Over 40 And Head Over Heels: BWWM, Over 40's, Billionaire Romance (BWWM Romance Book 1)

by Ellie Etienne

  “And they don’t believe me!” exclaimed the boy, only thirteen. So young to be dealing with this.

  “Drew, I believe you. You understand that, don’t you? I do believe that this was your first time. We'll work through a few ways you can say no and avoid such situations, and how you can stay in control of the situations.”

  He looked dubious, but she had him talking now. At least this one was easy enough to understand. A little too easily influenced, a little too excited to be hanging out with older kids—he needed boundaries, and he needed safety at home, fewer walls between him and his parents.

  Tamara knew what that was like.

  She knew what it was like to have everything she believed in ripped away, and the pieces handed back to her as if she was just supposed to make sense out of what was left. As if that was a reasonable thing to expect.

  His parents were separating and he'd picked up on it. That was why he was suddenly trying to find a new place where he belonged, where he could be sure of his own space. His parents needed to find a way to talk to him.

  But they were resistant to therapy. Maybe if they hadn’t been so resistant to therapy, they wouldn’t be separating in the first place.

  Tamara let him talk, glad that there seemed to be no signs that he would put himself in danger, and helped him start working on standing his ground when he needed to. It would take time, but there were patients she felt confident would find their way, eventually. Drew was one of those patients.

  When their time was up, he looked a bit calmer, a bit more settled, and far more comforted.

  “Thanks, Dr. Jackson,” he muttered, and Tamara smiled.

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for coming, Drew. I mean that. I’m very happy you decided to come.”

  It wasn’t as if he’d had much of a choice once his parents had made the decision, but being told that made a difference to him, too.

  Tamara sat back and sighed after he left, handed over to his worried mother, a lovely woman who had frown lines deeper than her laugh lines.

  “Tough one, Doc?”

  Tamara smiled at Georgina, the young woman who made sure that her world ran smoothly.

  “Not especially. I wish I could get the parents to try couple's sessions with somebody, but they won’t. I suggested it and they shut it down so quickly.”

  Georgina shrugged.

  “You know how it is. You can only help people who want to be helped.”

  “I know. They’re good people, but they need to work on their relationship. They need to work on their marriage. But I guess I can’t really throw stones. You know what they say about people who live in glass houses.”

  Georgina hesitated.

  “Georgie?”

  She sighed.

  Tamara knew immediately what it was. Georgina would never be a good poker player. Her face held no secrets. It was a lovely face, all dark glowing eyes and beautiful chocolate skin, but those eyes were very expressive.

  They expressed reluctance and disapproval, veering towards outright mutiny at that moment.

  “Mr. Burke called when you were in session.”

  “Terry? Did he leave a message?”

  “No, he didn't.”

  Tamara waited.

  “He asked you to call him back, however.”

  “Do I have time now?”

  Georgina shook her head.

  “Actually, you were supposed to have a breather now, but I got a call earlier this morning asking if you could squeeze in a meeting for a potential new client.”

  Tamara frowned.

  “Georgie, do I really have the room for another client? We have a waiting list, don’t we?”

  “We do, but I think you’ll want to at least consider taking this one on, doc. The person who made the call was speaking on behalf of Mr. David Wilson.”

  Georgina waited, as if expecting Tamara to have a fit of vapors, but Tamara couldn’t quite oblige.

  “The name sounds familiar,” Tamara said, trying to soften the disappointment of her lack of reaction.

  Georgina sighed.

  “Really, doc, do you live under a rock? David Wilson, the billionaire? The rags to riches story that makes the rounds every year, without an interview from the man himself? The accident four years ago? Nearly five years ago now, I think.”

  It clicked.

  “Oh! His wife died, didn’t she? Abby Douglas—at least, she used to be Abby Douglas—she was lovely. She married him before he got rich, got disowned by her family for it, there was a lot of drama sixteen years ago.”

  “There was.”

  “He wants to come for therapy?”

  Georgina grinned.

  “No, I believe it’s for his daughter.”

  Tamara’s heart softened. That was her problem, of course. She already knew she would do whatever she could to help. And so did Georgina.

  Chapter 2

  “I have fifteen minutes,” snapped David Wilson, and Tamara decided immediately that it was going to be difficult to like him.

  She never made snap judgments about people. At least, she tried her best not to. She was human, too. But it was easy to make the judgment call when somebody was going to make it difficult to like them.

  “I see. Then we’d better make them count, Mr. Wilson. I have Meghan’s school records here, and the records that her school counselor sent me. Is there anything you could tell me that could add to that?”

  He shrugged.

  That cemented Tamara’s initial impression.

  “Call me Dave, if you’d like to. I believe everything relevant is in her files. Her academic performance has always been excellent, but it’s been fluctuating lately. She dropped some of her extracurriculars. And there was the recent incident, of course.”

  Tamara nodded. “The oregano.”

