“I know that,” I said. “But that’s not it. I know it isn’t.” I didn’t know that but I wasn’t ready to entertain the idea that I was broken emotionally from the hell of the past few months. “The docs just haven’t figured it out yet.”

“You need to look wider, Nick,” he said. His voice wasn’t judgmental but I heard it that way anyway.

“I’m sorry, where did you get your medical degree?” I asked. Now a normal person would have been pissed, cussed me out, or taken a swing at me. Not Jackson. He laughed. That annoying shake-the-bricks-in-the-wall cackle. I definitely needed to fire him.

“What is the ruckus in here?” Lupita Guzman, my housekeeper and cook, came into the room carrying two heaping plates of chicken enchiladas.

She was short and curvy with wavy black hair that she wore in a stylish bob, dark eyes that sparkled, and a smile that lit up the room. She always wore a neatly pressed dress shirt and slacks with comfortable shoes. Honestly, she was the mom I’d always wanted and never had.

I’d gotten lucky when I hired her and her husband just after I bought my house five years ago. The bonus being that they lived in one wing of the house, so I always had someone nearby in case of an emergency when Jackson wasn’t around. He lived here, too, but also had other clients that he worked with in the afternoon and evening, which was a good thing. We’d likely kill each other if we were together all the time.

Lupita’s husband, Juan, was my groundskeeper and driver, who felt more like a reserved uncle as he maintained a certain emotional distance. I knew he appreciated the work and he liked me just fine, but he had two grown children of his own and wasn’t looking for another. Lupita did not have these boundary issues.

She crossed the room and clucked her tongue as she put a plate in front of me. In her lightly accented voice, she asked, “You worked too hard today, didn’t you?”

I could have tried to answer in the nanosecond she gave me, but she turned on Jackson instead. She put his plate in front of him. “What are you thinking? You know he has the weakness in his leg.” Jackson opened his mouth to answer, but Lupita rolled right over him as she swung back to me. “I will make you a restorative smoothie. Mango with vitamins A and C. It’s good for you.” She added that last bit like I was going to argue.

“Do I get one, too, Lupita?” Jackson asked. She looked him over as if deciding whether he was worthy. Jackson leaned back in his chair. “I’m feeling faint.”