Page 27 of Implode

“You must be hungry.”

I fork a piece of steak into my mouth and close my eyes over the taste. I can’t even remember the last time I ate something so juicy. When I am done with my moment of surrender, I open my eyes and find Nic’s steel-blue ones staring back at me. There’s no point getting shy around him while I pig out. He has seen me in so many more vulnerable positions that I lost count.

“I know you are mad at me but—”

“Do you know that?” I ask bluntly, moving my eyes to my meat mountain.

“One can assume…”

I hold my fork and knife up, crossing them. “Shh! Let me have this moment to enjoy my food and not get upset over something so menial, like your ever-changing moods.”

“I just—”

I pull back my chair to leave and Nic sighs.

“Fine,” he surrenders.

I focus on my food, avoiding eye contact and ignoring every movement that Nic makes on the opposite side of the table. It’s like he’s not even there, except I feel his penetrating gaze and his silent judgment.

We fill up our plates with another round of meat. This time I pair it with the mashed plantains that the waiter brought for the center of the table. They are deliciously caramelized with just enough color to bring out their sweetness. Maybe I need to find a job working here so I can eat during my breaks. Pretty sure after a few weeks, I’ll be pregnant with a food baby alongside the real baby.

“Talk to me, please,” Nic begs.

I look over at his sad demeanor. This meal was not supposed to be like this. I am supposed to be picking myself up, not getting more and more depressed. I swallow hard and collect my thoughts.

“We live in two different worlds, Nic. You know that. And I was finally able to see that. You probably helped me from a bigger heartache later on. So, for that I’m thankful.”

A veil of regret washes over his features. He rubs at the smoothness of his freshly shaven face, never taking his eyes from mine. “What happens if I tell you I made a mistake?”

I shove more meat into my mouth. Once I’m done chewing it, I stuff more in. And more. I keep my eyes on my dwindling tower, and when I finally can see the white of the plate, I excuse myself and head to the salad bar, leaving Nic alone at the table.

The salad bar is not the kind that you would find at the Country Buffet. Nope, this one is upscale and features the best imported cheeses, cold meats, and marinated vegetables. Every item is fresh and of high quality. I grab a plate and take a little from each section, which adds up to being a crazy amount of food.

I join Nic back at the table and feel his eyes bore into my forehead, mainly because I keep my attention focused on my prize. The arugula is so good. I need to figure out the recipe for the lemon citrus honey dressing. And the marinated mushrooms? Divine.

“Are you going to ignore me for the entire meal?” he asks. In my periphery I can see him lean back in his chair and examine me while he eats his scallop.

“Yup.”

“Why?”

I stop midbite, chew what is in my mouth, and then drop my fork onto the table. “Because what’s the point of addressing such a ludicrous, hypothetical, nonsensical question? Yet, here I am drawing more attention to it…”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “Hurt people hurt people. I’m working on my own issues, Claire. I’m done with the cycle of pain I seem to cause the women who choose to get involved with me. You helped me see that I was so wrong.” He lets out a sigh, and I can tell his frustration by the rigidness of his posture. “Don’t you see that I’m trying?”

“I’m not asking you to try, Nic. I’m not asking anything of you.”

“I’m not used to—”

“Jacking things up so badly?” I ask bluntly.

“Yes,” Nic admits. “I’m sorry for pushing you away that morning at Graham and Angie’s penthouse. I am sorry for not explaining from the very start that I was only looking for a sexual relationship and not an emotional one.”

I grind my teeth together, my jaw clenching tighter until the ache is too hard to endure. I huff out a breath, no longer worrying if I am being too aggressive. I don’t want the other neighboring patrons to hear us, but he just cannot stop making this turn into a scene.

His eyes. The way he plays with the ring on his finger. His chest rising and falling with each breath. Everything about him is driving me wild. Making me want to climb the walls just to get away from the air he takes up. “I need to pee.” There. I did it. I said something monumentally stupid—just like I knew I would.

A smile breaks out on his lips. Even when we are in a tense conversation, Nic always seems to find a way to see the humor. I start to push back my chair, but he is up and helping me out before I can even protest.

---