A Daddy by Christmas

by Teri Wilson

  Allegra’s gaze narrowed, ever so slightly.

  “Plus, I just feel so bad for her, you know. She’s only a little girl, and she’s been through so much.” Not to mention the fact that if she and Anders went through with the wedding, Lolly would sort of be her stepdaughter.

  Her stomach did a little flip. When they went through with it, not if. They had the marriage license. Now it was simply a matter of waiting the mandatory twenty-four hours before they could go back to city hall and exchange vows.

  It’s really happening.

  No one would know, obviously. She and Anders had agreed on that, for Lolly’s sake. They’d decided not to tell anyone, except Anders’s lawyer. It would be a marriage on paper only—a business transaction—for the sole purpose of satisfying the legal requirements for Lolly’s guardianship. They weren’t even going to share an apartment.

  Which meant her awkward announcement that they wouldn’t be sleeping together hadn’t been necessary. Great. Now Anders probably thought she wanted to sleep with him. And she most definitely did not.

  At least that was what she kept telling herself.

  “Why are you still trying to convince me?” Allegra leaned her back against the ballet barre and crossed her arms. “I already told you it was fine.”

  “No reason.” Chloe swallowed. Maybe she wasn’t as talented acting-wise as she’d imagined.

  “Are you sure? You’re acting a little strange. Also, when Lolly’s uncle came to pick her up just now, you two wouldn’t even look at each other.”

  What were they supposed to do? Walk around in matching Bride and Groom T-shirts, joined at the hip? “There are a dozen kids in the Baby Nutcracker class. I’m sure I failed to make eye contact with a lot of the parents.”

  Allegra smirked. “Nope, just Anders Kent. It was almost like you were both going out of your way to avoid each other.”

  Probably because they were. Chloe was definitely doing her best to avoid Anders. She wasn’t sure she was physically capable of standing an arm’s length away from him in the dance studio, meeting his gaze and pretending he was only a casual acquaintance when he was about to be her husband.

  Your fake husband.

  Why did she keep having to remind herself that this crazy engagement wasn’t even a tiny bit real?

  “Stop looking at me like that.” She scowled at Allegra. “I barely know Anders Kent.”

  “He was the lone man in a sea of frazzled moms just now. A distractingly hot man, at that. I find it hard to believe you didn’t notice.”

  “Well, I didn’t.” Chloe looked up from her clipboard and flashed Allegra a knowing grin. “But I’ll be sure to tell my brother you think Anders is hot.”

  As if Zander would care. He’d worshipped the ground Allegra walked on since they were kids. Now that they were married, he was even more besotted.

  Allegra laughed. “I’m married to your brother, but I’m not blind. I’m head over heels for Zander. You know that.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yes, I do. It’s actually a little nauseating how happy you two are. Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Which is why I think the gorgeous Mr. Kent might be perfect for you.” Allegra’s tone softened. “Unless you’re not ready to date because you’re upset about Steven. What happened between you, anyway?”

  Chloe flinched, and her grip tightened on the clipboard. She hadn’t thought about Steven in a while. Days, maybe. Agreeing to marry a stranger was a surprisingly effective strategy for navigating a breakup. But the shock of hearing her ex’s name out of the blue was like pressing a tender bruise.

  She swallowed. “It just wasn’t going anywhere.”

  But they had been going somewhere. Chloe had even thought Steven might propose over the holidays. He’d dropped a few hints about a surprise during her upcoming Christmas Eve performance at Radio City. Like a lovesick fool, she’d imagined him down on bended knee in the darkened theater, slipping a ring onto her finger during the curtain call.

  She’d been wrong, of course. So. Very. Wrong. He’d never planned on proposing. He’d simply wanted to bring some important business associates to the show. He’d wanted to use her to dazzle his clients, not marry her. Once she’d been dropped from the performance roster, he’d clued her in to the “surprise.”

