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

by Ellie Etienne

  “Come on now, Tammy, don’t be like that! Can’t I drop by to see my best girl just because I want to see my best girl?”

  Tamara shook her head.

  “Sorry, of course you can, but I didn’t think you’d be free today. Why were you at Leticia’s?”

  “Oh, your mother invited me.”

  Terry walked to the small bar she kept, opened it, poured himself a drink as if he was home. He raised a glass questioningly and she shook her head.

  What she needed were about three aspirin, not more to drink. The wine earlier had been lovely but she hadn’t gotten much of a chance to eat and she was beginning to feel it.

  Terry sat down in the most comfortable armchair, the one she loved, the one she’d been looking forward to curling up in for a little bit, and grinned at her.

  “You know, your mother thinks we should still be together.”

  “Terry.”

  “She was very disappointed you weren’t there. Told me I should’ve brought you along. She said that my trouble was that I let you have your way too much about far too many things. I’m too understanding and lenient, apparently.”

  Tamara sat down at the edge of the couch, facing the man who had hurt her in more ways than she cared to think of. It was all in the past, she reminded herself. He had no power over her anymore.

  She tasted the lie in her words.

  “She has her opinions. They’re hers. Terry, I’m really tired. I don’t mean to be rude, but why’re you here?”

  “Is that any kind of way to welcome your best guy, Tammy?”

  Tamara bit back a retort.

  “Sorry, but like I said, I'm really tired.

  "Come on now, is that any way to treat me?"

  Tamara looked at him squarely in the eye.

  "Will you tell me what's going on, please, Terry? I really need to get some rest and I obviously can't until you tell me."

  Terry grinned, that easy grin that just batted away any words she could think of, even when she thought they'd been cutting enough to keep him thinking.

  "Well, if you're going to be like that... I just came to check on you. Your mama asked me to. She wanted to find out why your daddy hadn't gone over to her party, too."

  Tamara shrugged.

  "Daddy had other plans. He does sometimes. She knows that, she's used to it."

  "With that little girl of his? She's a special little something."

  Tamara froze.

  "What?"

  "Tricia, a delicious little number. Trust the old man to get his hands on something like that. I don't blame him for not wanting to leave her behind and go to some stuffy old party."

  "Really, it was stuffy? I thought you had a good time."

  "Anything's stuffy compared to a tight little girl like Tricia."

  Tamara told herself that she wouldn't rise to it. Of course he wanted her to. But she wouldn't. She was better than that. She would be better than that.

  "How do you know Tricia? How do you even know that daddy's dating Tricia?"

  "Tammy, come on. Who do you think introduced your daddy to that little number?"

  Tamara shouldn't have felt like the world was spinning. It was just the headache, she told herself very firmly. She knew what it was like to have a headache so bad that she wanted to claw her own brains out of her skull.

  If only Terry would leave!

  "I didn't know that."

  "I met Tricia at a party and thought she and Donald would hit it off. She's a sweet kid. I was dating one of her friends at the time."

  "You were."

  Heartsick, still heartsick to hear it. She'd moved on, it had nothing to do with her anymore. It didn't matter to her anymore.

  It didn't matter.

  And yet.

  "You know me, I like to have fun."

  That easy, booming laughter.

  "I know. You always did."

  "Come on, baby. We had fun, too. It was your choice to leave all this behind and go and get your masters and whatever else, you know."

  "I know. It was my choice. Terry, if there's nothing to talk about, I really do need to rest."

  "Sure, sure. By the way, you never did tell me where you were."

  "What?"

  "Where did you go? I tried calling Felicity but she didn't answer. She just sent me a text. What a rude woman she is. Not at all the kind of person I'd expect you to want to be friends with, Tammy. I never understood it."

  "I'm sure you didn't. Well, I was out at a party thrown by friends, and now I'm home. They wanted me there."

  "Everybody wants you, Tammy. Well, I know when I've outstayed my welcome. I'll see you soon. Oh, and by the way," said Terry, getting to his feet, putting the glass on the table, "tell your mother that she can write the check and send it to me anytime. Better yet, she can call me and I can go and pick it up from her. Yes, don't you think that would work better?"

  "Check? What check?"

  "You didn't think my investment opportunity was exclusively for you, did you? Leticia was telling me how she wished she could do something more with her savings and lucky for her, I had just the thing."

  "You convinced her to... You went there to get money from her?"

  Tamara held her voice steady, even if it wasn't easy.

  "Come on, don't be like that, Tammy. It's a good investment, you know that. Would you put fifteen grand into something that's not a good investment?"

  She would, of course she would, if he asked her to do it. And he knew it. He knew it, the bastard.

  Why couldn't she break free?

  Getting the divorce was supposed to be the hardest part, and there they were now, all over again.

  "You know how I feel about you asking my family for money, Terry."

  Terry's face changed. The jovial smile was wiped off, and it was replaced by a grim look that she unfortunately recognized.

  "She doesn't have the best head for business," added Tamara, hoping to avoid his temper.

