Page 96 of Implode

“I’m trying here, Claire. I’m really, really trying.”

“What exactly are you trying, Nic?”

“I’m trying to be okay with even the worst-case scenario,” I explain. “I’m trying to be patient and give you space. But it is hard to go through these watered-down motions when all I want to do is pull you toward me and make you stay.” Her eyes grow as she listens to every one of my words. Is she finally understanding it?

She shakes her head. “I can’t handle any more heartbreak. You think you want me because you think I am carrying your child. But there is still a solid chance I’m not. Your feelings will change if this baby,” she says looking down at her belly, “is Ethan’s. And gaining you just to lose you again will be way worse than never getting you back at all.”

“So that’s it?” I ask, looking away from her. “You’re allowing this test result to dictate what youthinkmy feelings are?”

“Yes,” she says with certainty. “I need to know who the father is. It is all I can think about.”

“What if I said it doesn’t matter to me?”

“I’d say you are fooling more than just me.” Claire looks at me and then lets out a long, drawn-out exhale. She shifts her weight so she can see me better. “Do you think this isn’t gutting me? Do you think that I don’t see all I am missing out on? You live a charmed life.” She glances around the room and swings her arm out to encompass the space in a sweeping gesture. “You have the perfect family, with the perfect love story of your parents to look up to. I don’t have an iconic model of a marriage and family structure to try to imitate. I have a mom who cheated on her husband and got pregnant by a man I never met. I am unwanted, Nic.”

“Not by me.”

“You say that now. But I bet my mom thought that the man that I call Dad would come to terms with the fact that he was not my biological father. And well, we both know how that turned out. The fact that I would have been better off if I was put up for adoption is a sobering feeling that no one should go through life thinking. So, you say that the test results don’t matter, but how am I supposed to believe that, huh? I cannot put my child in a situation that will later cause them potential harm. I refuse to let this baby ever think it is unwanted by anyone. I am living proof of how a person can be affected by neglect. All a child wants is to be loved. If that means parenting on my own, so be it. I’m sure it will be hard at first, but I’ll adapt.”

“Baby—”

“How would your parents feel if you are with me and the child is not yours? I can’t have my baby be a stain to your storybook plot. But don’t you ever think for a second that I won’t be wondering what we could have been if Ethan ends up being the father and makes the rest of my life a living hell with his threats at resisting coparenting.”

I wrap Claire in my arms and tug a blanket around us at the first tear that falls from her eyes. I know she may not believe me or see it now, but we belong together and I will fight for us. When doors always close in your face, it is hard to ever expect any to open on their own—without having to pry. She was wrapped around my heart long before I was aware of it. Now I just need her to see that this baby changes nothing as to how I feel about her.

“I am waiting for the moment,” I say, “when you start to realize that my feelings toward you are not dependent on the outcome of a paternity test.”

“They are for me,” she says flatly, which I know is a lie. It is what she wants me to believe, so she can protect her own heart. “And one day you might see that me letting you go is a gift.”

I shake my head but resist arguing. Claire doesn’t need me to make a case right now for all of my points. I just keep holding her and enjoying this quiet moment of stillness. I play with her hair and rub her back. I know she is crying by the erratic pattern of her breaths, but I do not draw attention to it.

When Claire’s sobs stop, I look down and see that she has fallen asleep. I move her so she is lying on a pillow and tuck her under the two layers of blankets. Then, I crawl in beside her and mold my body to hers.

Claire is the rarest, most beautifully broken butterfly, who just needs a little mending in order to soar. I refuse to allow her to cut me out of her life. I needed time to make sense of my intense feelings for her. She now needs time to know that she doesn’t have to walk her path alone.

I might be a masochist, but I can only hope that it is all worth it in the end.

25

CLAIRE

“Can you believe that at this time tomorrow, you will be married?” I ask Angie, as I put the last minute touches on her makeup.

“It really is crazy to think that I found my person when I least expected it.”

“That’s how all the good love stories happen.” I smile. “And you should know from all of those sappy books you read with the half-naked men on the covers.”

“Man. Singular,” she corrects with a giggle. “Although I’m not against multiple naked men, so I like how you think. If there is a fantasy, there’s definitely hundreds of books for it.”

I join Angie in laughter. We are using a guest room at the mansion to get dressed and primped for the wedding rehearsal. All of the people participating in the ceremony are downstairs waiting for us. I am going to miss her being single and free to have girls’ nights. However, a lot has changed for both of us recently and our priorities have shifted. Perhaps we have both matured.

“Now you have your own love story to add to those epic ones you like so much.” I lift Angie’s hair and fix some strands over her shoulders. “You, my beautiful friend, are getting married. So, let’s go practice so you don’t make a fool out of yourself tomorrow in front of everyone.” I look in the mirror as Angie’s face turns to horror. “I’m teasing. You’re going to do great. You always do.”

“We’ll see,” she mutters. “You know how I hate to be center stage.”

“Ha, pretty sure you are the least bridezilla person I know.”

“I still have some time to start making all of my demands,” she says with a straight face.

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