Chapter 17
Claire squirmed on the unforgiving courtroom bench, the chill gnawing at her. She clutched her dead phone in her lap as though the lifeless device might somehow summon Wade. He had to be here any second.
Everything had gone wrong this morning. She’d meant to charge her phone after calling Joy to ask if she could drop Bella off earlier, but packing Bella’s diaper bag and overnight things had taken priority.
Then she’d stopped at the pharmacy for pain meds, her body aching after relentless chills kept her up all night.
And beneath it all thrummed the fear of hearing Bella belonged with the Weavers.
Joy must have seen her fear when she’d prayed for her on the doorstep. The prayers meant for comfort hadn’t quieted the fear.
Claire breathed out, then breathed in. The scent of paper and stale ink and the unnatural brightness in the courtroom worsened her headache. She hugged her sweater tighter. The thick fabric skimming her knees couldn’t fend off worry’s icy grip.
Hushed voices pulled her attention. Across the aisle, Bella’s grandparents exuded confidence.
Mrs. Weaver muttered something Claire couldn’t make out, but the smug curve of her lips unsettled her.
Claire forced herself to stay still, popping her knuckles and resisting the urge to snap back.
The last thing she needed was to give them more ammunition.
Her gaze darted to the clock above the door—again. Wade was fifteen minutes late. Where are you? What if something happened to him? That would be even worse than the Weavers taking Bella. She reached for her phone, only to remember it was dead.
“Any update from Mr. Stone?” Judge Cosby asked, his silver hair agleam.
“He should be here any minute.” Sophia’s features tightened. She then asked for his permission to call Wade. At his nod, she stepped out, her shoes clicking against the hardwood.
Good thing the judge was patient. He leaned forward, scanning the papers in front of him. His black robe spilled over the desk, its hem pooling on the floor. Every so often, he glanced at the clock, his brow furrowing, though his expression remained impassive.
Mrs. Weaver scoffed, and Claire tilted to peer at the trio. The woman waved her manicured fingers to her husband. “I knew this case would be easier this time.”
Claire’s chest thudded. Did the couple even care that their granddaughter was an orphan? Was Bella just a power struggle for them? Claire twisted her wedding ring, the cool metal biting into her finger.
The courtroom door creaked open. Sophia returned, the phone pressed to her ear. Then she put it aside. “Wade just landed at the airport. He’s not going to make it on time.”
“He’s already thirty minutes late.” Mr. Weaver scoffed.
The gut punch hit Claire. Her vision blurred, and the room seemed to spin.
The Weavers’ lawyer cleared his throat and stood. “Your Honor, it’s evident this marriage is nothing more than a convenience for custody purposes. And now, her so-called husband can’t even bother to—”
“Mr. Turner.” Sophia stood with quiet authority. “Travel delays are hardly grounds to question my clients’ marriage. Flights encounter delays. Nevertheless, Mr. Stone is en route with every intention of supporting his wife and daughter.”
The judge’s gavel slapped down, ending the argument.
Judge Cosby resettled in his chair, his big fingers steepled.
“Some circumstances are unavoidable. We’ll reconvene on the seventeenth of next month.
” His fingers tapped together. “If Mr. Stone fails to appear again, the court will strongly consider awarding custody to the grandparents.”
At least, there was a second chance.
“We haven’t seen our granddaughter.” Mrs. Weaver shot to her feet. “Your Honor! You have to know this is—”
“Mrs. Weaver, I suggest you show respect for this court,” the judge cut her off. “You have the right to pursue shared custody if you want visiting rights until the court adjourns.”
With the crack of the judge’s gavel, Claire drew out a breath.
Sophia touched Claire’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.”
Sophia lifted her phone again. Claire glimpsed the missed call on the screen before the lawyer stepped aside to return it, her tone brisk.
The Weavers whispered as they walked toward the aisle. Claire’s stomach churned. They didn’t want to share Bella. They wanted to take her away.
Wade was fine. She drew out another shaky breath. But she wasn’t fine at all.
Not even late. Wade hadn’t shown up at all. With his noncommittal tendencies and how they’d parted after the honeymoon, would he flake out next month?
Her temples throbbed as she drove to Joy and Eric’s house. The two ibuprofen caplets hadn’t worked. She’d have to take acetaminophen when she got home. She gripped the wheel, her knuckles pale against the leather.
What had she expected? That he’d swoop in at the last second, save the day, and make this sham of a marriage seem real enough to protect Bella?
Everything—the rushed wedding, the awkward lies, the sleepless nights—would be futile if they couldn’t convince the judge they were united. And Wade? Couldn’t he have arrived last night? How late had he left LA today?
She turned into Joy and Eric’s long driveway, her car tires smooth over the pavement.
Their sprawling craftsman-style home loomed ahead, its stone facade and cedar beams exuding a warmth in contrast to the chill gripping her.
A wide wraparound porch hugged the house, its painted rocking chairs and hanging flower baskets looking straight out of a magazine.
Three of their kids raced across the manicured lawn, playing tag.
Fallen leaves swirled around their feet, unnoticed in their game.
Stepping inside the cracked-open door, Claire walked down a hall brightened with peaceful paintings.
The house smelled like fresh-baked cookies and lavender, the kind of place where happiness felt effortless.
Her steps faltered in the living room where Joy rocked Bella.
The baby’s tiny face was serene. Her lashes fanned over her eyes as a lullaby played in the background.
Claire froze, torn between love for the little girl and the suffocating fear she might not be hers much longer. Could she be as good a parent as Joy? Joy was a pro at this, raising eight kids.
Joy’s face lit up. “Claire, you’re early,” she spoke softly over the lullaby. “She’s been an angel.”
