1
Josie
Karma’s a bitch, and right now? She’s roaring through the mountains like she’s been scorned, rattling the windows of this overpriced rental in my mother’s name with gusts of wind strong enough to blow away an unsuspecting victim who only wants to watch this mess play out.
I’m pretty sure I’ve already heard some journalists complain about the drive up here. It’s a disaster, and everyone knows how bad of an idea it is not to cancel again.
Do I believe my motherliterallycaused a storm to ruin my arranged marriage? No.
But scheduling this shit show with her claws sunk deep and her mind set—only for the universe to drop a tornado watch on us like some kind of cosmic punchline? That’s not a coincidence. That’s fate waving a middle finger in her face. Despite rescheduling three times in a row now, I’ve yet to put a ring on my finger and make this a done deal.
If karma isn’t involved, then it has to be fate at play here. If only I weren’t the only one who could see all the signs.
“This is outrageous!” My mother’s voice could flay paint from walls. I watch as another strand of her meticulously dyed hair abandons the claw clip holding back the rest while she death-glares through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the rain sprinkles.
Soon, it’ll be worse. The locals are saying that downed trees and mudslides should be what we’re worried about.
I should be panicking. Instead, I’m weirdly comforted.
At least the weather matches my mood. Only, I can’t make low-rumbling growls that are felt straight to the core. That’s toounladylikefor a woman like me.
Eyeroll. Barf. Ugh.
“Maybe it’s a sign?” Fighting the urge to sneeze as Delilah tickles my nose with a foundation brush, I blame the twitch of my lips on the tickle. “Sure, you’ve already invited every A-lister you can think of, but only someone crazy enough will try to climb up this mountain in this weather. We could always reschedule again.”
“No.” Snapping out the word, I swear, a growl leavesher. How hypocritical. “You are getting married today. I’m not allowing anything else to get in my way.”
She wants me to marry this random guy with a fancy title, with the assumption of setting herself up for a lavish rest of her older years. He wants me, and she wants a paycheck like it’s some kind of trade.
Forget all about the money I earned through my acting jobs, I guess. Then again, I haven’t been spending too much time with her these last few years since Dad died.
I’m not sure what she’s been getting involved in since she traded in her scripts for her retirement plan.
“What if he changes his mind? I mean, the guy hastwentyyears on me.” Shivering at the thought, I grimace when she clicks her tongue.
I hesitate, considering telling her the truth. That getting married is one of the last things I imagine myself ever doing. Especially to a man who will spend most of his time in his office, who probably only wants a bride to push along his bloodline.
It’ll take a decade or two before I meet a man who has never seen me on screenandwants me just because. One thatIwant to spend the rest of my life with.
Delilah gives me a look as my mother pinches her brows together. By now, she should be used to this song and dance whenever something doesn’t go the way it is planned.
Somehow, the makeup artist hasn’t turned down any of my offers to do my face for my wedding as of yet. She either likes the overtime or the drama surrounding this event.
“He’s a nice man who will take care of you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, covering the buttoned-up blouse. “The least you can do is be thankful for my connections. You’re already thirty years old, Josephine. I’d love to have at least one grandchild before I kick the bucket.”
My brows furrow deeply at her words. They’re the same words she’s thrown at me throughout the years. Always used like a weapon, it’ll only be the start. Once I have kids, what will she want next?
She’s never satisfied, no matter how much promise weighs behind her words.
I’ve tried dating, but of course, no one suited her tastes. They’d be too short, or too nasally, or not good enough. Making this woman happy has always been a weakness of mine. Making her proud was above that.
It’s why I’m sitting in this chair getting my makeup perfected. It’s why I’m marrying a man that I’ve only heard my mother gush about. A successful COO of some sort. I don’t know.
All I want to do is make her say the words I’ve been dying to hear, and even on the day of, her mood is terrible.
Delilah frowns alongside me, snapping the foundation shut. “Ma’am, she only needs a few finishing touches before she is ready to go. You may want to reassure the guests that are waiting before they’re the ones trying to leave.”
Giving her an appreciative smile, I turn to see my mother jerk her head toward the door. For a brisk moment, panic crosses her normally perfect expression. However, a smile returns quickly, and she smooths down the front of her blouse.
