Page 45 of Lick

Hopefully, he doesn’t hear the worry in my voice. A part of me tells me to just go with the flow. If I hold myself back, I’m going to live my life on the outside, always looking in but never really a part of anything. The other part, though, knows what it’s like to lose everything. Not only did I have to start from scratch, but I also had to deal with the guilt and indignation that I was responsible for my own downfall. Sure, it might have been Dan that cheated, forcing me to act, but I swam through a sea of red flags before I reached that point. I don’t think I can survive starting over again.

“Emma? Did I lose you again?”

The words feel oddly ominous, but I shake them off. I owe it to our baby to at least try. I know fear is driving the ship right now, and I hate that for all of us, but I can’t pretend that fear isn’t there.

“No, I’m still here. I’m just a bit of a space cadet today.”

“You feeling okay? You haven’t been sick again, have you?”

“No, I’m okay, honestly. My ankles are a little swollen, and I’ve peed more times in the last few hours than you likely have all week, but otherwise I’m good.”

He laughs at that, and something settles inside me. The need to self-sabotage is riding me hard, a twisted sense of self-preservation, where I leave him before he can leave me—as if that would hurt any less—kicks in. But I ignore it.

“Well, if you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you come down to Shooters for a bit? We can grab some food and spend some time together, even if I can’t get away.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“Okay, I’d like that.”

“Good. Get yourself ready, and I’ll have a prospect come pick you up. How long do you need?”

I look down at my watch, see the flecks of paint on my arm, and grimace. “Better give me an hour so I can have a shower and wash my hair.”

“An hour it is. See you soon.”

He hangs up, leaving me staring at my phone. It still baffles me how he happily goes with the flow—no passive-aggressive remarks or gaslighting. Every time I expect the worst from him, he steps up and shows me something I missed completely before. It took me a while to figure out that it’s not Lick being exceptional, though lord knows the man can be. It’s that what he does is the bare minimum I should have been expecting all along. I was so used to the scraps Dan fed me that I thought it was normal for my husband to correct or reprimand me. I became as much a part of the problem as he was, and I had no idea until I was out of it. Lick showed me differently. It makes you wonder how many other girls found themselves in similar situations where they were set up to fail from the start. I’m not blaming my parents for my pregnancy—that was all me and Dan. But to abandon me, a child who was still missing a hell of a lot of vital information regarding what it would be like to be not just a mother and wife but a woman in her own right, was severely lacking.

I plug my phone back in to charge and clean up the mess as I ponder over it all before stripping off my clothes and tossing them in the laundry hamper. I climb into the shower and let the warm water pour down over me, helping to soothe some of the kinks where I’ve been sitting hunched over.

I run my hand over my small bump and smile when I feel the flutter beneath my fingertips. It’s not quite strong enough for Lick to feel just yet, and though I’m looking forward to seeing his reaction when he does, for right now, it’s like a secret club for just me and the baby.

Grabbing the shampoo, I wash my hair twice before conditioning it. I have a quick shave, dreading the day when I won’t be able to reach all the places I want to. I rinse off and climb out, then wrap a towel around my body and a smaller one around my hair so I can walk into the bedroom and face the next dilemma—what to wear.

Going to Shooters wouldn’t be my first choice of places to spend my evening, but I’d rather be there with Lick than here alone. That said, jeans are not happening as I can’t get into any of them, and anything even remotely club-like will look stupid. Instead, I opt for a long maxi dress that’s probably more suited to a beach holiday than a night at a bar, but it’s one of the few items I can still fit into that makes me feel pretty. The lightweight fabric skims my ankles and swishes around my legs when I walk. It’s loose from the ribs down but slightly more fitted around the bust with a thick halter neck strap that ties around my neck.

The maroon red complements my dark hair, which I dry and curl with a curling iron to get some big, loose curls. I match the lipstick to the dress and slip on some strappy flat gold sandals that lace up around my calf. I add a few gold bangles and a locket to tie in the footwear and stand back so I can take in myself in the full-length mirror.

I’m at that weird stage of pregnancy where people can’t tell if I’ve got a baby in my belly or if I’ve eaten one too many cheeseburgers. As this dress skims over my bump, I might get away without the curious looks tonight.

Picking up a small gold over-the-shoulder bag, I throw in the essentials before making my way back out to the living room. A glance out the window shows me that the prospect is already here, so I slip on my leather jacket, grab my phone and keys, and head on down.

The prospect greets me with a chin lift and holds the back door to the car open, like he’s a chauffeur or something, making me chuckle as I climb in and buckle up. It’s not a long drive to Shooters, but my mind drifts away anyway. I thought about calling the kids today to let them know I’m expecting a baby, but that conversation won’t go down well. And that’s if they even take my call at all.

I still haven’t made up my mind about what to do by the time I get there and end up feeling frustrated with myself for my indecisiveness.

“You want me to walk you inside?” the prospect asks as he parks in the drop-off zone.

“No, I’m okay, but thanks.”

“No problem.”

He watches me climb out and walk to the doorman before he pulls away. I wait until the doorman turns around and then sigh when I recognize him as the asshole who couldn’t kick me out fast enough before.

I see the moment he recognizes me, because his expression turns frigid. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

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