Page 63 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

“Of course it applies to us. It especially applies to us. You wouldn’t want the baby getting the wrong idea, would you?”

“You think it happened?” he asks, looking at the covers over my stomach.

I shrug. “Statistically, it probably didn’t.”

He gets a cocky look on his face and rises on an elbow. “Maybe we should double down and go for it again.”

“Double down?” I sit up, covers still around me, take my robe from the bedpost, and put it on without revealing much more than my bare shoulders before I stand with my back to him. “We shouldn’t do it more than once a day. Like I said, use the back door.”

Leaving my room before he can say anything else, I walk down the hallway, passing my not-so-happy cat, and enter the bathroom.

Slowly opening my robe, I stare at my belly in the mirror. I know the odds of it happening on the first try are slim. But itcouldhappen. Could there be a baby in there? Could last night have been the night that changed my life forever? Is there one tiny bundle of cells, smaller than the head of a pin, that could end up being my son or daughter?

During my shower, I promise myself I won’t become one of those women obsessed with getting pregnant. One who takes a pregnancy test twice a day even a week before a missed period. But no matter how hard I try to deny it, I know I will be. The ten pregnancy tests I bought alongside the ovulation kits tell the tale. I rationalized it was just good sense to go ahead and get them as long as I was in the city. It’s not like I can pop over to Truman’s and buy one off the shelf.

Combing through my wet hair, I hear a noise. More curious than suspicious, I hang up my towel and pull my robe back on.

“What was that?” I ask Joey, when I almost trip over him because he’s stretched outside the bathroom door like a draft stopper. “And what’s with you this morning?”

I hear the noise again and roll my eyes as I stomp out to the kitchen. Hands on my hips, I ask, “Why are you still—”

Then the smells hit me. Bacon. Pancakes. Coffee. I quickly glance at the platters on the table covered with enough food for an army. I look up at Lucas.

“Did I forget to mention I’m a killer cook?” he says, grinning from ear to ear.

“Lucas…”

“I get it. I’m not supposed to be here. We’re violating the agreement. Yada yada yada. But, hey, I figured if you did get knocked up last night, might as well start off by giving our kid some good nutrition.” He takes a carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator and brings it to the table. “Sorry, you’re out of syrup. But you have whipped cream and strawberries.”

He studies the can of whipped cream like he has other ideas on what to do with it.

I swipe it from him and he laughs.

“Fine. You can stay for breakfast. But then—”

“I know, I know. Go out the back door.”

He scoops a healthy portion of eggs onto my plate, then his. I take two slices of bacon off the pile and a couple of pancakes as Lucas pours us each a glass of juice.

“What’s Ryder up to these days?” he asks. “Last I heard he and Amy were living in Colorado Springs.”

I tilt my head. “You don’t keep in touch? But you were such good friends.”

“It’s been a few years since we talked. And I’m not on Facebook, so I never get updates.”

I put my fork down. “You’re not on Facebook?Everyoneis on Facebook.”

“Obviously not everyone, Regan.” He looks at the ceiling in thought. “I don’t think my brothers are either.”

“You guys are clearly freaks of nature.” I try not to laugh as I point my fork in the direction of his lap. “And I don’t mean because of that thing in your pants.”

“Hey now, thatthingis going to give you a kid. Don’t knock it.”

Out of curiosity, I ask, “Do your brothers, you know…” My gaze drops to his crotch.

“Have big cocks?”

I feel my cheeks heat up, and I shrug. “There were never any rumors or nicknames about them like there were you.”

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