Page 42 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

She turns away. Another uncharacteristic movement.

“Does this have something to do with that David guy?”

Spinning around to face me, her lips turn into a sneer. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that?”

I shrug. “Because you look sad. Even when you were signing with that woman, I didn’t see you smile. Not once. I’m not sure I’ve ever gone more than a few minutes without seeing yousmile. Something’s changed, and I doubt very much that it has anything to do with it being your time of the month.”

She frowns. “It’s not him. I just don’t want to. Will you leave now? Please, Lucas?”

There’s only so much begging a man can do, even for something as epic as I anticipated this being. But I’m not about to pressure her or do anything more stalkery than following her up to her apartment uninvited.

“Fine. If you ever change your mind, you know how to find me. I hope everything is okay with you.”

Starting for the door, hopes dashed, I see brochures scattered on her kitchen table. I focus on two particular words on the front of one of them:Sperm Bank.

When I go to pick it up, Regan tries to stop me. I swipe it away from her and open it, reading aloud some of the text inside. “Go to our online catalog and select the donor of your choice based upon physical attributes, ethnicity, childhood photos, and other characteristics.” The next page reads, “Donor sperm may be purchased as single vials for IUI or IVF, or in multiple vials.”

When I look at Regan, she’s sitting down, a mask of defeat across her face.

“Wow. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were interested in kids. I always got the opposite impression.”

She laughs sadly. “Tell me about it. I’m more surprised than you are. Believe me.”

“What happened?”

She tells me about her pregnancy scare. Her trip to the gynecologist. Her out-of-the-blue reaction to finding out she wasn’t pregnant.

She’s quiet for a minute when she finishes, then raises her shoulders. “I guess turning thirty-five really messed with my head. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“It’s not pathetic.” I hand her the brochure. “I think you’ll be a great mom, Regan.”

“You might be the only one.”

“What? No. Come on, you’re super fun. And your kid will be one lucky sonofabitch. I bet he or she will never have a curfew or be told what to wear or how to act. Every kid’s dream mom.”

“Yeah. I guess we’ll see. I’m sorry to have to disappoint you. I know you had a mission.” She touches the front cover of the brochure, the one with the baby on it. “I guess I have my own mission now. I’ve finally figured out what’s missing in my life.” She laughs softly. “The whole time I thought it might have been a man. Now though…”

I pat her hand, resigned to accept my fate. “Well, good for you. I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks,” she says, finally smiling.

I thumb to the door. “I’ll let myself out.”

“Lucas?” she calls after me.

I turn.

“You’re a really good guy. Someday, you’ll find the one that sticks. I’m sure of it.”

I nod, even though I don’t agree, and shut the door.

Walking down the stairs and out of the shop, a spike of envy hits me. She’s going after what she wants despite any unintended consequences. I mean, I know business. She’s probably barely breaking even here. Having a baby will put a lot of strain on her finances. She must know that, yet she’s going for it anyway. Because that’s who she is, a woman who knows what she wants and doesn’t give a fuck if what she wants doesn’t conform to social norms.

Back in my car, I wonder what it would take for me to actually get what I want. A wife. A family. What I’vealwayswanted despite circumstances to the contrary.

I could move. Go someplace where nobody knows me. But that would mean leaving the family business, something I’m not sure I could ever bring myself to do.

At home, I spend the entire night tossing and turning. I’m thirty goddamn years old. I should be able to figure this shit out. And bythis shit, I mean figure out what’s so fucking wrong with me that I can’t commit to anything beyond my nine-to-five job.

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