Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Chapter Thirty-six

Regan

I’m awake, but for a moment, I can’t see clearly. A headache splits my temples.

I lie here and take deep, cleansing breaths, feeling for movements from my little M&M. Granted he’s not so little now. And he’s been doing somersaults in my belly for months. It’s a feeling I crave even if half the time he’s bouncing off my bladder.

The headache isn’t subsiding, despite my controlled breathing exercises.

I get out my phone and text Lucas, who made me swear to contact him with every craving, every nuance of the pregnancy, and lately, especially since it’s been creeping up ever since I hit the third trimester, my daily blood pressure.

Me: Something’s not right.

As usual, I get an immediate response. It’s as if his phone never leaves his hands. I say jump and he asks how high. It’s endearing if not mildly annoying. He has no idea how him acting like a doting partner is messing with my head. Because all those feelings and emotions I had sworn were tied to my orgasms, they haven’t subsided. Even when I haven’t been in his bed for thirteen weeks. Not since the day Sylvia Franco showed up at his back door.

We’ve been together a lot. On our walks. When he brings me meals several times a week. During his late-night treks to fetch things like ice cream, pickle sandwiches, and my oddest craving: Cheetos dipped in strawberry yogurt. Not to mention the holidays he insisted Ryder and I spend with his family. Sure, my brother and I had to tell a few lies to get out of Christmas with our parents, each of us still closely guarding a secret—a divorce for him, and M&M for me. We’ll tell them in good time. But not yet.

Luckily, Sylvia’s story wasn’t as popular as she had hoped it would be. Apparently, the heir to a winery having a baby with his gal-pal isn’t as newsworthy as say… a waitress marrying a senator’s son. I doubt the story even made it as far as Florida, making us basically local gossip fodder.

Lucas: I’m on the way.

Quickly, I change into the pajamas Mom sent me for Christmas and discard the Montana Winery sweatshirt I’ve been sleeping in. He doesn’t need to know I’ve gone to bed wearing it every night for the past few months. That the soft, fleece-lined fabric makes me feel closer to him.

I take my blood pressure for the third time, hoping I’d simply misaligned the cuff and it isn’t actually continuing to go up. I’ve always prided myself on having textbook blood pressure. Even for the first twenty-seven weeks of my pregnancy, it was excellent. But lately, I swear it’s gone up just a little every day. Today is the first time it hit 140. 140 over 90 to be exact. And I sigh, knowing this isn’t good. It’s the exact number Dr. Russo warned me about.

At least I don’t have to worry about the shop. Ryder has been pulling his weight around here, letting me sleep in every day as he takes the morning shift.

He’s still crashing in my ‘closet.’ His divorce isn’t final yet and he doesn’t have access to the funds he needs to get his own place. But Ryder swears he’ll be out before the baby comes.

My brother and I haven’t discussed Lucas’s idea of me getting a place in his building. I haven’t even discussed it with Lucas yet. And the sad thing is, he hasn’t mentioned it again since that first time. Maybe he’s changed his mind, having decided my being that close wouldn’t be good for his dating life.

Despite the fact that I haven’t seen him out with another woman, my guess is he’d have to venture quite a ways from Calloway Creek. Everyone here knows not only about his past as a runaway groom, but about the impending birth of his kid with me. I swear, every single woman in this town has a sign they hold up around Lucas that reads, ‘I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.’

While part of me feels sorry for him, the other part, the deep-down part of me that wants him to my very core, is glad he’s not the highly-sought-after bachelor he should be.

I hear the front door to the apartment open and then Lucas is standing in my bedroom doorway.

“What’s going on? Is it your blood pressure?”

I nod.

He strides over, sits on the side of the bed, and picks up the cuff. “Let me do it.”

I don’t object. I never object when he does anything that has him touching me. Though my incessant horniness has abated, the jolts of electricity I feel when his fingers brush against my arm are just as intense as always. The man has no idea that every time he accidentally touches my hand, when his arm swings against mine on our walks, when he wipes a spot of pizza sauce off my chin—that my heart races and butterflies not brought on by our little M&M dance in my stomach.

He has no idea that every time I look at him, I have conflicting emotions about Lucas the man and Lucas the father of my child. He has no idea that I dream of the three of us becoming a family. A family like his brothers have. Like Maddie has with Tag. Like Amber with Quinn.

Most of all, he has no idea that over the course of the past several months, I’ve fallen head over heels in love with him. Him —Lucas Montana. Runaway groom. The most unattainable, unfettered, unbridled man in the history of men.

“One forty over ninety,” he says with a frown. He stands and offers me his hand. “Get dressed. I’m taking you to see Dr. Russo.”

~ ~ ~

As we have for every appointment since the anatomy scan, we walk in the front door of the doctor’s office. Yes, we often get stared at. Whispered about. Even laughed at. But after months of this, it just rolls right off us.

While Sylvia's story was surprisingly tactful, it made waves locally and there have still been rumors. Some of them crazier than the actual truth itself. They range from us being secretly married (my favorite), to Lucas hiring me as a surrogate, and me getting pregnant by IVF, because come on, why would a guy like him ever actually want to have sex with a girl like me?

“The doctor will see you,” Carrie says.

We’re escorted back, all the usual vitals are taken, and then we’re led to an exam room.

