CHAPTER 228: A NIGHT APART

Joanne looked at Jeffrey and smiled, warm and certain. "No. I love you. You’re protecting me. I see that."

Her words reached deep into him. It wasn’t just that she understood—she trusted him. She knew that behind every harsh decision was a softer truth: his need to guard her peace.

He leaned forward and kissed her. "I love you," he whispered.

He waited while she took a quick shower and made sure she was tucked comfortably into bed, warm and relaxed. Everyone had advised him not to spend the night before the wedding with her—tradition, superstition, whatever. Normally he would’ve ignored it, but Joanne seemed to believe it mattered. So, he respected that.

Still, he lingered. His fingers drifted through her hair, thick and silken from pregnancy. Her skin glowed with a gentle radiance, and her eyes had softened, lending her an ethereal grace.

She looked like an angel.

"See you tomorrow, love," she said, lifting his hand and kissing it, as if she knew how much he hated the idea of leaving her.

"Can’t I stay?" Jeffrey murmured, burying his face against her chest like a boy trying to disappear into warmth. She smelled like lavender and comfort and everything he couldn’t bear to part with.

Joanne ran her fingers slowly through his hair, brushing back the strands, feeling the tension melt under her touch. Her heart ached a little for him. She knew how much he valued the comfort she offered. It was, in a way, harsh to ask him to go to bed without her.

"You know the rules," she said softly, her voice teasing with just enough firmness. "You’ll see me in less than ten hours... in white. With music and flowers and way too many people watching you cry."

"I’m not going to cry," he grumbled into her skin.

"You are," she whispered, smiling.

Jeffrey lifted his head, just enough to look into her eyes. "You’re heartless," he muttered, sulking.

Joanne laughed, nudging his nose with hers. "You knew what you were marrying."

"That I did," he said. He leaned in again, his lips brushing hers in a slow, reluctant kiss. "And I’ll marry you again and again... even if you keep sending me away like a stray."

Joanne chuckled and cupped his face. "You’re not a stray. You’re a very dramatic groom."

He held her hand to his cheek and let his eyes close for a long second. Then, with another kiss on her forehead, he sat up and sighed. "Alright. I’ll go. But don’t blame me if I climb through the window at 2 AM."

"I’ve locked it," she said, smug.

"I’ll climb anyway," he grinned.

Joanne rolled her eyes and leaned over to the nightstand, grabbing something. She turned back with a tiny brown teddy bear—the one she found in a store and bought for their child—held out like a peace offering.

"Here," she said solemnly. "So you don’t feel too lonely tonight."

Jeffrey stared at it and laughed despite himself. "You’re sending me away with this?"

She shrugged with a smile. He was adorable. She then leaned and blew on the toy. "See... I’ve enchanted it. He keeps nightmares away. Even yours."

Jeffrey shook his head and leaned down to kiss her once more, slow and lingering. "You’re ridiculous. And I love you." His hand gently caressed her belly. "Sleep well, baby... Look after your mother..." he whispered as he placed a gentle kiss on her stomach.

He turned back one last time at the door, watching her curl up in the covers, the golden glow of the lamp softening her features.

"Sleep, my love," she whispered, smiling sleepily. "I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle."

He didn’t answer, afraid his voice would crack. Instead, he closed the door slowly and leaned against it in the hallway, teddy bear in hand, heart so full it almost hurt.

Tomorrow, he’d marry her.

And nothing, not people, not distance, not time, and certainly not stupid traditions, could ever keep them apart again.

-----

While Joanne rested peacefully, the atmosphere at the dinner party darkened. Her guests had left first, their presence a pleasant breeze now gone. But the storm remained.

Nicole and Greta were deep in hushed conversation, their expressions sharp and disapproving. Christina noticed it at once. She leaned close to Philip and gently nudged his arm, a silent cue to leave. She knew what those two were capable of, especially when they had grievances to air. This wasn’t the time. Not on the eve of their grandson’s wedding.

But the heavens were not so kind.

Greta stepped in front of Philip, blocking his path with theatrical indignation.

"You never spent this much on my wedding!" she accused. "Adjusted for inflation, I barely got half of this budget. And I’m your daughter. Why does she get to be so special?"

Philip looked at her, his expression unreadable. His daughter, his own flesh and blood, stood there, flushed with envy, small and petty in her bitterness. Was it not his grandson’s wedding? Couldn’t he spend his money however he wanted to?

He sighed.

"And where is your husband?" he asked mildly, voice calm and unhurried.

That question cut deeper than Greta expected. She flinched. But he wasn’t done.

He had never approved of her choice. She wasn’t ready for marriage, and the man she chose wasn’t someone of good character. He’d told her as much. But she wouldn’t listen. And he, both a father and a businessman, couldn’t bring himself to invest in a wedding he knew would fail.

And he was right. They proved him right.

Both she and her husband had lovers within a year of their vows. There were parties, scandals, and things that required his personal intervention to contain. Her husband had walked out after securing his "share" and remarried his secretary, only to divorce again. Meanwhile, Greta flitted between lovers, refusing to be publicly divorced again for fear of further "family shame."

Philip was left hollowed by it all. Perhaps he had spent too much of his life building his empire, not his family. None of his children gave him peace. Except now, thankfully, he had a few grandchildren he could finally be proud of.

Greta’s face twisted at his silence.

"Seriously, Dad?" she scoffed. "You... you... of all people would say something like that to me?"

Her voice was raw. Her father, once the man who pampered her without question, was now delivering wounds with precision.

"All for her?" she hissed. "That nobody? She could sideline Jeffrey’s mother even now, on his wedding day, and you’re letting her get away with it? What happened to respecting one’s parents?"

Brianna, Robert’s girlfriend, slid closer to Greta. Her presence was quiet, but her alignment was clear. If there was anyone in the family who dared challenge Philip Winchester, it was Greta, and now Brianna stood at her side. Even Christina, once an ally, seemed to favor Joanne.

How had it come to this? How had an outsider, a complete nobody, gained so much influence over the Winchesters?

And the rehearsal dinner! If that was just the beginning, how lavish would the wedding be?