Chapter 20
Wade’s morning had been a whirlwind. Washing his hands for what felt like the hundredth time, he wiped down the counters and microwave. That’s when he saw it—the glint of diamonds. Claire’s wedding ring.
She must have left it there after their argument yesterday.
He rubbed his band, platinum with a black diamond inlay, still secure on his finger since their wedding day.
A pang of something he couldn’t name coursed through him.
Frustration? Sadness? Guilt? He hadn’t considered taking it off, but seeing hers abandoned left him… off-balance.
He shook the thought away.
Satisfied that Bella was happily bouncing in her exersaucer and grateful Fern had taken John to the senior center, Wade headed to check on Claire.
She was curled up on the bed, the hand the paramedics stitched up resting on a bunched-up blouse he’d used as a makeshift pillow. Her head lolled to the side, her long lashes fanning her pale cheeks. She looked so fragile.
He stood there, just watching her breathe, his heart squeezing at the vulnerability she’d shown.
She wasn’t the type to admit she needed help, but her body betrayed her today.
He’d stay for the week. The film set could wait.
He’d email the team and live stream when necessary.
Right now, Claire and Bella were his priority.
After making sure his hand wasn’t cold, he placed it on her forehead. Still hot. Hotter perhaps. How could she not keep a thermometer around? At least she hadn’t thrown up in the last half hour, progress indeed, but her temperature remained worrisome.
Her eyes rolled open, and his chest tightened. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” she mouthed.
“You should try to sip some water.” He stood and grabbed the glass from her dresser where he’d set it among stones of all sorts. Sliding one arm behind her shoulders, he supported her weight, mindful of her injured hand, and guided her upright. “Easy.”
She took a sip, then another, her breathing steadying. Once she finished, he lowered her back onto the pillow, his hand bracing her head until she was settled.
“I’m going to get a wet cloth for your forehead, okay?”
She grimaced but nodded.
He left for the bathroom and opened a drawer with washcloths. After soaking one, he returned, crouched beside the bed, and wiped it on her forehead.
She groaned. “It’s so cold.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He pressed gently. “But doctor’s orders.”
“Thank you.”
He nudged a strand of hair from her damp forehead. Protectiveness rose in his chest. “Hang in there, Cupcake.”
His mind raced with a mental to-do list as he walked out of the bedroom.
He needed clothes, a bigger bed, proper blankets, his pillow, and a gym.
That last one was impossible in this space.
For now, though, he couldn’t leave Claire alone.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and drafted a message to his mom, asking her to send their driver over with essentials.
A glance back at Bella, giggling in the living room, confirmed his decision to stay. A decision further confirmed when he returned to the bedroom to give Claire her pain medicine and she gagged out the pills she’d just taken.
Keeping her to his chest for support, he held out the bowl on her lap and rubbed circles on her back to comfort her. If only that was enough to ease her discomfort.
“I’m so sorry, Cupcake,” he murmured. His chest ached. He reached for the glass he’d left by her Bible on the nightstand. He cradled her trembling body as she rinsed her mouth and spit into the bowl.
Claire groaned, her face pale and sweaty. “I’m sorry you have to clean up this mess.”
“I’m glad I’m here.” He set the bowl on the floor and dabbed a cool damp washcloth over her forehead and cheeks. “So I can take care of you.”
The faintest of smiles curved her lips, and she shivered. “Where did you get the bowl?”
“In your cabinet. Didn’t see any buckets around.” He snugged the comforter higher over her and tucked it around her shoulders while making sure not to bump her injured hand.
Midmorning blurred into a routine of watching Bella, tending Claire, and cleaning up the aftermath of her sickness.
He scrubbed the bathroom floor, the sharp scent of disinfectant stinging his nose, then called his mom for advice.
At her recommendation, he made tea and kept it warm in a thermos, prepared to coax Claire into sipping it in small amounts.
When Novi called, concerned about his absence, Wade explained his plan to stay the week in Pleasant View. He then called his assistant director, who agreed to set up a live stream so Wade could monitor the film set.
“It won’t be the same as you being here.”
Despite Devon’s grumbles, Wade remained firm. “This is the only option right now.”
Between these tasks, he spent time with Bella, building block towers and imitating her crawling attempts.
She’d roll onto her stomach and kick, her giggles brightening the living room.
