“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.
“This is what Jackson picked out for this little dear,” she said, holding the dress out to Hannah.
“Ja
ckson picked this for her?”
Mrs. Holbrook nodded. “Yes, he picked them both out. He said when he saw your dress in the window of the custom shop he knew it was you. He was a little hesitant about Emily’s dress, asking me if it was the right size.” Mrs. Holbrook was already unclasping Emily’s seatbelt in the car seat, as if she knew Hannah was incapable of moving.
“I don’t know what he’s doing,” Hannah whispered, not really to anyone.
“Jackson knows exactly what he’s doing, Hannah. You are what he needs, my dear,” the woman said with a reassuring smile, standing and holding Emily in her arms. “And soon you’ll realize that Jackson is exactly what you need.”
…
Jackson felt nerves…no, fear, for the first time in a long, long time as he stood at the altar. Would Hannah tell him to go to hell? Did she walk out of here as soon as she realized he’d changed plans on her? Would she like the dress?
That day after he dropped Hannah off at home, as he drove back into the city, he couldn’t shake the feeling that getting married at City Hall was wrong. For Hannah it was wrong. He wanted her to have everything, the best of everything. After what she’d told him at her house, about her past, he wanted her to feel special. He tried hard to tell himself that it was merely attraction to a beautiful woman, but he knew it was a lie. If that were true he wouldn’t have contacted the Holbrooks. He wouldn’t have bought the dress that he knew would fit Hannah like a glove, because he’d memorized every single inch, every luscious curve of her body. He wouldn’t have picked the only chapel that held such significance to him. He never would have let her into this part of his past.
“Jackson, man, you look like you’re about to hurl.” Ethan laughed, slapping him on the back. Jackson bit back a curse as he glared at the man he considered his best friend. Ethan, it seemed, had gotten over his shock since yesterday. Today he was just overly irritating, asking him questions involving feelings. He wasn’t about to enter into that discussion with a guy who had an even worse record with women than he did.
“I’m not going to hurl, you idiot,” he said, straightening his tie, wondering if that was what the unsettled feeling in his stomach meant.
His friend rolled back and forth on his heels, way too happily. “Have you been drinking?”
Ethan scowled at him. “No. But who are those people that keep waving at you?” Ethan whispered under his breath.
Jackson forced a smile and waved at Mr. And Mrs. Sampson. “Friends of the bride.”
“Who’s that?” Ethan said as a pretty, slender brunette stood at the top of the aisle, then began walking toward them.
“Hannah’s best friend, Allison. They work together. And hands off. She’s not your type.” Jackson said out of the corner of his mouth as Allison approached them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s nice,” Jackson said in a low voice.
“Hannah will be out in a minute,” Allison said with a big smile. Jackson tried not to let his relief show.
“Thanks,” he said, his eyes shifting from hers to the back of the chapel. Allison gave him a small wink and then walked away.
Hannah was at the top of the aisle and was more beautiful than he imagined, a cross between an angel and a goddess. He couldn’t read the expression in her eyes, but he bet she was torn between fury and confusion. His heart tightened as Allison and Emily made their way down the aisle. Little Emily evoked such an overwhelming feeling of love in him that he was taken aback.
Jackson heard the elderly minister of his youth shuffle across the altar to join him. He gave Jackson a reassuring nod, so similar to the one he gave when Jackson was a boy, coming to church with his mother and sister. He’d turned his back on his faith for so many years. But yesterday on that drive, after being with Hannah and his niece, he’d felt an inexplicable pull here, as though this place could bring him back to a time of peace and serenity. Everything around him faded as Hannah walked down the aisle, a simple bouquet of ivory roses in her hand.
…
Hannah was barely aware of anything other than Jackson. And boy, was the man a sight to behold. Tall and lean, wide shoulders and proud stance, he was a man who could stop traffic. He stood in a dark grey suit waiting for her, watching her with eyes that glittered with emotion. She saw a hint of that vulnerability as the corner of his mouth turned up. As soon as she stood beside him he took her hand in his.
“This isn’t city hall, Jackson.”
He chuckled softly, making her forget all the reasons this was insane. “City hall is too ordinary for you, Hannah,” he whispered gruffly, giving her hand a squeeze. “You look beautiful.”
“The Sampsons are here,” she said, squeezing his hand.
The smile he gave her was one she wouldn’t forget. “I know how fond you are of them. The only problem is that they think I’m deaf, so they’ve been yelling from the aisle.” Hannah swallowed her nervous laugh and stared at him for a moment longer, not believing that this was the same man as a week ago.
