So, yes! Harry. I grabbed a notepad and scribbled his name to remind me. Harry could certainly convince a judge.
I bit my lip and frowned in thought as I added another note. Make sure Harry gets the marriage record sealed as private so it's not a matter of public record. I didn't want the media getting hold of this news. I shuddered at the thought. They'd make something nasty and scandalous out of it. Claim we were desperate to save our failing marriage. That the vow renewal was a lame attempt to reclaim the magic. Sad, really.
I shrugged off thoughts of gossipy douchebags.
Now all I needed was a little wedding chapel somewhere in snowy upstate New York, a willing officiant—still hated that word—who would require the license, a chartered jet, and a very small bit of Christmas magic to convince Jus, and I was set!
A knock on the door brought me out of my wedding thoughts and back to the real world.
"Mrs. Kayla?"
"Yes?"
Magda cracked the door open and poked her head in. "Lunch is ready."
I nodded and got out of my chair. As I wandered into the kitchen behind Magda, ready to eat at the counter, the news was still on. They cut to the ports and a shot of angry men carrying "On Strike" signs. Fair wages for longshoremen.
A bright blue banner was pegged at the bottom of the screen. Longshoremen up and down the West Coast on strike. Ports closed for the foreseeable future. Retail giants worried. Will this kill their holiday profits? Wall Street reacts. Retail stocks down on the news.
My heart thudded to a standstill. My mouth went dry. "Crap."
Magda looked at me, following my gaze to the screen.
So that was why Jus hadn't called or texted me back. All my happy thoughts vanished. All I wanted for Christmas was a real marriage. Enough of this faking things! The port closure had probably just dashed my Christmas wish for a New York wedding.
Justin
I was in meetings, on the phone, scrambling, all day trying to salvage our Christmas orders. We were guaranteeing in-time for Christmas delivery. We were damn well going to make good on it. The Canadian ports were still open. We could ship our goods to Vancouver, B.C., and truck them down or send them by rail. We'd have to deal with customs at the border and incur more costs and time delays. Our East Coast distribution center in Pennsylvania would be fine. The East Coast ports were open. Our Midwest distribution center in Columbus, Ohio, and the one in Reno were in jeopardy.
Flying everything was just too expensive. We'd lose our shirts. Keeping operations running smoothly was going to be dicey from here until long after the strike ended. For every day it went on, shipping containers full of pallets of goods would pile up on the piers. Once the strike ended, it would take days, weeks, or months to get them all unloaded and distributed.
At seven in the evening, my stomach rumbled. I realized I hadn't eaten all day. Or checked personal messages. I wouldn't be going home tonight. I needed to call Kay. I wondered how her doctor appointment had gone. If something had been wrong she would have called me. I was confident of that.
Shit, I thought with a start. I should have thought to check earlier. She'd left me nearly a dozen messages.
When I listened to the first message, my heart stopped. Her voice was panicked and scared. Kay was spotting. We could lose our baby.
I called her before listening to the rest. I was such a crappy husband.
Kayla
I sat out on the covered patio, watching the silent, dark lake and looking at the lights sparkling from the city and homes across from us. A few scattered showers had come through since afternoon.
It was hard for people who weren't Seattleites to understand our relationship with our weather. We had as many names for rain as Finland had for snow. We loved sunshine, but when the rain was gone too long, we felt exposed and nervous. Ready for a comfy rainy day. And yet when it rained again after a long dry spell, it was like Seattle drivers had forgotten how to drive in it. All kinds of accidents.
Seattle in the winter was mostly fifty-five and rainy. And forty to fifty percent or more humidity. Snow for Christmas was a rarity. I'd lived in the Seattle area all my life, except for four years of college, and could only remember a couple of white Christmases. And you had to be generous about what constituted white, as in a dusting that lasted a few hours.
The humidity made it feel colder than it was. Because I was pregnant, I was always warm. It felt good to sit outside on our patio decorated with Christmas lights, sipping hot Christmas blend tea. I wore a light sweater and hadn't bothered to turn the patio heater on. I was perfectly comfortable. Anyone else would have been freezing. But I was enjoying the gentle, cold breeze that was rippling the lake.
