The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (18 page)

It wasn't until I saw the flash of steel in his eyes that I realized he was also very, very angry.

"As you wish, Charlotte."

Saying nothing else after that, he walked past me and disappeared around the house.

It didn't take long for me to realize that getting what I wished for wasn't the same thing as becoming happy—not when your happiness was the one person you wished would stay far away from you.

"Jake, I love you forever and ever."

He smiled and rolled his eyes at me just as I stole a couple more gummy bears from the small pack he'd snuck into the wedding rehearsal two days later.

It was late in the morning and Shelly had been making us run through the ceremony sequence in the past hour and a half. The wedding entourage of about twelve people were there at the small private chapel, including the groom of course who only talked to me when necessary.

It was fine by me. I still wasn't happy with Brandon since our fight at his father's house but I was determined to fulfill my role as the perfect wife diligently doing her duties, including bearing the rehearsal with him with civility and a smile on my face. I was sure that the people close to us like Martin and Jake wouldn't miss the strain between us but Martin was very subdued while Jake did his best to keep me company and lighten up my mood. Hence, the gummy bears. 

"Do you love me enough to ditch this fancy wedding and run away with me?" Jake asked with a mock-serious expression on his face.

I choked on the candy and he gently clapped my back. 

"Don't blurt that out to random girls, Jake," I said with a laugh after I caught my breath and cleared my throat. "Someone might actually take you up on it."

He grinned. "I only ask it from girls I actually want answers from."

"Did you get a yes each time?" I asked, playing along and popping another gummy bear into my mouth.

He shrugged. "I don't know. You're the only one and you haven't given me an answer yet."

Warmth crept on my cheeks and I was about to respond when someone cleared their throat loudly behind us.

Brandon was standing there without expression, barely acknowledging his friend. I tensed up.

We had been given a fifteen-minute break and Jake plied me with gummy bears. Not too long ago, I saw Brandon taking a phone call and pacing away at the front steps of the chapel. I hoped to God he hadn't been standing there for too long because I didn't want to get into another fight with him about Jake who despite his flirtations, was relatively harmless.

Less harmless to my heart anyway.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked gamely, giving him a slight smile. 

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he said, gesturing to the side entrance of the chapel. 

I opened my mouth to ask what for but quickly realized that Jake was standing there, watching our exchange. It would be awfully confusing if my fiance needed a whole whack of reasons to just talk to me for a minute. I was marrying the guy after all. I should at least be able to talk to him.

"The break will soon be over though," I said, stalling just a little bit, glancing at the wedding planner who was busy giving directions to the choir director. 

One of Brandon's brows arched. "I'm sure she won't start without the bride and the groom. We won't be long."

"Okay, sure." I nodded and thrust Jake the half-empty pack of candy. "I'll see you in a little bit, Jake. Guard my loot for me."

"With my life," he assured me with a grin, pressing the pack to his chest. 

I laughed and turned to Brandon whose eyes narrowed just a tiny bit. I sobered up, bracing for a scolding but he said nothing. He just pressed a hand on the small of my back which I fought hard not to react to, steering me to the door.

The small, white chapel looked like it was plucked out of a countryside painting. It was in a small but wide stretch of agricultural land just an hour outside of Boston, landscaped with a sloping meadow and a row of old, large trees with low-hanging branches that lined the property. 

I picked it out myself for the more remote location and the pastoral beauty of it. It also happened to be the chapel where I attended my first wedding ever as a child—one of my Mom's friends who asked me to be a flower girl. The chapel looked exactly like it did all those years ago and although this wedding wasn't for true love or anything like that, I still got a thrill from the idea of getting married here.

"So..." I started, letting my voice trail off in hope of prompting Brandon who said nothing since we stepped out on the grassy side yard of the chapel a minute ago. 

Brandon looked up at me and I nearly sucked in a breath. The late morning sun streaked through his hair, catching rare glints of red and gold among the thick, dark locks and sculpted his already chiseled features into perfection.

Damn. I missed him. I missed the smile on his face and the warmth in his hazel eyes.

And this is why you avoided spending time alone with him in the last couple of days. Distance, my friend, is your only defense.

Apart from not wanting to lay eyes on him, I also didn't want him laying eyes on me with the same kind of intensity he was doing so right now, as if he could pick through the layers and find me if he stared hard enough.

I tried hard not to squirm. I was in sneakers, jeans, a black shirt and a ponytail—not my most polished look especially in comparison to the sleek and ever-fashionable Simone Clarke if her pictures on the internet were any proof. I told myself it was useless and unhealthy to attempt to measure up to the woman but it was hard not to think about it. Not when I see Brandon who looked sharp and sophisticated as usual, unchanged from how he looked in those pictures with her in some events they attended to how he looked right now, standing in front of me.

And that's why they belong together. You and Brandon are like a mismatched pair of shoes. You'll never look right together.

I inwardly sighed. Before meeting Brandon, I never had any real confidence issues. I was too busy working and dealing with the crap in my life to worry about it. Now I felt inadequate which was another reason as to why we would never work—not even one year together. I'd eventually hate myself for letting my insecurities fester like this.

"Felicity said your stuff is being moved to the penthouse today and tomorrow," he finally said, drawing me out of my thoughts. "Your room is ready but I thought maybe you'd want to check it out yourself and see if there's anything else you need. I don't think you'd really want others to know we have separate bedrooms."

Why not? We're already pretty estranged for a couple who's still three days away from the altar.

"I'm sure it's fine," I said with a shrug. "It can't be any worse than my room now."

He looked at me before letting out a long sigh. "Alright. You'll see it anyway when we arrive there from the wedding. If anything needs to be changed, we can have it done while we're away for the honeymoon for a week."

