“Feeling better, hmm?” Kent asked Nick. When the boy nodded, he said, “We’re going to give you another chemo dose tomorrow.”
Nick’s face fell. “The one the other day made me awful sick. Do you have to?” His voice trembled, and Mallory pulled her chair closer to the bed.
“Yeah, we do,” Kent said, his voice gentle. “Remember you told me you and your mom were going to beat this disease?”
Nick swallowed. “Yeah, the two of us, we’re a team.”
“Well, I’m on the team now, too. You could say I’m the manager.” He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “The opposing team has these blasts—big, fat white blood cells they’re using against us—and the chemo zaps them.” Mallory saw that Kent had Nick’s full attention as he continued. “We’ve adjusted the chemo so you won’t be as sick this time, but we have to use it. It’s our strongest weapon. Okay, pal?”
“Okay,” Nick said in a small voice.
“Good. See you tomorrow.” He rose. “Nine-thirty.”
Kent left the room without speaking to Mallory and strode toward the nurses’ station. Resentment seethed in his veins. The anger that had dwindled the other evening had returned full force when he’d overheard the conversation about the happy Brenner family.
He stopped at the counter and made an entry on Nicholas’s chart. He’d spent many sleepless nights wondering about Mallory’s marriage to Dean Brenner. How “sudden” was it? How much had been in the works even while Mallory was supposedly in love with him?
She was here now and one day when her son was better, he’d ask the questions. And by God, before she left Houston, he’d have some answers.
Mallory paged through a copy of Good Housekeeping as she sat in the waiting room of the clinic. After only a minimal reaction to his second dose of chemo, Nick had been discharged from the hospital. Mallory was relieved. Not only was Nick feeling a little better, but she only had to encounter Kent once a week when he checked Nick and went over the results of blood tests.
She and Nick had settled into their two-bedroom apartment, and Nick had immediately made friends with Jeremy Spellman, another ten-year-old, who had been in treatment only two weeks longer than he. Mallory and Jeremy’s mother Tamara and several other moms had bonded, too. No one could better understand what they were going through than other parents experiencing the same fears and hopes.
Nick had told her that he and Jeremy were designing a video game. Now they were seated, heads together, giggling as they drew on a piece of typing paper. Mallory listened.
“…and the monster Leukemator is waiting at the end of the tunnel,” Jeremy said.
“Yeah, and he sends his blasts out to destroy Battleforce Bazooka.”
“But Doctor Bergermaster has a secret weapon. It’s…um, let’s see, it’s…Cheem.”
“Cheem, the Extreme,” Nick said. “Hey, Jer, this is really good. We should show it to Dr. Berger. Maybe he’ll have some ideas to improve it.”
“Maybe he could test it out on his own kids,” Jeremy suggested.
“Nope, he doesn’t have any kids.”
Mallory frowned. How did Nick know that?
An hour later, as they left the clinic and headed for the exit, she asked him.
“Oh, we talk when he’s checking me over. I asked him.”
“Why?”
Her voice came out sharper than she intended and Nick said, “I just wondered, that’s all. You’re sure cranky today.”
“Sorry. How about I make it up to you?” she offered. “Since you’re feeling better and your blood counts are up, we could go out to dinner. I’ll treat you to McDonald’s.”
“Cool.”
“Let’s do it, then.” She’d have to be careful not to let her emotional reactions to Kent affect the way she behaved with Nick.
They left the building and were heading across the parking lot just as Kent emerged from another door. Mallory grimaced. Think of the devil, and he appears. And her heart leaped at the sight of him, just as it had years ago. She kept her eyes straight ahead.
Her son, bless his heart, didn’t. “Hey, Dr. Berger,” he called and stopped. When Kent came alongside them, Nick said, “Guess what. We’re going out to dinner, to McDonald’s. Wanna come?”
Mallory jumped in quickly. “Nick, I’m sure Dr. Berger has things to do—”
“Nothing on the calendar for tonight,” Kent said. “I’d love to join you.” He flashed his killer smile, the rat. “My car’s right over there. I’ll follow you home and we can go together.”
“Oh, that’s not nec—”
“Wow! You have a Jaguar. Mom, is that awesome or what?”
“Awesome,” Mallory muttered. If anything, the car vaulted Kent even higher in Nick’s pantheon of heroes…that is, if a higher position were available. Dr. Bergermaster was, after all, already the leader of Battleforce Bazooka.
Saying nothing, she steered Nick to their own car, not at all surprised when her son groused, “Our car is so nothin’. We should get something classier.”
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll put us on the list for a Ferrari as soon as we’re back in Valerosa.”
As she drove the few blocks to the apartment, Mallory pondered Kent’s acceptance of Nick’s invitation. Surely this wasn’t standard procedure for a busy doctor to go out for fast food with one of his patients. She chewed on her bottom lip as she glanced in the rearview mirror at the sleek black Jaguar behind them. Did he have some inkling that Nick was more than just a patient?
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. For the thousandth time, she asked herself why she’d come to Houston. Didn’t she have enough to worry about without this fear lurking in the back of her mind? And for the thousandth time the same answer came. She wanted the best for Nick, and Kent was the best.
She’d just be cautious around him.
She pulled into her parking space and shook her head in disbelief as Nick fairly leaped out of their car and trotted over to Kent’s. Nick hadn’t had this much energy since he’d gotten sick. She followed slowly, hoping Nick would get into the front seat of the Jaguar beside Kent. Instead he hopped into the back and left the passenger seat for her.
Resigned, she got in. As she fastened her seat belt, she caught a whiff of Kent’s cologne. Sandalwood. Masculine, sexy—oh, dear.
She let Nick do most of the talking as they drove to the nearest McDonald’s. He had plenty to say, of course, chattering excitedly about the “awesome” car, his collection of model cars and the video game he and Jeremy were designing.
They slid to a stop in front of McDonald’s and Kent got out of the car. By the time Mallory had unfastened her seat belt and picked up her purse, he’d come around to her side and opened the door for her. Always the gentleman, he extended his hand to help her out. She remembered how impressed she’d been with his manners the summer they’d been together. Today she ignored his hand. Manners were all surface, she told herself. What was important was inside. And Kent had let her down when it really mattered. She would keep that in mind and not allow his sexy cologne and beguiling smile to sweep her off her feet again. She was older and wiser than she’d been eleven years ago.
Nick scrambled out and glanced around the parking lot. “We’ve got the best car here,” he announced.
Of course, Mallory thought. How many prominent physicians patronized fast-food restaurants?