Since noon, I'd been plotting. I was determined. Nothing would stop my Christmas wedding. I'd looked it up. We could get a marriage license on Christmas Eve before noon. If Harry could get the twenty-four-hour wait waived, we could be married that afternoon and fly home late Christmas day. Jus could be back in the office first thing on the 26th.
Even Jus wouldn't work on Christmas. If I teased him enough about being Scrooge, I could guilt him in to taking it off. Especially if I promised him he could go into work all the earlier the next day. Ha! The Christmas Carol.
It was getting him to take all of Christmas Eve off that worried me. I might have to blow my element of surprise.
My phone sat on the table next to me. It startled me when it sprang to life. Heart pounding, I grabbed it. Jus. "Hey, stranger."
"Kay!" He sounded relieved I'd picked up.
Hey, I knew the feeling. And, yes, he should have been glad I had a forgiving nature and everything had turned out okay.
"Babe, I'm so sorry. How are you? How's the baby? Where are you? Are you at the hospital? I'll come. I'll be right there. Just tell me where there is."
"You obviously didn't see all my messages. I'm home. I'm fine. The baby's fine. Just a bit of innocuous spotting caused by its over-horny parents," I explained, letting him off the hook way too easily. But it was Christmastime, and he was stressed by the strike, so I gave him a break.
Jus just so damn apologetic. You had to hear his tone of voice to fully get what I mean. Then you would recognize the sincerity in it. And the way he was beating himself up. Crap, he did a better job of it than I could do. He was so crazily sorry he had me wanting to comfort him. Apologies weren't just words for Jus. And that's what I loved about him. Part of it, anyway. His genuine concern.
"It's all right, Jus. I saw the news. I heard about the strike. I know you've been dealing with it all day." I hesitated, not sure I wanted to hear the answer to the question I was about to ask. "How bad is it?"
He paused, leading me to believe he was going to sugarcoat it. "Bad," he said at last. "It's going to be touch and go for us long after it ends. And it looks like it's going to be a prolonged work stoppage. The negotiating teams have packed up and called a cooling-off period. They don't plan to resume talks until next week at the earliest. The union and the ports are too far apart in their demands right now."
I was watching the dark ripples on the lake and drops of rain splatting as a shower moved through. My Christmas cheer completely melted away. "You won't be home tonight, will you?"
I tried not to sound all judgmental and needy. I knew when I married him that Jus was married to his work as well. And that he felt responsible for the jobs of all his employees. The health of the company meant more than just money for us. It meant livelihoods for thousands of people.
It was just that when I agreed to convince the world I was married to him, I hadn't been in love with him or pregnant with his baby. So I hadn't cared. In fact, I'd been almost relieved. Things were different now.
"I wish I could come home. I'm beat. But there's too much to do. No retailer across the country will be sleeping tonight. This affects us all. We'll be up all night with the workarounds…"
I listened to him vent. He sounded tired and spent. But I knew him. He'd down another can of energy drink
and keep going.
"Am I going to see you at all between now and Christmas?" I tried to make my tone light and teasing. But I wasn't sure I'd succeeded.
He snorted. "Maybe. If you come to the office." He inhaled deeply.
"Do you want me to send you your pillow and a blanket?" I joked.
"Are you kicking me out?"
"Are you crazy? No!" I laughed softly, but I was deeply disappointed and worried. "Just trying to make you comfy at your new digs."
"Kay, I'm sorry. This isn't what I'd planned. I know how much you love the holidays—"
"Do what you have to, Jus. Just don't forget about me."
"Never." He paused. "Thanks for understanding. I love you."
I loved him, too. More than I cared to admit. I was going to marry that man. Really marry him. No matter how many obstacles the holiday season threw in my path.