I swallowed hard at the mention of the honeymoon. Oh, we'd mentioned it so casually before but it just seemed like a theory in my head. After the wedding, I'd actually be off somewhere alone with Brandon in what was most probably a very romantic, private setting.

My stomach churned. Going off on a romantic getaway was not the way to go in avoiding a man you want far away from your heart.

"Um, is the honeymoon necessary?" I asked quietly, biting my lower lip. 

Brandon's eyes narrowed. "If we're going to make people believe that we're so crazy about each other we had to get married right away, then yes, it's absolutely necessary. We're already pushing it by only going for a week."

I nodded, reluctant but resigned to his point. "Where are we going anyway?"

Brandon had said before that he was taking care of all of that. Now I wondered if he was making arrangements to bring his mistress with him as well and meet up with her there when he wasn't with me.

For the love of God, Charlotte. Stop. Thinking. About. Them.

"Somewhere you'll like, I hope," he said, cracking the first smile I've seen on him since we saw each other this morning when he picked me up for the drive here. It wasn't even a full smile but it sharpened the ache in my heart.

"You still won't tell me?" I asked in disbelief. "I'm about to start packing and I have no idea what to bring because I have no clue where we're going."

He shrugged. "Bring whatever you'd like. We can always buy you whatever you need when we get there."

"Hmm. That means it'll be somewhere within civilization," I said, rubbing my chin. "Somewhere with electricity and potable water, I assume."

He laughed and I smiled reluctantly despite myself. "We're not going to the middle of a wilderness somewhere, if that's what you're thinking. Yes, there will be water and electricity and comfortable accommodations. Don't pack as if you're preparing for the zombie apocalypse."

I feigned disappointment. "No? I was going to bring my combat boots out and my go-bag."

Brandon's smile deepened. "You can still bring them if you want to. I doubt you'll need them but if it makes you happy, then do it."

"Nah," I said, waving a hand in the air. "Felicity might kill me if I do. Do you know that she and Armina ordered me an entire wedding trousseau? Can you imagine that? It's the twenty-first century but she insists it's making a comeback to those who can afford it—you being among them. She told me they've supplied it with the most luxurious lingerie on earth—silks, satins, lace! God! Those two are crazy!"

It wasn't after several heartbeats that I noticed Brandon had fallen quiet and I glanced at him and saw his jaw clenched, his eyes hooded.

"Silks, satins and lace?" he repeated in a distinctly raspy voice. 

I flushed, realizing the impact of my words. "Uh, well, yeah. They're lingerie, silly, not underwear. I was assured there was a huge difference and I agreed only on the basis of price. One's affordable and the other's heinously expensive."

 
"I don't care how expensive they are," was Brandon's quick, almost-stubborn response. 

I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment and the unwelcome awareness of just how this conversation about lingerie had gotten my imagination roaring—or purring.

"You know you won't get to see me wearing them, right?" I asked gently, rubbing my temple. "It's not worth your expense."

The light in his eyes dimmed but he took a breath as if to steel himself back into our reality. "It's alright. I'll know you're wearing them."

My cheeks continued to burn hot but since I couldn't come up with a discouraging response, I stuck my tongue out at him and he just laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Yes. Real sexy, Charlotte," he said with an amused shake of his head before sobering up from what was surely a consistent glare from me.

"Speaking of sexy, I heard Aimee is throwing you a bachelorette party tonight," Brandon said. "Gilles told me you gave him the night off. Who exactly is going to look after you?"

I shook my head. "No one because I don't need it. I mean it, Brand. It's Wednesday night, for God's sakes.  We're going to splash around the private pool lounge on the hotel rooftop. Maybe do a little dancing. And maybe the other girls will get sloshed. Who knows? Aimee assured me she didn't hire male strippers or anything pervy like that."

"Good to know you're safe from anything pervy like that," was Brandon's dry remark as he smiled. "I, on the other hand, am being hounded by some buddies to let them throw me a stag party so they could have pervy things such as female strippers."

I wrinkled my nose. "Typical. Why don't you let them?"

Brandon shrugged. "Because I already have enough problems with you about other women. The last thing I want is to give you more reason to punish me."

My mouth dropped open. "I'm punishing you?"

As much as hated to admit it, I was glad that Brandon wasn't having a stag party and acquainting himself with more female bodies. The fact though that he saw himself being punished by me for the whole squabble about Simone caught me off guard.

He raised a brow at me in challenge. "Aren't you? Cozying up with Jake? Ignoring me? Holding me at arm's length? Pushing me away at every possible opportunity?"

"I recall explaining this to you when we talked at your father's house," I said in a surly tone, crossing my arms over my chest. "This isn't punishment, Brand. It's called self-preservation. Just because you don't care to protect me, doesn't mean I can't protect myself."

His face hardened. "I'm not going to hurt you, Charlotte. I may have been a certified villian coming to you with this ridiculous idea to get married but I would never hurt you."

The look on his face mellowed my temper. He clearly meant what he said about not intending to hurt me but Brandon was most likely not well-acquainted with hurt and didn't know all the forms it could come as.

"There's no singular way of hurting somebody, Brand," I said quietly, making no move when he squatted down in front of me and started tying the laces on one of my sneakers that had come undone.

Unable to help myself when a warm, tender weight settled in my chest, I reached out and touched his hair ever so lightly with my fingers. "I just can't be the person you discover those other ways with."

He rose to his feet, now closer to me than he'd been a minute ago, and his hazel eyes were gazing down at me searchingly. "There's no singular way to show someone you care, Charlotte. I just have to make sure I'm the person you discover those other ways with."

And with that, he pressed a soft kiss on my forehead. "Have fun at your party."