  He grinned, and Tamara saw a hint of what Abby Douglas must have seen sixteen years ago when she’d fallen for this man, fallen in love with him, gotten pregnant with his child, and married him joyfully. There had been no mistaking the look on the bride’s face in the photos that had been dug up and published. It might’ve been a shotgun wedding, but it had been grounded by love.

  “It was definitely pot, but I wasn’t about to just admit it without a fight. Meg has been suspended, but it won’t go on her permanent record because I insisted on calling it an unspecified herb.”

  “I see.”

  “And so, here we are.”

  Tamara nodded.

  There they were, indeed.

  “Mr. Wilson—Dave—when I work with teenagers, there are a few things that I need from the adults in their lives, especially adults in positions of power over them, adults they need to be able to trust. They have to work with me to give the young people what they need, once I feel that I have identified what they need.”

  “Dr. Jackson, are you saying you need me to do your job?”

  Tamara held on to her temper, because she was trained to do so. It took a lot of training.

  “I don’t work magic here, Dave. Teenagers don’t just suffer from internal angst. From her file, it appears that she never got the chance to work through her grief. I’ll help her with that, but sometimes the environment around them needs to change as well for them to respond positively.”

  “She’s got the best environment. She’s got everything she needs. She goes to the best school, has access to the best of everything.”

  “I’m sure she does. This isn’t an indictment of what you've done for her, Dave. We can only give children what they need, individually, when we understand what they need. Even with the best of intentions, there can be a gap there.”

  He sat back, looking impatient, and Tamara had to bite back a sigh.

  So, this was going to be one of the difficult ones. She could refer them to somebody else, of course, but the difficult ones were the ones who needed her the most. She simply couldn’t turn her back on a young person who needed her. That was why she'd decided to become a psychiatrist in the first p
lace—to help young people, especially. They were the ones whose feelings and emotions were rarely understood and often dismissed. Adults seemed to forget how difficult the teenage years could be. They seemed to forget how much sharper and more intense everything felt, as the edges of the memories dulled with age and time.

  “I'll see Meg for her first session tomorrow. She'll see me twice a week to begin with, and we’ll see how it goes. Georgina will arrange the schedule and email you and Meg.”

  “And Meg?”

  Tamara inclined her head gently.

  “Of course, Dave. We'll take into consideration what her schedule is like, not just what has been formalized by the adults in her life, but her own schedule. That is important. Now, I believe our fifteen minutes are up. Good day.”

  Tamara smiled, rose to her feet, offered a hand, and noticed his eyes flicker to his watch—his very expensive watch—in surprise.

  “Yes. That sounds workable.”

  Tamara nodded.

  “I’m glad you feel so.”

  She waited, standing, until he left and the door closed behind him. She had a few minutes to spare before Georgina burst in and asked for details.

  Not about Meghan, of course. Georgina knew better than that. But Tamara was aware that the young woman had been buzzing with excitement ever since she’d agreed to this meeting. Having met the man, she supposed she could see why.

  He was handsome. Very handsome, in fact. The dark hair threaded through with silver made him look very distinguished. His eyes were a startlingly clear blue. A very handsome face that was aging into middle age—the thought that his forty-three was approaching middle age made her remember her own forty with a sad sigh – extremely well, a man who was used to wielding power and wielded it as if it were his due. Fit, obviously, so he took his physical health seriously at least, though perhaps he dismissed his emotional and mental healthcare a little too easily. But his emotional and mental well-being weren’t her problems.

  His daughter’s were.

  Tamara opened a small cabinet, got a bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin. She’d hidden it well, as she always did, but her head was pounding.

  She was used to it. It was the natural and normal response every time she dealt with Terry.

  Georgina would tell her that she was being a doormat, but Tamara preferred to think of it as being a dignified adult who tried her best to maintain a friendly relationship with the man she'd divorced.

  Sometimes it felt as if she owed him at least that. The divorce had been her choice, after all. It hadn’t been an easy one.

  If there was such a thing as an easy divorce, Tamara hadn’t come across it yet. She’d had experience of it from the time she’d been barely a teenager. Her own parents had introduced her to the battlegrounds of a disintegrating marriage where bitterness was the strange and damaging glue that held it together, for far too long.

  At least there had been no children for her to damage.

  That, too, was bittersweet. It hadn’t been her choice. It had just turned out that way, though she was at peace with where she was now.

  Her mother would disagree. But then, her mother and she disagreed on many things, so that would be nothing new.

  “Well? What’s he like? Isn’t he hot? I didn’t think he’d be so hot! I mean, look at him! Did you look at him?”

  Tamara smiled, even if the pounding in her temple didn’t let up.

  “If you say so, Georgie. We can squeeze Meghan in for her first session tomorrow morning, can’t we?”

  Georgina nodded.

  “We’ll figure out the rest of it after that. Poor girl, what a lot to deal with. Still, it must help, knowing that she’ll never have to worry about debt or rent.”

  Tamara shrugged.

  “Real worries that can cause real problems. But don’t you remember being fifteen, Georgie? It’s closer for you than for me. Even with all the money in the world, I wouldn’t want to go back.”

