Chapter 5: Meeting My “Husband’s” Family

Ashley’s POV

My reflection stared back at me, a stranger in my own skin. I was so used to drowning myself in oversized t-shirts and the comforting embrace of sweatpants.m that wearing something other than that felt odd. In place of my usual fits, I'd picked out a sundress from the array of clothes that Ashton had packed for me for this weekend.

I ran a hesitant hand over the smooth fabric, the material clinging to my curves in places I never knew I had curves, accentuating the unfamiliar contours of my body. But it was the neckline that truly shocked me.

A daring plunge that showed a cleavage I hadn't known existed. It was like staring into a mirror and discovering a hidden landscape. I'd always believed that I was flat-chested, a fact I'd accepted with a shrug, but this dress was daring me to embrace what I'd previously ignored, or maybe it ass just that I wore too many oversized fits to have her noticed in the first place.

A wave of self-consciousness washed over me. I was no Bridgerton heroine, with porcelain skin, great tits and an air of effortless elegance. I was Ashley, the girl who preferred books to boys, who'd rather spend an evening curled up with a good mystery than navigating the complexities of social interactions, especially the one I was about to have this evening at dinner with Ashton’s in-laws.

I glanced down at my body again, the dress molding itself to my form in a way that was both flattering and foreign. A part of me wanted to rip it off, to retreat back into the safety of my oversized world. But another part, a tiny, curious part, was fascinated. So this was how Ashton felt whenever she dressed like this. Confident, powerful.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to meet my own gaze. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to me than I thought.

My fingers hovered over the elastic band that held my stubborn curly hair up in a rough bun.

A bun was the safe option, the familiar territory of comfort and simplicity. But as I looked in the mirror, I figured that I might as well finish what I had started and completely step out of my comfort zone, if I wanted to convince anyone that I was Ashton. With a deep breath, I removed the band and let my curls fall down my neck.

I ran a hand through my hair, smoothing down the rebellious curls. The last time I'd felt this different and exposed was probably in high school, at the awkward age of sixteen, when I'd been forced into a tight dress for the school dance. Back then, I'd felt like a deer caught in headlights. In college, I had successfully managed to evade any form of socializing and lied that it was because I wanted to focus on school, a lie that had ended up flying when I bagged a first class degree in my course of study at the end of the day. Now, I felt more like a gazelle thrown into a lion's den.

Makeup was another hurdle. I wasn’t a pro at concealing, at blending away imperfections. I wasn't Ashton who knew how to do any of these things, another big difference between the two of us and as I stared at the large kit she’d packed, the thought of eyeshadow palettes and contouring filled me with dread. I was a creature of simplicity, using lip gloss and mascara at best.

I was a plain Jane.

“Just do lipgloss, Ashley,” I muttered to myself, a mantra to calm my already racing heart. I rummaged through the makeup bag, pulling out a tube of clear gloss. Perfect.

I applied it with trembling hands, my reflection staring back at me, and wondered if anyone down there would notice that I wasn't the woman that had married into their family.

I wasn't sure I embodied the aura that my sister, Ashton had, if I were being honest but I also didn't look like my usual self. This was a good attempt at a bold, confident woman, someone who belonged in glossy magazines, not in the usual worn-out jeans and oversized sweaters. I realized that was probably why Ashton had gotten married and I hadn't. She’d always been the one who loved the spotlight and as such liked to mingle, which was actually required to secure a relationship, while I preferred to fade into the background.

I could almost hear Liv's laughter, a clear echo of the countless times my best friend had also teased me about my love for the shadows than the spotlight. "I told you, Ash," her voice rang in my head, even now, "You're hiding from the world."

With a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror. It was time to face the music, or in this case, the family. I slipped on a pair of wedges, a compromise between comfort and style. I'd forgotten to carry my contact lenses along, and even though my glasses were mostly for reading anyways, I reached for it and put it in my purse with my phone, fighting the urge to just lock myself in and not go down for dinner.

As I descended the stairs, I spotted Clara, the lady who had ushered me into the mansion earlier, a warm smile on her face. A wave of relief washed over me. At least there was one friendly face in this potential minefield.

"Ah, there you are," Clara said, her voice soft. "You look lovely."

I managed a grateful smile. "Thank you."

“Come with me. I'll show you to the dining room.”

The dining room was a sight that stopped me in my tracks the second I laid my eyes on it. A long, mahogany table groaned under the weight of a feast that could have fed an army. My mouth went dry as I took it all in. I hadn't known what to expect but this was definitely worlds away from the casual takeout life that I was used to.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been standing there until someone cleared their throat, breaking my trance. My gaze snapped around the table, and I found myself the center of attention.

Ashton had briefed me about everyone, and I tried to match faces to names. Alfred, Andreas’s father, sat at the head of the table, his second wife, Margaret, by his side. Adam, Alfred’s first son, and his wife, Sansa, were on one side, the former looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here, while his wife stared at me, her eyes filled with curious interest. Amarinth, Alfred’s second child and first daughter, and her husband, Thomas, sat beside them, the former watching me with a frown playing on her lips while her husband gave me a smile that was so bright, it was suspicious or maybe it was just my fear clouding my judgment. My sister’s husband, Andreas, sat on the other end of the table, a distant look in his eyes that made me want to enter the ground in fear, worried that he probably suspected something while finally, Annabel, the youngest, sat on his side as well, an empty seat between her and Andreas cluing me to the fact that I was supposed to sit there. Beside Andreas Thorne, who looked like he could not be bothered about anything in the world.

Adam and Amarinth were children of Alfred’s late first wife, Grace, while Annabel was Margaret’s daughter. As for Andreas, Ashton had told me that no one spoke of her because she had been a mistress of Alfred’s when Grace was alive, but she was also dead and her name was Maria.

A wave of pity washed over me for Andreas. To be the child born out of wedlock, the one whose mother was not recognized or accepted, it had to be a heavy burden to bear. Quickly, I plastered a smile on my face and rushed over to the empty seat between Annabel and Andreas, praying that the night went well even though a part of me suspected that if even Ashton, my brash sister, didn’t want to be around the Thornes, I was in for a ride.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of my heart. This was it. My very first hurdle to overcome in this wife swap; Meeting my ‘Husband’s’ family.