Million Dollar Christmas Bride - Holly Rayner Page 0,48

goes on behind closed doors, especially closed bedroom doors—if you know what I mean. Just know this—whatever it is, you two will work it out.”

Bianca wasn’t so sure. She reached for another ornament.

Nicky went on. “And you’re going to see him tonight at the rehearsal dinner, right?”

Bianca nodded.

“Here’s my advice,” Nicky said. “Whatever it was—whatever personal matter you two had a spat about—just forgive him. Apologize, and then move on. Hon, you’re probably only going to have one wedding day in your life, and you don’t want to go into it mad at each other. These little arguments crop up now and then, so you’d better figure out now how to get past them. You’ll see… it’s all part of being married.”

Nicky smiled. “Once you’ve been with a man for twenty years, like me, you might even start to enjoy the little arguments. Occasionally, they bring you closer. That’s part of the magic of it all.” She winked at Bianca and then looked over her shoulder at the open doorway.

“Hey,” Nicky said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Why don’t you sneak out fifteen minutes early? I can finish up in here on my own. It will give you a little bit of extra time before your rehearsal meal. You could call Jackson.”

Bianca knew she wasn’t going to call Jackson, but the idea of a few extra minutes sounded nice. She barely knew what she was going to wear to the rehearsal at the Madison Lux Hotel or the meal out afterward, and she was nervous about the whole evening.

If she and Jackson were talking, she’d have asked him for a ride to the hotel, which was quite a long drive from her cottage. As it was, she planned to drive herself and meet up with him at the destination.

It’s going to be so awkward, she thought, as she imagined seeing him for the first time since she walked out on him.

At least I’m getting paid for all of this.

Just focus on the money. That’s all it ever was.

The drive home passed quickly. Soon, she’d walked and fed Peaches, showered, and dressed in a skirt and sleeveless blouse. She almost forgot the fake engagement ring on the corner of her sink, and she had to dart back into the house and grab it at the last minute.

As she’d expected, the drive across the city was long and rife with traffic. The rehearsal was supposed to start with a cocktail hour at 4:30, at a restaurant near the Madison Lux where they would all eat after the run-through was complete.

It was already 4:45 by the time she arrived.

Her palms sweat as she entered the small, crowded restaurant. It was an Italian place—on the fancy side, in Bianca’s opinion. She remembered that when they picked it off of a list of options, Jackson had stated that his mom would approve.

Well, that’s what this whole thing is about, isn’t it? Bianca thought, as she smoothed down her skirt anxiously and looked for a familiar face. Jackson, gaining approval from Mary Wylde.

Tonight isn’t about us at all. In fact, there is no “us.”

I just have to get through tonight and tomorrow, and then my obligations will be much less frequent. Jackson will get what he wants—that quaint old house—and that will be that. I’ll play the part of his wife at family functions. When his mom dies, we’ll go our separate ways.

The thought of going through life without seeing or hearing from Jackson made her feel empty inside. How am I going to move on after all of this? she thought. Other men won’t compare to him.

But at least other men are willing to commit.

She felt slightly angry as she spotted Jackson across the room, standing near the bar. He had a drink in hand and was talking to a woman that looked too much like him not to be his sister.

That must be Danielle, Bianca thought, as she surveyed the woman’s toned physique, elegant and expensive attire, and attractive features. Her eyes were obscured by red-framed glasses, but other than that, she had the characteristic Wylde nose, high cheekbones, and well-formed lips.

“Bianca! You’re here,” a voice said. Bianca turned in time to see one of Jackson’s childhood friends approaching.

Bianca had met him—was his name Billy? Or Bobby?—two weeks prior, when she and Jackson were interviewing caterers. The man’s family owned a successful restaurant, and Jackson had suggested giving the business to them. As it turned out, the restaurant had been booked already for Christmas Day,