For Her Own Good

by Parker, Tamsen

  “You know it’s yours now, right?”

  “Fuck all, do I ever,” I mutter.

  “I’m not pointing that out to add more pressure. I’m pointing it out because you’re doing extraordinarily well given the pressure cooker you’re in. I’m very proud of you, and I’m very proud that you’re asking for help when you feel like you need it.”

  Her kind words make my eyes sting and my sinuses burn because she is one of the people I respect and trust most on the planet. She wouldn’t lie to me. She’s never spoon-fed me sugar when things are going to hell, which is why I listen when she says things are going well.

  My only response is “yeah, okay,” because it’s still hard for me to take a compliment, no matter who it’s coming from.

  “So, anyway, there’s all that, on top of my job, and yesterday I found out…”

  Oh, not looking forward to telling her I’m pregnant. Partially because I haven’t told her I’m seeing anyone, never mind who it is I’ve been seeing. She’s going to have some questions. But she can’t help me if I don’t tell her. I know from a quick internet search that ECT is really safe in pregnancy, that sometimes people switch to ECT instead of meds for that reason. But I don’t know much more than that. I sure as fuck don’t have a medical degree. My father may have been able to get me into med school, but I’d probably still be finishing given how long it took me to finish my undergrad degree.

  “I’m pregnant. Like not far along I don’t think, but yeah.”

  I wait for the judgment, for the “how could you,” but aside from an extra blink it doesn’t come.

  “I can understand how that would exacerbate your stress. And that could very well be contributing to your nausea. Anxiety may still be part of it, but it’s hard to say. Have you decided what you’re going to do about the pregnancy?”

  She’s the best. No judgment, no assumptions. Acting as though any decision I make is completely fine, and maybe it would be, with her.

  “No.”

  “Do you know who the father is?”

  God love Doctor Gendron and her lack of slut-shaming. But in fact, “I do.”

  She nods, and I wonder if she knows. How would she know? I haven’t told her and Lowry wouldn’t, especially not without talking to me about it first. I’ve been careful not to look for Lowry when I’m at Harbinson for my regular appointments and to not give more than a polite nod when we’ve passed in the halls. But Doctor Gendron isn’t oblivious. Sometimes more observant than I’d like her to be, but honestly, usually precisely the right amount.

  “Don’t be mad.”

  She pulls a face. “Who’s mad? I’m not mad.”

  “Just don’t freak out.”

  Doctor Gendron places what I can only assume is a flippant hand over her heart. “On my honor, I promise not to freak out.”

  I still really don’t want to tell her, because despite her word, I don’t believe her. And I don’t want to make things weird for Lowry. It’s a talent I have—making it weird.

  “It’s Lowry. We’ve been, um, seeing each other. It’s not like we just fucked. I mean, we do, obviously, but not like one time by mistake. Like a lot.”

  Oh my god, making it so very weird. I take a breath and start over, trying not to talk about how Lowry and I fuck every chance we get.

  “What I’m trying to say is that we’re in a relationship and have been for a while. I think… No, I know I love him. And I think he might love me too? But I’m not sure. I’m a hard person to love.”

  I burn with shame when I say that. It’s not something I’m proud of, and it’s not something I like to admit, but deep in my heart of hearts I believe that’s true. Which sucks. Big time.

  “You’re not. That’s your depression talking. And I’m not mad. I’m not thrilled about it, but I’m not surprised, and I’m not going to censure him for it. Have you told him?”

  I bite my lip. Hard.

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s obviously up to you, and I should probably keep my mouth shut as such, but I’ll go as far to say I think you should. And that’s it. The rest is…” She shrugs. “ECT is incredibly safe during pregnancy, as I’m sure you’ve already looked up online. I can give you a bunch of studies saying so if you’d like to review them, and we can go over the details of what would be different if you choose to continue the pregnancy. If you choose to terminate the pregnancy, we could help you make arrangements for that. I know it can feel overwhelming. I’ve got to tell you that there’s the possibility of pregnancy exacerbating your depression to the point that it’s dangerous for you and the fetus. If that happens, I’m not going to be shy about advocating for you to have an abortion. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but should it, you’re my number one concern.”