This was a real wedding, she thought, as the minister began to speak. Words floated through the air, and Hannah heard herself make promises to a man whose gaze told her that he took this very seriously. When he spoke his vows, in that deep, self-assured voice, every ounce of insecurity dripped away. And when it was time to exchange rings, Jackson retrieved two rings out of his pocket before she even had a moment to panic. He had a slight smile as he smoothly slipped her ring on her finger. She looked down at the band, marveling at the beauty of the graceful filigree and shimmering diamonds. Then he handed her his wide, simple white gold band. Her hands trembled as she slid it onto his finger, their symbol of unity.
Finally, Jackson leaned down and gave her the sweetest, gentlest kiss that brought tears to her eyes and made her clutch his arms.
“Hello, Mrs. Pierce,” Jackson whispered against her lips.
She squeezed his arms, feeling the dense muscles under her fingertips. “I never said I was changing my last name.”
Jackson laughed and kissed her again.
The Sampsons, Ethan, and Allison were clapping. Hannah even thought she heard jingling bells. Emily picked that moment to thrill them with her own squeal of delight. This was the closest she had ever felt to having a family, Hannah thought, as the three of them stood together.
And if this were as close as she got, she’d die a happy woman.
Chapter Eleven
Jackson held the door for her with one hand, and carried her luggage with the other. Hannah gave him a small smile before walking by him and into his penthouse. He placed her bag on the ground and flicked on a table lamp in the foyer. Hannah ignored the jittery feeling in her stomach that had accompanied her from the church to the city. They had dropped Emily off at Mrs. Ford’s house knowing that next week they’d be able to bring her home with them. The drive had been quiet, most of the joy of the wedding slowly replaced by nerves as the reality that she was about to move in with Jackson set in.
“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Jackson said, his deep voice sounding loud in the silent penthouse. He took her hand, leading her inside. She was curious to see his home, nervous to be here with him like this. The main lights were still off, the room illuminated by a breathtaking view of the Toronto skyline that twinkled through the gleaming ten foot windows. It was an impressive room, filled with leather, glass, and dark woods. Stunning, but impersonal, cold, and nothing like the man she was coming to know.
“What do you think?” He loosened his tie as he stood in the center of the room.
Hannah was having a hard time coming up with a smart answer, distracted by the way he looked. The image of his body intertwined with hers at the cabin gripped her. She remembered the exact shade of his skin, his masculine scent, each clearly defined muscle, and how glorious he’d felt against her naked body.
“Hannah?”
She attempted a casual smile and forced her eyes away from his before she turned red. “It’s what I imagined i
t would be.”
“Why doesn’t that sound like a compliment?”
“It’s, um…” She bit on her lip. “How do I put this? It’s a very nice place for someone like you.” There.
His smiled deepened and she resisted the urge to curl her toes. His smile should come with a warning attached. Allison’s words about his looks popped into her mind and she quickly darted her eyes away from his. This evening was going to be more awkward than she’d originally thought, and they hadn’t even had a tour of the bedrooms yet.
“Someone like me?”
“Well, no that’s wrong, actually,” she said, frowning as he removed his jacket. The long, lean lines of his body were perfectly outlined in the tailored suit. He was a beautiful man. She’d known that at the cabin. But seeing him dressed like this reminded her of the other side of him—the successful, powerful millionaire.
“You feeling okay?”
“Hmm?” She tore her eyes away and tried to remember what they were talking about. She took off her heels, absently touching the beading on the glorious dress he picked for her. He’d told Mrs. Holbrook she was special.
“I think you were getting ready to insult me,” he said, walking over to a liquor cabinet. When he gave her that boyish grin again, the image of him as a child, helping his mother into church with Louise beside them, sprang into her mind. Hannah pictured him a few mornings ago, telling her he was going to adopt Emily. And then she thought of him today, in the chapel that he’d filled with flowers, looking more handsome than anyone she’d ever seen.
“Hannah?” He said again, his voice rough.
“I was trying to come up with something clever,” she said, tears filling her eyes as worry furrowed his brow. She took a deep breath and spoke the most truth she’d ever spoken to anyone, throwing away her fear of rejection. “Thank you for today. Thank you for this dress,” she said, trying not to be alarmed that his eyes glimmered with emotion she’d never seen before. Do it, Hannah. Say it.
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