Chapter 22
The day after Christmas, Colson had a doctor at the house before the sun was fully up.
I could hardly believe how quickly he’d arranged it.
As I handed over the small cup of urine, nerves twisted in my stomach.
The doctor assured me she’d have the results in no time, so I went to take a shower, trying to clear my mind.
The hot water cascaded over me, soothing some of the tension. I was in the middle of rinsing shampoo from my hair when I felt Colson’s presence behind me. His arms slid around my waist, pulling me close. His breath was warm against my ear.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispered.
The words hit me like a tidal wave, and I couldn’t hold back the tears.
I turned in his arms, burying my face in his chest, overwhelmed by the emotions that surged through me.
I had always wanted a child, but I’d buried that dream so deeply, I hadn’t dared to hope it might come true.
Colson held me tight, his lips pressing soft kisses into my wet hair.
“I want to be different for this child,” he murmured.
I pulled back slightly to look at him, and that’s when I noticed a bruise on his arm. A deep purple mark that stood out against his skin. I frowned and gently touched it, my fingers tracing the edges of the bruise.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, concern lacing my voice.
“I bumped into the weight bar while I was working out,” he replied casually.
I leaned down and kissed the bruise, as if my touch could make it better. “Does it hurt?”
He shook his head, then reached for the body wash and the purple poof from the shelf. With deliberate care, he began washing me from head to toe, his touch tender and attentive. I found myself savoring the way he cared for me, each gesture filled with a quiet devotion.
Later that morning, I tried to keep my excitement in check as I got to work, though the thought of coffee was no longer an option.
I had to be cautious now, for the baby’s sake.
The morning passed in a blur, and just before noon, Vaughn strolled into my office with a cup in his hand.
He set it down in front of me with a smirk.
“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing the cup suspiciously.”
“Herbal tea, now that you can’t drink coffee any longer,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
I wrinkled my nose, not at all thrilled by the idea of herbal tea. I’d never been fond of it, but it looked like I’d have to get used to it for the next nine months—and however long I breastfed.
“I’m not pregnant,” I insisted, though my voice lacked conviction.
Vaughn crossed his arms, his gaze sharp. “My father told me otherwise. Admit it, Joey. That baby should be mine.”
My patience was wearing thin, and I rubbed at my temples, trying to stave off the headache brewing there. “You’ll have your own baby with Serena,” I said, attempting to deflect his attention.
But Vaughn wasn’t one to be easily deterred. He moved to the door, closed it, and then took a seat across from me, his expression serious. “I’m calling the engagement off,” he announced.
My heart skipped a beat, and my mouth fell open in shock. “You can’t.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why? What do you care?”
I cared because if he married Serena, at least he might leave me alone. The thought of him breaking things off with her sent a shiver of dread down my spine.
“How can you be so cruel? She’s in love with you,” I said, trying to appeal to whatever decency he had left.
“She’s not in love with me. She likes the idea of marriage to an Ashworth. But even if she was, I can’t love her when I love you,” he said, his voice low and intense.
I sighed, feeling the weight of his words press down on me. “Vaughn, you have to stop this. I’m with your father. And you don’t love me – you want what you can’t have.”
He didn’t need to know that I was in love with Colson or that Colson loved me back. Those were truths I clung to, but I couldn’t afford to let Vaughn see them.
Vaughn narrowed his eyes. “He’s almost forty-eight, Joey. That’s a twenty-five-year age difference. What will happen in twenty years when you’re still in the prime of your life and Colson is almost seventy?”
“Twenty-four years,” I corrected him. “I’ll be twenty-four in February.”
A grin spread across his face. “I remember. It’s Valentine’s Day.”
I ground my teeth, annoyed that he remembered. When we were kids, he’d given every girl in our class a Valentine’s card—except me. His excuse was that I didn’t deserve to celebrate twice.
“You’re an asshole,” I muttered, the old hurt resurfacing.
Vaughn reached across the desk and grabbed my Donald Duck figurine, rolling it around in his hand. It was one of my favorites, a small piece of happiness in an otherwise complicated life.
“I had a birthday card for you instead,” he said, his voice softening. “I was waiting to give it to you.”
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Liar. You embarrassed me when it was already hard enough. The king of Windmere Haven waved his wand and made my life even worse. Thank God I had Easton.”
The memory of that day flashed in my mind—how I’d hidden in the greenhouse after school, too embarrassed to face anyone.
Easton had found me there, holding a cupcake with a single candle, offering a small comfort on a difficult day.
The tables had turned a few months later when his mother died, and I was the one who comforted him.
“Easton,” Vaughn repeated, a hint of jealousy in his tone.
I ignored him, my mind already retreating to those distant memories, where life had been simpler, before the tangled web of the Ashworth family had ensnared me.
"Joey..." Vaughn's voice was softer now, almost pleading.
"Please, Vaughn," I interrupted, my tone firm. "If you love me like you say you do, let me be. Let my marriage to Colson blossom."
