Page 111 of Implode

“Yeah!” I yell, rooting for them with my fist in the air.

Zander starts playing the piano recessional music, and I meet Claire halfway to walk her back up the aisle. We pass by the rows of guests, and everyone is bursting with excitement to go back into the mansion to kick off the reception.

“Are you okay?” I ask Claire, who seems quiet. She looks a little pale, and I wonder if it is just from trying not to cry.

“I’m just a little lightheaded. Watching them say their vows really made my heart smile.”

“When was the last time you ate?” I ask, waving to a few friends of the family I haven’t seen in a while. I turn my attention back to Claire when she doesn’t answer right away. I frown as she looks deep in thought. “Baby, when?”

“This morning for brunch. I just had something small, and now I am feeling the drop in my blood sugar, I think. I’m fine, really. No need to fuss over me. We have bridal party obligations to perform.”

“I’m going to get you something to snack on before the main dinner. My duty to care for you far outweighs anything else.”

Claire places a hand on my arm. “No, we have to greet the guests and such. I have to make sure Angie’s dress stays smoothed out and help her remove her veil for the reception.”

I ignore her protests and flag down one of the staff members who is dressed in a black suit and bowtie. “I am going to need a glass of juice and some crackers. And maybe some cheese.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I’m an adult and can wait for the meal.”

“You are pregnant and need to take care of yourself. Good thing you have me.”

“Are you going to be like this the entire pregnancy?”

I shrug. “Probably worse. You know how I love to take everything to the extreme.”

“Lovely,” she groans, making me smile.

“Keep it up, and I’ll buy you one of those motorized scooters so you can stay off your feet. Oh, and those comfy slip-on silicone shoes with the holes all over them. Because the days of you wearing those death traps”—I point down to her heels—“are going to be over.”

“I am pregnant, not crippled.”

The staff member returns and hands over a plate and a glass of a burgundy liquid. I lift the glass to Claire’s lips for her to take a sip. “Good?”

She smiles. “It’s cranberry juice with ginger ale. Tastes delicious, thank you.”

I feed her a cracker with cheese and we sit in the garden on a bench, watching as the crowd disperses and enters the mansion for the reception.

“I think we have to go take pictures,” she says between bites.

“Don’t rush. I am sure we’ll have plenty of time to do everything. Here, give me your feet and I can rub them while you snack.”

“I could get used to this special treatment, you know.”

“That’s the plan, baby. I got to earn my place in your heart,” I tease. “But at least there’s two entry points—through your stomach and through your feet.”

“This is true,” she giggles.

* * *

“Stop or everyone is going to notice,” Claire scolds, as she pushes away the hand that I have resting on her ass.

The photographer is posing us around the newlyweds, and I am having way too much fun teasing Claire. Getting her to blush is now my new favorite hobby. Despite her tone of voice, I know she is enjoying the attention because she can’t help but shiver every time I move closer to her. It is a game we like to play with each other to see who gives in first.

“Going public with my feelings for you is a reality, Claire. I want the entire world to know you are off the market.”

“Pretty sure no one is paying me any attention. No need to get the ruler out to size up dicks.”

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