Chapter Twenty-eight
Regan
I press my cheek against the porcelain throne, exhausted once again from my morning vomit sessions.
Two weeks ago, when I hit the five-week mark, is when it started. As I sit hunched over the toilet, it’s hard to believe it’s actually gotten better. A few days ago, after a call with Dr. Russo, I discovered if I eat crackers in the middle of the night, my morning sickness isn’t as bad.
I chuckle inwardly, thinking how vomiting for a half hour straight is still an improvement over the two hours I was tied to the toilet previously. I wanted this. I brought it on myself. This too shall pass.
The funny thing is, at least having morning sickness is confirmation that I’m actually pregnant. And there is a tiny baby growing inside me. It’s the thought I cling to when I feel like nothing else can possibly come out of me and then I practically vomit up a lung.
It is strange that, with all the sickness, I still have an appetite. Just not until mid-morning.
I’m sitting slumped against the wall, hoping I’m done for today, when the doorbell rings. I bolt upright, willing myself not to throw up. Because few people know of the hidden doorbell on the back door of the shop.
When I was a kid, there was a group of teenage thugs who would skateboard down the alley and ring the doorbells of every business. My dad got sick of it after a few weeks and disconnected it, only to install a new, hidden one only his wholesale book suppliers knew about.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no . It can’t be my parents. My head slumps into my hands. That would be the absolute worst thing ever. Please let it just be some kid playing around.
When the doorbell rings again, I look at Joey, curled up outside the bathroom door where he sits every morning, patiently awaiting my return to the living. “It’s not them,” I say. “Fate couldn’t be so cruel.”
It rings a third time. I get up off the floor, feeling semi-sure I’m not going to hurl anymore, and slip on my robe. When it registers that it’s only eight-thirty in the morning, my heart sinks. It’s not a bratty teen playing a prank. Teens aren’t up at this hour in the summer.
I quickly swish my mouth out with water and take a long drink. Then I head for the stairs, just as it rings three more times in quick succession.
Is it Lucas? He knows how sick I’ve been. Is he coming to check on me?
No. He doesn’t know about the doorbell. Plus, he’d text. Or just walk in as he likes to do. Then again, I have started locking up for the most part. Unless my pregnancy brain has me forgetting to, of course.
I hesitate as I walk through the shop and approach the back door. I slowly put my eye against the peephole as if the inconsiderate person on the other side might be able to see me. But then, relief envelops me like a warm blanket when I see who it is. I unlock and swing the door open and throw my hands around my brother’s neck. “Ryder!”
He laughs as I hug him tightly. “I wasn’t aware I’d get such a welcoming greeting.”
“Are you kidding? I’m just glad it’s not Mom and Dad.”
“Why don’t you want Mom and Dad here?”
I shake my head, coming up with a plausible excuse. “You know how they can be, wanting to micromanage everything. Trying to tell me how to run the business and all. I just like it better when I see them on their turf, not mine.”
“Fair enough. Are you going to invite me up?”
“Yes, of course. Come in.” I look behind him for his wife. “Where’s Amy?”
“Long story.”
I spot his car parked in one of the two spots reserved for me in the alley. “You drove here? All the way from Colorado?”
“I did. So I’d really appreciate a cup of coffee while I explain.” He follows me to the stairs, taking a moment to look around the shop. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“If you’d bother showing up once in a while, you’d have seen all the renovations I made over the years.”
He shrugs. “Amy never did like it here.”
“So I’m guessing if you’re here, that means…”
“Coffee first, big sister.”
“Okay. Don’t judge. My place is a mess.” I stiffen when I think of a few things I don’t want him to see. Namely the pregnancy books sitting on the coffee table. “Wait here,” I say at the top of the stairs. “I just want to tidy up first.”
“It’s not like I didn’t grow up seeing all your girl shit lying around, Regan.”
I shoot him a hard stare. “Just wait here for two seconds.”
I race across the room, gather up the books, and do a quick visual sweep for anything else that might give me away. I tuck the evidence in my nightstand drawer and head back out.
Ryder is in the kitchen petting Joey.
I roll my eyes. “Gee, thanks for waiting.”
“You got a new cat,” he says. “Wasn’t sure you would after what happened with that fucker, David.”
My stomach rolls at the mental picture of what he did to Chandler, and I will myself not to throw up.
“His name is Joey.”
Joey rubs against his leg, purring at the attention he’s getting. I narrow my eyes. How come he likes Ryder and not Lucas?
“So… coffee? And can I use your bathroom?”
I motion to the hall, praying he doesn’t go through my bathroom drawers. “You know where it is.” I start brewing a cup for him. For him, not for me. I haven’t been able to stand the taste of it for weeks, which has made Tuesday nights difficult with me secretly dumping Ava’s liquid gold under the picnic table.
