Page 70 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

It’s Nikki Calloway. She must have gotten off the train and is walking home.

I put on a big smile. I haven’t seen her since I ran into her outside the hospital last month. “Hi, Nikki,” I say, trying to think up yet another lie because I just know the question is coming.

Like Rose, she takes in my unusual choice of attire. “I’ve never seen you look so, well…notflamboyant.”

“I was just out for a walk. Getting a little exercise.” I stretch my arms over my head. “Got winded and stopped for a bit.”

She points up. “Best not be out here long. It’s going to rain soon.”

Nikki should know, she’s a meteorologist as well as being the co-host of a super popular news show on XTN. She’s for sure living her best life. Great career. Great kids. Great husband.

“I’m heading home now,” I say. “Say hello to everyone for me.”

“Will do.”

It occurs to me that she can’t say the same. She can’t say it because I don’t have aneveryone. It’s quite the opposite. I havenoone. Before jealousy can take hold, I remind myself that it’s possible in nine months, Iwillhave someone. And then Nikki would be saying, “Give Mitchell a kiss for me.”

My heart thunders and I just know, despite those pesky doubts that lie in the back of my mind, I’m doing the right thing.

Just as she walks away, a raindrop hits my face.

“Wow,” I yell after her. “You’re good!”

She laughs and gets an umbrella out of her pack.

Not a minute later, it starts really coming down. I’ll get drenched for sure. I contemplate scrapping this whole idea and going back to my place. Then I remember why we’re doing this and decide I don’t want to give up a chance to conceive.

When I realize everyone coming from the train station is running for their cars or homes, not concerned about me in the least, I make my break for the back parking lot, turning to look down the alley to see Rose is no longer lurking.

By the time I reach Lucas’s car, the top half of me is soaked. He leans across the console and pushes open the passenger door. I look inside his sleek car. “You sure you want me getting in like this?”

“Get in, woman!”

I slide into the seat, feeling guilty about getting his car all wet.

“That came out of nowhere,” he says, looking up and out the windshield.

“Good thing.”

“Why?”

I shake my head, irritated. “People.”

He laughs, puts his car in gear, and takes off. He keeps stealing glances at me. I must be a sight. Wet hair. Clothes clinging to my body. And I wonder if my makeup is running.

A few minutes later, when we pull into a parking lot, I remember where he lives and my heart sinks.

“I forgot you lived in an apartment.” I look left and right as he pulls into a dedicated spot, right in front of the building. “Yeah, not conspicuous at all.”

“Right,” he says, and backs out. He pulls around back. “Go through that entrance. The code for the freight elevator is 9638. Take it to the top floor. The code for my penthouse is 4413. It’s the one on the right.”

I close my eyes and burn it into my memory. “9638. 4413. Got it.”

I hop out and race to the door through the rain.

Luckily, I don’t run into anyone, and by the time I’m closing the door to his penthouse, I’m letting out a relieved breath.Then, it hitches again when I look around. Holy crap. This place is immaculate.

It’s not often I have the occasion to be in places like this. Sure, Maddie’s grandmother lives in a mansion with her husband Tucker McQuaid. And Amber and Quinn’s house is pretty stellar. But this—I turn in all directions—why would a bachelor need all this space?

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