He scrubbed his face with both hands, frustration radiating from him. "He chose you on purpose, you know that? He knew how I felt about you, and he did it anyway. Colson has always been in competition with me. I'm his fucking son."
It was the same old argument. I pointed a finger at him, my anger flaring.
"This is your fault. All you had to do was not be embarrassed to date me. To have the courage to tell your stupid friends you were in love with me. But you didn’t.
And now, because it wasn’t fair, you want to destroy my marriage? "
"I don’t want to destroy your marriage," Vaughn snapped back. "I’m just telling you what to expect. You’ll have this baby, and when it’s ready to go to college, Colson will be in his mid-sixties."
I slumped in my chair, his words hitting me hard. I’d done the math. I knew how old Colson would be when our child graduated high school, moved on with their life. I also knew I would lose Colson long before I was ready, but I tried to push those thoughts aside.
"I’m aware," I argued, my voice trembling slightly.
Vaughn drew in a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as if he’d just realized something. "Oh shit, you’ve fallen in love with him."
The words hung in the air, heavy and toxic, like a poison cloud. I didn’t respond, couldn’t respond.
"That’s my business," I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Vaughn rose from his chair, his expression turning colder. "He’ll break your heart. You and that child will become irrelevant to him. Maybe he’ll be there for plays, parent-teacher meetings, or graduations, or maybe he’ll be in Tokyo for some meeting. He did it to all of us."
Tears rimmed my eyes as I watched him walk to the door, his back stiff with unspoken anger. "Vaughn," I called out, my voice breaking.
But he ignored me, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hallway. The last thing I saw before he disappeared was my Donald Duck figurine in his hand, taken like a final, cruel trophy of our fractured relationship.
With nausea as my constant companion, I buried myself in the preparations for the annual Ashworth New Year's Eve party. The Ashworth mansion was abuzz with activity, as if the very walls knew that this event was the pinnacle of Windmere Haven’s social calendar.
The ballroom, which had been empty just days before, was now being transformed into a shimmering wonderland. The decorators worked tirelessly, draping the room in all the colors of the season—rich burgundies, deep greens, and glints of gold and silver that caught the light just so.
A caterer was handling the food and wine, thank God. I could barely stand the sight of a kitchen, let alone the smell of anything cooking. The thought of the elaborate menu—caviar, lobster, filet mignon—was enough to make my stomach churn.
But I couldn’t afford to let anyone see my discomfort, especially not tonight. The elite of Windmere Haven would be in attendance, and I had to appear flawless, the perfect Ashworth wife.
It still felt strange to be so fully accepted into their world.
The women who once barely acknowledged my existence now sent endless invitations, requesting my presence at luncheons, charity events, and shopping trips.
I declined most of them. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate their newfound attention, but the truth was, I felt out of place without Colson by my side.
These women had grown up in this world; they were effortlessly elegant, perfectly poised. I, on the other hand, still felt like an imposter, a girl from a different life wearing the Ashworth name like a mask.
Tonight, though, I couldn’t hide. Colson and I would be front and center, the hosts of the evening.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror as I dressed.
My gown was a sparkling silver, the fabric catching the light and reflecting it back in a thousand tiny stars.
It clung to my body in all the right places, the neckline plunging just low enough to be daring, but not scandalous.
I ran a hand over my belly. In a few months there would be a bump as our child grew.
Colson appeared in the doorway, adjusting his cufflinks. He was wearing a Tom Ford tuxedo and looked devastatingly handsome, every inch the powerful, sophisticated man he was. His eyes met mine in the mirror, and for a moment, everything else faded away.
“Joey,” he said softly, stepping behind me. His hands slid around my waist, resting on my stomach. “You look stunning.”
I leaned back into him, savoring the warmth of his body against mine. “So do you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I felt safe with him, like nothing could touch us as long as we were together.
His lips brushed my ear. “Tonight will be perfect,” he promised.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The evening stretched out before us, full of potential, but also of danger. There were so many eyes on us, so many expectations. And there was Vaughn, lurking somewhere in the shadows of my mind, his words still ringing in my ears.
“Let’s go,” Colson said, his tone shifting back to business. He took my hand and led me downstairs, where the sounds of music and laughter were already filling the air. He carefully led me down the stairs.
“I wish you didn’t wear those heels,” he said.
“Colson, it’s fine.”
He brought my hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “I just worry.”
“I might not have been brought up in this life, but I do know how to balance on high heels.”
“I need you to be careful,” he said softly.
“I promise.”
As we entered the ballroom, I took a deep breath, pushing down the nausea that threatened to rise.
The room was breathtaking, the colors of the season blending together in a perfect harmony of elegance and warmth.
Guests were already arriving, a sea of black ties and shimmering gowns, their faces turning toward us as we made our entrance.
I felt their eyes on me, judging, assessing, but I lifted my chin and smiled, leaning into Colson’s strength.
This was my world now, for better or worse. And tonight, I would play my part perfectly.