Million Dollar Christmas Bride - Holly Rayner Page 0,51

sensation in her gut. Am I just as bad as those other women Jackson was with? After all, I’m only going through with all of this because of the million dollars that will be transferred into my account.

Maybe I’m just as selfish as these women from Jackson’s past.

Danielle straightened up. She looked directly at Bianca through the lenses of her glasses. “You’re different, though,” she said, as if she’d been reading Bianca’s mind. “I could tell right away when Jackson first talked about you. He sounded so… genuinely happy.”

Bianca swallowed, trying to make the lump in her throat dissipate. “Oh, yeah?” she said.

Danielle nodded and tapped the edge of her cigarette against an ashtray that was propped on a table nearby. “I talked to him on the night he met you, you know. Right after your accident. And actually, that’s when I knew he was in love. His precious car was banged up, but he was in a good mood. I could hear him smiling. He sounded freaking joyful.” She rolled her eyes. “It was ridiculous.”

Bianca felt nauseated. I made Jackson happy, she thought. Then why are we barely talking? Everything has gone so wrong.

“Anyway,” Danielle said, “I didn’t come out here to gush about puppy love. I wanted to tell you thank you, I guess. I knew it would take an authentic, kind person to finally drag Jackson out from behind the walls he built after our mom left. He has serious trust issues when it comes to women, but hey—we all have issues, right?” She finally crushed out her cigarette, and Bianca sensed the conversation was almost over.

Thank goodness, Bianca thought. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to stand Danielle’s praise.

Danielle scoffed. “Hey, I’ve got a whole slew of issues… And you should hear Stan talk about his parents. Whew! Well, you will, one of these days when you meet him. You and Jackson should come out to California this spring. We have a get-away house on the beach.” With that, she turned and started back toward the restaurant.

Bianca fell into step with her. “Thanks,” she said half-heartedly. “That sounds nice.”

It concerned her to realize how much she actually admired Danielle’s direct, no-nonsense style of communicating. She’s the kind of person I could see myself becoming friends with, she thought.

That made it feel even worse to lie to her.

Bianca knew, as they made their way back to the table, that she wouldn’t be having any cake. The nausea in the pit of her stomach surely wouldn’t allow it.

Chapter 17

Bianca

The soft leather of the limo’s interior felt damp beneath Bianca’s palm. She’d dressed herself in a white gown that morning, with only Peaches for assistance.

Peaches was a wonderful companion—the best, in Bianca’s opinion. But a lack of opposable thumbs severely limited the contribution that Peaches could make when it came to practical matters like zipping up the back of a dress.

Bianca had managed to get the zipper up by bending her arm in a way that she’d never before known it could bend. The dress was slightly too tight. Her options, at the bridal store she’d visited two weeks before, had been slim. Seeing as she didn’t want to wait for a dress to be shipped in from another city, she’d been forced to choose from the selection at the store.

At the time, the form-fitting torso had felt okay. Not great, but not overly constricting, either. Now, sitting in the limo, she felt as though she could barely breathe.

That might have more to do with the fact that Jackson is beside me, than the way my dress fits, she thought.

She stared studiously out the window.

Jackson, beside her, was on his phone. They’d barely exchanged two words since she’d stepped into the limo, nearly forty-five minutes earlier.

She heard the faint rustling of his tuxedo sleeve. She glanced over and saw that he was checking his watch. “It’s only eleven fifteen,” he said. “The ceremony starts at one. We have plenty of time.”

He said this calmly. Bianca hadn’t mentioned anything about being late, so she figured Jackson was just talking to soothe his own nerves.

He must be anxious right now, she thought. Apparently, he’s good at keeping his cool during tense situations.

She looked out the window again, this time focusing her gaze on the long line of traffic in the street in front of them. The sky was thick with pale gray clouds. A thin layer of snow covered the pavement, sidewalks, and front stoops of businesses along