Dr. Brandt: Billionaires’ Club Book 5 (Billionaires’ Club Series)
Dr. Brandt: Chapter 19

I pulled on my sweater, loving the West Coast weather more than I cared to admit. Well, Southern California’s coastal weather, anyway. There was virtually no humidity, just brisk temperatures and light, breezy air.

It was quite a stark contrast from what I was used to in Manhattan during the late August months, which consisted of humid temperatures, and me begging for the sultry summer to end quickly. Fall in New York was my favorite time of year; not too hot and not too cold. That was the perfect weather to wear the sweater I was pulling on, and lucky me, in this part of the country, I got to wear it mid-summer in the evening.

It was the little things. And that’s what I was focusing on these days, the little things and replaceing joy in them. Like this silly brown cashmere sweater that absolutely did not go with the current season—and most certainly did not go with the fashion of Southern California—but it brought a smile to my face, and that’s all that mattered.

Smiling these days felt like a bit of a struggle since getting slapped in the face with the reality my son was facing, but I hid my emotions from my very observant son. Then, last night, I heard him crying in his room. It was to be expected, though. We’d met with Lisa that morning and didn’t talk much about it after we left the hospital.

I had heard him crying after I’d finished drying up tears of my own. The sad part was that we were both afraid to show emotion to the other, which I knew wasn’t good. We needed to come together to work through our fears and reservations. We wouldn’t be able to make a sound decision—or any decision at all—if we didn’t.

Again, I wanted to text Warren for some advice but knew it was best to leave him alone. I’m the one who decided to go this route, making my own decisions on behalf of my son and me. Besides, I had Dr. Palmer’s number, Lisa’s number, Lisa’s mom’s number—though I’d never met her—and the obvious number, Cameron’s, if I needed any help or advice.

“Mom?” I heard Jackson call. I saved my work and sent the final transcript that Warren needed for his afternoon meeting today. It was seven-thirty in the morning in California, and given that my new boss was three hours ahead of me, my workdays started early and ended early.

“Mother?” Jackson said. He seemed to be in good spirits this morning, a big change from when I held him last night and let him cry into my shoulder.

“Yep, yeah?” I said, sending off the last email to Warren’s secretary and turning back to see Jackson wearing his favorite Knicks jersey. “Is there another game tonight?” I questioned.

“Nah.” He playfully tugged on my ponytail. “This jersey just puts me in an unbeatable mood. That’s why it’s my good luck shirt,” he said. “Is there breakfast?”

“Oh crap,” I said, pushing back and standing up. “I’ll fry some eggs.”

“No biggie,” he said. “I can do it.”

“Jacks, let me make breakfast,” I said, hurrying into the kitchen.

I snatched the spatula out of his hand and was shocked when he turned and looked at me with frustration.

“Why would you do that?”

“Do what?” I said, grabbing the eggs from the fridge and bending to grab a skillet from the cabinet.

“Take this from me.”

“Jacks?” I questioned. He was pissed, and I couldn’t understand why.

“Pretty soon, I won’t have use of my right hand. Don’t you think I should enjoy it while I still can use the fucking thing?”

“I—Jacks,” I started, not knowing how to respond. I stood there, my heart racing and breaking simultaneously. The thought never even occurred to me.

“It’s fine. Just make breakfast and call me down when it’s ready.” He turned and left before I could say anything.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I felt selfish for not considering what my son was dealing with. Maybe if I weren’t so in my head all fucking day, I’d know my son was just putting on a brave face, knowing that his life is about to be changed forever. Oh, my God. I need help with this!

And as if God answered me in that split second, my phone rang.

It was Cameron.

“I think God answered my prayers or something. That’s why you’re calling,” I said without thinking.

“I could argue that I’m not the answer to anyone’s prayers, but then we’d both know I would be lying.” I could hear the smile in his voice, but I wasn’t in the mood for Cameron’s charms.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Jessa, you don’t sound too hot, and that’s why I’m calling. Forgive me for not calling yesterday evening, but I had a bit of a rough morning after being called in for an emergency assist on a surgery.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve called. If you had, I might know what to say or do when it comes to my son, who has to deal with the mental fuckery of losing movement in his arm.” There it was. I officially snapped, and Cameron was the poor man who would be on the receiving end of the fear-based vitriol poised to spew out of my mouth. “Perhaps it was that you failed to mention that you would be performing other surgeries instead of following through with the ones you’ve set appointments for. Do you do this to all your patients? You know, bail on them when they need you most. I guess some things never change. You must have this scale of importance where you rank things in your arrogant brain. I mean, I felt the brunt of that when the importance of going to your fucking dream college versus staying with the used up, throwaway college girlfriend—”

“I never said—”

“Ah, ah-ah,” I interrupted him. “I’m not done yet, Dr. Brandt.” I exhaled, my rage giving birth to some demon that had apparently been growing in me since Cameron left me years ago. My voice changed into some diabolical tone like I was possessed, and now, Cameron was about to hear everything I never knew I needed to say. “If running off to the next best thing is more important than helping my son, then I don’t give a fuck if you’re God’s gift to surgery, you have the most successful cases, or even if you have the mother fucking cure to cancer, I will not allow you to perform this life-altering surgery on my son.” The demonic voice that’d taken over me seemed to fade, but my anger wasn’t gone. “I’d like to offer you a suggestion: when you say you’re going to be there for a patient, be fucking there. It’ll serve you well to know that you can’t play with your patients’ minds like that and hurt them like you’re the very type to do.”