  "Now look here, you should understand that business is business, Tammy. If your family wants to take the same risks as you did in the hope of the same reward, you have no right to tell them to stop. And you can't tell me what to do anymore."

  "I never could. I never could tell you what to do. We both know that. Terry, please, let me get some sleep."

  "Fine," he snapped, and she knew that she would pay for this later.

  No, no she would not. She would not pay for it because she was grown-ass, independent woman, and Terrence Burke couldn't control her life anymore. She was not married to him anymore.

  She would do things on her own terms.

  "Sorry, Terry. I just have a headache straight from the circles of hell and I really need to get some sleep."

  "Too much partying? You know how I feel about that."

  "I know how you feel about a lot of things. Please. We'll talk about all of this tomorrow."

  "Sure, sure. I wonder if that little friend of Tricia's is up for a party. Or maybe Tricia."

  "You don't mean that!" said Tamara, shocked.

  "I don't mean what? Oh, loosen up a bit, Tammy. We'd still be together if you could just learn to loosen up a bit, you know that, girl? You never did know how to do that. It was all about being sensible and doing the right thing and all that. Well, who can live like that? Everybody needs to have some fun!"

  "You've had plenty of fun without me, from what I can tell. Please, Terry."

  "All right, you take care of yourself, baby. And don't forget to give me a spare key. Get one made."

  Tamara found herself nodding.

  Of course she would give him a spare key. Who didn't give spare keys to their ex-husband? It was just the normal, natural thing to do, wasn't it?

  Of course it was.

  Tamara waited till Terry had left, the door clicking closed and locked behind him, and she buried her face in her hands.

  She was a therapist who tried to help people. She was good at spotting patterns and helping people break them.
It was what she did.

  And yet there she was, locked in a pattern of being used by her ex-husband.

  Who was she to judge David Wilson?

  At least he was making an effort.

  So was she, she reminded herself. She was making an effort, too.

  She sighed, made herself get to her feet, walked to the bathroom and grabbed those aspirin she needed. Two, she decided, would ease at least some of the pounding in her head. That and a pot of tea and maybe she would even feel human again.

  And then she could think about what was going on and what she needed to do.

  Terry was up to something.

  Even when she wasn't thinking straight, she could spot when Terry was up to something. She'd had an excellent bullshit-o-meter even when they'd been married, but he'd convinced her that she was making too much of things, not letting go enough, not chilling out enough - oh, he'd had her convinced that she was not doing so many things.

  But now she could trust it again. Something was going on.

  She hated to pry, and she hated to spy on Terry, but the last time she'd done it, she'd managed to find the strength to divorce him.

  This time, maybe...

  No, it was too soon.

  And anyway, she would never. She knew that.

  She would never cut him out of her life.

  She made herself that pot of tea and settled down in bed, her sleep mask on, the white noise machine on in the hope that it would drown out some of the sounds of the kids in the streets.

  She needed....

  She froze.

  Her phone was ringing.

  Her mother, probably. At least now she knew why her mother hadn't been blowing up her phone trying to tell her what a terrible daughter she was for not going to that party and taking care of things.

  It was because Terry had been there.

  Wasn't it odd? Leticia had finally given up and gotten a divorce because she just couldn't stand to live with her husband anymore, not the way they'd been living their lives. And yet, it was as if Leticia simply could not see why Tamara had sought a divorce.

  All the reasons hadn't been enough. No reason would ever have been good enough, she knew that, too.

  Only Leticia could suffer long and hard enough to deserve the luxury of giving up.

  Tamara could never deserve it.

  She sighed.

  It would only get worse if she avoided it.

  Reaching over, she grabbed the phone from the bedside table, and nearly did a double take when she saw who was calling.

  It wasn't Leticia.

  That was definitely not Leticia.

  It was Dave.

  ***

  Dave clutched his phone like some kind of a smitten fool. But that wasn't why he was calling her, it really wasn't. He was calling her because he felt as if he was drowning, and she was his lifeline.

  She'd gone to the party, which had to have been very uncomfortable for her, for the sake of Meghan.

  Well, now she needed to do something more for Meghan's sake. And maybe for his own sake, too, because he was floundering.

  It was humiliating to realize it. It was chastening to have to admit it.

  But Meghan was withdrawing again. He could see it.

  At least he figured that that was an improvement, the fact that he could see it.

  “Dave.”

  She sounded tired, so tired. He didn’t have time to be nice. He wouldn’t feel regret for calling her when she was obviously drained, mostly thanks to him and Meghan.

  “I need help with Meg.”

  “You are getting help, Dave.”

  “I know, but today was... She’s got that look in her eyes again. She looks blank, like the day I was called to her school. She doesn’t look like herself.”

  A pause.

  “Do you think she’s in any danger?”

  “What?”

  “Did she say or do anything to indicate that she might put herself in any danger?”

  “I... Is that a possibility?”

  That came as a shock. He’d never even considered that. He’d thought of Meghan as a problem to be solved but the idea that he might lose her altogether had never occurred to him, not even for a hot minute.

  “I would say not, but you were concerned enough to call me.”

  “I... I didn’t... I wasn’t...”

