Chapter 8 #2
Her eyes dimmed. She studied him. Waiting for him to back out? Wasn’t happening.
Silence hung between them, her eyes—so wide, so trusting. A loose spiral sprang back against her cheek, and his fingers twitched to brush it away. But the baby’s weight in his arms kept him still.
He shifted the tiny bundle, her warmth seeping into his chest. Her breaths tickled his neck, steady and rhythmic, as if she trusted him entirely. The sensation stirred something deep inside—an unfamiliar, undeniable protectiveness.
No wonder this child was Albert’s whole world—now Claire’s. The weight of it began settling on him too, wrapping around him.
“Thank you for setting up the caregiver for my dad.”
“Your dad is my family too.” The response came automatically, rooted in years of friendship with Albert. But now, that connection felt different—deeper. She was going to be his wife. Wife. A simple four-letter word, yet it became so much more.
All the more reason they needed to spend more time together.
“Would it be okay if I tagged along while you try on the dress again?” Did his tone betray his underlying hope?
It wasn’t a traditional date with planning, but it was a chance to hang out without the baby and perhaps make this arrangement more realistic.
“You want to come to the bridal shop?” Her brow arched, and her lips twitched as if biting back a comment. She leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, the supple leather of her brown boots molded to her dark leggings. Why’d she act like he had hidden motives?
“Grace wants us to make a public appearance.” That, too, would kill two birds with one stone.
“Who’s Grace?” Her brow furrowed.
“My PR manager. She’s been pulling the strings on this whole whirlwind romance.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Isn’t this a public appearance already?”
Wade chuckled, careful not to wake Bella. “She wants something more… official. Like a date.”
“A date? With a photographer and everything?”
“If you’re free.” He shouldn’t pressure her, but then they didn’t have much time to make this look convincing. “I thought I’d join you for your fitting, and we could go from there. And if it helps, Mom’s off at two, and she’d be thrilled to come by and watch Bella.”
He didn’t bring up the proposal setup Grace had floated.
That crossed a line he wasn’t ready for.
“Pretty much. Just… dinner in town. Something public enough for people to notice. Grace thinks it’ll make our story more”—the word stuck in his throat, as hard to swallow as the whole story—“believable.”
Claire pressed her lips together. Her gaze dropped to Bella. Her shoulders stiffened. “Tonight?”
“If you’re free.” After all, they had a tight timeline.
Her chest rose, then fell. “But your mom—”
“She raised eleven kids, Claire. She still works with kids at the hospital and takes care of her grandkids.” Now that Eric’s kids were past the baby phase, Mom needed to get her “baby fix” as she called it whenever she held an infant.
“What else does this afternoon entail?” Claire tilted her head, and her smile sent a ripple through him.
“If I tell you everything now”—he exhaled as the sensation settled somewhere deep in his chest—“what’ll we have left to talk about on our date?”
“Interesting.” She slid her lower lip between her teeth and winked. “All right, Wade Stone. A date—as long as we go to Pleasant View Diner.”
He grinned. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for their pancakes.”
Wade hadn’t known what to expect from the local bridal shop, but this place was next level for their small town.
Modern rustic. Marble floors gleamed under the lights.
Discreet music drifted from hidden speakers.
Shimmering gowns lined the walls, each more intricate than the last. He paced around the waiting area, glancing at the veils and tiaras displayed in cases.
Eric recommended the shop, but thinking of Claire in a wedding gown, even for a pretend wedding, felt oddly nerve-racking.
The dressing room door clicked open, halting his pacing. He turned, she stepped out, and the world seemed to pause.
Sunlight poured through the shop’s floor-to-ceiling windows, wrapping her in a glow. She didn’t just look beautiful—she looked like she’d stepped out of a dream, too perfect to be real.
He was parched, and no doubt, she could hear his thundering heart.
“What do you think?” Claire’s voice had him blinking, and his gaze rising to meet hers. She gripped the fabric as if to steady herself.
The gown cinched at her waist, highlighting her slender frame. Its cascades flowed until ethereal layers of chiffon pooled around her feet. The delicate lace overlay graced her bare shoulders, framing the elegant neckline.
She’d be wearing this dress when she walked down the aisle toward him, when they said words that were supposed to mean forever. It felt… too real, too fast.
What did he think? He’d taken on more than he could handle.
His parents’ words resurfaced: As long as your intentions to marry her include a lifelong commitment, with no thought of divorce, you have our full support.
But what was he doing, really? Could he promise the kind of commitment his parents had shown each other? This was all supposed to be for Bella, but now, seeing this, he was teetering over something far deeper than he’d bargained for.
“Wade?” Her voice was gentle, her eyes searching for a plot hole in his uncertainty. She must wonder why he was standing there like he’d forgotten his lines.
The attendant appeared at his side. “If you need to sit down, Mr. Stone, we have a sofa right here for the bride’s attendants. Many of our future grooms experience the same… astonishment—though usually, that happens at the altar.”
“Thanks.” He managed a weak smile and accepted the water bottle she handed him. He took a sip to quench his parched throat.
When she left them alone, he braved facing Claire. “You… you make a beautiful bride.”
She half smiled, her gaze flicking around the room as if checking to be sure they were alone. “I’ll be Mrs. Wade Stone in less than a week.”
Was that a hint of sadness? Doubt? Whatever it was, it twisted something deep inside him.
He took a measured step closer, the whole thing pressing on his chest. “Hey.” His voice was a rasp as he reached out, cupping her face. Her skin was as soft as he remembered from that kiss years ago, from the fleeting touch of her cheek against his during the dance at Albert’s wedding.
Her eyes met his, wide and unguarded, and her vulnerability stirred him.
“You’re missing a smile.” His thumb grazed her cheek, lingering. He anchored himself in his smile, willing it to feel genuine despite his emotions. “You have a beautiful smile, Claire. I hope… I hope you’ll wear it on our wedding day.”
She swallowed, and her steady gaze sent a jolt through him that left him unsteady. The air between them hummed, charged with something he couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore.
Claire was beautiful—the kind of woman he’d marry if he were the noble man he wanted to be.
And maybe he was noble, in his own way, by keeping his feelings for her bottled up.
She was younger, sure, but her sincerity breached his defenses like no one ever had.
She didn’t tiptoe around his celebrity status or sugarcoat her opinions.
She called him out, whenever necessary. But what was he supposed to do with a marriage built on an arrangement?