Page 108 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

“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 turningBooktiqueinto 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 dispensariesare 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.Icanmake this work. And done right, it could be ten or twenty times more profitable thanBooktiquehas 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.”

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