  “Do you want me to call her? Can you get her and put her on the line for me?”

  “Do you think that would help?”

  He hated the helplessness. He hated not being able to control this. The last time he’d been out of control was when he’d lost Abby. He hadn’t been in control then, hadn’t been able to do anything.

  A sigh.

  “I would say it’s unnecessary, but now that you’ve called me because you’re worried enough, it would make sense to check on her. Hold on, why don’t you get Martha to make her a tray and take it up to her? She didn’t have much to eat. She must be exhausted after the day she’s had.”

  “Do you think that will be enough?”

  Oh, he felt pathetic, begging for reassurance like that.

  “Martha knows her. If she’s showing any warning signs, she will notice. Let me talk to her first.”

  “Hold on.”

  Dave reached for the in-house intercom, and then changed his mind. He charged out of his study, took the stairs three at a time and went into the kitchen for the first time in far too long. He used to go there when Abby cooked dinner, as she loved doing.

  He’d avoided so much of the home Abby had designed and he had had built for them because he couldn’t stand all the memories. There was no time for self-indulgence of that sort now.

  “Martha.”

  “Mr. Wilson! Is there something...”

  He didn’t notice the mess, the aftermath of the party that still wasn’t completely over. There were still people by the pool. They would be ushered out carefully if they overstayed their welcome much longer, but it wouldn’t be his job.

  “Fix a tray for Meg. Take it up to her room. Make sure she eats something.”

  “Of course, Mr. Wilson.”

  “I... Does she still love omelets?”

  Martha’s eyes softened a little.

  “She does. She loves cheese omelets with green onions.”

  “Okay. Okay, then that’s what you should take up to her, with a glass of juice. Does she still love pomegranate juice?”

  Martha’s eyes softened some more.

  “She does indeed, Mr. Wilson.”

  “Then take her that. And... here, talk to Dr. Jackson.”

  Martha nodded, took the phone. Dave tried to listen, but there was nothing he could listen to, because Martha didn’t do much talking except to agree to follow instructions.

  She handed the phone back to him.

  “It’s good of you to notice, Mr. Wilson, but you don’t need to worry about that. She’s tired and spent but she’s better than she was a few weeks ago.”

  Dave was willing to clutch at every straw.

  The sight of his daughter’s blank face as she went to her room had set something off inside him. It had opened something and he couldn’t close it again.

  Memories.

  They wouldn’t stop.

  “Tamara.”

  “It’ll be fine, Dave. Take a deep breath and have something to eat too. You didn’t do much eating today either. You should take care of yourself as well.”

  “I... I forgot.”

  “I suppose you did. I’ve reminded you now. So listen to me.”

  “Yes. Thank you. I’ll let you know.”

  “I know you will. Try not to worry.”

  His heart was pounding, almost as hard as his head. He had such a headache. He hadn’t even noticed it before. How strange.

  “Okay. I... okay. Sorry.”

  Another pause.

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  “What?”

  “You shouldn’t be alone. Maybe you could call so
mebody and have them spend the evening with you. Take a break from work. Let yourself have a few hours.”

  “I... No, I’m fine.”

  “You’re obviously not, Dave. I know you're worried about Meg, I know she was drained, but a lot of this is you. You dealt with a lot today. Meg dumped a lot on you today. You can’t isolate yourself and expect to be fine with it all, like magic.”

  “I don’t expect magic.”

  “Don’t you? Well, if you insist. But if you need me to come over, I will. Or you could call somebody. It’s not weak to lean on somebody once in a while. It’s just another kind of strength.”

  “You’re not my therapist, remember?”

  “And thank heavens for that. You’d be the most uncooperative patient. No, this isn’t me telling you what you should do as a therapist. This is just an adult with a reasonable amount of common sense giving you some very obvious advice based on her own life.”

  Dave smiled as he watched Martha fold the omelet onto a plate. He got the juice out of the fridge and found a glass, poured it himself, his phone cradled between his shoulder and his face. He didn’t notice the shocked look on Martha’s face.

  “I’ll take it up to her now,” said Martha, her voice quiet, her face gentle, and left.

  “Do you need me to stay on the line till Martha comes back down, then?”

  “I... You think I’m being too dramatic about all of this, don’t you?”

  “I think you’re a bit overwrought, let’s just keep it at that.”

  “You sound tired.”

  A low chuckle that had him smiling again. Talking to the good doctor was calming him down despite his reluctance to admit that he needed any calming down in the first place.

  “I’ve had quite the day. I’m sorry, Dave, but if you’re all right now...”

  He took the hint and realized just how exhausted she sounded.

  “You should call a friend and lean on her,” he said, impulsively.

  That got him a chuckle.

  “Should I? I’ll do that tomorrow. Today, I need possibly another aspirin and a long nap.”

  Martha came back and nodded at him.

  “She’s fine. She’s eating.”

  The relief nearly made him dizzy.

  “She’s fine,” he told Tamara.

  “Good. Now take care of yourself, too.”

  She hung up, and he held on to the phone, wondering why it bothered him so much that she had sounded so alone.