Page 75 of Imperfect Match (Imperfect Match 1)
“Was it work stuff?”
“No. It’s family. My mom’s in rehab again.”
My heart melts. “I’m sorry. But isn’t rehab a good thing?”
“Maybe it was the first dozen times. Or even the first two dozen.”
“You don’t think she’s serious about it?”
“She’s never serious about anything except getting back at my dad. But she manipulates my brother so easily into taking her side.”
“You prefer your dad’s side?”
“I prefer my own side—which is the side Leo should be on, since I was the one who had to step in and raise him when my parents were too fucked up to do it.”
I put my arms around his neck and settle a little more comfortably on his lap. “I’m so sorry, Reid. Want to talk more about it?”
He frowns. “No. I want to be with you and forget anyone else even exists.”
“We can do that.”
“Are you still mad?” He kisses my chin, my jaw, my throat.
“I’m getting over it.” I smile when his scruff tickles my neck.
“Good,” he says, shifting me to the side and tipping me onto my back.
I want to talk more about what it was like for him growing up, but he’s lifting up my skirt.
I want to talk more about his feelings regarding his mom’s return to rehab, but his head is between my thighs.
I want to ask him again how he feels about my keeping the appointment at the fertility clinic tomorrow, but his naked body is moving over mine and he’s pushing inside me again and again and all I can do is pull him closer and whisper his name and hope that being with me is the salve his soul needed tonight.
We go from the couch to my bedroom, and no more words are spoken.
When the sun comes up the following morning, I lie close to him and wish more than anything it could be like this for the rest of our lives. Going to bed together, waking up together, coming home to each other. Does he want that too? What does he see for our future? And what the hell am I going to do about that appointment? I don’t have the heart to wake him up and ask him about it, but I don’t want him to be upset if I go without telling him.
I’m completely torn.
I get out of the bed, and he doesn’t stir. I need coffee and a plan—that’s the only thing I can do right now. Once I get to the kitchen, I pour myself a cup, and sit at the table. There is nothing wrong with going for the appointment, is there? I’m not asking Reid to give anything up by me doing what I want in life.
There are things that happen in this universe for a reason, and that appointment not being canceled is a sign.
I drain my cup and hop in the shower. Once I’m dressed and ready, I check on Reid, who is still passed out. Waking him and talking about this entire situation would be the right thing, but I don’t want another fight right now.
So I don’t do it.
On a piece of notepaper, I leave a note: Went to my appointment, call you when I’m done. I love you.
I kiss it and pray he’ll understand because losing him is my biggest nightmare, but having a family is my best dream.
Once I’m at the appointment, my nerves settle down. I get checked in, pee in a cup, and have a full exam. Now I’m in the office with the doctor, going over everything and waiting to see the results.
My phone has rung four times, but I’m still not looking at it, because I know who it is and I’m a chicken shit.
The doctor seems optimistic, which is a good thing. “The process is simple, and it’s definitely the more affordable option, compared to IVF,” she explains.
“Okay. And how does it ... you know ... work? With picking a guy.”
