Page 59 of Implode

I use my hands to wrap around his base, twisting and pulling to the same rhythm as my mouth at the tip. I look up at him as I pull him all the way out and remove my hands entirely from his shaft. Then I push forward until he hits the back of my throat. I can only do that a couple of times without feeling like my gag reflex will go off, and just those few times is enough.

“I’m close,” he warns, giving me a chance to back down.

I keep my rhythm until I feel him harden a fraction more, hear him let out a groan, and then taste the salty liquid hit my tonsils. He slides out, and I lick my lips.

“You are full of surprises today,” Nic says, picking me up and wrapping me in his arms. “That was incredible.”

I never expected us to ever be like this. I am content. Nic treats me like an equal partner, and I feel cherished.

We dry off and get dressed for the day. I glance at my phone to see that I’m going to be late. I throw on my power heels and dress in a pink chiffon layer dress—all before Nic is even into his boxers.

“What’s the hurry?” he asks with satisfaction still present in his voice.

“I don’t want to keep your mother waiting.”

“My mom? What? Why are you seeing my mom? I mean, of course, go see her, but what is this over?”

“You are rambling.”

“I know.”

“I promised Angie I would help her navigate some of the last-minute details for the wedding,” I say slowly, reading between the lines as I evaluate his expression. Apparently Angie’s future MIL is quite the planner. She is a walking Pinterest post with all of her ideas. While classy is the goal, Angie definitely appreciates understated beauty. I know what her vision is, so I just need to guide the choices in that direction—through gentle persuasion.

“Can I come too?”

“What?”No. “Why?”

“So I can introduce her to you.”

“Nic, we have met before. I’d assume she remembers me.”

“As mygirlfriend.”

I turn away from his penetrating gaze and throw a few items from my nightstand into my purse. Is that what we are? Boyfriend and girlfriend? It doesn’t seem right making that type of commitment without sharing with him that I am carrying a baby.And oh yeah, it may or may not be yours.

“Right now, the focus is all on Angie. I made a promise to my bestie that I would handle this crossroad for her. She has enough on her plate, and I owe her this much. Do you mind if I navigate this solo?”

Nic wraps his arms around my midsection from behind and kisses the sensitive skin at the bottom of my neck. I melt into his hold like I always do. He melts my protective layer of ice. With him, I feel safe. With him, I also feel an insurmountable amount of guilt. The tug-of-war going on within my head is exhausting. Should I follow my heart and hope that love is enough to cope with my secret? Or will I always wonder if I am just an obligation?

* * *

I tote my mini vision board under my arm, which serves as a backup to my already practiced speech. The entire car ride here has been used to rehearse what I plan to say if I am met with resistance.

Donna has been nothing but nice to me, every encounter we’ve ever had, so I’m not expecting anything hostile. However, I still need to tiptoe around getting her to see what I think is Angie’s vision. This is her wedding, so she deserves to have things the way she likes them.

I walk along the stone path toward the beautiful restaurant called On The River and take a few cleansing breaths to settle my nerves. Most people think I like confrontation, when in reality I just like a good discussion. I enjoy seeing both sides, and it isn’t unheard of for me to change my views on the spot. I love the challenge and learning other people’s thought processes. However, this meetup is primarily to persuade Mrs. Hoffman that less is more.

You can do this, Claire.

The hostess welcomes me inside and leads me down to the private section that is made of glass and is overlooking the water.

“Hello, Claire,” Mrs. Hoffman greets, getting up from her seat to envelop me in a hug.

“Hi, Mrs. Hoffman,” I respond, taken aback at how welcoming her arms feel.

“Oh dear, please call me Donna,” she reminds me.

Back over Christmas, I spent time in her home so I wouldn’t be alone. Ethan didn’t want to get together and had other obligations that didn’t involve me. Now looking back, I know that I was never in his long-term plan. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was with Deena the whole time.

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