The Coffin Box at Our Wedding

1: 1

I'd barely settled on our wedding theme when Asher James's female strategist leaned close to his ear again with her latest bright idea:

“Josie's always marched to her own beat. Why not switch the theme to black? Add some skulls. Give her a surprise.”

“A wedding this unique, she'll be so moved.”

Asher nodded and told the planner right away to change the theme to something dark and gothic.

I stood behind them and watched it all, quiet.

This was the thirty-fourth time Paulette Whitney had fed Asher her scheming little suggestions.

Because of her advice,

our wedding suite had gone from Italian minimalist to a searing neon pink,

and our pre-wedding trip had been changed from Peru to her hometown, some backwater county.

I watched every careful plan of mine get rewritten before my eyes.

And Asher just took it as a matter of course:

“Paulette's my strategist. She's the one who taught me how to win you over in the first place. Girls understand girls. If she suggested it, it can't be wrong.”

Before today, I'd told him countless times that all I wanted was a woodland-themed wedding.

He knew that. And still he did whatever Paulette said.

Fine, then. This black skull wedding of theirs.

I decided I wouldn't be attending.

1

“Jo-Jo, guess what surprise I've got planned for our wedding?”

Asher fitted a straw into a warm latte and put it in my hands.

Gentle, the way he always was.

I lowered my eyes.

Maybe he really did just want to plan a surprise for me.

The thought had barely surfaced when Paulette dropped into the seat beside him.

“Josie, I'm so jealous of you. Ashy's so thoughtful with you.”

“Not like me. I fuss over my big boy here day and night, and all I ever get to drink is his leftovers.”

With that she grabbed the coffee Asher was drinking and casually sipped from his straw.

He choked, caught off guard, coffee splashing all over him.

He was usually so particular about being clean, but he didn't mind in the least. He just ruffled Paulette's hair, doting:

“Slow down. Too much and you won't sleep tonight, then you'll be fussing for me to come keep you company again.”

Paulette sucked at the coffee and wiggled from side to side, all smug:

“Well, you're supposed to keep me company. If I hadn't stayed up night after night coming up with ideas for you, how would you ever have landed an influencer like Josie Locke?”

Asher laughed low, teasing her on purpose:

“And who's the one who can't sleep at night and insists on someone telling her stories?”

“Ugh, how could you make fun of me in front of everyone.” She scolded him, swatting at him for show, and he caught her hand and pulled her back with him.

In the scuffle, Paulette ended up sprawled right across Asher's lap.

They flirted and bantered like no one else was there.

The planner off to the side gave an awkward little smile, then stole a glance at me, the bride-to-be,

like she couldn't work out what the three of us were to each other, and finally forced a dry laugh:

“Ms. Locke, your fiancé and his friend are really close.”

Paulette shot upright and stroked an imaginary beard, playing it up:

“I'm not his friend. I'm his daddy! Every decision Ashy makes, he has to run by me first. I'm the one who does the strategizing for him.”

Asher stood, and with the cuff of his custom shirt he gently wiped the coffee from the corner of her mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes. Without my strategist, I really wouldn't know what to do.”

The planner had nothing left to say to that. She just pretended not to see and turned her laptop toward me.

“Ms. Locke, the main plan is more or less locked in. You can take a look at the rest of the details.”

My eyes fell on the screen, and there was our engagement photo, Asher and me, both of us smiling like we couldn't be happier.

I lifted my gaze slowly, back to the two of them being so intimate in front of me,

and my throat tightened:

“Is the confirmed plan the woodland theme?”

Asher cut in quickly:

“Jo-Jo, whatever the theme is, leave the wedding to me and don't worry. I'll give you a wedding you'll never forget.”

I looked at him. “I don't like black, and I hate skulls even more. If that's the wedding you're planning to give me, then let's not have one at all.”

Asher blinked, then frowned, at a loss:

“What is it now? Haven't you always liked things that stand out? That black stone I gave you before, you've kept it on your nightstand this whole time.”

A black stone?

The black stone he'd given me?

The last time Asher came home from a business trip abroad, he had a whole table piled with gifts.

Skincare sets, diamond jewelry, a limited-edition collector's watch.

Every one of them clearly chosen with thought.

I smiled softly. “Asher, you remembered my birthday's coming up?”

He froze for a second, catching up a beat late:

“Of course. Look what I brought you.”

He dug out a strangely shaped black stone from the corner and held it out to me.

“I picked it up on the beach. Isn't it something?”

I hesitated, then nodded, took the stone, and set it carefully on my nightstand.

The moment I turned around, I saw Paulette standing in my living room.

She was looking at the table full of gifts, so excited she was shouting and bouncing:

“Wow, that's my good boy. Every single thing I mentioned, you went and bought it all. So obedient!”

When she saw me, she glanced past me toward the bedroom and snorted a laugh.

Then she patted Asher's shoulder and waggled her eyebrows at him:

“Told you I was right. That stone that looks like a little black turd, Josie would treat it like treasure for sure! Hahaha!”

Asher laughed along and fastened the diamond necklace around her neck.

“When my strategist gives advice, she's never wrong.”

It was only then that it came clear to me.

Everything on that table, all of it, was Asher's gift to Paulette.

My birthday present was only that stone.

I stood there feeling like I didn't belong, and just as I turned to go, a sharp pain shot through my forehead.

“Asher, the headache medicine I asked you to bring back from your trip?”

“Work was too busy this trip, I didn't have time to get it. Next time.” He was busy putting the necklace on someone else, brushing me off without a thought.

I get migraines, and the medication that actually works is only sold in the city he'd gone to. I'd made a point of reminding him before he left.

I pulled open the medicine box and shook the empty bottle.

Asher came over and wrapped his arms around me from behind, light and unbothered:

“Headache again? I'll definitely remember to buy your medicine next time.”

Next time again.

His next-times always came through eventually.

It was just that by then I'd long since had someone else pick it up for me.

It was always like this.

Never in time for when I actually needed it.

Like an invisible thread tied to my nerve endings.

Not pulled tight, not snapped through.

Just yanked taut in every single moment I tried to let myself relax.

The song "Today You're Marrying Me" started playing in the wedding shop,

and the memory broke off. I sat there, dazed.

Across from me, Paulette smiled, heavy with meaning:

“Josie, my good boy here understands what you want better than you do. Maybe a black wedding suits you better after all.”

I gave a faint smile of my own.

“But there's one thing he'll never understand. This wedding, from now on, has nothing to do with me.”