  I appreciate Doctor Gendron’s neutrality, not using the word baby, but the thing is, I already think of her as “she,” so she’s already a baby to me. I nod, though, because if things get worse, a lot worse, and we can’t fix it? I won’t be able to manage a pregnancy, never mind another human being, especially one that can’t help itself at all. Whether I like it or not—which I don’t—abortion is a thing I need to keep on the table. Especially if Lowry enjoys being my daddy but has no interest in being a child’s father.

  * * *

  Lowry

  Last night with Starla was rough. She had some tea and agreed that she’d call Lacey first thing this morning. And then she begged me pretty please to fuck her.

  It was mind-blowing as always, but she felt fragile to me in a way she doesn’t usually, and distant. Not so distant that I didn’t feel she was fully consenting, but she was holding back from me. I suppose if she’s feeling as though she might blow apart, it makes sense she might withdraw a bit to hold herself together. But I didn’t like it. Don’t. Perhaps she’ll feel better this evening after speaking with Lacey. I hope so because it was heartrending to hold her listless body over a fitful night for her and a sleepless one for me.

  Considering all that, it’s been a long day but not half bad. I asked a patient of mine to consider ECT today and it scared her—don’t blame her at all—but she said she’d think about it and that’s more than I thought I would get. She reminds me of Starla some, actually, which maybe inclines me to fondness more than I would be otherwise. But if ECT could do for her what it’s done for Star… God, I hope she’ll let us try. I’d do just about anything to get her to try. Maybe Starla would speak with her when she’s more back to normal? It’s worth an ask.

  While the day had started out sunny and was still when I took my afternoon workout, the sky’s gone grey and thin drizzle is starting to turn to fat drops plunking down from the sky. Good thing I’ve got my umbrella; I’m not in a hurry to get drenched on my way to the car. I promised myself I’d stop at home to check mail and water plants and such. It’s possible I’ve been neglecting my apartment a bit since I’m at Starla’s so often. Had to ask my neighbor Mrs. Rodriguez if she wouldn’t mind dropping by to water the plants on occasion. Might’ve flushed when I did.

  Would Starla consider moving? To live with me? Not into my current bachelor pad which has the personality of a gallon of beige paint, but somewhere new we’d both like. I’d moved in with Maeve before we married—that had seemed inevitable but not something particularly exciting, whereas the prospect of officially living with Starla is… Let’s just say that despite the rain pelting down, there’s sunshine in my heart. I don’t know what exactly it is about her, but even thinking about Star, despite the dark spot she’s in at the moment—

  “Excuse me, Doctor Campbell?”

  There’s a bloke—younger than me but older than Starla—wearing a suit and trench coat and toting an umbrella, yeah, but still looking as though he’s irritated because he didn’t give the sky permission to open up so how dare it? I don’t care for this type of person because every damn thing is about them, even the weather.

  When I’ve given him my attention, he turns his displeasure on me. Not one of my patients
, but could be a relative. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been accosted in a parking lot.

  “Doctor Lowry Campbell?”

  “Yes. My hours are over for the day, though. If you’d like to make an appointment, please call my office and they can help you. I’ve got a card if you’d like. But otherwise, I’m actually on my way, so—”

  He shakes his head, thin lips spreading into a grimace as if he’s offended by my suggestion that he might need the services of a psychiatrist. “I don’t need a shrink, doc. I’m actually not here about your professional life at all.”

  “Given that I’ve no idea who the fuck you are, seems odd you’d be here about my personal life.”

  All the muscles in my back and shoulders have gone taut, and the tension spreads up to my neck. I might need Starla to work her fingers into the nape of my neck and farther down when I get in. Depending on what sort of day she’s had, of course. She might need me more than I need her and caring for her is its own satisfaction.

