Page 34 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

He trots off to use his litter box, but I stay put, lazily staring at the indentation on the empty pillow next to me. What was I thinking telling him the things I did? What if he blabs all over town and I become the laughingstock woman who can’t come? The middle-aged masturbating cat lady.

Oh my god, what have I done?

Can’t blame it on the alcohol—I only had one glass.

I wish I could take it all back. I should have lied through my teeth and convinced him of what I’m so good at—making them think they’re all good lovers.

This is something I can’t undo. There’s no way to take it back or talk my way out of it.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I chide myself loudly.

“What’s stupid?”

My heart pounds and I dart up in bed when I hear the deep male voice. I’m reaching for the baseball bat under my bed when Lucas comes around the corner.

The bat thumps to the carpet as I exhale my relief.

He stares at the bat. “You keep a bat under your bed?” His head cocks. “Weren’t you the one just telling me this town is so safe, you didn’t need to lock your door?” He laughs. “In this case, it worked in my favor.” He raises his arms. In one hand is a beverage carrier with two tall coffee cups from The Criss Coffee Corner.

The other hand holds a bag emblazoned with the name of the pastry shop down the street. Ava carries a small selection ofbreakfast items and snacks, but this place… my mouth waters despite the presence of my uninvited guest.

Joey hisses, skitters around Lucas, and jumps to my side.

“What’s with him, anyway,” Lucas asks. “Why does he hate me?”

I pet Joey. “He’s a very good judge of character. He’s warning me away.”

“He’s protecting you?” he muses. “Maybe you should tell him we’re just friends and he has nothing to worry about. That I can’t break your heart because no woman in her right mind would let herself fall for a guy like me.”

I chuckle at how right he is, even though he has yet to tell me why he’s here. I cross my arms. “Friends don’t break into each other’s apartments.”

“If you never lock up, that’s what happens.”

I think of his words. “Arewe friends, Lucas?”

“Yeah, of course we are. And sometimes friends bring each other breakfast. So get up before the coffee turns cold.” He spins and leaves the doorway.

Joey stares at me as if he understood the conversation, wondering what I’m going to do next. I shrug. “He brought pastries.”

I get out of bed, pull on a robe, hit the bathroom, and join Lucas in the kitchen.

When I get there, he’s arranged a dozen pastries on my Scooby Doo mystery machine platter. I’m busy deciding if I’m upset that he was rummaging through my cabinets when he sees me. “Pick your poison.”

I peruse the donuts, bear claws, gooey cinnamon rolls, and chocolate-drizzled croissants. Settling on a croissant, I pull it apart and take a bite of the heavenly confection, moaning when it explodes across my taste buds.

“That right there”—Lucas points at me—“that’s the sound you make when you fake it.”

Still mortified over the embarrassingly private details I divulged, I take a seat and beg, “About that. Can we never speak of it again? And please, please don’t tell anyone. I never should have said anything.”

“Sorry. No can do.”

I drop the croissant in anger. “No can do what? Speak of it, or tell anyone?” My heart sinks. “You already did, didn’t you? Who did you tell?”

“Calm down and eat your breakfast,” he says, pushing my small paper plate toward me. “I meant the speaking of it part. I was up half the night thinking what a shame it is that you can’t enjoy fucking enough to get there.”

I almost choke at his bluntness. “I enjoy sex, Lucas. For the most part.”

“Tell me what that means exactly.”

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