Chapter 37
Mid-February brought more snow—not surprising, but Claire had hoped for a break in the weather, maybe even a chance to ski. Instead, she trudged through another dreary afternoon. Valentine’s Day loomed like a cruel joke, a testimony of everything she wanted and couldn’t have.
Rhett’s name surfaced in her mind, uninvited. Would their relationship have taken off if she’d given it a chance? Pointless speculation, but at times, the past offered a great escape from her messy present.
Irina had pestered her into joining a Valentine’s movie preview of some indie film not yet in theaters. Claire had refused twice, but her friend wouldn’t back down. “You need this, and Bella will be fine with the nanny.”
Claire caved. A romance flick that didn’t star Wade sounded tolerable. Besides, it was Irina’s turn to pick the movie.
At least tonight, her nausea didn’t linger. Mornings were another story. Waves of sickness and chills had become routine. Zipping her skinny jeans past her hips was a fight she’d already given up.
She hadn’t told Wade. She hadn’t even returned his calls. Not that there’d been many lately. Maybe he’d gotten tired of her silence.
The pregnancy’s timing was still a blur. Was it in Malibu? Albert’s place? That first night in their new house? Christmas? It didn’t matter. The child was conceived in love during moments neither of them had planned when Wade’s touches and kisses burned away her logic.
Irina looped their arms together. “Don’t miss that glittering tree with heart cutouts in the bookshop window.”
Cool air nipped at Claire’s cheeks as they strolled along Pleasant View’s cobblestone street.
The town sparkled under twinkling fairy lights. Red banners emblazoned with The Final Draft in bold white letters fluttered from lampposts, while shop windows overflowed with heart-shaped decorations.
She tugged her scarf tighter around her neck, bracing against the chill. “This is new.” Her breath puffed into the frosty air.
“Pleasant View never misses a chance to outdo itself.” Irina adjusted her handbag. The hem of her red floral dress peeked out from her pea coat, her ankle boots matching Claire’s. “With more movie stars moving in, the town would go all out for Valentine’s weekend.”
At a sudden flash, Claire blinked, shielding her eyes. Why was Wade everywhere? Even when he wasn’t here, the world conspired to remind her of him. That wasn’t the town’s usual photographer. “What’s Toby doing here?”
“Who?” Irina frowned.
“Our wedding photographer.”
“Maybe he found a reason to stick around. Or smelled the chance for a headline. You know, celebrity-romance buzz and all.”
Claire frowned at the red carpet ahead, dusted with glittering hearts and leading toward the theater. The sight triggered memories again. Her hand in Wade’s, the flash of cameras, the world watching. The sting was sharper than the cold.
“Maybe tonight I’ll meet my movie star.” Irina sighed dreamily and nudged Claire’s arm. “Imagine being swept off my feet by Prince Charming!”
“Don’t look to me for encouragement. I’m hardly the poster child for romance right now.”
Inside, they’d transformed the theater into a vision of romance. Pink and white flowers lined the aisles, flickering candles cast delicate shadows, and fairy lights twinkled along the dreamy space. It was as if Pleasant View had bottled love and scattered it everywhere.
As they followed the lit path, familiar faces from town moved alongside them. No one asked for tickets. Claire leaned toward Irina. “Are we just… walking in?”
“This was one of those prepay deals.” Irina fished her phone out of her purse. “If anyone asks, I’ve got the email receipt right here.”
“You’re so prepared.” Claire hovered near the entryway, her mouth watering at the buttery popcorn scent.
“Come on.” Irina tugged her hand. “I got us seats in the back row—close to the bathroom, just in case.”
“Probably a good idea to go first.”
With Irina in tow, Claire made a quick bathroom stop. By the time they returned to the theater, people were filing into their seats. Along the way, they greeted several townsfolk, including Main Street business owners.
Claire settled into her seat, grateful for Irina’s thoughtfulness and the escape route for one of her frequent bathroom runs.
The theater thrummed, every seat sure to be filled. A man maneuvered through the rows, balancing trays of popcorn. Without a word, he flipped down the tray from the chair in front of Claire and set a bucket on it.
She raised a brow at Irina. “This is… different,” Claire whispered, reaching for the popcorn. “How much did you pay for these tickets?”
“Remember when you paid me for babysitting Bella?” Irina grabbed a handful of popcorn. “This is what I spent it on.”
“I told you not to spend your money on me.”
“And I told you not to pay me.” Irina shifted. “Consider it even.”
“Fine. But I’ll pay you back.” This time, she’d have to be more creative.