  And then he’d dumped her like she was a kid on Santa’s naughty list.

  “I’m here if you ever need to talk.” Allegra wrapped a slender arm around Chloe’s shoulders. “You know that, right?”

  A lump lodged in Chloe’s throat. Steven was right. She definitely belonged on the naughty list. She still hadn’t fessed up to her family, and now she was piling lies on top of lies by keeping them in the dark about her unconventional wedding.

  But that was okay, right? Because soon she’d be able to fix the floors and paint the walls and finish what Allegra had started with the dance marathon, and really turn things around at the Wilde School of Dance.

  Then it would no longer matter that she’d been MIA for the better part of four years and made a mess of her career on live television. She could make up for all her mistakes. All the little white lies.

  She just had to hold on until Lolly’s custody hearing.

  “Thank you. I love knowing I can talk to you. I really do, just like I’m grateful to Mom for the chance to help out around here.”

  “We’re lucky to have you. You’re a superstar!” Allegra nodded toward the lobby, where Chloe’s smiling face beamed from the huge Rockettes poster. “Obviously, I hope your calf heals soon, but until it does, I love having you here. Plus, it gives Emily a little break.”

  Chloe couldn’t bring herself to look at the poster anymore. She kept her gaze glued to her clipboard so she wouldn’t be forced to face the constant reminder of how far her star had fallen. “Where is Mom, anyway?”

  “She’s supposed to be taking the day off, but if the vibrating phone in my pocket is any indication, she can’t stand being away.” Allegra reached into the pocket of her swishy ballet skirt and pulled out her cell phone. “Oh my God, she called four times during the past hour, even though she knew we had class.”

  “That’s weird. I hope nothing’s wrong.” Dread snaked its way up Chloe’s spine. She reached for her iPhone, where she’d placed it beside the record player.

  The screen lit up with notifications. Six missed calls and three texts, all from her mother. “She’s been trying to reach me, too.”

  Something definitely wasn’t right.

  “I’ve got a voice mail.” Allegra pressed her phone to her ear, and after a second or two, her eyes widened and focused intently on Chloe.

  She wasn’t sure what the look meant, and she was genuinely afraid to ask. Instead, she scrolled through Emily’s text messages. But instead of clearing things up, they left her more confused than ever.

  Have you seen the paper today?

  The paper?

  The New York Times... They’ve made some kind of mistake.

  Chloe was vaguely aware of Allegra saying something beside her, but she couldn’t focus on the exact words. Her mother was obviously freaking out about something she’d seen in the Times, which could mean only one thing—they’d identified her as the dancer who’d ruined the Rockettes’ most famous number during the Macy’s parade.

  Why now, though? Thanksgiving had been over a week ago.

  She took a deep breath. Whatever article had gotten Emily all stirred up must be about something else. But what could be so urgent that she’d made multiple calls to both her and Allegra while she knew they were teaching the Baby Nutcracker class?

  Chloe flipped to the next text message, hoping for clarity. But when she saw the shouty caps filling her screen, she froze and remembered the old adage—be careful what you wish for.

  I KNOW YOU WOULDN’T BE PLANNING ON GETTING MARRIED WITHOUT TELLING YOUR FAM
ILY.

  She glanced up, heart pounding so hard and fast she almost couldn’t breathe.

  “I knew there was something going on between you and Anders Kent,” Allegra said. And then she laughed. She actually laughed, as if Chloe wasn’t about to drop dead from panic right in front of her. “But engaged? Already? The other day, when you said he’d proposed, I thought you were joking. Emily is about to come unglued. I could barely understand her voice mail message, but I managed to catch the fact that you’re getting married. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  Oh God.

  “I...” Her mouth opened and then closed. What could she possibly say?

  He’s paying me to marry him.

  Technically, that was the truth. But wow, put so bluntly, it sounded terrible. Really, really terrible.

  “You what?” Allegra lifted a brow.

