Page 70 of The Grumpy Billionaire
She was comfortably dressed in pants and a turtleneck with a sweater vest. Her smile was warm, almost grandmotherly. I could picture her knitting in her free time.
“Well, as you know I’m sure, Evelyn has depression,” she said. “After talking to her today, I believe she’s been battling it for several years. Now it’s reached the point of affecting her decisions and interfering with daily life and perhaps even becoming incapacitating.”
I nodded, in shock but also relieved to hear the doctor put a name to it and to see her so calm and confident as she began to explain treatment options.
“The good news is things are about to start getting better. There are medications and therapies I believe will really help your mom and allow her to resume the life she once had and enjoyed. But to begin with, I think Evelyn would benefit from spending a little time at an inpatient facility.”
I sat forward on the sofa cushion, my pulse jumping to attention. “You’re going to have her committed?”
The doctor stretched out a hand toward me.
“No. No, nothing like that. This is completely voluntary, and she can choose to leave the clinic at any time. The place is quite lovely—it feels more like a spa than a hospital. It’s not far from here, near Boston. I’ll make sure you get a full tour of the facility when you arrive, and you’ll have a detailed schedule of her daily activities. There’s a liberal visitation policy. And as I said, she can choose to check out at any time, but I’m recommending a five-night stay to get her solidly entrenched in new habits and make sure her medications are perfectly adjusted for her.”
“Are you sure that’s really necessary?” I turned to search Mom’s face, combing it for any signs of compulsion or reluctance. “Is this what you want?”
It all seemed so drastic to me.
She gave me a soft smile and nodded, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I don’t want to keep being like I am, Mare-Bear. This sounds good to me. I want my life back, and if this is the way to get it, that’s what I want to do.”
We continued discussing what would happen after Mom came home again and how to handle the insurance claim for a treatment facility of this sort.
Dr. Weinberg promised to help with every aspect. I thanked her and rose to leave, still shell-shocked that I was about to drive Mom home, not to stay, but to pack a bag for a five-day absence.
By late that afternoon, I was driving back home from the Boston clinic alone to get ready for my “date” and thoroughly dreading it.
I’d called Bruce the previous night right after leaving Reid’s condo. He’d readily agreed to meet me at the restaurant in Providence at seven tonight.
Now I regretted my decision. After the day I’d had, there wasn’t one ounce of me that wanted to go out, with him or anyone. But I had to.
It would be just like Reid to have one of his little minions spy on me to find out whether Bruce really existed or I’d made him up.
And I had to dosomethingto put an end to the growing pull between us. I had to go out tonight and prove that I didn’t still have feelings for Reid, that I had moved on, that there really was someone else in my life.
Even if in all actuality that someone was a dope with a pretty face and nice trap muscles.
* * *
Okay, well his biceps were pretty nice, too. I watched them bunch and flex in his tight shirt as Bruce cut into a fourteen-ounce New York Strip.
We’d been seated at an intimate corner table in the downtown Providence restaurant.
He looked up from his plate and gave me a happy smile, gesturing with the hunk of pink-and-brown beef suspended on the end of his fork.
“I’m glad you called. I didn’t think I was ever gonna hear from you. When you told me that story about having to spend time with your little brothers, you know, I thought you were just blowing me off.”
I managed a fake laugh, trying not to cringe at his mention of Bax and Bowie, who’d left for the “bad boys ranch” with Dad this morning. I was worried about them. And Mom.
And every time I thought about going home to that empty house tonight, I felt like some bereft little kid.
My family was falling apart. I could no longer downplay what was going on or tell myself everything was going to be okay. I didn’t know that. And the worst part was I had no control over the situation.
I was doing all I could for them, and still everything was a mess. I felt so alone.
“So, like I was saying, I’m saving up my vacation and sick leave days to take a trip,” Bruce said. “I really need to get out of this place this winter, go somewhere warm. Hey, you should come with me—you got a passport, right? Maybe we could go to like, some island or something?”
I gave Bruce a tight-lipped smile and nodded. I literally couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do less than go on a trip with him, no matter how good he might look in board shorts. But we had to talk about something during dinner, so I played along.
“Where would you go if you could go anywhere?”
