Chapter Twenty-seven
Lucas
Regan: Can we talk?
I push my work aside and stare at the text. In my experience, never have those words come to mean anything positive. I’ve said them more than once myself, when I had the balls to have an in-person conversation rather than just not showing up at the wedding.
Could it be Regan has come to her senses and doesn’t want to keep carrying on with the likes of me?
That would be a smart move, even if it means giving up the lifestyle my wealth would afford her and the baby.
Or it could simply mean she’s not pregnant. This is about the time she’d find out, right?
We haven’t talked, texted, or even crossed paths since the night she came to my apartment. And as much as I’ve tried to deny it, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her way more than I should, given the transactional nature of our relationship. And it’s why I’m going to have to hurt her. Not in the way I’ve hurt the other women in my past, but I know she’ll be disappointed that I’m backing out. She’s probably gotten used to the idea of me being her baby daddy by now. Maybe she’s even gotten a little excited about what the extra money would mean.
But it’s the right thing to do. Continuing this has disaster written all over it. For me. And surely for any kid I’d bring into this fucked up situation.
Because I’m pretty sure that over the past six weeks, I’ve fallen in love with Regan Lucas.
I lower my head to the desk, banging my forehead over and over on the unforgiving mahogany. Of course I’ve fallen in love with her. I’m Lucas Montana. It’s what I do—fall in love with women and then leave them high and dry.
It’s why I refuse to do it to Regan. Not her.
She’ll get over it quickly. Much more easily than I will. She’ll move on and go back to her original plan, never having known my true feelings. She’ll just think I did a typical me thing, bailing out of something at the last minute. Maybe she’ll even hate me. And maybe it’s what I deserve.
I grab my keys off the corner of my desk and head down the hall.
I pass Allie in reception. It looks like she’s just getting done with a tour. “Leaving early on a Monday?” she says. “Kind of unlike you.”
“Just running an errand. I’ll be back later.”
My younger sister waves and dances happily back to her office.
On my drive, I think about Allie. She’s been in a long-distance, friends-with-benefits relationship dating back to last Christmas when she met Dallas’s girlfriend’s older brother. Her much older brother. Although Asher lives thousands of miles away in Florida, he travels a lot for business and they get together every time he’s in the city. No planning. No strings. Just a fun, no expectations liaison.
I’m jealous of what they have. Why can’t I, for once in my miserable life, not fall hard and fast for the girl?
I could have just texted Regan back, but this conversation calls for more than a ‘see you around’ blow-off text. Even if I can’t tell her my real reason for backing out, she deserves an explanation.
On McQuaid Circle, I park in front of Truman’s Grocery. It’s early afternoon on a Monday. I thought most people would be at work, but the street is bustling with people. Kids seem to be everywhere. Then I see the red-white-and-blue banners that still adorn all the light posts and remember what week it is. July 4 th was just a few days ago. It’s summer vacation for kids, and many people have the week off.
Familiar faces are everywhere. This is a bad idea. I put my car in gear and pull down the street, through the roundabout, and park once again, this time behind Lloyd’s Steakhouse. Then I walk down the alley, hoping none of the other business owners pick this moment to take out their trash.
Me: I’m at your back door.
It takes far longer than I expect for her to let me in. And once she does, I realize why. Her shop is dark, as if she never opened up for the day. Damn, she must be really torn up. And I’m about to drop even more bad news on her.
“Hey,” she says and turns. “Come on up.”
Once upstairs, I see her cat and try to lighten the mood. “How you doin’?” I say to the furball.
My joke falls completely flat as I follow Regan into the kitchen. She takes a seat and motions to the table. Upon inspection, there must be a dozen pregnancy tests laid out in front of her. I step closer, my eyes darting from one to the next, until my brain catches up with what my eyes are seeing.
I look up and Regan is smiling from ear-to-ear, her dimples as clear as I’ve ever seen them. “We’re pregnant!” She covers her mouth and tears come to her eyes. “Oh my gosh, that’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. This is real. It’s actually happening. Can you believe we did it the first month? I’m still wrapping my head around it.”
I pull out a chair and fall heavily onto it. She rambles on and on, but only one thing is registering. The woman I’m in love with is pregnant. And I absolutely cannot tell her. My plan—my entire plan to walk away and try to forget about her, to move on with my life and let her move on with hers—it’s all just gone up in flames. Because I’m tied to her for the next eighteen years. Longer even.
Fuck my life.
I have a feeling I’m going to be living in my own personal hell for… ever .
“Lucas?... Lucas, are you okay?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Wow. This is incredible. I told you my swimmers were good.”
She laughs. “I guess so.”
I pick absently at the table. “So what happens now? Have you been to the doctor yet? When is it due? Can we find out the sex?”
She laughs again. She’s downright giddy. Me, I’m miserable. I want to take her in my arms and tell her I’m in love with her. I want to celebrate us becoming a family. I want to actually make us a family.
But we’re not one. We’re the furthest thing from a family as you can get. Technically, we’re now bound by the legal contract we both signed. The business transaction we agreed to. The one that has me being the occasional weekend dad and her the primary parent.
I want to find the contract and rip it to shreds. I don’t want to be a weekend dad. I don’t want every other holiday. I want every holiday. I want every day . With her. With them.
“I just found out today,” she says. “I haven’t even called the doctor. I doubt they’d want to see me for at least a few weeks. It’s still so early. But I did look up the due date.”
“How?”
