Page 55 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

I motion to his offerings. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“So you’ve eaten? It’s only five thirty.”

“No, but—”

“We’re going to spend the next eighteen years around each other and you’re complaining about one dinner?”

I sigh. “We might not, you know. There’s no guarantee this will happen.”

“It’s going to happen.” He pats the front of his pants. “I’m shooting only the best swimmers.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Got tested last week. Wanted to make sure I’m not shooting blanks.”

My jaw slackens. “You did?”

“You’ll be happy to know my sperm count is very high. Motility is good. Along with morphology and vitality and density. Basically, if sperm testing was an exam, I just aced it with flying colors.” He turns in a circle, arms held out. “You’re welcome.”

I roll my eyes. But secretly, I’m delighted to know he’s highly fertile. At the same time, I know that means if we can’t conceive,I’mthe culprit.

“Also.” He winks. “You’ll be happy to know I tested negative for any and all STIs.”

Inwardly, I scold myself for not thinking of this. But I don’t say anything. He already thinks I’m a kook of epic proportions. I can imagine what his desk calendar must look like.

Tuesday: Get tested for diseases.

Thursday: Go to sperm doctor.

Friday: Impregnate Regan.

I shake off the thought. “Well, that’s a relief. And so you know, no STIs here either.”

“I figured.” He picks up the wine and Lloyd’s bag. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Before I even get a chance to call him out on his blatantly obvious stab at my long dry spell, he’s flipping around my sign and locking the front door. He really does hate me leaving it unlocked. He turns. “I should have had Candace write into the contract that you’ll keep your doors locked when my kid is with you.”

“Must you always call ityourkid?”

“Fine.Ourkid.”

He traipses upstairs like he owns the place, and then—like he owns the place—he goes right to the kitchen and plates our food.

I don’t resist much, however, because the mouth-watering beef tenderloin on my plate is just about the nicest meal I’ve had in… well, since I can remember. It makes me wonder, is this how it’s going to be? When he’s depositing thousands of dollars into my account every month? When he’s expecting our child to be raised with the same socioeconomic standards he has?

“Where did you have the testing done?” I ask.

“I’m not an idiot, Regan. I went to the city.”

“Good. That’s good.”

He tops off my wine. “What did Maddie and Ava say about this whole situation?”

“Didn’t tell them,” I say around a bite of baked potato. I swallow it and add, “What did Blake and Dallas say?”

“I haven’t told anyone either.”

“Why is that?”

---