Page 86 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

He smiles. “I’d like that a lot.”

As I get ready, I realize how much I meant what I said. I would like to be closer. Even if now is not exactly the ideal time. I mean, how am I going to tell my little brother I’m having a baby with his childhood friend and college roommate? And that said friend was nothing more than a fuckbuddy turned baby daddy. Will he be mad? Will he hate Lucas?

Even through all these unknowns, I’m still glad he’s here. Maybe being pregnant has made me realize how important family is. How important siblings are.

I drop my shirt and sit on my bed, stunned at the thought. Because even though I’m just barely pregnant, and regardless of the fact that I’m thirty-five, I think I’ve just decided that I want my kid to have a brother or sister.

I cock my head and wonder if Lucas would be up for the task. Then I laugh. Because we sooooo need to see how this one goes first.

Speaking of Lucas, I pull out my phone.

Me: You’ll never guess who just showed up on my doorstep.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Lucas

I still can’t believe Ryder is back in town. When Regan told me yesterday, I wanted to go over and see him, but we both thought it would be better if I waited for him to reach out. Or for word to get around that he’s here. Which shouldn’t take long if he steps foot outside her shop.

But we agreed on one thing—not to tell him he’s going to be an uncle.

She still doesn’t know I told Blake and Dallas. I swore them to secrecy.

In the same conversation, Dallas swore us to secrecy about his upcoming proposal as well. He’s going to ask Marti to marry him. We’ve all known it was coming. They’ve been living together for months, along with her son, Charlie. But we assumed it might take longer for him to get there after all he’s been through. Losing his first wife and son several years ago really did a number on him.

He, of all people, deserves a happy ending. I stare off in the distance at the rear entrance of the doctor’s office.Do I?

Finally, after sitting in my car for twenty-five minutes, I get a text.

Regan: Dr. Russo will meet you at the back door in two minutes.

Me: I’ll be there.

I hop out of my car, race stealthily across the lot, and stand near the door, shifting my weight from foot to foot in nervous anticipation.

What feels like hours later, but is most likely only seconds, the door opens and an older lady wearing a white coat appears. “Mr. Montana, come in. I’ve got Regan in the room right over here.”

She motions to a door very near where she’s standing and ushers me through to where Regan is sitting on an exam table.

“I appreciate you going through all the trouble,” I say, removing my ball cap.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been asked to bring a father in discreetly,” the doctor says. “You can sit there. We’re going to do Regan’s ultrasound. I like to make sure the pregnancy is viable before we go into all the specifics. Assuming we find a heartbeat, we’ll discuss the next steps.”

“We’re going to see the baby?” I ask.

“That’s the hope. At seven weeks, the fetus should be about the size of a coffee bean, or M&M if you prefer. About one centimeter in length.”

I smile and look at Regan. “M&M? As in Mitchell Montana? That’s got to be a sign.”

Regan rolls her eyes and lies back.

Dr. Russo holds up a long wand sheathed in what looks like an oversized condom and lubes it up. “This might feel strange.”

Regan giggles. “That? Oh, that’s nothing.” She catches my eyes and grins widely.

NowI’mthe one rolling my eyes.

The doctor studies the ultrasound screen for a minute and types on the keyboard with her left hand as she holds the wand inside Regan with her right. Then she points. “This here, that black space, is the amniotic fluid. And this right here is the baby. I can visibly see cardiac activity.”

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