Chapter 22 #2
They fell into an easy conversation. Wade recounted stories from his early acting days, giving a private behind-the-scenes look at his life, a one-on-one “director’s commentary,” and she soaked it all in.
“I can’t believe you wore that on stage.” She giggled.
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, it was avant-garde theater! Very cutting-edge at the time.”
She batted his hands down. “You’re always full of surprises, Wade Stone.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“I’m not an actress, hello? We have to watch Casting Shadows again to refresh my memory.”
She practically bounced to the movie shelf to find the movie from earlier in his acting career. After sliding the DVD into the player, she returned to the sofa. He shifted, and their knees almost touched as he draped his arm over the back of the sofa.
As the movie started, she questioned the stunts. She pointed at the screen while his character jumped from one moving vehicle to another. “Did you really do that?”
“Some of it was me, but most of it was stunt doubles and camera tricks.”
They settled into a comfortable silence, watching without interruptions.
As exhaustion caught up, her head naturally found his shoulder.
When he didn’t move away, her body relaxed.
She’d dreamed of moments like this now that they were adults—being close to him, laughing, talking, simply being.
Back then, she’d sit beside him without a second thought, just a kid.
He’d cover her face during intense scenes or anything romantic when he and Albert decided for her what was “too much.” But now? Everything was different.
“You’ve had a long day.” His soothing voice lulled her into sleep.
Her eyelids grew heavier. “I guess I’m not fully recovered.”
He cradled her closer, and she savored his warmth and the faint scent of sandalwood and something distinctly him.
Then his thumb traced idle circles on her upper arm, and everything felt right.
She wasn’t sure when she drifted off, but she woke to Dad’s alarm blaring.
Yawning, she blinked groggily. She stretched out on the sofa.
A pillow cushioned her head, and a throw draped over her.
Wade must’ve covered her with one of the blankets Regina brought. Where was he now?
The smell of bacon and coffee beckoned. Pots clattered in the kitchen. Coffee? He didn’t even drink it. But he made it… for her?
Before she wandered off to find out, he reappeared with a tray of food.
He didn’t stop for breakfast. He made sure Dad took his medicine, and when Bella woke, he fed and dressed her, fitting into their family.
He cleared the dishes. “Health on the Move will be here in an hour to remove your stitches.”
“I didn’t even know they had mobile doctors.”
“Pleasant View is catching up with the rest of the world.”
After wrapping a bag around her arm, Claire showered and changed into yellow leggings and a loose black top—easier for her to slide into. Dad and Fern were leaving when she returned.
“What can I bring you from Denver?” Dad asked as Claire kissed him goodbye, mindful of the portable oxygen tank in his small sling bag.
“Go to the bead show for me,” she teased. “But oops, that’s not for two weeks.”
Dad chuckled, waving her off as they left.
Soon, the healthcare worker arrived to remove Claire’s stitches while Wade tended to Bella. By the time they left, Claire, feeling better, faced Bella’s laughter coming from Albert’s room.
The bell rang again. She opened the door to a bouquet of pink and dark-red peonies dotted with baby’s breath, hiding the woman holding them.
“Claire Stone?”
“That’s me.”
She never got flowers. Ever. Only one person knew her favorites.
She thanked the woman and accepted the decorative vase, then settled it on the table. Hands trembling, she freed the card from its plastic stick and opened it.
You are growing on me. In the best way possible.
XOXO, your husband.
She clutched the card to her chest. Her feet carried her down the hall toward Bella’s giggles and Wade’s voice.
At Albert’s open bedroom door, her confidence wavered. She hovered there.
“Ugh, so gross!” Wade groaned.
Bella squirmed on the changing table, giggling. The stinky diaper smell permeated the room.
“Are you kidding me? Is that what you put your aunt through?” Wade moved from the left to the right, balancing a clean diaper under his chin and chest, while attempting to keep Bella from rolling over—to the edge.
Claire hurried to the changing table, waving in front of her nose. “That smell alone calls for a mask.”
“What do you usually do?” Wade asked, clearly out of his depth as Bella flipped onto her stomach.
Claire held Bella’s shoulder to steady her. “Changing tables can be dangerous with her attempt to move like this.”
“Should I not use it, then?”
“You’re doing great.” More than great. But yellow soaked Bella’s pink onesie. Claire sighed. “We call this a blowout. Carry her to the bathroom while I get the supplies. And hold her as far from your body as possible.”
By the time Wade returned, having tossed the soiled clothes outside, Claire had already cleaned Bella in the tub, humming a nursery rhyme to entertain her. Bella splashed happily as Claire rinsed her off.
She scooped Bella out of the tub and snatched a towel from the hook. In the mirror, Claire’s gaze caught his reflection. He leaned against the doorframe, head tilted, unblinking focus on her. The corners of his mouth softened, and her breath hitched.
“I love hearing you both sing.”
She flushed. “There’s a reason I never made it past auditions for the school choir.”
“Their loss.” He winked.
She smiled—a real, heart-deep smile. It wasn’t even noon, but everything about this day already felt perfect. If only it could always be this way.