Page 33 of Implode

My morning sickness has moved out of the a.m. time slot today, but I expect it to flare up by lunch time if I do not eat on schedule. Having an empty stomach seems to set me off and into a dry-heaving fit. So, seeing all of the pastries, juices, and fruit does make my stomach growl.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper. I wish he would stop being so cute. All of his attention is simply reminding me of all that I am losing because I managed to get pregnant by one of two men. “Angie is going to be here soon.”

“She doesn’t leave the penthouse until 7:53 a.m.”

“That is oddly specific. And creepy.”

Nic shrugs, not the least bit fazed by my remarks. “I work in the security field, Claire. We are all creepy.”

“Or just you,” I quip.

He rolls up his sleeve to glance at his watch. “We have forty-three minutes until Angie has the opportunity to see us. So let’s start eating.”

“There is nous,” I remind him.

His brows lift. “Then come up with a better pronoun.”

When I have nothing to add, he motions for me to sit down on the blanket, holding up a variety plate for me to take, already loaded up with food. He is playing dirty. Food is my love language right now, and I can’t get enough when I’m not doubling over a toilet throwing up. Ask my clothes. They will tell you. All of the salt I’ve been consuming and the extra carbs are making me bloat. This morning, I had to switch outfits three times because of fear I would look as pregnant as I feel. I know it’s irrational, as I’m less than two months along, but I can’t shake the paranoia. The wrap dress I settled on is forgiving enough and allows for extra stretch in the waistline area. However, I give it a couple more months, and I won’t be able to just use “extra carbs” as an excuse as to why I’m packing on weight in record speed.

I sit down on the other side of the blanket and break off a piece of pastry from my plate. I close my eyes as I welcome the buttery taste to overwhelm my senses. The smell, the taste, the look of the flaky layers, all make me continue biting and chewing until there’s nothing left. So good.

The only thing that would make this meal better is bacon. Greasy, no-nutritional-value bacon. That is what I’m craving right now. The baby wants meat.

I can feel Nic’s eyes on me while I eat in silence. I don’t need to look over to see that they are on me. I can feel them.

He is wearing me down. And the smug smirk playing against his lips is enough evidence to know that he knows it too.

“What do I have to do to get you to go on a date with me?” he asks boldly.

I look at the food scattered about the blanket. Pretty sure I would call this current situation a date, but who am I to make these types of judgments?

And then I smell it. Bacon. I look over at Nic as he pulls open the take-out bag and lifts out a container of freshly cooked sugar-maple glazed bacon. He is playing dirty. Despite being heavily saturated with nitrates, I want it more than I want anything else at this moment.

“It’s organic.”

“What?” I burst out.

“I said”—he pauses to look at me—“it’s organic.”

“Give me,” I say, motioning with my fingers. “Give me the bacon, now.”

Nic laughs at me.Laughs.

My mouth salivates as I watch Nic pop the container lid open—slowly. He is taking his time and enjoying himself by teasing me. He dangles a piece of bacon above his mouth, and I watch, entranced, as he tilts his head back and allows it to disappear between his parted lips. When he goes to do the same stunt with a second piece, I lean over and snatch it from his fingers before it can make contact with his mouth.

“Excuse me?” he scoffs, faking being offended.

I accordion the strip of meat into my mouth and chew it all up before speaking. “What?” I shrug. “Bacon is my weakness.”

His smirk makes me smirk. He leans in closer, making sure to keep the bacon out of reach. “I thought the thing I do with my tongue is your weakness.”

My eyes widen, as I think about all the things his magnificent tongue has done to my body. I fake indifference. “I probably did think that, at one point. But then I discovered bacon. And there’s no competition.” I look off to the side of the room as I bite my bottom lip, and then I feel the tickling sensation at my sides. “Stop!” I laugh. “Stopppp!”

Nic finally releases me, leaving me panting. His smile is the biggest I’ve seen in days. He’s enjoying himself. And so am I. I hold out my hand for more bacon. It’s that good.

“You are the weirdest vegan I have ever met.”

“I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

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