The lights dimmed, and a polite announcement flashed across the screen, reminding the audience to silence their phones. Claire’s gaze drifted around the room, landing on the opposite side. Eric and Joy sat with Regina and Kyle.
Just great. Wade’s family was here.
A sneeze from someone in front of them broke Claire’s thoughts. “Bless you,” she said automatically.
The opening credits rolled. The room quieted. There were no commercials, no previews—just an immediate transition into the film. Oh yeah. It was an advanced screening, but would they meet the cast afterward? Would there be an after-party?
More names scrolled across the screen. One made her stomach flip. Wade Stone.
Her heart sank. Why was his name there?
The title, The Final Draft, filled the screen in bold italics, accompanied by swelling music—soft, hopeful, almost fragile.
The first scene revealed tropical landscapes—swaying palm trees, golden savannas, and giraffes moving across sunlit plains. Was this South Africa? At least somewhere in Africa.
The camera panned to a modest home where a man with light-brown skin stepped inside. A woman greeted him warmly, a baby about Bella’s age on her hip. She kissed him, then nuzzled the infant with a laugh. A boy, maybe six, ran into the frame clutching a stick.
“When we go to America, I’m bringing my sword with me!”
The woman smiled, teasing but affectionate. “I’m sure America has swords, Bobo.”
The tenderness between them felt so genuine. Claire blinked as her eyes stung. Tears welled before she could stop them.
Irina nudged her, holding out a tissue. “The movie’s barely started, and you’re already crying?”
“It’s the baby,” Claire whispered, dabbing at her eyes. The infant’s laughter tugged at something deep inside her.
But it wasn’t just the baby. It was the unspoken love in the mother’s glance, the boy’s fearless imagination, the father’s quiet strength. It felt like a mirror reflecting something she’d once hoped for but lost.
And knowing Wade had directed this? Too close to home.
The scene changed from the golden sunlight to a familiar small American town—Pleasant View.
The story transitioned to the family’s new life in America.
The father took a job at a ski resort, climbing the ranks to manager.
Bobo, now seven, struggled to find his place in a school split by wealth and status, his accent setting him apart.
Claire’s chest tightened as the boy’s challenges unfolded. Isolation. Misunderstandings. The sting of being an outsider. Then, in fifth grade, a new boy appeared—Dixie. Quiet, intense, with a sharp gaze that warned anyone against testing him.
Bobo faced bullies who dumped his lunch onto the ground, their laughter echoing in the background. Claire gripped her armrest as Dixie stepped in.
“Give it back.”
The bullies sneered and ignored him. Dixie launched into a fight with all three, punching one after another, until they returned Bobo’s lunch box.
From then on, Bobo and Dixie were inseparable. Ski lessons. Snowball fights. Shared victories and fierce loyalty. Their bond deepened through every triumph and battle Dixie fought on Bobo’s behalf.
Claire found herself smiling.
Then Jair, Bobo’s now-twelve-year-old baby sister, appeared.
Her quiet charm warmed the screen as she bandaged Dixie’s bruised knuckles after fights, handed him hot cocoa after grueling ski days, or crossed paths with him in a towel after a snowstorm left their clothes soaked.
Those tender moments mirrored something all too familiar.
“That can’t be…” The words barely escaped her lips before sniffles and murmurs in the theater drowned them out.
The screen now depicted their young adult years with continued pranks, brotherly roughhousing, and unspoken feelings between Dixie and Jair.
Claire’s breath caught when the actor playing Dixie—so clearly modeled after Wade—watched Jair across a crowded room. His gaze, filled with quiet admiration, lingered too long.
Tears brimmed as long-buried memories resurfaced. Back then, she’d caught Wade’s gaze lingering on her. That unspoken connection had given her the courage to kiss him first.
The story unfolded further. Jair calling Dixie to rescue her when she was in trouble. Their heated argument after he reprimanded her for hanging out with the wrong crowd. The care. The love. The tension.
Claire’s heart pounded. Dixie wasn’t just a character. He was Wade. And Jair… was her.
When Dixie showed up at Jair’s graduation and handed her the keys to an impreza, just like the Subaru Wade had given Claire, her tears spilled over.
The scene played out in heartbreaking detail.
Jair leaned in and kissed Dixie. He hesitated at first but soon kissed her back with all the tenderness and intensity of someone holding onto a secret for far too long.
Then he pulled away. He touched her chin as his voice broke. “You’re better off without me.”
Claire’s chest constricted. The words on the screen echoed Wade’s—words he’d said to her over and over again.