Page 98 of Implode

Nic helps me into the back of the limo and clicks me into my seatbelt, since my fingers apparently are as clumsy as my feet. It is just the two of us. I can’t help but think of the statement he made to me right before walking down the aisle. Will I be able to live out my own fairy tale? Right now, the only thing I see in front of me is the looming paternity test, which will change my life forever. I am not ready for more change. I just want consistency and stability. I want to be confident in my choices and have the calming feeling like I am doing the right thing.

“What am I going to do when I am a huge puffer fish and can’t do much of anything for myself?” I ask, not really expecting a response.

Nic takes my hand in his and massages my palm. “I will take care of you, baby. Whatever you need. If I have to hire someone to help take some stress off of you, I will. If you need to be on a special diet, I will hire you a personal chef. Whatever you need, I can provide it.”

I shake my head, fully regretting even asking the question in the first place. “How can you just say that? I am giving you a way out of all of this.”

“You think my way out is if Ethan is the father. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but those results don’t matter to me.”

I sit in silence as the door opens and more people shuffle inside. Under the concealment of his suit coat, Nic manages to hold my hand without anyone noticing. It feels good to be wanted—even if I know the moment will be fleeting.

Collins drives us back into Hillsboro, and the catering staff is in full swing, meeting us in the driveway with a celebratory beverage.

Nic grabs two flutes off of the tray and hands me one that has two berries in the bottom. “This one is virgin,” he states simply, nodding toward my drink. “I had them specially made with you in mind.”

Why is he being so sweet to me? “Thanks,” I mutter, missing the opportunity to get a little buzzed. I push my emotions and feelings into the back of my head as I gear up mentally to celebrate my best friend on the night before her big day. It is easy to be happy for her. It is also easy to want to live vicariously through everything she is experiencing.

Inside, we all sit at a huge rectangular table. The cello player starts playing, while the singer starts to perform. After the first song, Germain clinks his glass with a polished silver fork, silencing the room.

“Donna and I thank you all for joining us today to prepare for the nuptials of our son, Graham Xavier Hoffman, and his lovely fiancée, Angela Renee McFee. Please raise your glass while we toast to a lifetime of happiness and good health. May you both grow together in love and harmony.”

“Here, here!”

“Cheers!”

“Salut.”

The musicians start to perform again as huge trays of food are brought out and plates are placed in front of us. We all dig in and enjoy the food and light conversation. Most of the time, I sit back and enjoy watching everyone interact. It feels like I am a part of this amazing network of people, and the thought of losing any of them causes me major grief and anxiety.

Donna wheels out the cake and everyone laughs over the chocolate volcano erupting from the center. Angie sure loves chocolate, and this dessert is almost too spectacular to eat. A staff member slices up the cake, serving it on porcelain plates with some of the ganache drizzled over it. Every plate is then garnished with a chocolate dipped strawberry and passed out to each guest. It is decadent and sinfully delicious.

I am so focused on eating my berry that I don’t even realize that another one has been added to my plate. I refuse to look over at Nic, who I am positive put it there. Instead, I take a giant bite of it and savor the taste of sweetness with the bitter bite of the chocolate. I grab my napkin and wipe my lips. I take a sip of my sparkling beverage, and when I place my fork back on my plate, it bumps into another strawberry. I quickly glance over at Nic and he is busy chatting with his sister. I look to my other side and see Zander taking a break from playing the piano to eat with us.

I take the fruit between my two fingers and bite the tip off and then the rest of it, discarding the stem onto my plate.

“Ma’am,” I hear behind me and look back to see a waiter holding a huge bowl of fruit on a tray. “Would you like more?”

I shake my head and slink back into my chair, feeling slightly embarrassed from my overindulgence. When he is about to turn around, Nic takes the bowl off the tray and places it down in front of him. I glare over at him, but he deliberately avoids making eye contact.

“Hungry?” I ask, trying to get him to engage. I smile at the smirk forming on his lips. He can’t hide it because his eyes give it away.

Nic turns and stares at my lips and then trails them down my body to what is hidden underneath the table. “Always.”

“Stop,” I mouth.

“Stop what?” he asks innocently.

“You know what.”

He leans in closer, making my eyes grow big as I glance around the room. No one is paying us any attention. Drinks are being consumed, food is being enjoyed, and laughter is filling up the gaps in conversations.

“I wonder if your pussy is as sweet as this bowl of fruit,” he says smoothly, picking up a piece to plop in his mouth. “I bet it is even sweeter.”

I open my mouth and then snap it shut. I want to turn away. I want to act like his words don’t affect me. But they do. They always do. I want him. More than I have ever wanted anyone else in my life. I just don’t know if I have the willpower to give in now, just to say no later. It isn’t fair to either of us. None of this is fair.

In the middle of my mental pity party, I feel the lightest brush of Nic’s fingers on my thigh. It tickles as he trails them up over the fabric of my dress, teasing me and taunting me with everything I have ever wanted. He knows my weaknesses, and from the gleam in his eyes, I know he will be exploiting them and playing me like a finely tuned piano.

“Not here,” I mutter, so only he can hear.

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