Page 25 of Single Dad’s Fake Bride (Billionaire Baby Daddies #7)

HARRISON

T he courthouse waiting area stank of mildew and old paper. I sat on the hard plastic chair, checking my watch for the third time in ten minutes. Eloise bounced beside me, her legs swinging freely since they couldn't reach the floor.

"Is she here yet? Is she here yet?" Eloise craned her neck toward the entrance, her dark hair escaping from the careful braid I'd attempted that morning.

"Not yet, sweetheart. We're a few minutes early."

She'd taken the news better than I'd expected.

When I'd told her last night that I was going to marry Miss Quinn, her face had lit up with pure joy.

To a nine-year-old, the concept of arranged marriages didn't exist. She saw her favorite teacher becoming her new mother, and that was all the logic she needed.

"Will she live with us now?" she'd asked, practically vibrating with excitement. Her hands were clasped together under her chin in a prayer-like pose and she grinned like a child on Christmas morning.

"Yes. That's what happens when you get married."

"Miss Quinn makes the best hot chocolate at school. Maybe she'll make it for us at home too."

The innocence in her voice had nearly undone me. She had no idea what she was walking into—the complicated web of legalities and time limits that surrounded this arrangement. To her, this was a fairy tale. Her father was marrying the woman she adored, and they would all live happily ever after.

The reality was far more complicated.

The courthouse doors opened, and Sadie walked in with mother.

Even from across the room, I could see the family resemblance—the same dark hair, though streaked with gray on the older woman, the same determined set to their shoulders.

But where Sadie moved with quiet grace, her mother's posture radiated defiance and defensiveness.

"Miss Quinn!" Eloise jumped up and ran to them before I could stop her. "You're here! Are you ready to be my new mommy?"

Sadie caught Eloise in a hug, but her eyes found mine over my daughter's head. There was something different in her expression today—a guardedness that hadn't been there two nights ago when we'd signed the paperwork.

"Hello, Eloise." Sadie's voice was steady, but I caught the slight tremor underneath. "I'd like you to meet my mother, Janet."

The older woman studied my daughter with sharp eyes. "So you're the little girl my daughter can't stop talking about."

"Yep! I'm Eloise. Are you going to live with us too? Daddy says you've been sick, but Miss Quinn takes really good care of people when they're not feeling well."

I approached them slowly, extending my hand to Sadie's mother. "Mrs. Quinn. Thank you for coming today."

She looked at my outstretched hand as if it might bite her but she didn't take it. "I didn't have much choice, did I? My daughter seems to think this is the only way forward."

"Mom," Sadie said quietly, but Janet continued.

"I want you to know that I don't like this arrangement. I don't like being a charity case, and I don't like my daughter having to marry some rich man to solve our problems."

Eloise looked confused, glancing between the adults as she tried to process the tension, but her hand reached up and curled around Sadie's carefully. Sadie smiled at her while I handled her mother.

"I understand your concerns," I said carefully. "And I want you to know that this isn't charity. Sadie is doing me a favor as much as I'm helping her."

Janet's expression suggested she didn't believe a word of it. But the clerk called our names, and we filed into a small room with fluorescent lighting and beige walls. The officiant was a tired-looking woman in her fifties who clearly wanted to get through the ceremony as quickly as possible.

"Do you have rings?" she asked without looking up from her paperwork.

I pulled two simple gold bands from my jacket pocket.

I'd bought them yesterday during my lunch break, choosing the plainest ones I could find. Nothing flashy or romantic. These were tools, props in the performance we were about to give. Just thinking that made my chest twist with emotion I couldn’t place.

The ceremony was sterile and businesslike. We stood facing each other while the officiant read from a script she'd clearly memorized. Eloise stood beside us, holding Janet's hand and beaming with excitement that seemed to fill the entire room.

"Do you, Harrison Vale, take Sadie Quinn to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." The words came out steady, but my heart was pounding.

"Do you, Sadie Quinn, take Harrison Vale to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Sadie's eyes met mine. For a moment, I saw something flicker across her face—doubt, fear, maybe regret. Then she straightened her shoulders.

"I do."

"You may kiss the bride."

I stepped closer, my hands finding her waist. She tilted her face up to mine, and for a second we were both perfectly still. Then my lips found hers, and the sterile courthouse room disappeared.

The kiss was supposed to be performative, a brief seal on our legal transaction. Instead, it burned through me with an intensity that left me breathless. Sadie's lips were soft and warm, and when she kissed me back, I forgot about contracts and arrangements and five-year time limits.

We broke apart, and Sadie's cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with what looked like surprise.

"Congratulations," the officiant said dryly, already reaching for the next couple's paperwork.

We signed the marriage certificate with hands that weren't entirely steady. Eloise bounced on her toes beside us, chattering about the wedding and asking if we could have cake when we got home.

"Actually," I said, sliding the signed document into my jacket pocket, "I thought we could all have dinner together. I had something catered to the house."

Janet's expression darkened. "More charity."

"Mom, please," Sadie said quietly.

"No, I want him to know. We're not beggars. We don't need his handouts."

I looked at this proud, broken woman and saw the source of Sadie's fierce independence. Janet Quinn had spent years refusing help, watching her daughter sacrifice her dreams to keep them afloat, determined not to be a burden even as her body failed her.

"It's not charity," I said gently. "It's dinner, with family."

Family. That's what we were now, legally speaking. A strange, cobbled-together unit held together by necessity and a nine-year-old's joy.

The drive to my house was quiet except for Eloise's chatter from the backseat.

She peppered Sadie with questions about favorite colors and foods and whether she liked scary movies.

Janet sat stiffly in the passenger seat, through the winding streets of our neighborhood.

