The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

“Ms. Woods, this is from Mr. Pierce,” he said with a smile, handing her the white envelope. Hannah gave her friend a shake of the head and turned around for privacy. Thick, black bold script stood out on the pristine white card.

Hannah, change of plans. Meet me at the chapel instead. Jackson.

And then, as if he anticipated her reaction, he had scribbled “Please” underneath. Hannah felt her heartbeat begin to race. Marrying at a chapel instead of City Hall was starting to sound much more like a real wedding than merely a formality. Why would he do this? Why wasn’t he keeping this a simple business arrangement like they’d planned? She clutched the note until the corners began to curl. Fear held her prisoner, shackled her feet to the floor, burying her in quicksand filled with dire warnings.

“So, let’s go get this sham of a marriage done, huh, Hannah,” Allie said with a laugh, jolting Hannah back to the moment. She blinked, forcing herself to move. Allison grabbed Emily inside the car seat and dragged Hannah onto the front porch.

“Not funny, Allie.” She silently cursed Jackson as they followed the driver to the waiting limo. Maybe she could try texting him on the way to the chapel, demanding some sort of explanation. And then she realized she didn’t even have his number. Who gets married to someone when you don’t even have their cell phone number?

“Stop panicking and get in the limo,” her friend said laughing, while Hannah stood beside the car. Hannah nodded. She was setting herself up for heartbreak, she realized as she sank into the plush leather seats of the limo.

…

A little over an hour and what felt like five hundred questions later, the limousine purred to a stop outside a white, clapboard chapel. It was nestled in the countryside, surrounded by snowy hills and towering trees, whose branches were heavy with mounds of snow. Even though they were only half an hour north of the city, it felt as though they were miles away. The area wasn’t familiar at all, Hannah thought, looking through the windows. There were three vehicles in the parking lot. The only one she could identify was Jackson’s Range Rover.

“How pretty. This is right out of a Trisha Romance painting,” Allison whispered, her face practically pressed against the window.

They stepped out onto the freshly shoveled and salted pathway that led up to the chapel. Hannah grew more and more apprehensive with every step they took. The driver held open the door of the chapel and Hannah’s breath caught in her throat and she had to set the car seat down. She really didn’t know Jackson Pierce at all.

White and red roses and sprigs of holly and cedar in elegant silver buckets lined the aisle and adorned the altar. Candelabras and votives with ivory candles cast a warm, romantic glow. The tiny church was at least a hundred years old, simple but nostalgic and charming, and utterly breathtaking.

“This way, ladies,” a woman called out to them, and Hannah tore her eyes from the empty altar in the direction of the voice. A woman she didn’t recognize smiled at them as though they’d all been lifelong friends. Elderly and stately she waved them over to a room at the end of a corridor.

“Let’s go,” Allison said, grabbing her hand and the baby, as though she knew Hannah was ready to bolt for the door. “We’d better hurry,” Allison whispered, a smile in her voice. “The wedding that’s purely a formality looks as though it’s going to start soon.”

Hannah felt a knot begin to form in her stomach. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t go through with a pretend marriage that looked so…real. This wasn’t City Hall; this was where two people who were in love got married.

They followed the silver-haired woman into a small room. The smell of roses made it feel as though they were in a garden on a warm July afternoon. There were dozens of them in silver bucket vases. Hannah’s panic level got close to a breaking point. The woman stood in the center of the room and smiled at her.

“Hello, ladies, my name is Gwendolyn, and I’m Minister Holbrook’s wife,” she said. “He will be performing the ceremony today.”

“Hello,” Hannah and Allison said in unison. Hannah felt like they were two children as they both let the woman take charge.

“Oh my God,” Allison gasped, clutching Hannah’s arm and pointing toward something.

There was a dress, no a gown. There was an ivory beaded, full length gown hanging on a mahogany cheval mirror. Hannah’s eyes lingered over the exquisite beading that twinkled under the lights, noting the graceful flow, the obvious hand-detailing. It was, simply put, the most exquisite thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my God,” Allison said again.

