Page 64 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

AVERY

T rouble comes in threes, a client of mine always says. Every time something bad happens, he hunkers down and stops functioning, bracing for the oncoming storm.

I’ve tried to gently steer him away from this behavior, but the belief is too ingrained.

On Monday, I begin to wonder if he’s not right after all.

The first sucker punch? Finding out that Kai and Maddox lived in DC too. I’m British. We’d met in London. The United States is a large country. What were the odds?

Fate has a cruel sense of humor.

The second blow to the gut? The aftermath of our session. They didn’t want to talk to me. They have no interest in hearing what I have to say.

All Sunday, I’d struggled with a roller coaster of emotions. Finally, late in the evening, I’d Googled them. I’d found their email addresses, and after struggling with the words for hours, I’d written them a simple, short note.

I should have never gone away with you ten years ago. I’m sorry I dragged you into the mess that was my life. I came to Club M to find you and to apologize in person, but it looks like I just ended up making things worse. I’m sorry about that as well. I won’t be returning.

The third punch—the knockout blow—comes Monday afternoon. I’m doing paperwork when my phone rings.

It’s my father.

I haven’t heard from my parents since my divorce was finalized seven years ago. No birthday wishes. No Christmas cards. Nothing. They didn’t approve of my decision to divorce Victor, and they made their displeasure clear.

I’m an only child. I thought I was a good daughter. When they cut me out of their lives, it had wrecked me. For almost a year, I’d been deeply depressed, alone and lonely, too shattered to pick up the broken pieces of my life.

My parents were the reason I moved away from the UK.

That was seven years ago. Since then, I’ve worked on my mental health.

I’ve spent hours in therapy, processing the guilt.

Making myself believe that I did nothing wrong by divorcing my controlling ex-husband.

Convincing myself that their decision to stop speaking with me was not my fault.

Unraveling the sense of shame I feel at the mess I’ve made of my life.

“Hello, father.”

I don’t know what to say to Jeremy Welch. Neither of my parents has spoken a word to me in seven years. Why is he calling now?

I find out with his next words. “Your mother has cancer.”

My mind goes blank with shock. My fingers tighten on my phone. “What?”

“She has Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma.” His voice is thinner than I remember. Frailer. He’s only fifty-nine, but he sounds a lot older. “Her five-year survival rate is only fifty percent.”

My throat is dry. I swallow hard. “What can I do?”

I need to go to London. I need to be at my mother’s side to help her through this. There’ll be chemo appointments. Radiation treatments. I’m my parents’ only child. I should be there for them.

In a pinch, Maggie can see my patients. I can’t take too much time off—my practice has only really established itself in the last two years—but I have to do something. I can’t sit by on the sidelines. “I’ll look for airline tickets right away.”

“No.” He cuts me off harshly, then draws in a deep breath. “Sorry. Maisie doesn’t know I called. We’re keeping the news quiet for now. It’s just…” He hesitates.

“What is it?”

“There’s an experimental treatment option,” he says. “A German clinic is doing some cutting-edge immunotherapy work.” He sighs. “Of course, the pencil-pushers at the NHS won’t approve it. We can’t afford it on our own, but if you could help out…”

They haven’t spoken to me in seven years. Not one word.

I push that unworthy thought out of my head. “How much do you need?”

“Three hundred thousand pounds.”

There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. At today’s exchange rate, three hundred thousand pounds is more than a half million dollars. I don’t have anything close to that much cash. I’ve only been practicing full time for three years.

Saying no isn’t an option. “I’ll see what I can do,” I promise my father. “I’ll send you whatever I can.”

“If you talk to Victor…”

“No.” I cut him off, my entire body growing cold. “No. Not that. Not again.”

He can’t keep the note of reproach out of his voice. “Your mother’s dying, Avery.”

I clench my eyes shut. I want nothing to do with my ex-husband. “I’ll find another way. I just need some time. Give me a few weeks.”

He sighs heavily. “Time is the one thing Maisie doesn’t have.”

“Avery, everyone’s driving me nuts.”

Rina Chauhan is an Indian-American pharmaceutical company executive. She’s in her early forties. She’s got two teenage children in private school, a husband whose career is just as high-pressured as hers, and two aging parents who just moved in with them.

I give her a sympathetic look. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” She leans back with a sigh and takes a long drink of her water. “We’re still adjusting to my parents living with us.”

A couple of months ago, Rina’s father had fallen in the bathroom in the middle of the night. Her mother, who wears a hearing aid, hadn’t heard her husband cry out for help. After that, Rina insisted that her parents move into their five-thousand square feet Alexandria home.

“Is Greg finding it difficult to cope?”

She shakes her head at once. “Greg’s great.

I was upfront with him when we started dating.

I’m South Asian. I believe that there’s a social contract between generations, you know?

My parents brought me up and gave me a stable home.

They paid for undergrad and grad school.

And now that they’re older, it’s my duty to take care of them. ”

I’ve been distracted ever since my father called. Thrown into turmoil. My parents cut off contact with me. How much do I owe them? Now, Rina’s words prod my conscience.

I nod to show her I’m listening, though today, my mind is only half on my client. She continues. “No, Greg gets along pretty well with my parents. It’s his sister Tamara. She has an opinion on everything, and she feels compelled to share it.”

“Why does that bother you?”

She makes a face. “Deep down, I guess I feel guilty,” she admits.

“This is my value system, not Greg’s, but my decision affects him as well.

I keep asking him if he’s mad at me, and he keeps telling me that he’s fine.

But then Tamara pokes her long nose into our business, and I start to freak out.

” She chuckles. “At least he likes Indian food.”

She leans forward. “I don’t know why Tamara thinks she has a say in my marriage. She doesn’t know us. She doesn’t know our relationship.”

“Tell her that,” I suggest.

But I can relate to Rina’s problems. Everyone only saw the good part of Victor. He showered me with expensive gifts. In public, he was always polite. Attentive. Nobody saw the dark side of my husband. Just me.

Maisie and Jeremy Welch didn’t believe me when I told them he hit me. My mother told me to go back to him. Victor was part of the peerage. That mattered more than my happiness.

I’ve worked hard for my peace of mind. And now, with one phone call, everything I’ve struggled for is at risk again.

Rina’s still talking. I jerk my attention back to my client. “At the end of the day,” she says, “I have an obligation to my parents. I’m an only child. They’re not getting younger. They need me now, and I have to be there for them.”

She’s absolutely right. She’s cut through the heart of the matter. No matter what they did or didn’t do, I have an obligation to my mother. I don’t know how I’m going to find half a million dollars, but I have to try.