Chapter Six
Kayla
The port strike had made it blatantly clear that I was going to have to marry Jus on Christmas Eve. And not a day sooner. Jus wouldn't break away until he was sure all of Flash's Christmas orders had shipped, the customers were happy, and Flash was out of danger. Challenges, challenges.
I was undeterred. Fate could throw whatever it liked at me. It could be a complete bah humbug. But I was marrying my guy if I had to squeeze the wedding into the season with a red and green shoehorn. Wedge it right in like a foot into a too-tall designer heel.
The more I thought about getting married on Christmas Eve, the more I liked it. It was even better than Valentine's Day! For the rest of our lives we could give each other gifts that were also secret anniversary gifts. Yes, better and better.
It would be our very own tradition. Something we'd started. Something secret to us. Christmas would be our holiday in so many ways.
As I plotted my Christmas wedding, I got a text from my mom: Does Justin like cinnamon rolls? Should I make my cinnamon roll Christmas tree for Christmas brunch this year?
I rolled my eyes. Who didn't love cinnamon rolls? But this was Mom's subtle manipulation in her bid to win more time with us over Christmas.
I hesitated. Maybe if I was noncommittal but replied that of course he loved cinnamon rolls, I would be in the clear.
Before I could answer, I got a text from Justin's mom, Diana. Booking our flight to the Bahamas. We can leave as late as five and still make it to the Bahamas in time to settle in before the tournament begins the next day. What do you think? Justin isn't answering my texts.
Oh, boy. I made up my mind then and there. I was going to put an end to this war of the Greens and Lucases. And establish a precedent—Jus and I did our own thing for Christmas. At least this year, we did.
We were fighting an unwinnable battle. No matter what we did, one set of parents was going to be miffed. So if they were both miffed together, at least they would be equal. No one could accuse us of playing favorites.
As much as I loved my parents, I loved Jus more. I couldn't tell them what I was really up to. If I could, they would back me completely. And insist on coming along. So they would just have to trust me this year. And understand that I wanted to whisk Jus off for a romantic first Christmas together.
The only problem remaining was Dex. How was I going to convince him to be our witness on Christmas Eve and take a red-eye home for Christmas morning?
If this Christmas Eve wedding was going to happen, I had to meet with our lawyer Harry Lawrence and get him to get that twenty-four-hour waiver.
Harry was Justin's personal lawyer. He also did some work for Flashionista. Harry had drawn up the original legal agreement, the postnuptial agreement, that had guaranteed me ten million dollars for staying with Jus for a year and divorcing on our first anniversary. Jus and I had torn it up when we decided to stay together.
On Wednesday morning, I packed a bag for Jus so he had more than a change of clothes at work if he needed. I also packed his pillow, a spare Christmas blanket, and those Mr. Claus socks. Once he discovered how comfy they were, he would wear them. I knew he would.
I loaded them in the car and headed out for my emergency appointment with Harry.
Harry was the kind of guy who looked like he was born to wear a suit. He had that kind of build. He was classically good looking. So handsome that his looks were wasted in the law profession. He really should have been a model.
Harry and I had started off on the wrong foot when we first met last June and he'd had me served with divorce papers for a marriage I hadn't participated in. At the time, I'd thought someone was pranking me. And that Harry was an arrogant douche.
For his part, Harry had believed I was a gold digger after Justin's money. Since then we'd gotten to know each other and realized that our first impressions had been off. He was still mainly Justin's guy. But he'd helped me out with some of our charitable foundation work, too.
His office suite was decorated for Christmas in tasteful blue and silver. There was a freshly cut tree in the lobby. Innocuous holiday music played softly in the background.
After settling into his office and closing the door, I came right to the point. "I want to marry Jus in New York State on Christmas Eve. I need you to do several things for me to make it happen. First, I need you to draw up a postnuptial prenup giving me the original ten million dollars Jus promised me should we ever divorce. Which we won't.
"I would have you make it for one dollar. But I know Jus wouldn't go for that. The point is I want Jus to know I'm not marrying him for his money. He can't really argue with the sum he originally named. Ten million is nothing to him.