“What is this?” Hannah whispered, walking towards the gown, feeling something like a cross between Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland. Hannah reached out to feel the silk and beads crunch lightly between her fingertips. She quickly dropped her hand, feeling guilty, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. Perhaps it was that bit of little girl in her, the one who had never been given anything so special by anyone, or maybe it was the woman in her, the one who never thought she’d ever wear a dress like this. It felt too good for her.

…

“I can’t wear this,” Hannah said, shaking her head. She wasn’t going to play whatever game Jackson had going on. She couldn’t pretend to be a real bride.

“My dear, would you mind letting the groom know that you and Hannah have arrived?” the minister’s wife said with a calm smile as she nudged Allison out of the room. Allison, for the first time since Hannah had met her, actually didn’t have anything to say. Mrs. Holbrook shut the door and turned to look at Hannah.

Hannah shook her head when the woman approached her.

“I need to speak with Jackson, this wasn’t what I agreed to—”

“I’ve known Jackson since he was a baby,” Mrs. Holbrook said. She closed the distance between them, a serene smile in place, and began unbuttoning Hannah’s coat. Hannah was too shocked by the woman’s boldness to say anything. The woman had a very authoritative presence, but also calming, soothing.

“Every Sunday he would come to church with his mother and his sister,” she said, draping Hannah’s coat over an armchair. Hannah tried to picture Jackson as a child. “He always held his mother’s hand and helped with his little sister. He was such a handsome little thing even then, big brown eyes and a mop of brown hair on his head. Sometimes his eyes twinkled with mischief, but when his mother got sick, they lost their spark.” Hannah felt a lump start in her throat and didn’t protest when the woman began taking off her suit jacket.

“His mother was a wonderful woman—strong and kind and loving. She loved her children with everything she had, right up until the end. And you know, Jackson,” she whispered, and Hannah could have sworn she saw the woman blink back tears as she helped Hannah out of her clothes. Hannah held her breath, barely caring that she stood in the room in only her underclothes. Mrs. Holbrook took the gown off the hanger. “Jackson would walk his mother into church every Sunday. And when she was too sick to walk, he would wheel her in, holding his sister’s hand at the same time.” She slipped the gown over Hannah’s head with a cool swoosh of silk, but Hannah barely noticed while she listened, trying to process this glimpse into Jackson’s past. The woman zipped up the dress in a swift, gentle motion and Hannah felt it cling as though it had been custom made for her.

“The last time I saw Jackson was at his mother’s funeral. Only ten years old, and I’ll never forget his face that day. Buckets of tears poured from his eyes, but he didn’t utter a sound, just held his sister. That was the last time I saw him, until the other night, when he knocked on my door, telling me about you, about Emily, about his sister.”

The woman slowly turned Hannah around to face the full-length mirror. She held Hannah’s gaze in the mirror, her eyes sincere. “He told me how brave you are, that you were very special,” she whispered softly, smiling gently as Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. Jackson had said that about her? She barely even recognized her reflection. Who was this woman with emotion glittering her eyes, making them sparkle and shine? And the dress… The straps sat on her bare shoulders and highlighted her creamy skin, the front of the gown dipped low, much lower than she would have dared, but she had to admit looked good as it clung to curves she normally kept hidden. It fit her waist like a glove and then slowly tapered out to a flowing A-line. Jackson had chosen this for her?

“You look wonderful, my dear.” The woman beamed and Hannah truly felt like Cinderella at that moment. Would it be so bad to allow herself this fantasy? Would it be so horrible to enjoy this gorgeous gown? She thought of the night in her room, when he’d whispered to her, I’ve never had so much respect for another human being…marry me tomorrow, Hannah. She felt a delicious shiver tease her bare arms. She was fooling herself if she thought they were doing this purely for business.

“And this adorable little baby,” she said kneeling down in front of Emily, “this must be Louise’s little girl.” The baby stared at her, wide-eyed, blue eyes fixed on the woman’s smile. And when Hannah thought that Jackson couldn’t do anything else to surprise her, Mrs. Holbrook opened the small closet behind Emily and took out an angelic ivory silk dress with tiny pink rosebuds around the waist.