Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Chapter Thirty-seven

Regan

Lucas’s face beams as he holds our little boy. Mitchell is adorable in his footed pajamas with pictures of the Grinch and Max the dog all over them. At almost two years old, he’s incredibly excited to see all the presents underneath the massive Christmas tree.

“Mommy!” he exclaims when he sees me. “Pwesents!” He squirms in Lucas’s arms. “Daddy put down.”

Mitchell skitters across the room and goes right for the largest package. Lucas laughs heartily as he turns to me. “I have something for you, too.” He pulls a small square jewelry box from his pocket. It’s unwrapped but has a thin red bow tied around it. “And it comes with a question.”

Tears well in my eyes. Today is the day I’ve been waiting for. Dreaming of. Fantasizing about. He drops to a knee and tears the ribbon off the box.

“Regan, will you—”

“Regan… Regan!”

My eyes fly open. Ryder is standing over me. I shift in the recliner and get my bearings. I’m at work. I must have fallen asleep. Again.

I sigh heavily and silently curse my brother for interrupting my dream.

Oh my gosh. The dream. It comes back to me as powerfully as if I’d lived it. My face is still wet with tears. My heart is still thrumming with excitement, so full of… love.

Instinctively, my hand goes to my belly. I saw him. I saw Mitchell. It’s the first time I’ve ever dreamed of him. He was Lucas through and through. Dark hair. Chocolate eyes. Strong jawline. But with my dimples.

“You okay?” Ryder asks.

I wipe my eyes. “Yeah. I guess I was dreaming. What’s up?”

“Mrs. Mulrooney just dropped off all these boxes of clothes, and two teachers from the deaf school have questions about a collection of books you have for sale. Sorry to wake you, but I know nothing about the books or ASL.”

“It’s fine.” I start to get up but feel lightheaded. “Whoa.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just got up too quickly.”

“You want to take your blood pressure?”

I motion to the customers. “After I take care of them.”

Ryder helps me to my feet. Lately, it’s been a lot more difficult to get up from sitting or lying down—two things I do a lot of since Dr. Russo put me on modified bed rest two weeks ago.

I help the deaf customers, happy to tuck a large wad of cash beneath the register.

Ryder counts it out. “That’s the largest sale you’ve had this week. Those books must be good.”

“It was a series of eight books. All signed by the author. And yes, they’re good.”

He cocks his head. “Regan, don’t you think it’s sad that a two-hundred-sixty-dollar sale is the largest you’ve had this week?” He motions an arm around the shop. “I’ve been working here for months. I see the trend. I’ve been going over your ledgers. Profits have been steadily declining for years. We need to make serious changes or you won’t be able to pay the mortgage.”

I shoot him a hard stare. “We?”

“You have the baby coming. I figured we could do something together. Make this place into something super lucrative. Keep up with the times.”

I settle back down into the recliner and put my feet up. It’s amazing how much they ache after only being on them for a few minutes. “Ryder, you hate this place. Selling books and women’s clothing is not something I see you doing long term. And now you want to help me make it successful?”

“Well…” He leans against the counter. “I wasn’t exactly thinking of keeping the shop the way it is. I was thinking of changing the inventory to something else.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re not turning Booktique into a sporting goods store just because you hate selling books and women’s clothing.”

His arms cross in front of his body, and he looks at me with more determination than I’ve ever seen. “Not a sporting goods store.”

“What then?”

“Don’t freak out.”

“I don’t freak out, Ryder. Just tell me.”

“I’ve been doing tons of research on this, Regan. I have a business plan and everything. I was looking into other locations, but lately, I’ve been wondering if maybe this is the perfect spot. And remember, I do have a degree in business. We could make this work. Just hear me out.”

“Oh my god, spit it out.”

He chews his lip for a moment. “I want to turn this place into a cannabis dispensary.”

It takes my brain a few seconds to process his words. “You… want to open a pot store?” I glance around. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” He gets on his knees and looks me right in the eyes. “Regan, I’ve done my homework. The nearest dispensaries are in White Plains or the city. We’d be the only one around. It would be a gold mine.”

I blink repeatedly. “You want to open a pot store.”

“It’s fully legal in New York for anyone over twenty-one. Just listen before you shoot down my idea. I’ve been thinking about this for a few years. I first came up with the idea in Colorado, but out there, dispensaries seem to be on every corner. Amy hated when I talked about it. I think it’s one of the reasons she did what she did. She never liked the fact that I used it to control my anxiety.”

“It’s… crazy.”

“It’s not crazy, Regan.” He pulls a large binder out from a cabinet beneath the counter. “It’s all in here. Licensing, operational costs, hardware, software, security and other tech stuff, staffing, inventory, taxes. You name it, it’s in here.”

I take the thick, heavy binder from him and flip through it, my eyes widening the farther into it I get. He’s right, it’s all here. Everything he said and more. “I can’t believe you’ve done all this.”

“Even the location is perfect. We’re not within five hundred feet of a school or community center or two hundred feet from a church. The square footage is spot on for a dispensary.”

My eyes bug out when I see the bottom line of start-up costs, then snap up to his. “Let’s pretend for a second that I agreed to go along with your insane plan, this is over five hundred thousand dollars. You don’t have that kind of money.”

