Chapter 24
Colson was attentive and kind the day of our rehearsal, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a facade.
I knew better than to let my guard down; I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
He had a way of lulling me into a sense of security, only to snatch it away when I least expected it.
So, even as we shared a peaceful breakfast together, I remained on high alert.
He seemed almost charming, asking me about my plans for the day, discussing the details of the rehearsal, and even making me laugh a few times.
But beneath his polished exterior, I could sense the undercurrent of control, the way his eyes tracked my every move, as if he were gauging my reactions, measuring my compliance.
The morning passed uneventfully. We spent the afternoon in the library, where he perused his business journals while I pretended to be engrossed in a novel I couldn’t focus on.
The silence between us was comfortable on the surface, but there was an unspoken tension simmering underneath, a tension I knew would explode at the slightest provocation.
As the day wore on, the time came to get ready for our rehearsal.
The crew outside had been hard at work preparing the event space.
I watched from the window as they set up the large white tent on the lawn, the tables and chairs arranged with military precision, the dance floor gleaming under the soft lights.
The air conditioning units were already cooling the space, ensuring our guests would be comfortable despite the summer heat. The ceremony itself would take place on the beautiful lawn, the perfect backdrop for what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
Over 500 guests had been invited, and the thought of standing before them, pretending everything was perfect, made my stomach churn.
The chef was already in the kitchen, preparing a sumptuous meal to be served buffet-style in the ballroom.
The rehearsal dinner was a much more intimate affair, with only about twenty-five people, including Simone, Vaughn, and Easton, attending.
I had barely seen Simone and Vaughn in the past few days, their absence a relief but also a reminder of the tensions that lay beneath the surface. Easton was the only one who had been a constant, his presence a small comfort in this storm of chaos.
Colson caught me staring out the window and came up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist. I stiffened at his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he chose to ignore it.
“Everything looks perfect,” he murmured against my ear, his voice smooth and velvety.
I forced a smile, nodding. “Yes, it does.”
He turned me to face him, his eyes searching mine. “You seem tense. Are you nervous about tomorrow?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “No, just... there’s a lot to take in.”
He stroked a hand down my arm, his touch soft yet possessive. “You don’t need to worry. Everything will go off without a hitch. We’ve planned for every detail.”
His words were meant to reassure me, but they had the opposite effect. They reminded me of the plans he’d made long before I ever had a say in them—plans that involved me, whether I wanted them to or not.
“Thank you,” I whispered, lowering my gaze to avoid his penetrating stare.
Colson tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Josephine, I need you to be at your best tonight and tomorrow. No doubts, no hesitations.”
His words sent a chill down my spine, but I nodded obediently. “Of course.”
He smiled, satisfied with my response, and kissed me on the forehead before releasing me. “Good. Now, let’s get ready. We have a rehearsal to attend, and I want everything to be perfect.”
Tonight, I would have to play the part of the perfect bride-to-be, but beneath the surface, my thoughts churned with unease. I knew Colson could turn on a dime, and the closer we got to the wedding, the more I feared what that would mean for me.
But for now, I had to push those fears aside. I had a role to play, and tomorrow, I would become Mrs. Josephine Ashworth—whether I was ready or not.
Our old house had been a sanctuary of sorts, filled with memories that seemed like a lifetime ago.
When Colson told me he had it renovated and furnished just for us to spend the evening there, I was genuinely thrilled.
It was unlike him to do something so compassionate, so sentimental. Maybe, I thought, he was really trying.
I carefully brought my dress, veil, and shoes over, preparing for what would be the most important day of my life.
Evelina had promised to arrive in the morning with a hairstylist and makeup artist to ensure everything was perfect.
The thought of it all should have excited me, but instead, a heavy weight settled in my chest.
The rehearsal had been tense, the atmosphere thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. Simone’s glare bore into me, her disdain clear in every sneer she threw my way. I tried to ignore her, focusing on the task at hand, but it was difficult when her eyes were like daggers.
And then there was Vaughn. Despite his impending engagement to Serena Henderson, he looked at me with a mix of longing and frustration.
It was as if he wanted to reach out, grab my hand, and drag me away from all of this—away from the marriage I was about to enter.
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought he might actually do it.
But the moment passed, and he turned away, leaving me to face the storm alone.
As the night wore on and we returned to the house, I couldn’t shake the anxiety that had settled in my bones. Colson was trying, but it was hard to forget the man he could be—the man who had shown me his darker side more times than I could count.
I knew I had to put on a brave face, to play the role of the perfect bride-to-be.
But beneath the surface, my mind churned with doubt and fear.
Tomorrow, I would marry Colson Ashworth.
Tonight, I would sleep in the house filled with memories of a simpler time, trying to convince myself that this was the life I wanted.
But Vaughn’s eyes haunted me, and Simone’s sneers echoed in my mind. No matter how much Colson tried to make this night special, I couldn’t forget that in two days, everything would change. I would become Mrs. Josephine Ashworth, and the life I knew would be gone forever.
I couldn't sleep, no matter how much I tossed and turned. The small, renovated house was filled with the quiet sounds as my family slept, their presence both comforting and suffocating. This place, once full of childhood memories, now felt foreign, like I didn’t quite belong anymore.
The familiarity of my old room only made it worse, amplifying the anxiety that twisted inside me.
Finally, I gave up on sleep. The sky outside was still dark, but the first hints of dawn were beginning to appear. I lay there, staring at the window, waiting for the sun to rise, knowing this would be my last sunrise as a single woman and a virgin.
As the light slowly seeped into the room, I slipped out of bed and walked over to the mirror attached to the small closet door.
My reflection stared back at me, pale and anxious.
My eyes were shadowed, my shoulders tense.
In just a few hours, I would be transformed—no longer just Josephine Shaw, but Mrs. Josephine Ashworth.
I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, feeling the weight of what was to come pressing down on me. Evelina, the hairstylist, and the makeup artist would arrive soon to make me perfect. I knew that perfection would be more of a mask than a transformation.
A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I opened it to find my mother standing there, a tray in her hands. “I thought you might want some breakfast,” she said, her voice soft, as if she didn’t want to wake the others.
“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered, stepping aside to let her in.
She set the tray down on the small table by the window, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw what she’d brought. An assortment of pastries, croissants, and bagels, all still warm from the oven, along with a pot of fresh coffee and a colorful fruit salad.
“These are from the bakery, aren’t they?” I asked, recognizing the familiar scent of the pastries.
She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I wanted you to have something special this morning.”
I picked up a croissant, its buttery scent filling the room, and took a bite. The pastry melted on my tongue, each layer crisp and tender. It was a taste of home, of comfort, in the midst of all the chaos.
As I ate, my mother sat down on the edge of the bed, watching me with a mixture of concern and love. “How are you feeling?” she asked after a moment.
I hesitated, not wanting to worry her, but the words slipped out anyway. “I’m... nervous. Everything feels so overwhelming.”
She reached out and took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s normal to feel that way. But you’re strong, Josephine. You’ve always been strong.”
I managed a small smile, grateful for her support, but the weight of the day ahead still pressed heavily on my shoulders. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot.”
Before she could say more, the door creaked open, and Logan peeked in. “Hey,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, gesturing to the tray. “Mom brought breakfast if you’re hungry.”
Logan’s eyes lit up when he saw the pastries. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, grabbing a bagel and a cup of coffee. He took a seat on the floor by the window, his presence a comforting reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.
We sat together in the soft morning light, the quiet sounds of the house waking up around us. My father joined us after a few minutes, his eyes still heavy with sleep but a smile on his face when he saw the food.