“Anything else?” he said as if he were taking notes.

“Yes, you’re an asshole,” I finished, feeling my heart pounding in my throbbing head.

“May I speak?” he questioned meekly.

“Yes. Yes, you may speak, Cameron.”

“First,” he spoke carefully so as not to wake the demon in me again, “it was rude of me to miss our appointment yesterday, and no, it is not something I do to all of my new patients.”

“Just my kid, right?” I said, annoyed at the excuses I knew were about to be delivered.

“No,” he said. “This was a rare case. I was not happy the surgery was moving forward, and given that there are laws that prevent me from disclosing too much to you, I can say that, despite my best efforts, we lost the patient. Otherwise, I would’ve most definitely followed up with you last evening. I’m sorry it took me until this morning to do so. I can tell that, due to my lack of effort, I’ve evoked your hatred of me leaving you once again. Unfortunately—”

“Did you just say you lost the patient yesterday?” I questioned, my rational brain seizing control again in this demonic tug-of-war.

“Yes, and even so, I am sorry I did not call you. I didn’t expect it would affect me as it did, which is no excuse. I deeply apologize.”

“Oh, Jesus, Cameron. Don’t you dare apologize for that. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I was wrong to go off like that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Hey,” I heard his smile through the phone, “if that’s how you handle doctors who are negligent in their duties towards your son, I’ll take it all day long. Trust me, I know I was wrong in this situation. I could’ve had my secretary text you or done something more than not saying anything at all. Nevertheless, I learned a little something from this phone call, and I feel I must repay the favor now.”

“How so?” I still wasn’t in the mood for games, but I would do anything to get Jackson feeling better, and I needed a better understanding of how to be a solid support system for my son.

“What are you two up to tonight?”

“Um, I don’t know. Jackson was going to use a fake I.D. to sneak into a strip club, and I figured I’d go to a singles bar and replace myself a new boyfriend,” I said sarcastically.

“New boyfriend? I didn’t know you and your fiancé were into that sort of thing,” he said humorously.

“Warren and I ended things last week,” I announced and regretted it the moment I did. “And I’m not looking to get into another relationship, so you can forget about being excited.”

“Excited?” he said, rightfully confused by my assumption.

“Shit,” I said, closing my eyes in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. You most likely have a girlfriend, or a wife, or who knows. You’re gorgeous and probably exploring the idea of men these days. Why not? Everyone is beautiful in this town. Why limit yourself, right?”

Nice, Jessa. Keep it up. As if you haven’t embarrassed yourself enough for one conversation.

The silence on the other end of the phone would’ve been deafening if I hadn’t heard Cameron restraining himself from bursting into laughter.

“Nothing seems to have changed with the woman I never stopped loving, let me tell you. You’re still able to talk out of control and make wild and very false assumptions when you’re pissed off.”

“So, you’re not into dudes?”

For fuck’s sake. Shut the hell up already!

“Fortunately for the ladies, I still dig chicks. And fortunately for your cute little ass, I still dig you too and I am not dating anyone—male or female.”

“How did we get onto this subject?”

“Your wild assumptions, still pissed that I left you in college, no hope for second chances, and me standing you and your boy up yesterday morning.”

“Right, good. But I went to those assumptions because—”

“I have a beach house, and it’s around where you and Jackson are staying.”

“How would you know where we’re staying?”

“I peaked at the medical charts,” he said. “Anyway, it’s five or six houses from where you’re at, just a fun walk down the beach. I’m off at seven tonight, and I’d love to cook you both dinner. We’ll sit, and I can answer any questions that may have come up since you left the hospital yesterday.”

“You know, Cameron Brandt, if my son weren’t so upset, and if I had any clue how to handle this situation, I would turn you down.”

“I know without a shadow of a doubt that you would turn all this down. But I am reaching out to offer some help that may ease any fears that have arisen since meeting with Lisa yesterday.”

I ran my hand over the top of my head and chewed on my bottom lip. I looked out the ocean window, knowing that this place gave good vibes, and if we were going to talk about this shit, we would all be comfortable opening up here. I just needed to be careful not to get too comfortable with Cam.

“Fine. What time do you want us there?” I conceded.

“Fish Tacos at my place at eight-thirty.”

“We ate that last night,” I said with a smile.

“Fine, then, chicken tacos?”

“Bleh. You know I hate chicken.”

He laughed. “Well, you’re fucking with me, so I’m fucking with you.” He laughed again. “Listen, I have to get back to meeting my patients in the office. It’s going to be carne asada, then.”

“There you go ignoring—”

“I had you scheduled to call first thing when I got to the office. I have my first patient at eight. I’m getting off this call at seven fifty-five to do a quick study on charts before I meet with them. So, no, I didn’t fuck up priorities this time.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry about your patient from yesterday. Really.”

“Thank you,” he answered, more serious now. “You and Jackson have a nice day, and I’ll see you both tonight.”

We ended the call, and I wanted to think of someplace Jackson and I could go to get his mind off things until we met with Cameron tonight. He’d been adamant about searching for a car since he wasn’t into Ubering everywhere anymore, so maybe that’s what we’d do. We could make our way to a used car lot and see if we got lucky.