  “I’m a business associate of Starla Patrick’s.”

  A primal sort of growl forms in my chest and what I’d like to do is rip this man’s arms off and beat him with them. Yell from the depths of my soul for him to get Starla’s name out of his mouth.

  “Still not sure what you want with me.”

  He grips my arm through my coat, and oh, this arsehole is asking for it. I won’t let him provoke me into action, though. That may be what he’s after and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

  “I’m on the board of directors for Patrick Enterprises. Starla’s got some major decisions coming up and I’m not going to beat around the bush, here, Doctor Campbell. We don’t have a great deal of confidence in her.”

  He must sense the rage coming to a boil under my skin because he drops his hand and holds up his palms as if to placate me. It’s going to take a lot more than that to settle my displeasure. There are very few people on this earth I have more confidence in than Starla, so already his judgment is flawed in my opinion.

  Before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his ridiculous assessment of Star, he cuts in. “I mean, I think we’re all impressed with how she’s been able to manage her very serious mental health issues, and she’s certainly competent at running her little side business.”

  If this man had written a script with the goal of getting me to punch him in the face, he couldn’t have done a better job. My fingers curl into my palms, and the keys I’ve got in one hand dig into my flesh. Her side business? Does this man have no idea how much time and energy Starla pours into her consulting business? How incredible she is and how many people she’s helped? The kind of sensitivity and perseverance it takes to do her job well?

  If anything is a side business, it’s serving on the board of Patrick Enterprises. She doesn’t like it, I don’t think it’s healthy for her, and if this jack hole is any indication of what the rest of the board members are like, I can see why it stresses her out and why she’d like to be rid of the responsibility.

  “We’re more concerned about her relationship with you, to be honest.”

  What the bloody bollocks is he on about?

  “With me? And it doesn’t seem right, for you to know who I am, and for me to not have the pleasure of your name.”

  “Tad Harding.” He holds out a hand that I don’t take because this is not a friendly conversation. It’s not even polite. Dropping his hand, he regards me with a look that reeks of his knowledge that he’s hit a nerve. “And yes, Starla’s relationship with you. It’s awfully convenient, don’t you think, that someone who had a quite intimate relationship with Starla as a minor, who disappeared fifteen years ago, shows up right around when she’s come into being the wealthiest woman in New England? And charms his way into her bed?”

  Bile churns in my stomach, and it feels as though all the blood drains from my face. I hope I’m not turning green, but it feels that way. “You think I’m taking advantage of Starla?”

  The idea is sickening. I despise the idea of anyone taking advantage of her, but for it to be me? When all I’ve ever tried to do is protect her, even if I had to immolate myself to do it? I stayed away from her for far longer than I wanted to, and all to satisfy myself that I wouldn’t be taking advantage of her.

  No wonder nausea is overtaking me. I wish we were closer to my car so I could put a hand on it to steady myself.

  Harding shrugs. “You do have a history of marrying women who are far wealthier than you. Maeve Maxwell’s worth a pretty penny. Why wouldn’t you do the same with a girl—and let’s face it, she would’ve been a girl when you got to know her—”

  Would serve this dickhead right if I punched him in the throat. But that wouldn’t help anyone. I’ve got to keep my cool. For my sake, for Starla’s. This is ridiculous.

  “Yes, my ex-wife came from money, but if you’ve done as much research as you’d like me to believe you have, you know I left that marriage not much wealthier than I came into it. Maeve and I had a rock-solid prenup which I did nothing to dispute when we divorced, and should my relationship with Starla progress to that point, I’d expect the same. I’m not after her money.”

  Harding shrugs as though it doesn’t matter to him either way, though he’s clearly devoted some resources to finding out this information. I’ll have to call Maeve later, see if he contacted her and apologize if so. No need for her to get dragged into this mess, especially since I’m unsure of how big of a mess it might be. At least he doesn’t seem to know anything about Starla having met with Jerome Garrett. Or perhaps he does and this is his last-ditch effort to keep that from happening?

