CHAPTER 224: THE ARRANGEMENTS

Joanne turned instinctively toward Christina, searching for reassurance. The older woman reached out and gently took Philip’s hand. Her face was soft, overwhelmed even.

Philip cleared his throat, his voice thick with restrained emotion. "I’d be honored," he said, at last.

Only then did Joanne notice the way his eyes glistened, the way he sat so still, not from hesitation, but from composing himself.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as a smile bloomed on her lips.

Jeffrey reached for her hand, and she took it, her fingers trembling with the depth of the moment.

She felt held. Chosen. Loved. Surrounded by warmth. And that, more than anything, was all she had ever wanted.

Philip was still visibly moved, but he quickly shifted gears to the next order of business—the wedding expenses.

"And don’t worry about the costs. Sean had left~"

"No," Joanne interrupted gently but firmly. "Papaw didn’t."

Her voice was calm, but resolute. "He didn’t save for my college tuition. He didn’t leave anything for the debts. He certainly didn’t plan for my wedding."

She loved her grandfather deeply, but she didn’t romanticize the truth. She saw him clearly, with his flaws and his failures, and loved him all the same.

Philip let out a soft chuckle, bowing his head as he rubbed his brow. Christina gave him a knowing smile.

"Well," he said, composing himself again, "since I’ll be walking you down the aisle, I’ll take responsibility for the wedding expenses."

He should’ve known better than to try slipping something past her. Joanne wasn’t easily swayed by sentiment or courtesy.

They stared at each other in a silent standoff—measuring, weighing, pushing. A quiet battle of wills unfolded between the two, both determined not to be outdone.

Finally, Joanne spoke. "I’ll cover the cost of our outfits, the wedding band, the travel expenses for my guests, and the reception in Rockchapel. You can take care of the rest."

She knew the people of Rockchapel wouldn’t likely show up for a grand affair at the Wimbledon estate. Also, they were mostly farmers and self-employed. They wouldn’t travel to another continent for a wedding. She couldn’t expect them to. Few will for her, but not many. An open-bar reception with loud music and laughter... That, they would never miss.

Jeffrey had long since removed himself from the negotiations, now seated beside his grandmother. He exchanged a glance with Christina, who looked equally amused. Both expected this back-and-forth to drag on for hours.

But they underestimated the negotiators in the room.

"Deal," Philip said with a smirk, rising to extend his hand.

Joanne stepped forward to shake it, but just as her fingers reached his, Philip withdrew.

She tilted her head, bemused. "Now what?"

"Only one condition," Philip said, voice low but sincere. "Call me Grandpa from now on. And that makes Chrissy your Grandma."

Joanne froze. Her heart gave a quiet jolt. She looked to Christina, who nodded in agreement, her expression warm.

Jeffrey smiled and approached, gently rubbing Joanne’s lower back. He knew exactly how much this meant to her.

"Okay... Grandpa," she said, her voice soft, eyes bright with emotion.

Philip’s smile deepened with quiet pride.

Joanne turned to Christina. "This is a shotgun wedding, and I never had many preferences anyway... So, Grandma, can I ask for your help with the arrangements?"

"Of course, dear," Christina replied, standing to take Joanne’s hand.

And just like that, it was official; not just the wedding, but the family they had chosen, and who had chosen her right back.

-----

Joanne had insisted she would pay for her wedding dress—but Christina had already beaten her to it. She had procured the finest satin and lace, rich with texture and shimmer, perfect for the kind of gown befitting the woman marrying her grandson.

Joanne reached out to Cynthia—the talented seamstress from Wimbledon with the quaint little shop—and as soon as she heard the details, Cynthia boarded a plane without hesitation. By the time she landed, she already had four rough sketches in hand.

Joanne chose the simplest of them.

She didn’t want extravagance—she wanted elegance. For her, it was the quality of the fabric, the craftsmanship of the stitching, and the way the dress flowed when she moved that mattered most. She trusted Cynthia to bring that vision to life.

But just as she thought the gown couldn’t be more beautiful, Christina offered one final touch: small, scattered diamonds to be sewn into the bustline—nothing loud, just enough to catch the light and whisper opulence.

In the end, despite her initial resolve, it was clear that more than half the cost had come from Philip’s side.

Joanne could only sigh. What was she going to do—argue with her grandfather for spending too much on her wedding dress? She wasn’t that foolish.

Besides, everything was falling into place. The other arrangements, too, were coming together effortlessly. And through it all, Jeffrey was by her side—steady, supportive, and smiling like he had just remembered he was the luckiest man alive.

After spending a week at the Winchester Estate—where most of the wedding arrangements had been decided, or at least where Joanne had made her choices—she felt ready to return to Rockchapel. Christina had promised to see everything through just as Joanne envisioned it, and Joanne trusted her completely.

Besides, her animals missed her. And now that her morning sickness was truly staying confined to the mornings, she figured she could manage the eight-hour journey home without much trouble.

She was just about to book her own ticket when Jeffrey stepped in and insisted she take one of the Winchester private jets. Joanne hesitated. She would have been fine chartering a flight if needed—they’d be doing that plenty in the coming months—but Jeffrey wouldn’t hear of it.

With the travel plans settled, Joanne went to say her goodbyes to Philip and Christina. It was likely the last time she’d see them before the wedding. Given her early pregnancy, she didn’t want to risk too much travel later.

Jeffrey stood by her side as she relayed her plans. But no sooner had she said she was leaving than Philip’s expression shifted—sharpened with fury.

"You’re not learning anything, are you?" he snapped at Jeffrey, his voice edged with fire.

Joanne flinched, startled. She didn’t understand why Philip was so angry. It couldn’t possibly be about her taking the jet—he wasn’t that petty.

Then Philip exploded: "You got her pregnant, and you’re sending her off alone after proposing to her? Do you have any sense at all?"

Jeffrey stood frozen, stunned into silence. Philip’s words landed with force—and fairness. He had business to handle, yes. But how had it never occurred to him that he should go with her? That people in Rockchapel would want to see the man who had proposed to their girl?

Joanne stepped in gently, her voice calm. "He’s working hard, Grandpa. He’s arranging everything. I’ll be fine, truly. It’s a private jet—it’s comfortable. I don’t mind going alone."

But Philip only sighed, rubbing his temple in exasperation. "It’s not about comfort. It’s not proper, Poppet. You step foot in Rockchapel and the first question everyone will ask is: Where’s Jeffrey? What are you going to tell them?"

Joanne didn’t want to pressure Jeffrey—he was already juggling a lot. But Jeffrey, for once, saw it clearly. His grandfather was right. Joanne had gone through enough insecurities the past week, even if she was managing them with grace now. He should’ve been the one to think of it first.

"She’s right, but so are you," Jeffrey said quietly. "I’ll come with you, Jo. I can handle things from there."

Technology made everything possible. And if something absolutely needed his physical presence, he could always travel back. But now, his priority was her.

Joanne looked at him, her eyes softening. She wanted to be with him forever—how could she refuse?

And so, Jeffrey flew back with her to Rockchapel, hand in hand, happily.