Chapter Thirty-four
Regan
I page through the ultrasound photos, my eyes getting misty. It’s happening. These photos prove it. Despite the fact that most days it doesn’t feel like it. I cup my belly, that isn’t much bigger than it usually is, and long to feel the hardness of my growing uterus underneath. The movement of my baby. Any signs of the life growing inside me.
Dr. Russo said those things will happen soon enough. Still—I crave them.
Is that why I haven’t told anyone? Because it’s just not real enough for me yet?
I trace my finger along the photo on my phone remembering Lucas’s reaction to the ultrasound. His eyes were glued to the screen. When little M&M started moving around and we saw it, he took my hand and squeezed. I’m not even sure he knew he did it. It felt good. Normal even. It was comforting and exciting at the same time. And when he moved it away to point to something and ask Dr. Russo a question, I immediately wanted it back.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve visited Lucas over the past six weeks. A shameful amount, I’m sure. It’s as if I’m addicted to his touch. Or the orgasms he provides. I’ve tried to convince myself the feelings aren’t real. That those twinges inside me every time I see him, hear his voice, or even receive a text, aren’t genuine. I tell myself it’s the hormones. That I’d be sleeping with anyone who offered at this point. But I know I’m only fooling myself. Because I’ve gone and done the worst thing.
I’ve fallen for him.
I set down my phone, cover my face with my hands, and sigh. Because I know what this means. I can’t go over to his place now.
Or ever.
It would be torture pining away for someone who is not, nor will ever be, able to commit to anything but the family business. And I’d be crazy to think I’m any different than all the other women.
He’s committed to the baby.
But I guess we’ll see about that. Only time will tell.
My heart hurts. I feel like I’m going through a breakup even though we were never technically together. Not really. And I only have myself to blame. I mean, I practically threw myself at the man. We’ve spent so much time together. On our walks. In bed. Of course I fell for him. He’s handsome and kind and funny. And a stallion in the sack. What’s not to love?
I stiffen. Love? No. No, no, no. That’s not what this is. It’s a crush. A crush fueled by my out-of-control hormones.
The bells over the front door chime and Maddie’s grandmother comes into the shop. I paste on a smile. “Hey, Rose. I didn’t know you were bringing anything today.”
“I’m not. I was walking by and saw you sitting there looking sad. Is everything okay, sweetie?”
I nod rather unconvincingly.
She walks up to the counter. “Sometimes it helps to talk.”
I swallow the tears that threaten, cursing my hormones once again. “Really, I’m okay, Rose.”
She puts her old, weathered, freckled hand over mine. “It looks to me like you’re anything but.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “Does this have anything to do with that boy, Lucas Montana?”
I straighten and my eyes connect with hers. “No,” I lie. “I mean, of course not. Why would you say that?”
“I see things, dear. And I get feelings. You’re usually such a happy person, but to look at you now, nobody would think it. You have such a sad energy about you.” She gazes right into my eyes and seems to leap directly into my soul. “The life in you normally shines so bright—” She stops talking mid-sentence and looks at my stomach, which I instinctively try to suck in. She nods over and over and pats my hand.
Could she possibly know?
“There are times in a woman’s life where she just needs her friends,” she says. “I think now is one of those times, no?” She’s staring back into my eyes, waiting for me to disagree with her. “Fine, then. I’ll send Maddie and Ava right over.”
“I… I…” I can’t think of a single reason why not. Rose is right. Whether or not she knows what’s really going on with me, she’s right. And it’s time. I’ve put it off long enough. I blow out a deep sigh. “Okay. I was about to close up anyway.”
“Everything will work out in the end, Regan.”
“Thanks, Rose.”
Thirty minutes later, my two best friends knock on my door. “Hey, guys. Thanks for coming.”
Both of them look at me suspiciously. “Why did my grandmother arrange this meeting?” Maddie asks.
“Are you okay?” Ava says, eyeing me up and down. “You’re not sick are you?”
I lead them into the living room. “Wait here, I’ll get drinks.” I look at Maddie. “Are you still nursing?”
“I am, but I can pump and dump.” She narrows her eyes. “But, why are we drinking on a Monday night?”
“Just sit.”
The apartment door opens, and Ryder walks through. Oh, Jeez. Ryder. I wasn’t even thinking. Almost immediately I surmise this must be some sort of divine intervention, because honestly, do I want to have to do this twice?
Ryder sees Maddie and Ava on the couch. “Hey, guys.” They wave as my brother slips by me and reaches for a beer. “I’ll just take this to my room and give you some girl time.”
“No, don’t. Join us.”
“Okay.” He pops the top on his drink and plops down in the chair across from them.
I pour two glasses of wine and tuck a bottle of water under my arm and cross the room. Three pairs of eyes stare at me. It’s Ava’s I’m focused on. Because I know what I’m about to say might be a nail in her coffin. Trevor was on leave the entire month of September. They were practically like newlyweds. And it was just ten days ago when she discovered all their efforts once again were for naught.
Will she hate me? My eyes flicker to Ryder. Will he hate Lucas?
Will all of them call me a fool?
I hand Maddie and Ava the wine. Maddie tilts her head as she takes it from me. “You’re not drinking?”
I shake my head and sit.
Ava’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my god! You’re pregnant.”
~ ~ ~
Joey curls up next to me on the couch.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I tell him. “Ava still loves me. And Ryder didn’t even seem pissed at Lucas. Although he did leave right after, so who knows, he could be over at the penthouse giving Lucas a piece of his mind.”
Joey stares up into my eyes.