“Thank you for watching her.” Claire used her hands to massage her temples.
“How did the court go?”
“Without Wade…” She swallowed the ache. Why was she so sensitive today?
Joy grimaced. Her curls shimmered in the light streaming through the window. “Too bad he couldn’t make it.”
Claire’s muscles throbbed, and the lounge chair across from Joy beckoned. She sank into its sanctuary.
“Your phone was off. Wade called us utterly frantic. Eric thought there would be another chance at least.”
“Wade could’ve left yesterday. Or even earlier today.” Joy was Wade’s family, and Claire really shouldn’t be complaining.
“He called, though. This was out of his control.” Joy shifted Bella on her shoulder, the movement so natural it had Claire questioning if she needed to take lessons from Joy. “He wanted me to tell you he’s sorry, he tried.”
He tried. It sounded hollow.
Claire shuddered at the image of him stranded, desperate to be here for them. But still, he could’ve come yesterday.
“How did Bella do?” She should leave in case she was getting sick. Last thing she needed was to spread her germs to Joy’s family.
“My kids wore her out. They hovered around her until I sent the older ones to do their schoolwork and the others to play so the baby could nap.”
She thanked Joy again.
“Never a problem.” Joy waved her words away. “Please let me watch Bella anytime you need help.”
“I should probably get her home for her nap.” If she stayed asleep. Claire stood, and so did Joy handing Bella over. Claire held her girl close and pressed a kiss to her downy head, her heart constricting at the sight of her small, sleepy face.
“She’s fed, her diaper changed,” Joy added.
The drive home felt endless. The silence in the car amplified everything unsaid. Through the rearview mirror, Claire glanced at Bella, peacefully asleep in her car seat, her small face a reminder of what Claire was fighting for.
As soon as Bella settled in her Pack ’n Play, Claire plugged in her phone and powered it on.
She lowered herself on the chair, the covered jewelry boxes little more than a fading memory.
At least, she’d finished the piece and mailed it to the customer.
The last custom order she’d taken before closing the website.
The missed calls on the screen stopped her. Rhett? Two missed calls from her neighbor. Now was not the time for talking to her crush. Then Wade’s calls. He had called—several times. That should have been enough, right? Yet the ache of what-ifs lingered.
Bella stirred, her tiny fists flexing before she settled back into a peaceful sleep. Her chest rose and fell beneath the blue long-sleeve onesie.
Claire’s body ached. She needed more medicine. Her feet, so heavy and unmovable, wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. But she might start thinking of Wade and end up crying for what she couldn’t fully have.
She slipped out of the chair, careful not to move it. She stripped off her pants and replaced them with soft, worn sweats from the bottom drawer. Her shirt followed, swapped for a faded T-shirt with a vintage truck and the most comforting hoodie she owned.
Then she caught her reflection in the mirror. Just great. That was his hoodie—Wade’s. What a cruel reminder of his absence, of the way he’d let her down. She started to yank it off. But she was cold, and it was cozy. That was all it was.
She retrieved the medicine from her handbag and grabbed the phone and charger before walking out of the bedroom.
After downing two pills, she ignored the dishes in the sink and moved to the living room.
The sofa beckoned as the right place to land—close enough to Bella if she stirred, but far enough away to let her sleep undisturbed.
Claire sank into the cushions, curling onto her side, but the courtroom replayed in her head on a loop.
“If Mr. Stone is absent again…”
None of this would’ve happened if he left a day or hours earlier. He never missed his appointments, never failed to show up for something important to him. So why now? Why when it mattered most—for Bella?
He’d let her down. He’d let Bella down.
Claire shifted on the sofa and tugged the hoodie sleeves over her hands as a chill rolled through her.
Her gaze darted to the hallway, but getting up to grab a blanket from her bed would be too much effort.
She shut her eyes, willing her body to warm up.
Still, the chill in her heart burned colder than anything.
Oh, Wade.
She’d loved him once in the safe confines of her daydreams. Easily imagined a life where they were more than two people tied together by circumstance. In their “whirlwind romance,” she’d even let herself believe he might’ve felt something too.
Today had shattered that.
If he couldn’t be there when it mattered most, what was the point of pretending?
And yet, a part of her still believed he cared. Surely, somewhere in his heart, losing Bella would devastate him as much as it would Claire.
The strength she’d forced herself to wear like armor crumbled. Her body hurt, her baby might be taken away, and she was all alone. Fern had taken Dad on a senior trip today. Otherwise, Claire would unleash her pain on him.
She could pray, though. She closed her eyes and attempted to voice a prayer. Her breath hitched, and the sobs came fast and uncontrollable.
She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as tears soaked her palms. “What if Bella’s taken from me? What if Wade backs out?”
The loneliness hit hardest. She’d never felt so small.
God is near the brokenhearted.
It had been Mom’s favorite verse, Psalm 34:18.
Was this how God reminded her she wasn’t alone?
Yeah, God had given her incredible friends like Irina and her mom, Anna.
If only Irina hadn’t temporarily left town.
The church was there for Claire if she could reach out and tell them her problems—minus her fake marriage, of course.
“But, God, I wish You didn’t take Albert from us so early. ”
Her tears slowed. The ache remained.
She wiped her cheeks with the hoodie sleeve and took a shuddering breath. Wade might not have shown up today, but for Bella’s sake, he would next time.
As if she’d conjured him up, the doorbell rang. She had a sixth sense where Wade was concerned, but what if she was wrong this time? What if it was the social worker?
“Oh no.” Please, God, don’t let it be.
Lauren had a knack for showing up unannounced. Had the judge already reached out to her?