Using his experience from when he played with his nephews and nieces, he pretended to struggle just as she did, and every laugh she let out tugged at something deep inside him.
He wanted to be the father Bella deserved, the husband Claire needed. But could he pull it off?
His parents arrived around two. Mom bustled in with baskets and bags of food and headed straight for the kitchen.
“All this food, Mom?” He crossed his arms. “It’s just the three of us.”
“I decided not to argue with your mom,” Dad quipped, holding Bella on his shoulder. His blue eyes sparkled as Bella wiggled in his arms. “She insisted you’d need it.” He then moved toward the living room, likely to let Bella loose near the toys.
“John might eat before he comes back.” Wade checked the clock. “But Claire’s appetite… I don’t know when that’ll return.”
His mom assessed the freezer space. “We can put some of this in here for later.” She stacked containers in the top compartment. Then she turned to him. “Are you keeping up with fluids for Claire?”
Mom continued with options and ways to help Claire feel better soon. “I brought essential oils. Logan’s wife swears by them for aromatherapy baths.”
Wade rubbed the back of his neck. “She can’t put her hand in the water.”
“Well, see to it that she doesn’t.” His mom’s tone left no room for argument, but his face burned at the implication. “And apply some oil to her back after the bath.”
“Like a massage?”
Mom’s twitching lips barely hid her amusement. Was she trying to give him a heart attack? The mere thought of helping Claire bathe had him gripping the back of his neck harder. He cleared his throat, his gaze darting upward in a silent plea for strength.
“Darling.” Mom drew back, her eyes carrying the wisdom he’d clung to for twenty-seven years. “This is the sickness part of your vows. Perhaps God is using this injury to help you truly connect with your wife.”
“Mom!” He wanted to protest, but her words lingered. He liked Claire, maybe more than he wanted to admit. Probably loved her, even. Why else would he be so willing to do anything to keep her safe?
His mom laughed and snugged him into a hug that smelled of jasmine and comfort. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart.”
Once his parents left, he did as instructed. He gave Claire sips of tea, kept the room tidy, and stayed close to Bella, who was her usual energetic self. But when it came to the bath, that was another story.
After John went to bed and Bella fell asleep in the Pack ’n Play, Wade found himself standing at the bedroom door, Claire still pale but propped up against the headboard. Bella’s night-light, turned on automatically at dusk, now illuminated Claire’s beautiful face.
He knelt beside the bed and placed the back of his hand on her forehead. Still hot, but slightly better. Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked.
“Mom brought some essential oils for you tonight.” He tucked a loose tendril back from her forehead. “Serafina suggested them. Logan’s wife.”
“A bath sounds good.” Claire exhaled. She was still dressed in the same loose T-shirt—his shirt she’d been wearing under the hoodie. Her brows furrowed. “My hand… the energy.”
“I’ll help you.”
She winced and blushed, opening one eye and keeping the other closed.
“We’re adults.” He cut off her uncertainty. He wanted to say something about being her husband, but the implications of that made his pulse race.
Her eyes remained closed, but her lips parted, so round and kissable. Was she going to say something? His fingers itched to touch her skin, so he traced a lazy finger along her cheek.
“I’ll go get the bath ready, okay?” His words came out strained as he forced himself to pull away.
“My clothes… pajamas in the drawer.”
In the bathroom, he turned on the water and tested the temperature. He added two drops of peppermint and five of lavender essential oils, just as his mom instructed. The fragrance hung thick, mingling with the running water. It was calming, yet his heart wouldn’t slow.
Back in the bedroom, he rummaged through Claire’s drawers and found a matching set of long-sleeved polka-dot flannels, perfect for keeping her warm after the bath. But when he opened another drawer, his hand froze. Her underwear.
Purple lace, black lace… He shook his head to shake away forbidden thoughts. Looking at her underwear was crossing an invisible line.
She’s your wife.
In sickness and in health, the vow he’d made now rang clear as Mom’s earlier comment replayed: “The Sickness part in your vows.” Taking a steadying breath, he grabbed the pair and placed it with the pajamas and towel in the bathroom.
He hadn’t needed to tell Mom that he needed towels.
She’d packed every essential he could think of and stocked it in two luggage cases, and that wasn’t counting the luggage with their wedding presents at The Peak—his childhood home.
After arranging everything on the rack, he returned to Claire. Kneeling by the bed, he touched her wrist. “Ready?”