Page 2 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Slowly, realization washes over him. It’s been years since I made the idiotic wager. Seven hundred barely scratches the surface of the fifty grand I bet him that I’d actually go through with marrying Lissa.

Well, he won. Him and all the other people who bet against me.

Fuck him. Fuck all of them.

He pushes the money toward me. “I don’t want your money, Montana.”

“I make good on my bets,” I say, wanting to use stronger language, but refraining in front of his kids.

“I’m really sorry, Lucas,” his wife Willow calls out as I walk away.

I glance at the TV as I slide into the booth, grateful it’s now tuned to a Nighthawks game on ESPN.

“Senator McNally,” Blake muses. “Isn’t he the guy they say might run for president in the next election?”

I close my eyes and shake my head knowing I’m destined to hear about every goddamn detail of my ex’s upcoming nuptials to the son of the next potential president of the United States.

“Holy shit,” Dallas says. “She could be the first daughter-in-law.”

I shoot him a biting glare. “Whose side are you on?”

“Always yours, brother. I’m just saying.”

Cooper makes good on that drink, bringing it to the table to add to the one Dallas bought me. “This must be a real gut punch,” he says, nodding to the TV. “It’ll blow over.”

I laugh, sounding completely unhinged. “In about ten years. You know how people in this town like to gossip.”

“Nah,” Blake adds. “As soon as someone’s teenage kid gets knocked up or anyone is found cheating, this will be old news.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say and toss back one of the drinks.

“You want to get out of here?” Dallas asks. “We could pick up food and go back to my place.”

I shake my head. “We came here to watch the game. Let’s watch the game.”

As Cooper turns to walk away, Blake swirls his hand in the air. “Another round.”

“You got it,” Cooper says.

Hours later, I come back inside after my umpteenth cigarette and notice the crowd has thinned out. Families have long gone. Most of the remaining patrons are young weekend bar-goers.

“The Hawks won five-to-four,” Blake says.

I nod. “I was watching outside.”

Dallas stares at my almost-empty pack of smokes. “I thought you were going to quit smoking.”

“You’re bringing that upnow? Today?”

“Remember how hard it was to quit eight years ago?” Blake says. “We all get why you started back up, but maybe this is a sign that it’s time to move on. She’s obviously not coming back. To Cal Creekorto you.”

“Gee, ya think?” I bite, so much rage simmering within, I’m ready to get into it with Blake, Dallas, Dax, or anyone else.

“Lucas Montana?”

“What the fuck is it now?”

I turn to see an attractive woman holding a microphone. A dude with a large television camera is standing behind her.

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