Page 66 of Implode

I exit out of the double doors when the nurse hits her button to open them. I glance around for the elevator but find an information display instead full of pregnancy-related resources. I gather a few brochures that look helpful, knowing that I need all the support I can get.

After exiting the hospital, I slide into the backseat of an idling taxi and get dropped off at HH where my car is parked. Nic and I drove separately today due to meeting his mom for breakfast. I’ve been gone so long that it feels like the day has been going on forever. I am exhausted, and I just want to lie down and sleep away my worries.

I slip inside my parked car and start the engine. It feels good to be someplace that is solely mine, but I can’t help but think about what Kevin shared. Maybe there is a GPS device in my car somewhere, alerting Nic of my whereabouts. I don’t have the first clue about where to look for it. What does a tracking device look like? Can I hold it in my hand?

I glance in my rearview mirror and groan at the situation. I am sandwiched in rather tightly between an SUV and a smaller sedan. Using my mirror, I back up a little and then turn my wheel to pull out a bit. I then back up a little more. After struggling to not hit two parked vehicles, I finally get out of my side and walk around to the rear to evaluate how much space I have.

“Claire?”

I turn and see Angie and Graham walking toward me. I am going to scream. I just need to get back to my apartment so I can think about my next steps regarding my baby.

“Oh, hi,” I stutter, surprised to be caught on the street after work hours. I will have to use tomorrow to catch up on all that I missed today with the distractions.

Angie narrows her eyes at me. “You were gone all afternoon.”

She doesn’t look angry. She looks deeply concerned. I glance down at my pink layered dress and frown at how rumpled I appear. I look like I got stuck in a windstorm. I imagine my hair looks that way as well.

“Sorry, I had a thing I had to take care of. I know I should have explained more, but I just had to take care of something, and I…” I take a couple of deep breaths. “Well, now it is taken care of so that is that.”

The lies.

The deceit.

The facade.

I am a fraud. I feel an overwhelming amount of pressure to be perfect and to give off this illusion that I have my life together, despite everything falling apart.

Angie’s eyes follow my every fidget, and I know she knows I am spinning in circles—a telltale sign I am hiding something. She gives me the common courtesy not to grill me on the street.

“Sweetheart,” Graham says, looking down at her, “please let Collins take you back home. I would like to have a chat with Claire alone.”

My eyes grow wide as Angie reluctantly slides into the backseat of the SUV that is parked directly behind my street parked car. How did I not notice it was theirs despite how many times I have ridden in it in the past? I turn around and wave to Collins, trying to figure out how I can be this oblivious.

I rock on my heels as Graham gives me a half smile. He knows he makes me nervous, probably from having several face-to-face verbal confrontations in the past. So much has happened since the days where I was trying to protect Angie from him. With time, it was very obvious to me that he would risk his own life to save hers.

“Where, um, do you want to talk?” I ask nervously. I really have no idea what he would like to discuss that cannot wait for tomorrow when I am back in the office. Maybe a wedding gift for his fiancée? Maybe the Plus None business? He is a key investor after all. None of these things seem urgent.

He points to the cafe across the street. “You okay with going there?” I nod and start to cross the street, but he clears his throat and asks, “Are you going to shut off your car?”

I turn to look at my idling car and realize that I was in the process of backing up when I ran into him and Angie. Shit. “Ah, yeah. Give me a second.” I open my driver’s side door and slide in. I straighten out my wheels and get my front bumper off the road. Then I kill the engine and hop out again. I walk beside Graham at the crosswalk and enter the little cafe. We move toward the back of the dining area, searching for a free spot. “What’s on your mind?” I ask, settling into the booth at a corner table.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” Graham asks politely.

I feel like I just ate, but as soon as I see the soups listed on the chalkboard menu, my stomach instantly growls. “Some baked potato soup, please. Extra bacon bits.”

Graham nods and leaves the table to place the order. When he comes back, he passes me a bottle of unsweetened tea. I scan the label and see that it does have caffeine. I think I am supposed to limit it, so I just take a couple of sips to quench my thirst, saving the rest for later. I have so much to learn when it comes to being a mommy.

“Figure I’ll just cut to the chase”—he sinks down into the bench seat on his side—“and not waste your time.”

“Okay?” My nerves heighten at the directness of his words. I am not naive enough to think that this meeting is just for fun. I expect him to have something worthwhile to say. However, with the stress over the baby and who the daddy is, my anxiety has skyrocketed.

“I know what you are hiding,” he says bluntly, sitting tall and watching me for a reaction.

And I give him one.

My eyes widen, and I slouch into my seat. My hands instinctively slide up toward my belly, under the protection of the tabletop. I am so exhausted that I just want to get this over with.

“Are you going to tell Angie? Especially right before the wedding? The last thing she needs to be doing is fussing over me. How did you even find out?”

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