  She’d been twelve when her parents had dropped the bombshell. Not that she hadn’t known things were wrong. She’d heard the fights, seen the sullen look on her father’s face, the way he stayed out longer and longer. Her mother’s tears, her sneaky dependence on vodka.

  Children noticed a lot more than they were given credit for, as a rule.

  Still, even having noticed, even knowing, the declaration was always a shock. It felt so final to have your fears confirmed. All through your childhood you depended on your parents to reassure you that all your fears were unfounded, like the monsters under the bed and in the closet. And suddenly, there it was, one of the worst fears confirmed when all you wanted was to believe that you were wrong.

  For once, you wanted to be wrong.

  Still, there were ways to make it easier.

  No, that wasn’t true. There were ways to avoid making it even more difficult for the children caught in the middle. Her own parents had known none of them, and had used not a single one of them even by accident.

  And so, now she had young clients like Drew, young people who needed to find a way through it all while still trying to find themselves.

  Tamara sighed.

  “I don’t suppose I would want to go back to fifteen,” decided Georgina after giving the matter enough consideration.

  “Fifteen sucked balls. I was still dumpy and short, and I didn’t even know how to dress. I had pimples, I had braces, and worst of all, an unfailing habit of saying exactly the wrong thing at the worst time.”

  Tamara laughed.

  “Most of that is a universal experience at fifteen, I think. Now, I have an appointment in ten, don’t I? Andrea.”

  Georgina nodded.

  “You have such a good memory, you don’t really need me to keep your schedule. But you do need me to remind you to eat. You missed lunch, Doc. I got you a sandwich. No, don’t complain, I can give you the lecture if I have to but don’t make me.”

  Tamara conceded with good grace.

  “You’re right.”

  “And Mr. Burke called again.”

  The pounding intensified.

  “What?”

  “He said it was urgent, but then he always says it’s urgent.”

  Tamara nodded.

  “I can call him when I’m having my sandwich. Thanks, Georgie, you’re a treasure. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Georgina smiled and nodded, got Tamara her sandwich and left her to her phone call.

  Tamara took one minute out of the ten to look at her phone and gather herself. She took two more minutes to eat her half her sandwich far too fast. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She really didn’t know what she’d do without Georgie.

  Seven minutes to call her ex-husband and find out what he needed. Again.

  There was no point trying to put it off. What needed to be done had to be done, and she might as well do it quickly. Shakespeare had a line about that, she remembered.

  “Tammy, I thought you were never going to call.”

  She didn’t know why he’d think that. She always called him back when she missed his calls.

  “Sorry, Terry. I was working.”

  “You’re always working.”

  Tamara let that go. It was true enough. She was always working.

  “I’m not working now. What happened?”

  “Does something have to happen for me to call my favorite girl?”

  Once, she’d found that adorable and charming. Then she’d found out that he was a cheater. She’d accepted that it was his nature, but then she hadn’t done what he’d assumed would be the next step, and decided that she could live with it. She’d decided that it wasn’t in her nature to be married to a cheater.

  Now it didn’t affect her.

  Much.

  “No, but yesterday you called me because you couldn’t remember when your insurance payment was due.”

  It had been six years since the divorce. She'd paid for his home insurance every single year.

  It ha
d been their home once, and she’d paid for it back then. It was easy enough to keep doing it. It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it. She did well for herself.

  “I just rely on that memory of yours, Tammy, you know that. It’s a marvel. I’ve never known the likes of it.”

  Still, he’d tried to argue that she was remembering things wrong while she tried to piece together the picture and seen the truth.

  It was all in the past, Tamara reminded herself again. She’d worked through it, in therapy, with her therapist. Hadn’t that been fun!

  “I have a session soon, so tell me what you need, Terry.”

  “Come on, don’t be like that, Tammy baby! You know I call you because I still love you!”

  Tamara smiled despite herself. Oh, he had a way about him, all right.

  “Do you?”

  “My one and my only. You’re the only one I ever married, remember?”

  She did remember, and despite everything, it still made her feel special.

  Despite everything.

  “Though I could use a favor, Tammy.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I have this thing, Tammy, it’s a surefire shot, it’s the perfect thing and I have this amazing chance to get in on the ground floor. I can get in on the beginning, at the start of this thing and it’s going to be so big! People are pounding on the door trying to get a chance and I’ve got it. I’m just a little short on cash, just a little short on the capital I need to get this over the line.”

  Tamara listened, making the appropriate noises as she ate the rest of the sandwich.

  She wanted Terry to do well. She really did. He did have an eye for investment. They’d bought their house—their home, the one that was now Terry’s—on the back of one of these investments. Of course, there were wins and there were losses, but this was a high risk game. If you risked nothing, you won nothing.

  She knew that Terry loved the risk of it as much as he loved winning. People got their rushes in different ways. There were worse ways than this, she knew that, too.

  “You sound confident about this,” she said, finally.

  “Confident? Baby, confident doesn’t begin to describe it. It’s a sure thing, Tammy! It’s a sure thing. I just need ten grand to top up my investment and it’s all good to go.”