The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(47)

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.