“Okay, okay. So they all called me—us—crazy. And so I may have left out one minor detail about my ridiculous feelings for Lucas. But I just wasn’t up for an ‘I told you so’ from Maddie.” I tug him close. “You’re excited, right? I mean, you and me and Lucas may be the only ones who are.” I pat his head. “They’ll all come around sooner or later. Even if they think we’re going about this the wrong way, they’re still being supportive. And Rose was right. I did need to talk to friends. I do feel better.”
My phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Lucas.
Cue the tingles.
Lucas: A little heads-up would have been nice.
Me: I’m sorry. Was it bad?
Lucas: We’re all good. He may have threatened me within an inch of my life if I ever hurt you or his nephew though.
Me: He’s harmless.
Lucas: After I nearly shit myself, we ended up having a drink. He’s still a good guy and I realized how much I missed having him around.
Me: Yeah, me too. We’ve become a lot closer. I think he’ll be a good uncle.
Lucas: Were you planning on coming over?
The momentary butterflies dancing in my stomach have me thinking I just felt M&M move, but sadly, no, it’s just my irrational, unreasonable, ludicrous crush.
Me: Not tonight.
Or ever.
Lucas: That’s too bad. Because I was just thinking about that time in the woods.
I pull a throw pillow onto my lap and let my mind wander back to the moment he’s referring to. We were on one of our walks. I saw Lucas adjusting himself in his shorts, and I got horny. So horny in fact that I pulled him behind a grouping of trees off the path and told him to put his hand down my pants. Fifteen seconds later, I was done and returned the favor in what he said was one of the best hand jobs he’d ever had.
Probably because of the excitement over the fear of being caught.
Aaaaaaaand, now I’m hot and bothered again.
Crap.
Lucas: Come on, Ray. You know you want to. Just thinking about that day has me hard. And if you don’t come over, I’m going to have to take things—and by things , I mean my cock—into my own hands.
Oh my god. Now I’m imagining him touching himself.
I squirm right here on the couch. Just ignore him. Ignore him and go to bed and get out a Lucas replacement toy.
My chest heaves. Because there’s a little voice in the back of my head that assures me there is no replacement for him.
Lucas: Regan? Are you there? I’m dangerously close to getting myself off. Do you really want to miss the party?
Warmth spreads throughout my body. My clit is already engorged. I’m almost thrumming with arousal. Maybe I could go over. Just this once. One last time.
Lucas told me that when he quit smoking, he finished off his pack, smoked them all, got one last nicotine high, and went cold turkey. That’s all this would be. One last high before I quit. Quit him.
I spring up off the couch. And as I text him back, I wonder how one can be so sad and so turned on at the very same time.
Me: I’ll come to your back entrance.
Lucas: See you soon. And, Ray, maybe I’ll come at YOUR back entrance.
The thought of it. Of him. Of everything we’ve done together. All the wild and crazy things neither of us had ever done before. All of it makes me crave more. More of him. More of us.
I’m down the stairs and in Ava’s car before I can talk myself out of it.
Every bump in the road along the way—every picture in my head of what he’s going to do to me—increases my excitement. By the time I’m pulling up to the back parking lot, I question whether or not I’m even going to make it to his apartment. Maybe he’ll get down on his knees and make me come in the elevator like he did last week.
Not helping.
I let out a guttural groan of frustration. Then I laugh, wondering if this is what it’s like for hormonal teenage boys who are perpetually horny.
I park and am out the door in a rush, quickly striding to the rear entrance. In perfect synchronization, as some of our orgasms have been, he flings the door open and smiles. Almost immediately, though, it falls, replaced by a grimace.
Has he changed his mind?
Then I realize he’s not looking at me. He’s looking behind me.
I spin and see a beautiful, vaguely familiar woman approaching. “Mr. Montana,” she practically sings. Then she looks at me. “And Ms. Lucas. What a pleasure.”
This lady knows who I am? And what’s up with the sinister grin on her face?
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lucas barks.
“Lucas?” I say. “What’s going on?”
“That’s Sylvia Franco. From the news. She’s one of the reporters who was hanging out for weeks trying to get my story after Lissa got engaged.” He moves to stand in front of me, almost protectively. “I thought you’d given up months ago. Why are you stalking me again? I saw the pictures. I know she got married. And I couldn’t care less. There, that’s my statement—I couldn’t care less if Lissa rides off into the sunset with the senator’s son and lives happily ever after.”
Sylvia smiles. “Why is that, Mr. Montana? Is it because you’ve moved on with Ms. Lucas?”
Lucas fumes. “It’s none of your fucking business what I’ve moved on to. Please leave.”
“Or perhaps it’s because Ms. Lucas is pregnant with your child.”
The world falls silent. There’s no rustling of fall leaves. No humming of streetlights. No sound whatsoever. With the exception of my pounding heart.
One look at Lucas has me knowing he feels exactly the same way. He composes himself much more quickly than I do, however, and takes a step toward her. “Get the fuck out of—”
“Mr. Montana, we can stand out here shouting about your illegitimate child, or you can invite me up to your apartment where we can have a conversation.”
“You’re crazy, lady,” he says, turning and taking my elbow and leading me to the door.
“I’ve had you followed,” Sylvia says. “I know about the appointments, the back-door entrances to the OB’s office, the secret meetings here at your apartment. I also know that nobody in this town has a clue.” She holds up her phone, showing us a photo of us walking in the woods. She swipes to a photo of him pulling me through the back door of this very building. Another shows him being greeted by Dr. Russo at the rear entrance.
“Shall I go on? The story is going to run, Mr. Montana. But if you give me thirty minutes, I might just let you convince me to tell your side, even though from here, the story I could make up seems so much juicier.” She looks between the two of us. “What’s it going to be?”
Lucas shuts his eyes and shakes his head. Then he looks at me, guilt written all over him. He walks to the door and holds it open. “Thirty minutes,” he says.
Sylvia and I follow him inside.