Dr. Russo enters, asks all the normal questions, palpates my tummy, takes my blood pressure for the second time since we got here, and settles onto her stool. “Regan, it’s good that you came in. Your blood pressure is elevated. It’s at the point where we need to monitor you more frequently. I’d like you to be on modified bed rest. I’m ordering a twenty-four-hour urine test to screen for preeclampsia. We’ll do twice weekly ultrasound biophysical profiles to monitor the baby’s health. And of course, I’d like you to continue taking your blood pressure and report any fluctuations. If it reaches one-sixty, we’ll admit you to the hospital and start hypertensive protocols.”

I place my hands protectively over my stomach. “I’m only thirty-two weeks. Will he be okay?”

“There’s no need for alarm. Most likely the modified bed rest will help. You don’t have to be in bed all day. I’d just like you sitting or lying down for the most part. Binge your favorite shows. You can even continue working a few hours a day if you wish. Just have this big strong man here move a recliner behind the counter and let your customers do most of the work. No more walks in the park. Short walks only. To Ava’s coffee shop. Over to Goodwin’s Diner. Nothing more than a few minutes. Light housework is okay, but you let that strapping brother of yours do the heavy lifting.”

I look up at Lucas. “I don’t even have the nursery done. Not to mention I’m not even sure where I want it to be.”

He cocks his head oddly.

“You let others take care of that,” Dr. Russo says. “Your job—your most important job—is to protect this baby and yourself by taking it easy.” She stands and pulls over the ultrasound machine. “Now, let’s take a look at your little slugger, shall we?”

~ ~ ~

“Don’t freak out,” Lucas says when we leave. “We knew this was a possibility. If you do what Dr. Russo says, it’ll be fine.”

“I’m not freaking out, Lucas.”

He opens the car door for me. “You really aren’t, are you?”

“Since when have you known me to be the freaking out type?”

“Oh, I don’t know… that time when we stood in front of half the town and told them about our news?”

I roll my eyes. “Lucas, God himself would have freaked over that.”

We both laugh.

He gets in the car and sighs. “I’m really going to miss our walks.”

I look at him strangely. “You are? I always got the impression you’d rather be out running.”

“Are you kidding? I love our walks. Especially that one .” He whistles low and slow. “I don’t think I’ll ever go on a walk better than that.”

My cheeks flush.

He chuckles. “Why, Regan Lucas, did I just see you blush?”

I swat his hand. “Just drive.”

When he passes my shop, I turn and raise my eyebrows. “Um, where are we going?”

“You heard the doctor. I need to get you a recliner. We’re going to the furniture store.”

“I do have a couch there.”

“That old antique thing? It’s stiff as a board. We’re getting you a plush, comfy recliner. One you can pop your legs up on and sink down into.”

I laugh. “You mean one I won’t be able to get out of? Do you know how hard it’s getting to stand up?”

He works his upper lip with his thumb and fingers. “How about one of those electric recliners for old people that rises up?”

“I’m not getting an old-person recliner. I’ll make do.”

“Whatever you want.” He smiles. Then it fades. “What did you mean back at the doctor’s office when you said you didn’t know where you wanted the nursery?”

“I was just thinking how it’s going to be all kinds of crowded at my place when the baby arrives. And I’m not sure Ryder can afford his own place yet, not until the divorce is final. So I was thinking maybe I’d get someplace new. A little bigger.”

“You want to move into my building?”

The amount of surprise in his words is alarming. It has guilt careening through me. Living in his building means using the child support for me, not just M&M. And despite what he says about it being okay, I’m still not sure I’m okay with it.

“I don’t know. Maybe not.”

His expression falls, as if he was truly excited and then I squashed his hopes. I get it. He wants to be close to his son.

Emotions bombard me as well, but for a much different reason. Because for a second, I got excited about seeing Lucas more often. In the parking lot. In the elevator. Maybe even in each other’s apartments. Mixed with that, however, is hesitation over him being so close yet at the same time, so far.

On some level, though, wouldn’t it be what’s best for the baby? Having both parents there, ready and available?

What’s best would be having both parents together , a voice whispers in the back of my mind. I silence it, because I really don’t like what it’s been telling me. That I may be subjected to a lifetime of wanting a man I can never have. Needing something he can never give me. Craving things he’s incapable of.

“You don’t have to decide now,” he says. “But I’ll look into it just in case. I believe there might be two units available. I think you should get the larger one. I’m fairly sure the closet alone will give you an orgasm. It’s not quite as big as mine, but we all know none are.”

Heat crosses my face as I’m fairly sure he’s no longer referring to closets. “Um… okay. But no promises. I’m not sure about anything at this point.”

“Right now, our mission is to get you the biggest, baddest recliner there is,” he says as he turns into the parking lot of the furniture store. “Then we’ll work out a meal schedule. You shouldn’t be cooking.”

“Nonsense. Dr. Russo said I can do light housework.”

“She also said staying off your feet is better for you and the baby.” He turns off the engine, gets out and races around to help me up and out. “You’re the mother of my child. It’s my job to spoil you.” He touches my stomach. “Both of you.” His face lights up when he feels a sharp jab. “See? M&M approves.”

I laugh. “I’m not sure that was approval. More like a stay-in-your-lane jab.”

“You think I’m going out of my lane?” His hand falls away, as if bereft. “Are you telling me to back off, Regan?”

As much as I want to say yes, I can’t. Because as much as I know seeing him, smelling him, being around him will kill me, it’s what I crave.

“No, Lucas,” I say with a grin. “I wouldn’t dare.”

He smiles like the proud father he’s about to become.