Page 45 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

“When you’re thirty-seven? Forty? When it might be too late to even get pregnant?”

God, I hate him a little bit right now. Everything he’s saying is true. But what he’s offering is just… insane.

“You’re worried about my commitment here? Afraid I’m going to bail? What’s to worry about? You said yourself you wanted to be a single mom. If I change my mind, you’re no worse off than you are now. Actually, you’ll be far better off because you could demand child support.” His eyes light up. “In fact, if you want, we can even do this through a lawyer. You know, have contingencies and rules in place in case you think I’m going to fuck this up like I fuck up everything else.”

I narrow my eyes. “You really want a kid?”

He squares his shoulders and looks me right in the eyes. “I really do.”

I go over and take the lid off my coffee, sipping as I think. Then thinking as I sip. “I don’t know. It’s all so confusing in my head right now. I mean, this could be the stupidest mistake of all time.”

“Or it could be the best thing that ever happened to either of us.”

I put down the cup, walk behind him, and push him toward the door. “Right now, you need to go. Any decision I make at this moment would be totally hormonal. I need time to think.”

“I’ll go,” he says. “But promise me you won’t go to any of those sperm banks without really considering what I’m offering. I’m talking Ivy League education, Regan. No anonymous donors can offer that much. Oranything.”

“Stop. I heard what you said, and I know exactly how rich you are, Lucas. Everything isn’t always about money.”

“But—”

I stomp my foot. “Quit it.”

“Reg—”

My hand flies up to his mouth. He talks through it anyway, his words coming out muffled.

“I really wanted a bear claw.”

I roll my eyes, go fetch the bag, shove it into his ribs, and push him out the door.

Then I lean against it, sliding to the floor, feeling like I’ve just been offered Sophie’s Choice.

Chapter Seventeen

Regan

The past several days have been spent deep in self-reflection. I’ve thought about a lot of things. My job. My life. My future. While most things are about as clear as mud, the one thing I’ve determined is that I most definitely want a child. Even enough to pare down my coveted wardrobe and turn my closet into a nursery.

I’m just not sure having one with Lucas is the right call.

But he is a Montana. It would mean lifelong financial security for the baby. It would mean local grandparents who are about the nicest people I can think of. It would mean aunts and uncles and cousins, something my child would never have if I did this alone.

The one thing I keep coming back to, however, is it also means having to be accountable to someone else. Lucas and I are wired differently. Would he want to control how I raise the baby? Dictate when and where and how and why, just because he’s providing financial support?

I lower my head into my hands, knowing there isn’t one right answer.

My grumbling stomach reminds me it’s time for lunch. I set my sign toCLOSEDand turn the dial to 2PM. Forty minutes will be plenty of time to get back.

I cross the street and eat a bowl of Goodwin’s macaroni and cheese. It’s the dish the diner is famous for, and one I get at least once a week. Then I head out down The Circle and go to the auto shop where my car was towed earlier today.

They have a bell over the door just like I do. It rings as I step through. A few heads go up, customers on their phones waitingfor oil changes or whatever. I stroll to the counter. The Cruz-In Auto Repair Shop is both a retail auto parts store and a repair garage. All four Cruz siblings run it, including Mia, who towed my car.

Nobody is at the counter, so I stand and wait.

After a few moments, I hear the familiar sound of forearm crutches. I smile when Christian Cruz comes slowly around the corner, looking at me through thick Coke-bottle glasses.

“Hey, Christian. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

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