Page 72 of Imperfect Match (Imperfect Match 1)
I finish my beer. “About calamari?”
“No. About kids.”
Setting my empty bottle on the table, I look up at her. Had I heard that right? “Kids?”
“Yes.” She sits up a little taller. Fiddles with the edge of her menu.
“They’re great. For other people. Or in small, small doses.”
“But … not for you? Like, ever?”
“Not for me. Like ever. Christ, I’ve got Leo living with me, probably for life. He’s enough of a juvenile to deal with.”
“Right.” Her mouth turns down. It’s obvious I’ve upset her, but it’s not like my feelings on this subject could be a surprise.
“This is nothing new, Wills. Like you said—no blindsiding. I’ve never wanted kids and I’ve always made that clear.”
“I know.” She meets my eyes, her expression wistful. “I guess I was just hoping maybe you’d … changed your mind.”
A siren goes off in my head. “Are you pregnant?”
Her face blanches. “No! My God, no. It’s not that.”
“Good. I was about to have a stroke.” In fact, the room is still spinning.
“It’s just that I have that appointment at the fertility clinic tomorrow.”
My jaw falls open. “What?”
“I have an appointment at the fertility clinic tomorrow. The one I told you about.”
“I thought you canceled that.”
“I was supposed to, but I sort of forgot.” Beneath the table, she nudges my foot with hers and laughs nervously. “You’ve sort of hijacked my brain.”
“So wait …” My head is foggy, and my throat feels dry. I reach for my beer, dismayed to find the bottle empty. “You kept the appointment?”
“Yes. But not on purpose,” she says quickly. “I just forgot to cancel, and then yesterday I got a call confirming the appointment.”
“So why didn’t you cancel it then?”
“Well, I might have, but Aspen answered my phone and took a message—which she didn’t even tell me about until this afternoon.” She rolls her eyes. “Typical. Did I tell you what she was wearing today?”
I’m not in the mood to discuss Willow’s sister right now. “So did you call back and cancel?”
“I couldn’t. The office was closed by the time Aspen gave me the message. And besides,” she says, taking a deep breath, “I waited a long time to get that appointment. I was thinking I’d keep it.”
“Keep it?” Hot, pulsing fury surges through my veins. “You can’t be fucking serious, Willow. You’re not putting some guy’s junk in you. I won’t let you do it.”
“Reid, keep your voice down.” Willow looks around the restaurant in alarm. “People can hear you.”
“I don’t give a good goddamn who hears me. You are not going through with that ridiculous plan to have some asshole stranger’s kid!” I know I’m embarrassing both of us, but I can’t help it. What the fuck is wrong with everyone around me today? Am I the only sane person on the planet?
“Shhhh,” she admonishes, her cheeks turning scarlet. “Can we please talk about this quietly? Calmly?”
“I don’t know, Willow. I’m not sure I can remain calm when you’re talking about having some other guy put his—”
“Will you please stop saying it like that?” Her tone gets a little sharper.
