering news. “In all honesty, a lot of that will depend on what type of leukemia you have. We seem to have caught it early, and it’s probably a blessing that you were in that accident.” He gave me a meaningful look. “Otherwise, if you’re like most men, you would’ve explained away the symptoms and never gotten checked out. Make no mistake, this type of leukemia progresses quickly and this is a serious disease. I can’t give you any concrete figures without knowing exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“Come on,” I practically begged. “You must have some idea. Am I fucked or am I going to live a long and healthy life?”

He sighed. “Your outlook is decent,” he said with half-hearted conviction.

Decent? My chances of living were
decent
. That didn’t fill me with the warm, fuzzy feeling I was hoping for.

I stood from the chair. I needed to get the fuck out of here. The damn walls were closing in on me. “Thanks for your time today,” I muttered, attempting to school my voice and hold back the emotion. I reached out and shook his hand.

His sharp eyes were stern. “Make sure you let my office know where you’ll be getting treatment. I’ll make sure your file gets sent over.”

I nodded and, without another word, left his office and exited the hospital, wanting to get as far away as possible. I had a feeling I’d be seeing quite enough of hospitals in the coming months.

I couldn’t face Chloe yet. My shit was not together—at all—not even close. I thought of something Chloe had said to me when we went to Acadia Park, about how, when she went there, she felt like no matter what was going on in her life, that park made her feel like everything would be okay.

That was how I found myself at the top of Cadillac Mountain, looking down over the ocean and the small town of Bar Harbor below.

I’d texted Chloe to tell her I had a few things to do work-wise after my appointment and I wouldn’t be back for a bit. When she asked how everything had gone, I’d told her all was well. I didn’t want her worrying.

So many thoughts swam through my head, I had trouble keeping track. It was like a school of fish swimming through my mind, darting this way and that. As soon as I got a grip on one, it would disappear into the mix. I wondered what this meant for Richfield Developments—who would take over my spot here? What would my parents say—most especially, my mother? What type of treatment would I need? How long would it last? Would I lose my hair? Would I live or die? Should I have my attorney make sure everything was up-to-date in my will?