I flicked a glance at Sadie a few times in the rearview mirror, but she looked upset, not joyful like Eloise.

At the house, the catering company had left everything arranged on the dining room table—roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, fresh bread. Simple, comfortable food that I hoped would ease some of the tension.

Eloise immediately appointed herself as hostess, pulling out chairs and explaining to Janet where everything was located. My daughter had a remarkable ability to charm even the most reluctant adults, and I watched as she gradually wore down Janet's defenses.

"Do you like to read?" Eloise asked as she carefully spread her napkin on her lap. "Miss Quinn—I mean, my new mom—she reads us the best stories at school."

Janet's expression softened slightly. "I used to read to your new mom when she was about your age. She loved fairy tales."

"Really? Which ones?"

As they talked, I caught glimpses of the woman Janet must have been before life wore her down. There was intelligence in her eyes, warmth when she looked at her daughter, and something almost hopeful when she listened to Eloise's endless stream of nine-year-old observations.

But she couldn't resist making pointed comments about the house, the food, the obvious expense of everything around her.

"Must be nice, having enough money to just order dinner instead of cooking it," she said, cutting her chicken with more force than necessary.

"I can't cook very well," Eloise said cheerfully, missing the undercurrent entirely. "Daddy tries, but he burns things sometimes. Maybe my new mom can teach us."

I watched Sadie's face during these exchanges. She barely touched her food, responding to conversation when directly addressed but otherwise staying quiet. The guardedness I'd noticed at the courthouse had only intensified.

After dinner, while Eloise showed Janet the living room and her collection of art supplies, I found Sadie in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher, but it looked like she was on autopilot.

"Hey." I touched her shoulder gently. "Is everything okay?"

She didn't look at me. "Everything's fine."

"Sadie." I waited until she turned around. "Your mother is dealing with a lot right now. The diagnosis, the move, all of this change. She'll come around."

"Will she?" Sadie's voice was quiet, but I caught the pain underneath. "She sees me as her failure. The daughter who couldn't make it on her own, who had to marry a rich man to solve her problems."

"That's not what this is."

"Isn't it?" Now she did look at me, and the vulnerability in her eyes nearly undid me. "She doesn't see things the way I do, Harrison. To her, I'm still that seven-year-old girl whose father walked out because we weren't worth the trouble."

I stepped closer, wanting to pull her into my arms, to tell her that she was worth everything. But before I could reach for her, she held up a hand.

"I need to ask you to keep some distance," she said gently but firmly. "I'm really trying hard to protect both of us by keeping this cordial and not letting the chemistry between us cloud my judgment."

"Sadie—"

"And there's Eloise to think about," she continued. "Her heart is going to break when I inevitably leave. The more real this feels, the harder it's going to be for her."

I wanted to argue, to tell her that maybe she didn't have to leave. That maybe this arrangement could become something more. But the rational part of my brain knew she was right. We'd set boundaries for good reasons, and crossing them would only complicate everything.

From the living room came the sound of Eloise's laughter and Janet's softer chuckle. My daughter was working her magic, offering hope to a woman who'd had precious little of it lately.

"I should get Mom's Uber home," Sadie said, drying her hands on a dish towel. "The nurse will be there soon, and I want to make sure she's settled."

I nodded, following her back to the living room where Janet was examining one of Eloise's drawings with what looked like genuine interest.

"You should go, Mom," Sadie said. "You need your rest."

Janet started to protest, but Eloise jumped up from the couch. "Will you come back tomorrow? I want to show you my room and my book collection."

"We'll see, sweetheart," Janet said, but her voice was warmer than it had been all evening.

I walked them to the door, helping Janet with her coat while Sadie gathered her purse. The cool October air carried the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of winter.

"Thank you," Janet said quietly, and I realized she was talking to me. "For dinner. For… all of this."

"You're family now," I said simply, and Janet grunted gruffly as Sadie walked her out the door and down the sidewalk to a waiting black sedan.

I stood waiting, hovering on the threshold for my new wife to return.

It made my heart ache that she was actually putting down the line in the sand, but I had to respect that.

If something was going to develop between us, it would happen naturally, and my pushing it hard simply because we were officially married would only make Sadie draw back. As much as I wanted to rush, I had to be patient and hope for the best.

"Sadie! I mean, Mom," Eloise called from the door. I hadn't even seen her come up behind me, too busy focusing on how beautiful Sadie looked as she walked back toward the house with crystalized air puffed out around her face as she breathed in the cold night air.

"Shh, honey, the neighbors," I chided, but Eloise was already running, snatching Sadie's hand and dragging her back in the house.

"Mom… can I call you Mom? Or do you want me to call you Mommy?" Eloise was jabbering again, and I saw the emotional torment in Sadie's eyes as they passed us. "Let me show you your room. I know you were here, but you probably didn't see the bedroom.”

Eloise dragged Sadie toward my room and threw open the door, and I saw the deer-in-headlights expression on her face as Eloise flipped on the lights. "You'll sleep with my dad, but he snores. So you might want to get ear plugs and?—"

"Hey there, little bird," I said, scooping Eloise up into my arms. "It's been a long day and we have a big weekend planned. I think it's bedtime."

"No, I want Mom to tuck me in." She reached for Sadie but I turned around, forcing Eloise's chest to mine as I backed up the hallway so she couldn’t see Sadie's face. I had to get this kid away from Sadie so she could breathe for a second.

"On the left," I mouthed dramatically, jerking my head toward the guestroom door, and the look of relief on Sadie's face made my heart pinch. She was happy to have her own room, perhaps sick in the stomach at the idea that Eloise expected us to sleep together.

And I didn't know which was worse—that she'd be under my roof without being able to touch her, or that she was relieved for it to be that way.