When Ryder returns a few minutes later, he looks bummed. Oh, god, he saw something.
I hand him a mug and sit at the table, waiting for him to lay into me.
“You made the second bedroom into a closet?” he asks, looking absolutely disheartened as he sits next to me.
“Yeah, so?”
He turns the coffee cup around several times by the handle. “I was hoping I’d be able to crash here for a while.”
My hand finds its way on top of his. “Oh, Ryder. Did she kick you out?”
I try to sound sympathetic when saying it. They have been married for years. But I never liked her, or the way she kept him from coming home. The way she dictated where they lived, what jobs she wanted him to have, and how they spent their time. It always reminded me too much of David.
He shakes his head. “I left.”
“Finally came to your senses, huh?”
“Listen, I know the two of you never got on like sisters, but—”
“But she’s your wife and you love her.”
He closes his eyes, sighs, then takes a long drink. “Why is that?” He narrows his eyes. “Why do you think I stayed all these years? Wasted all that time on a woman who was clearly so self-involved that she was incapable of really loving anyone?”
I point to myself. “You’re asking me? The one who stayed with David, sacrificing my passion and my health?”
He snorts. “Guess we’re two peas in a pod then.”
“What finally did it? Why now?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s getting a migraine. “She’s been cheating on me with one of my co-workers.”
My mouth opens wide. “Seriously?”
He nods. “I’m pretty sure it’s been going on for a while. She became less interested in sex—another thing she always controlled about our relationship. I should have known what was happening. The guy was just too fucking nice to me at work.”
“How’d you find out?”
“Caught them in bed. Our bed.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s good. I needed the wake-up call. I threw all my shit in my car and just drove. I wasn’t even sure where I was going at first. All my friends are her friends. It was either Sarasota or here. And well… recreational pot isn’t legal in Florida, and we both know how Mom and Dad can be.” He motions to the couch. “So, what do you say? Can I crash on your couch until I can figure something else out?”
“You smoke pot? Since when?”
“For years, Regan. Mostly because of anxiety, which I now realize was directly related to my soon-to-be ex-wife.”
My head spins. He smokes weed. He’s getting divorced. He wants to live here. I can’t deny my little brother in his time of need, but… my morning sickness. How am I going to hide it from him?
“I’m not sure how comfortable you’ll be on the couch. It’s old and lumpy. And no smoking up here. Do it in the alley.”
“Fine.” He shrugs. “I can pick up an air mattress or something and put it in your… closet.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you. I just don’t know what’s going to happen, you know, with the money and all. Amy was the one who paid all the bills and handled our accounts and investments. We have savings, but I’m not exactly sure just how much.”
“But you’re the one with the business degree.”
“I know, Regan. You don’t have to remind me what a fucking doormat I’ve been.” He scrubs a hand across his stubbled jaw. “Guess I need to hire a lawyer.”
I check the time. “Ryder, I’d like to stay and talk, but I’m supposed to meet someone downstairs in a half hour. I have to go get ready. I’ll clear a drawer for you in the bathroom. And later, we can clear a space for an air mattress.”
He nods sadly.
“You can always come down to the shop. We can talk more there.”
“I think I’ll probably sleep all day. It was a long drive.”
“You drove straight through?”
“Thirty hours straight, including stopping for food and gas.”
I get up and hug him from behind. “Thank goodness you’re even alive. How did you not fall asleep at the wheel?”
He grabs my hands and squeezes. “Pure rage I suppose.”
“I’ll get you a pillow. Or… I guess you could use my bed, but the sheets haven’t been changed in a while.”
“The couch will be fine for today. I’m so tired I could sleep on concrete.”
“Okay.” I back away and head for my room. “Ryder?” I say, turning.
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad you’re here. Despite the circumstances, it’s nice to see you again. And I hope you stay in town. I’ve really missed you. I know we were never that close because of our age difference, but maybe things can change now.”
He smiles. “I’d like that a lot.”
As I get ready, I realize how much I meant what I said. I would like to be closer. Even if now is not exactly the ideal time. I mean, how am I going to tell my little brother I’m having a baby with his childhood friend and college roommate? And that said friend was nothing more than a fuckbuddy turned baby daddy. Will he be mad? Will he hate Lucas?
Even through all these unknowns, I’m still glad he’s here. Maybe being pregnant has made me realize how important family is. How important siblings are.
I drop my shirt and sit on my bed, stunned at the thought. Because even though I’m just barely pregnant, and regardless of the fact that I’m thirty-five, I think I’ve just decided that I want my kid to have a brother or sister.
I cock my head and wonder if Lucas would be up for the task. Then I laugh. Because we sooooo need to see how this one goes first.
Speaking of Lucas, I pull out my phone.
Me: You’ll never guess who just showed up on my doorstep.