  Before Chloe could form a response, her phone pinged with another incoming text.

  From Emily...again.

  I’m on my way. I’ll be there in five minutes or less.

  Chapter Seven

  Emily must have been moving at the speed of light because she burst through the door of the dance school less than sixty seconds after Chloe received her text message.

  Granted, it had been a long sixty seconds—the longest, most excruciating minute of her life as Allegra stared her down, waiting to hear all about how Chloe had managed to become engaged to a man she hadn’t so much as spoken to when he’d come to pick up his daughter just moments ago. A man who she claimed was a total stranger.

  “It’s sort of a crazy story,” Chloe said, pressing the heel of her hand against her breastbone.

  Her heart was beating so hard she thought she might be having a coronary. She almost wished she were. At least if her heart stopped beating, Emily would forget about whatever she’d read in the paper that led her to believe Chloe and Anders were getting married.

  Probably.

  Or probably not.

  Emily pushed through the door, clutching a copy of the New York Times to her chest and out of breath. Her coat wasn’t even buttoned. By all appearances, she’d either speed-walked or run all the way to the school from the brownstone.

  “Oh boy,” Allegra muttered under her breath.

  Yeah. Chloe pressed harder on her breastbone, lest her heart beat right out of her chest. Oh boy.

  “Chloe, what’s going on? This columnist, Celestia Lane, made some sort of mistake, right? Or was it intentional erroneous reporting? Isn’t she the reporter who made life so miserable for Zander last year?” Emily tossed the paper onto the reception desk and there, in black and white across the top of the popular Vows column, was the headline Manhattan Billionaire Anders Kent Granted Marriage License.

  Manhattan billionaire?

  Chloe didn’t know billionaires were an actual thing. She thought they existed only in Batman movies and romance novels. No wonder he seemed so hung up on the premarital agreement. He probably thought she was trying to con him or something when she’d told him not to worry about it.

  As if that was her most pressing worry at the moment. Chloe’s name was in the very first sentence of the article, for the entire world to see. People all over the world read the Vows column, not just New York. It was famous for its Sunday coverage of all the society weddings and celebrity engagements. Sometimes during the week it contained juicy matrimonial gossip.

  Like now.

  “That’s definitely the same reporter.” Allegra rolled her eyes. “She ran that whole series of columns about the Bennington and tried to make everyone believe it was cursed. This is obviously fake news. Why didn’t you just say so, Chloe?”

  She paused for a beat and then added, “It’s kind of weird that the reporter used your name, though, out of all the women in New York.”

  Chloe took a deep breath. “It’s not fake news. Not this time.”

  Celestia Lane definitely had a penchant for exaggerating. Zander’s hotel had nearly gone bankrupt, all because she’d penned a series of articles about the Bennington’s unusually high number of runaway brides. Allegra herself had been one of the brides who’d famously bolted from the hotel ballroom in a puffy white gown.

  But that was a long time ago. The columnist may have manufactured the runaway bride curse, but this time her information was spot-on.

  “So you’re really marrying Anders Kent?” Allegra’s jaw dropped.

  Emily didn’t say a word, and somehow her rigid posture and sudden silence was worse than if she’d yelled or screamed. But Chloe’s mom had never been that kind of parent. It took a lot to make her upset, and when she finally reached her breaking point, she was much more likely to issue a calm, low reprimand than to raise her voice.

  The fact that she couldn’t seem to form words at all was definitely a bad sign. The worst.

  “Mom, I can explain...” Could she, though? Could she really?

  The phone in Chloe’s hand pinged with a text, and she nearly dropped it. She’d forgotten she was even holding her cell until her cheery “Jingle Bells” text tone pierced the tense silence.

  At last, Emily found her voice. “Who is it? Your secret fiancé?”

  Chloe glanced down.

  We need to talk. Meet me at Soho House at earliest possible opportunity? I’ll send a driver to collect you.

  Anders, indeed.

