Chapter 21 #2
“Bella!” Memories of his reckless foster parents flashed unbidden. She’d almost drowned during a bath. He rushed to her side and scooped her up. She wasn’t hurt. He rocked her, and his body quivered almost as much as her lips did.
“It’s all right.” His thumb traced the curve of her cheek.
Her skin was a tad browner than her aunt’s, and she had Albert’s eyes.
Claire had inherited her mom’s green eyes.
“You can help me clean this up.” He lowered himself onto the cool hardwood floor and settled Bella beside him, her curious-eyed gaze already wandering back to the scattered DVDs.
As he restacked the DVDs in the cabinet, he paused mid-motion. His eyes narrowed, scanning the pile.
His breath hitched. Then a laugh escaped. Nearly 80 percent of the titles boasted familiar fonts and cover art—movies he’d acted in or written. Seriously?
“Aunt Claire sure loves movies,” he murmured to Bella, who reached for one of the cases.
The next day, Claire looked much better. Her face had regained some color, so he asked if she was up for eating.
“I’m finally ready for that toast.”
He wanted to suggest another bath, but unless she asked… She did ask later for his help to wrap plastic bags around her wrist so the gauze wouldn’t get wet. Then she managed to shower on her own.
Still, he helped with the small things, like applying toothpaste to her toothbrush. She emerged later dressed in sweatpants and a loose T-shirt he’d worn years ago. Her damp hair smelled faintly of coconut and lavender.
As he buttered her toast, she hovered near the kitchen doorway. He glimpsed her sports bra beneath her shirt and her bare ring finger.
Why did it bother him that she wasn’t wearing his ring? This marriage wasn’t real, after all.
Claire spent much of the day in the main room, finally calling her friend to let her know she was on the mend. She also spoke to Wade’s siblings when they called again to check on her and he told them to ask her instead.
He settled for push-ups for his exercise. When Fern took John for an outing, Bella and Claire napped, and Wade caught a few hours of Punchline to Glory’s filming via live stream, typing his insights. It wasn’t the same as being on set, but it was better than not having any input.
That evening, he tucked Bella into her crib and lingered, watching her tiny chest rise and fall. She clutched her purple bear and blanket, her face serene, and he couldn’t resist lowering himself once more to kiss her forehead.
As he exited her room, voices drifted from the kitchen. He paused.
Beyond the back window, Claire stood at the fence, illuminated by the porch light. Talking to a man, she leaned on the short fence separating the properties. Hmm.
Wade hadn’t paid much attention to the neighbors. Sure, he’d waved at the guy to their right once or twice, but the house behind theirs? He hadn’t given it a second thought. Until now.
His stomach tightened as she tossed her head back, laughing at something the man said. Her face was radiant, carefree like he hadn’t seen since their honeymoon.
Something twisted in his chest. Jealousy? No way.
He stepped back from the window, but the man’s laughter boomed again, stopping him.
The guy looked closer to her age, and the porch light accentuated his sharp, clean-cut features. His polished, confident demeanor screamed “gentleman,” the type of man a woman like her might find… suitable. Wade gritted his teeth.
The man touched her shoulder in an overly familiar gesture.
Wade’s fingers fisted. She’s married, buddy. She’s my wife.
A wife who wasn’t wearing his ring. He needed to quit torturing himself by staring because, should that man lean in and kiss her, Wade would leap out of the door and punch her neighbor—or boyfriend.
Obviously, Wade didn’t know all the details about his wife like he’d thought.
He marched out of the kitchen and into the living room.
The man’s laugh boomed behind him, a jab he couldn’t ignore.
He carried one of his luggage cases to the bedroom, his determination renewed. Now that she was feeling better, he’d move back to their bed. That sofa was too short. Yes, her bed wasn’t big, but cozy enough to radiate heat between them.
Stripping off the old sheets, he replaced them with another fresh set his mom had packed. He adjusted his pillow in the corner, leaving plenty of space for Claire and her injured hand. He even moved the nightstand closer to her side so she could rest her arm more comfortably.
He tossed the used bedsheets in the laundry basket. Crossing his arms, he surveyed his work. The bed looked cozy, the room less cramped with Bella’s Pack ’n Play removed. The oversized blanket his mom had included would be more than enough for them.
He couldn’t hear any voices from the bedroom, and Claire still hadn’t come back. Tension coiled in his muscles, sharper with every passing second. Dropping to the floor, he started push-ups, each movement burning off the restless energy buzzing under his skin.
“I see you tucked in the bed again.”
He froze in the middle of a push-up. His pulse quickened as he glanced toward the doorway.
Standing there, her tone chipper, she looked at ease, glowing even, and while he loved seeing her like this, something bristled. Was her good mood because of that guy?
He lowered himself deliberately, his chest nearly touched the floor before he pushed back up with a controlled motion, arms flexing. He rose to his feet and brushed off his hands.
“Who’s the guy next door?” The edge in his voice slipped through despite his attempt at casualness.
“Just a neighbor.” She remained casual as if she hadn’t noticed his unease. “It’s his vacation home. He’ll be in town until December.”
She folded her arms, her shoulders drooping. “It’s nice to be liked.” Her gaze flicked toward the window, and her tone softened. “You’re leaving soon. We’re not sure where we stand. It gets… lonely.”
He rubbed at his chest, his heart already thudding, guilt creeping in.
He hadn’t given her much reason to trust he’d always be there.
Of course, she had needs—she’d always dreamed of marriage, unlike him.
And now that they were married, he hadn’t shown her he wanted more than shared guardianship responsibilities.
But he did. He was drawn to her more deeply now than ever.
He’d loved taking care of her and Bella and reconnecting with John.
And during the days she’d been sick, buried in bed, he’d longed to be near her, to do more than help.
Now, looking at her, the way her gaze held his with a quiet longing mirroring his own, he fought the urge to gather her in his arms—to feel her warmth against him without words, everything he couldn’t say yet.
But his fists clenched at his sides as the ache in his chest grew stronger.
When she shrugged, he closed the distance between them. Taking her uninjured hand, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“You’re my wife, Claire.” He kissed her forehead.
She sucked in a breath. Good. He affected her in a good way.
“I’m still figuring out what marriage means, but if I see that man flirting with you again, I’m going to march right up to him and…” He couldn’t think of the right word to show how serious he was.
“And what?” She raised a brow, the hint of a smile forming.
He grinned, tenderness radiating through him. “Let’s just say he’ll think twice about standing so close to you.”
Claire laughed and bumped him with her shoulder. “There’s no way you’re jealous of me.”
“I don’t think of you as just my fake wife anymore.” That better be clear enough.
She blinked, her expression unreadable, but she didn’t pull her hand from his. He lifted her fingertips for another kiss. He still didn’t like that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.
“You are my family now.” Conviction strengthened his voice. “You. Bella. John. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”
The truth settled deep in his chest. And so help him, God, he prayed for the strength to know what to do next.