“A large part of that is real estate costs.” He waves a hand. “We already have that covered. Once the divorce is finalized, I can withdraw my half of the money. I still have a lot saved from when Mom and Dad gave me my portion of our inheritance. Amy gets half,” he scoffs angrily, “but there’s still a good amount. I can get a small business loan for the rest. I’ve done the math. I can make this work. And done right, it could be ten or twenty times more profitable than Booktique has been.”

He nods at my flamboyant maternity top. “Look at you, already looking the part. You and your eccentric clothes and your incense and carefree lifestyle—no one would even bat an eye.”

M&M jabs my bladder. “I can’t think about this right now, Ryder. Maybe not ever. It’s seriously impractical.”

He laughs. “Since when has Regan Lucas ever been practical?”

The baby kicks again. “I have to pee.”

Ryder pulls out the BP cuff. “Hold on a minute. You said we could take your blood pressure first.”

I hold out my arm and push up my sleeve. “Let’s make it quick. This kid is dancing on my bladder.”

He’s an expert at it by now and does it quickly. A look of concern etches his brow. “Regan, it’s one-fifty-two over ninety-six.”

I remove the cuff. “Of course it is. You just dropped a bomb on me.” I shake my head. “Pot store. It’s ludicrous. Now help me up so I can use the bathroom unless you want me to pee all over this chair.”

After relieving my bladder and washing up, I stare in the mirror. Is he right? Do I look the part of a pot shop owner? Maybe I need to start dressing more conservatively. I am about to be a mom after all.

M&M kicks me and rolls around. I put my hands on my belly and push back at a protruding foot or elbow. “Listen, I know you’re running out of room in there, but cut me a break.”

Ryder is hanging up the phone, looking guilty when I emerge from the back.

He holds up his cell. “I called Lucas. He’s on his way.”

“Well, call him back. He doesn’t need to rush over every time the baby kicks.”

“It’s more than that and you know it.”

“Whatever.” I sit back down. “While you were at it, did you tell him your insane idea?”

“I haven’t told anyone other than you and Amy. And she hardly counts anymore.”

“Mom and Dad would freak,” I say in amusement. Then I smile. “Maybe you should do it. It’ll take some of the heat off me for this.” I point at my fast-growing bump.

“Me? This is your place, Regan. It would be us .” He nods to the ceiling. “I’m going up to make us a few sandwiches. You think it over.”

He disappears up the stairs as I mumble to myself, “It’s still a stupid ide—”

I stop talking mid-word when a man walks into the shop. But it’s not just any man.

It’s David.

My head starts swirling. I must be hallucinating.

Painstakingly, I get back on my feet.

As he approaches the counter, his sinister smile widens. My heart pounds and I instinctively look around for Joey, wanting to protect him even though I know he’s not down here.

“Well, looky here,” he says, his rough voice like gravel on my ears. “I had to come see for myself.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been out of the country. Japan. I play baseball there. Have for years. I came back to New York to see family before spring training starts up again. Imagine my surprise when I open an old magazine to see a story about you and Lucas Montana having a kid in some kind of fucked up relationship.”

I can’t form words. My mouth doesn’t work. My brain is malfunctioning. I’m twenty years old again. Back under his thumb where he can manipulate me to his will.

“What’s wrong, Regan? Cat got your tongue?” He laughs boisterously. “Oh, right. You don’t have a cat. At least not that cat.”

I feel sick to my stomach. I only hope this isn’t real. It’s a nightmare. I’ve fallen asleep again and this monster is invading my dreams.

“You know, now that I’m here, I question why I came.” He eyes me from head to toe as if appraising the most hideous thing he’s ever seen. “Especially when I see how you let yourself go. How could you get so fucking fat?” He shakes his head in disgust. “I get that pregnancy adds twenty or thirty pounds. But this… Jesus, Regan, this kid has added what, a hundred?”

“Get out,” I manage to say even as my entire body shakes.

He snatches a book from a nearby shelf. “Is that how you treat paying customers? Not very good for business if you ask me.”

“Why are you here?”

“Curiosity,” he says. “You know how they say it killed the cat. Then again, so did antifreeze and rat poison.” His evil laugh makes my skin crawl. “Had to see how a mousy, weak person like yourself was able to get a billionaire like Montana to even give you a second glance.”

“I’m not mousy or weak,” I say defensively, feeling nothing but. “Only you made me that way.”

He pretends to read the back cover of the book. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He looks back at me. “But seriously, how could someone like you get a man like him into bed?” He puts down the book and takes a step closer. “Did you drug him?”

My pulse pounds in my ears, and his voice echoes through my mind as if I’m in a tunnel. My head twinges with pain as I become vaguely aware of the chimes over the door.

“Regan?” a familiar voice asks. “Are you okay?”

“Lucas!” I steady myself on the counter, feeling myself starting to spin.

“Lucas?” David says. “Well, if it isn’t the baby daddy.”

Lucas steps around the counter, putting himself protectively between David and me. “And who the fuck are you?”

“David,” I say, my vision narrowing. “It’s David.”

Then everything goes black.