“The baby’s due date is based off your last period. Mine was June seventh. That puts the baby due on March fourteenth.”
“Holy shit.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. This is real. I did this. I agreed to this. Hell, it was my fucking idea. And now I have to live with what I’ve done.
Her hand touches my arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head, trying to get my blood flowing again. “It’s just… I mean I knew what we were doing, but it’s all so unreal.”
Her smile falls. “Are you disappointed it happened on the first try?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Liar.” She narrows her eyes. “Do you really want a kid, or was it a ruse to have regular sex with someone who doesn’t think you’re a pariah?”
“I want a kid, Regan. I wasn’t lying about that.” I shrug. “Still, can you blame me if I’m a red-blooded man who wanted to spend a little more time in the sack with a beautiful woman?”
“Sorry,” she says, her grin reappearing. “Guess you’ll have to go back to spending more time with your right hand.”
I snicker disingenuously. “Guess so.”
She stands. “I should open the shop. I was just too shocked to do it earlier. I’ll let you know how the doctor’s appointment goes.”
“You’ll let me know? Regan, I want to be there.”
She cocks her head. “You do?”
“Yes. I do. It’s my kid too. Like I said, I want this.”
This and more , a voice screams in my head.
“There will be rumors if anyone sees you there.”
“I’ll have them bring me in the back door or whatever. Ah man, don’t tell me Hudson McQuaid is your doctor. Please, anyone but him.”
“You think I want my friend’s husband all up in my business? No way. It’s Dr. Russo. I’ll text you the day and time. If you can’t make it, I’ll give you the CliffsNotes.”
“I’ll make it.”
“What if you’re out of town?”
“Regan, I said I’ll make it. But listen, here’s what you should do. When you get to the office and they take you back to an exam room, that’s when you ask the doctor to bring me in through the back door. I’ll park a ways down the street and wait there.”
“It’s going to be hard to keep this a secret if anyone suspects.”
“We’ll do what we can, but sooner or later, everyone will know.”
She nods. “Okay.” She motions to the door. “I really should open up.”
As I descend the stairs, still in a state of shock, she calls my name. I glance back.
“Don’t forget.” She smiles brightly. “You have to quit smoking now.”
I hold up a dismissive hand. “Yup. Sure thing.”
In minutes, I’m back in my car lighting up. I take a long drag off one of the last cigarettes I’m ever going to have and think of how I was just kicked out. Again .
Oh, how ironically poetic it is to have the tables turned.
~ ~ ~
I smoke two cigarettes on the way back. It’s only a twenty-minute drive from Regan’s to the winery, but I sit in my car and smoke two more, emptying my pack, wondering what kind of father I’ll be—hoping I’ll be a good one. Knowing I can’t fuck this up. Not this.
Am I happy? Yes, I think I am. I think I’m fucking ecstatic. I’m going to be a dad. It’s something I thought would never happen. I thought the door to that had been closed, sealed, and nailed shut after leaving Lissa.
It’s just, when I agreed to this… no, when I suggested it, I didn’t imagine things would get so complicated.
Back in my office, I sit and blindly stare at the crumpled pack of Marlboros in my trash can.
“What’s eating you, brother?” Blake asks from the doorway, a box tucked under his arm.
“You have no fucking idea.”
He steps inside, closes the door, and deposits the box on the corner of my desk. “Your industrial sized box of Post-it notes.” He sniffs the air around me and scowls. “Why do you smell like a goddamn chimney? I thought you were going to kick that nasty habit.”
I nod to the trash. “I just did.”
He laughs heartily. “Right.” He takes the seat across from my desk. “So what’s up?”
I shouldn’t tell him. I shouldn’t tell anyone. We agreed to keep it a secret as long as possible. But it’s eating away at me like a fast-growing cancer. I have to talk about it. I have to tell someone.
“I’m…” I lean back in my chair, look up at the ceiling, and let out a long, deep sigh. “I’m going to be a dad.”
Just saying the words knocks the breath right out of me. I knew what I was doing. I knew it would probably happen sooner or later. I just didn’t know I would feel like this. I didn’t realize there would be this intense need inside me to protect the little being that’s no more than a bundle of cells at this point. And more… to protect its mom.
“Holy crap.” He scrubs a hand across his jaw. “You got someone pregnant?” His eyes go wide. “Oh, shit, it’s Regan, isn’t it? Bad move, brother. Thought you were smarter than to let that happen.”
“I didn’t let it happen. We planned it.”
He almost falls out of his chair. “You what?”
“Not only that. It was my idea.” I shake my head, wanting to regret it, but knowing I don’t.
I tell Blake everything.
“Dude, are you crazy? So you’re just going to share custody, both of you being part-time single parents?”
“We have a contract. Candace drew it up for us. Regan will be the primary parent.”
He scratches his head over and over. “Why are you doing this?”
“Same reason she wanted to. Something was missing in my life.”
He belts out a maniacal laugh. “You mean other than the four fiancées you ditched?”
“I get enough shit from everyone else, Blake. I don’t need it from you.”
He holds up his hands. “Fine. Fine. But, damn, you really thought this out.”
I rub my eyes. “Wait. It gets worse.”
He stares at me, trying to read me. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh, hell. You went and fell for her, didn’t you?”
My door swings open. It’s Dallas. “I wanted to—” He stops talking when he sees our serious expressions “Okay,” he says, stepping inside. “What’d I miss?”
Blake pats the empty chair next to him. “Have a seat, brother. And shut the door.”