Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147

Chapter 147

MATTHEW

Theo turned from the window and looked at me directly, and I was struck, as I was regularly struck, by

how much of Bianca was in his face. It was almost as if Bianca never left.

“She said that sometimes I would find things that reminded me of Mama very deeply and it was something to not be afraid or sad about. She also told me that it could come in any shape. Like a familiar smell or a color or someone’s voice, or someone who looked like her from far away. And she said that it didn’t mean I was having a breakdown, and it didn’t mean I was confused about what was real. It meant my heart still knew Mama’s shape, and when it found something that matched that shape even a little bit, it noticed.” He paused.

“She said instead of being scared when that happened, I could acknowledge it. I could say, I notice this, and it makes me think of Mama, and that’s because I loved her and she loved me.” Another pause, as he was playing with his fingers before he added in a much smaller tone.

“And she said I could think of it as Mama watching over me. Like a signal.”

I made myself breathe normally, trying not to cry at his words, because they resonated deeply with me.

“So I said it,” Theo continued. “In my head. I said, I notice this, and it makes me think of Mama, and that means she loved me. And then I went inside.”

We had pulled up to the house. I parked and turned off the engine and sat for a moment in the quiet of

the car.

“I think that’s one of the bravest things I’ve ever heard,” I said.

Theo considered this assessment for a moment before he replied. “It didn’t feel brave. It felt like what you do instead of panicking.”

“That’s usually what bravery feels like,” I said. “Not like courage. Like choosing the practical option when the panicking option is also available.”

He seemed to find this satisfying. Then, after a moment: “Did you think you saw her too? Sometimes?”

The question was so direct and so earnest that I answered it honestly, without the protective walls I might have used months ago.

“Yes,” I said. “Recently, actually. I stopped at the fuel station on Harker Road a few days ago, and there was a woman filling a car on the opposite side of the pump.

Dark hair, similar height. For just a second-” I paused. “For just a second I thought, there she is.”

“What happened?”

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“She turned around and she wasn’t Mama. She had a young child with her, and a man who was probably her husband, and she was just a stranger getting fuel.” I looked at the steering wheel. “My heart went fast too. And then it slowed down.”

Theo nodded slowly. “What did you do? Did you say the thing Dr. Fisher taught me?”

I hadn’t known the thing Dr. Fisher taught him at the time. But I thought about what I had done–had stood there at the fuel pump and let the grief move through me, and then filled my tank before driving

away.

“I acknowledged it,” I said. “In my own way. I let myself feel it for a minute and then I got back in the car.”

“That’s the same thing,” Theo said. “Dr. Fisher says it doesn’t matter exactly how you do it. Just that you let yourself notice instead of running away from it or chasing it.”

We sat in the car for a moment in the ordinary late afternoon quiet.

I thought about the car under the oak trees. About someone in the passenger seat whose hair and posture had been familiar enough to make Theo’s heart go fast from a playground distance.

It was grief, and Theo had handled it better at four years old than I’d handled it at thirty–two.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get inside. I’ll start dinner and you can show me what’s in Daniel’s books.”

Theo unbuckled and grabbed his bag, and we went inside together.

He disappeared upstairs to change out of his school clothes–a routine he’d maintained with surprising consistency, apparently having decided at some point that school clothes and home clothes were different and required to change from school to house wears as soon as he was back–while I put the kettle on and checked my messages.

Marcus had sent three updates during the school pickup window. He sent links and documents about people he had verified their background that would be a good security detail for Theo, during this period of uncertainty.

Good. That was good. It was one less thing to worry about considering the oddities that had been happening in my life since we came back from Blood Moon City.

I didn’t know what he wasn’t telling me. But I’d decided to proceed as if the things I did not know did not affect the things that were directly under my control.

My phone rang on the counter. Thorne Lockwood.

I picked up on the second ring. “Mr. Lockwood.”

“Alpha Morrison.” His voice had the same pleasant professionalism, as found in our previous calls together, where his tone was warm without being familiar, efficient without being cold.

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