  “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. To be quite honest, I don’t really care. If Starla wants to buy herself a daddy, what does it matter to me?”

  The riot in my stomach is worse than when the Black and Whites played at home and lost. How does this tosser know anything about that?

  “My point is that it’s not going to look good to the board, and I can make it look worse. I can plant seeds of doubt about her capabilities, about her intellect, her sanity. She is regularly suicidal, isn’t she?”

  This man is lucky I love Starla and my job so much. If it weren’t for the prospect of losing Starla or my license, my fist would be scattering Tad’s teeth all over the pavement and sending some down his throat as well. I was never much for fisticuffs as a boy, but my brothers got into some scrapes I felt obligated to get them out of, Saint Lowry be damned.

  “That’s grounds for involuntary commitment, isn’t it? Being a threat to oneself?” Tad strokes a finger across his chin, acting pensive. “Perhaps Starla isn’t in any position to be making decisions about her own person, never mind a multibillion dollar corporation…”

  “She’s—” I want to leap to Starla’s defense but my mouth snaps shut because I’m not going to inadvertently give him any more ammunition than he already has. Though I so desperately want to tell this arsehole that she isn’t currently suicidal, nor has she been for some time. Even if she were, she has a long history of seeking help when she needs it, the latest example being checking herself into Harbinson for a bit when her father passed. No one with any integrity would advocate for Starla to be committed, but Tad seems to be coming up short on any of that.

  His mouth curls into an ugly smirk. “It’s actually quite disgusting of you to take advantage of such a vulnerable woman, Doctor Campbell. And you should know better than anyone else exactly how vulnerable she is. I don’t think the medical board would feel kindly toward you if they were to find out.”

  “I don’t take kindly to threats, Mr. Harding.”

  “And I don’t take kindly to a corporate empire falling into shambles because a washed-up pervert wants to live a life of luxury. I know con men like you. You’ll drag Starla’s name and her father’s business through the mud before you give up what you want. You’ll ruin her. She’ll be the laughingstock of the corporate world, Patrick Enterprises stock will tank because no one will have co
nfidence in a company held primarily by a woman so easily swayed. It won’t just be her, it’ll be the thousands of people employed by Patrick Enterprises who will suffer. I’m guessing if you’re willing to take advantage of a mentally unstable woman that you won’t give much of a shit about that, but I had to throw it out there, just in case you do have a conscience.”

  “I’ve heard enough, Mr. Harding. Don’t you ever come to my place of employment again. Come to think of it, don’t ever talk to me again, period. My relationship with Starla is none of your business.”

  I don’t wait for him to find more of my buttons to push, and instead stride toward my car while my heart races in the pouring rain.

  Once shut in my car, I pull my phone from my pocket. I don’t want to call Starla, but I feel as though I ought to. This is her life, her father’s legacy after all. But on the other hand, I don’t want to add any more nonsense to her plate which is clearly overfull. Whatever it is, I should call her.

  Except that when I click my screen on, there’s a text from her:

  Saw Dr. G this afternoon, she wrote me a scrip for the anxiety and to help me sleep. I’m taking one now, I’ll be out soon. You can come over if you want but I’m going to be a rag doll for the next twelve hours at least and I’ve got a board meeting in the morning.

  There are days—many of them—that I would head to Starla’s house anyhow. Hell, I’d sleep on the couch, but she’d be mad if she woke before I did and she realized it. I’d want to be there in case she needed me. Or to make her breakfast in the morning so she wouldn’t be pouring cereal into a bowl and picking it out with her fingers because she doesn’t even put milk on it—God forbid she consume anything with real nutritional value. Infuriating woman.

  So, instead of calling Starla, I ring up the other person who might have a clue in the world of how to handle this. Course she doesn’t answer when I truly need her advice, so I leave a voicemail.