"Second, I need a judicial order waiving the twenty-four-hour waiting period so we can fly into New York for Christmas Eve morning, get the license, and be married immediately.
"Third, the marriage records have to be sealed as private so they aren't published to the public record. Fourth, I need an officiant who requires a second license. Should you handle that or should I get Justin's private investigation firm on it—"
"Wait. Stop. Slow down." Harry leaned back in his desk chair. "Why do you want to get married in New York? As far as any legal or governing authority is concerned, you're already legally married."
I explained my motivation, what I had found out, and how I wanted the marriage to be unassailably genuine and legal.
Harry waited for me to finish, and then broke into his counterargument. Typical for Harry. "While I understand your desire to marry Justin and sign a license yourself, why court trouble?"
I frowned. "What trouble?"
He hesitated. "If the paparazzi gets wind of any of this, they'll have a field day. The more people you involve, the officiant, for example, the greater the chance the truth gets out. Why risk it?"
I shook my head gently, disappointed in him. But not surprised by his caution. "You're clearly not a romantic, Harry. Which is just too bad. You could be some girl's knight triumphant." I smiled to soften my statement. I was only half teasing.
"Love is worth taking any chance for. I want to be genuinely married to Jus. I want to vow to love him for my entire lifetime. And you, of all people, should be able to see that a legitimate marriage would silence all critics and any legal challenges."
The baby chose that moment to kick me. Hard. It took my breath away. I winced and rubbed my belly to soothe her, which drew Harry's gaze to my baby bump.
"Prenup. Postnup. Or whatever the hell it would be now. Even as your lawyer, I'm losing track. I'll draw something up if you insist. But if I know Justin, he won't sign it, no matter what the dollar amount." Harry frowned in thought. "I'm not sure about the legality of a postnup prenup. There's no case law that I know of. How the hell would it stand up in court?"
He shook his head. "You don't need one, anyway. That baby is your insurance. Justin will take care of that baby no matter what."
"I want postnup prenup, anyway. It may be an empty gesture, but it's the thought that counts. Isn't that what they say?" I held his gaze.
Harry nodded and sla
pped his desk. "If that's what you want. Our office has a branch in New York. We should be able to handle everything. I'll get on this right away."
I smiled at him, relieved.
After I left Harry's office, I made my weekly Wednesday visit to the children's hospital. Jus used to go on his own. Then I joined him. And since peak had hit, I'd mostly been going on my own. Jus gave huge sums to the hospital. It was easy to see why. The children and their illnesses and triumphs would win over the hardest heart.
I was on a mission to make sure every child that was in the hospital on Christmas or Christmas Eve got a special present. With that in mind, I was keeping an eye on the long-term patients, those I knew had little chance of being discharged for Christmas. I'd been subtly questioning them and helping them write their letters to Santa.
On my way from the hospital to Flashionista, I stopped by the bakery up the hill from Flash and bought out their selection of holiday cookies to take to the office. And a nice stuffed meat pastry for Jus for lunch. I had a meeting with Britt, Sarah, and Marla, the head merch buyer, to discuss the upcoming Santa Sample Sale.
I showed up at Flash carrying a box of snowflake cookies, Justin's pillow and lunch, and wheeling his suitcase.
Justin
My phone rang as I was coming out of our latest meeting. Mom. She knew better than to call me at work. She'd been texting all morning. I hadn’t had time to answer.
I picked up as I walked into my office and closed the door. "Mother."
She hated being called mother. I used the term in a jokey, reprimanding way. In that tone of voice she liked to use on me when I was in trouble.
"Justin Arnold Green," she responded just as quickly in the same mock reprimand.
We broke out laughing together.
"You're finally taking your old mother's calls now, are you?"
"Only because if I don't, you'll call out the National Guard."
"Oh, I don't think I'm happy enough with you to do that. I'd rather keep texting and calling until I drive you crazy."
The Billionaire’s Christmas Vows: A Jet City Billionaire Christmas Romance Page 5