  But he wasn’t such a secret anymore.

  * * *

  So much for keeping things simple.

  The news piece in the Times changed everything. As Anders’s attorney so bluntly put it, everything about his relationship with Chloe needed to look real. Not just the wedding, but the marriage.

  Everything.

  Assuming, of course, that Chloe would still go through with their arrangement. Anders had a feeling she wouldn’t, especially when she showed up at the Soho House looking every bit as shell-shocked as he felt.

  Meeting her here suddenly seemed like a bad idea. If this was the end of their brief fake relationship, he’d much rather have ended things privately at his office instead of a trendy eatery. Soho House was a members-only establishment, but it was still filled with prying eyes. Three people had congratulated Anders on his engagement since he’d arrived ten minutes before.

  “Hello.” He rose from the table as she approached.

  “Hi.” She came around to his side of the table and wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him in a scent reminiscent of warm vanilla with just a touch of evergreen. Christmas on a snowy morning.

  He had a sudden flash of memories from his childhood—the kind of Christmas mornings he hadn’t experienced in years, with fresh baked cookies, a fire in the hearth and frost on the windows. They were the sort of memories he should be making for Lolly, especially now. What if he never had the chance again? What if this was the last Christmas she’d ever spend in New York?

  Don’t go there.

  Chloe pressed her lips, impossibly soft, against his cheek, and as ludicrous as it seemed, that simple, innocent brush of her skin against his almost made him feel like everything might be okay. Like he could somehow keep Lolly’s world—and his—from falling apart.

  She pulled back and looked at him with wide, nervous eyes. Her voice dropped to a low murmur. “I hope that was okay. I just feel like since we’re out in public and now everyone knows...”

  Her cheeks blazed pink, and for the first time since he’d set eyes on the Vows column, the dull ache in his temples eased. The knot in his chest loosened, and he could breathe again. He wasn’t sure why. According to his lawyer, Lolly’s custody case had just gotten infinitely more complicated. Even if Chloe was still willing to walk down the aisle, they would have to pass for a believable couple until nearly the end of the month.

  Until Christmas.

  “It’s fine.” He slipped her hand in his, gave it a squeez
e and then pulled back her chair. “Please, have a seat. Relax.”

  Relax...easier said than done. Although when he took his place beside her, Anders could imagine how nice it might be to spend time with her under normal circumstances. They’d been together only a handful of times, but he was already becoming accustomed to the way she moved—with a willowy grace that made even the simplest gestures more lovely. It soothed him somehow.

  He took a deep inhalation and met her gaze with his. “I’m sorry.”

  A little furrow formed between her brows. “You’re apologizing?”

  Apparently, he was. He hadn’t planned on it, but suddenly it seemed like a good idea. Necessary, even. “Yes, for the article. I had no idea it was going to happen, but on some level, I feel like I should have seen it coming.”

  Her gaze shifted to the menu sitting untouched on the table in front of her. “It’s not your fault.”

  “The tabloids have taken an interest in my personal life in the past.” He shook his head. “Still, I never expected this. The Times, for crying out loud. Vows.”

  “Seriously, don’t blame yourself. It’s as much my fault as it is yours.” Her eyes met his again and held.

  He hadn’t a clue what she was talking about, but he was struck once again by the sadness in her eyes, just as he’d been at the animal shelter. But he realized now it was more than melancholy. Secrets swirled in the depths of her soft brown irises, and he reminded himself that, loveliness aside, he knew nothing about this woman.

  Other than she’s your only hope.

  “Why would it be your fault?” Had she gone to the press?

  Surely not. He felt guilty even suspecting her of doing such a thing.

  “The reporter who wrote the piece did a series of articles about my brother’s hotel a year ago. He’s the CEO of the Bennington.”

  “The runaway bride curse?” He nodded. “She mentioned it in the article.”

  “Right. That’s why I think it’s my fault. I just can’t figure out how she knew we were engaged.”