“Thank you for not having it at the Fleischmanns' party,” he said solemnly, and all three of them laughed. He took a peek at the baby, and remarked to Paul that he looked enormous. “He looks like he should be smoking a cigar and carrying a briefcase. That's my godson,” he said proudly to one of the nurses. And a moment later, the little family they had become went upstairs to get to know each other.
“What a remarkable evening,” Bix said to Paris, as they stood outside in the starry night. It was three o'clock in the morning.
It had been an extraordinary week. She had gotten a job, made two new friends, and nearly delivered a baby.
“Thanks for the job,” she said as he drove her home. She felt as though they were old friends now.
“We'll have to put midwifery in the brochure after tonight,” he said solemnly. “I'm awfully glad we didn't have to deliver that baby.”
“So am I,” Paris said with a yawn, as she smiled at him. She knew the night had created a bond between them that might not have been there otherwise. Neither of them would ever forget it. Nor would Jane, she was sure.
“Would you like to come to breakfast tomorrow?” Bix asked as he dropped her off at her house. “I'd like you to meet my partner.” It was a compliment and an honor for him to bring her into his private world, but he felt she had earned it. She was a lovely person.
“I didn't know you had a business partner,” she said sleepily, looking puzzled, but pleased to be invited.
“I don't. I was referring to the man I live with,” he said, laughing at her. “You have led a sheltered life, haven't you?”
“Sorry, I wasn't thinking.” She giggled. “I'd love it.”
“Come at eleven. We can get drunk thinking about tonight. It's a shame he wasn't with us. He's a doctor.”
“I can't wait to meet him,” she said sincerely, and then got out and waved as she unlocked her front door, and stepped inside.
“Good night,” he called as he drove away, thinking of the events of the evening. A baby had come into the world, and he'd nearly had to deliver it, and he had a new assistant. It had been quite a day.
Bix introduced her to Steven Ward, and Steven greeted her warmly. He looked to be in his early sixties.
“I hear you two had quite an evening last night, and you almost delivered Jane's baby.”
“It was very close,” Paris said with a grin, as Bix handed her a Bellini. It was champagne with a splash of peach juice, and when she tasted it, it was delicious. “I didn't think we'd make it.”
“Neither did I,” Bix said honestly. “I figured if I didn't kill us in the car, we might all live through it. Pretty hairy.”
“Very,” Paris agreed, taking another sip of the Bellini, and turning to Bix's partner. “Bix tells me you're a doctor,” she said easily, and he nodded.
“I'm an internist,” he said discreetly.
“Specializing in HIV and AIDS,” Bix corrected, looking obviously proud of Steven. “The best in the city.”
“That must be hard,” Paris said sympathetically.
“It is, but we're doing much better these days with medications.”
Paris learned as she talked to him that he had come to San Francisco from the Midwest, to work with AIDS patients in the early eighties, and he'd been there ever since. And as Bix made omelettes for them, Steven told her that his previous partner had died of AIDS ten years before, and he and Bix had been together for seven. He was sixty-two years old, and it was obvious that he admired Bix greatly, and they were very happy.
They sat in the dining room, eating omelettes and croissants, as Bix poured them each a cappuccino. He was a fabulous cook, and informed her that it was a good thing, because Steven couldn't boil water. He could save lives, or make people more comfortable, but he was hopeless in the kitchen.
“He tried to cook for me once, when I was sick, and he damn near killed me. I had stomach flu, and he made me tomato soup, out of a can thank you very much, and a can of chili. I do the cooking,” Bix said firmly. Their relationship appeared to be interesting and lively, based on mutual respect and deep affection. Steven talked openly about how traumatic it had been for him when his previous partner died. They had been together for twenty-seven years before that.
