Page 44 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

I get two plates from the cabinet and sit, perusing the choices. “Mind telling me why you’re breaking into my apartment again?”

“You’re the one who leaves the store unlocked. On some level that means you want me here.”

Ihavebeen leaving it open more than normal. Is he right? Or is it just a coincidence?

“You didn’t answer the question,” I say, then take a bite of an apple fritter.

He gathers up the sperm bank brochures and tears them up. “You don’t need these. I’ll do it.”

I cough and sputter and practically choke on my breakfast. “Wh-what?”

“I’ll be the sperm donor. Well, not the donor really. I’ll be the father. I’ll impregnate you.”

Finally… and quite obviously… it occurs to me. “You’re saying that just so you can stick to your original mission. Oh, my god, you’ll stop at nothing to get what you want.”

“This isn’t about winning. It’s about me having an epiphany. The same one you had.” He looks at my clock. “It’s after nine and you just got out of bed, didn’t you? I’ll bet you stayed up at least half the night looking at sperm donor profiles online.”

I shrug. He’s not wrong, but I don’t admit it.

“Did you find the perfect one?”

I shrug again.

“You didn’t. Want to know why? The perfect one doesn’t exist. Why do you think I’ve bailed so many times? I’m beginning to think perfection is an illusion. But it’s too little too late. I’m fucked around here. But last night, when I couldn’t sleep either, I came to realize that maybe all this time what I’ve really wanted was a kid. So you see, it’s the perfect solution.”

“Let me get this straight. You want me to have your baby? But I want to havemybaby.”

“It can be yours and it can be mine.”

“You actually came over here thinking you’d talk me into this and that we’dsharethis child?”

“Well… yes.”

I get up so fast, the chair falls over. “You’re off the deep end crazy, Lucas. The plan was to find an anonymous donor and be a single mom.Single—as in by myself.” I throw up my hands. “Perfect solution? Perfect would have been you having a kid with Lissa and me with Bentley Fitzgerald.”

“Who the hell is Bentley Fitzgerald?”

“A character in the book I’m reading.” I shake my head. “It’s not important. What I’m saying is that this”—I motion a hand between us— “is most definitely not perfect. In fact, it’s the most imperfect situation I can think of.”

“Maybe that’s why it makes sense.” He follows me across the room. “Maybe both of us have been waiting for something that’s never going to happen. Maybe imperfect is all we get in this life. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Or bad. Think about it, Regan. I have money. The kid will want for nothing. I know you’re barely in the black. Childcare is expensive. Diapers. Clothes. Sports. College. They say it takes hundreds of thousands of dollars to raise a child—do you have that kind ofmoney? I can provide. All I’m asking is that I get time with him or her. That the kid will know me. That I can teach him how to throw a ball and warn her away from guys like me. That I can show them the business and that maybe, one day, he or she can even work at the winery.”

“But it’s ludicrous.”

“Regan, do you have any savings?”

“Enough for a rainy day.”

“So, what, a few thousand? That won’t even cover the hospital bill to deliver the baby. You’ll have to take time off at first and that means even less money coming in. Have you thought this through? Do you have a plan? Because I do. And I can help you do this.”

I hate to admit that he’s right. Hell, the cost for the sperm alone will drain my savings. I didn’t even think about childcare. Or college. Or… anything in between. But women like me—regular women with regular jobs and not a lot of extra income—do this all the time. Don’t they?

“You could find worse candidates, you know.” He holds his arms up and turns, showing me the merchandise. “You have to admit, I’ve got what most women going to a sperm bank would kill for: looks, pedigree, intelligence, no family history of terrible diseases.”

Am I going crazy here, or is his proposition starting to sound appealing?

“Come on, Ray.” He smiles. “What do you say? I promise it’ll be amazing.”

And this is where I turn on a dime. “You’re hardly the poster boy for keeping promises. No, this is a terrible idea. I’ll just work hard to save up more money and then in a few years—”

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