The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (57 page)

***

I felt like someone waiting on death row—dreading the final hour but anticipating my freedom from the endless wait.

I’d resolved to give Brandon a chance to explain but he was gone by the time I got up the next day. It was the first time we hadn't woken up and eaten breakfast together since we got married. 

While I'd admit it was rather late when I got up after the fitful sleep that eventually came over me, the coincidence made me more uneasy.

I was trapped.

I wanted answers and advice but the only person I could talk to about it wasn't around. I didn't want to go to Brandon's family and ask them. 

For one, I'd feel really pathetic being his wife and being the last to know about any of this. Second, if this was supposed to be a secret for a really good reason, I didn't want to jeopardize it by nosing around, especially with a little boy's welfare at stake.

After I did all my duties with Felicity, who was helping me become self-reliant in managing my social responsibilities since she was going back to school this fall for her masters, I took the kids out for lunch and then to the park for a couple of hours.

Normally, I would enjoy every moment of my time playing with them but my heart was tight as if a fist clenched around it, and my mind kept wandering off to Brandon's secret family.

I told myself not to make assumptions yet but while I tossed a frisbee around with Mattie and Rose, I kept thinking all kinds of things—just like someone suffering from sores couldn’t help but pick at them until they bled further.

Did Brandon hold his baby in his arms when he was first born?

Has he played chase with his son?

Did he sing lullabies to him until he fell asleep?

With a wretched sigh, I eventually forced the torturous thoughts out of my head. 

It was hard to remain objective and detached from the situation when doubt racked every conscious second I counted down to the moment I could finally confront Brandon and demand the truth.

I dropped off the children with their respective parents early in the afternoon and during the drive back to the condo, I sat in the back of the car in distracted silence, so much that Gilles, who normally didn’t say more than a handful of words in an entire day, asked awkwardly if I was okay.

I smiled faintly as I reassured him that I was indeed okay, wondering how long it would be before my despondency gave away my inner turmoil. 

I couldn’t afford for people to ask questions because I didn’t have ready answers of my own yet.

Maybe you shouldn’t just wait around for them then. Find them until you get to the truth.

“Gilles?” I asked my chauffeur. “Could you drive to Maxfield Towers and park close to where we would see my husband’s car leave the building?”

Gilles’s normally stoic expression turned puzzled as his eyes met mine on the rearview mirror. “You mean...”

I steeled myself. “I mean, park somewhere near Maxfield Towers where we’ll be able to see Brandon’s town car leave the building so we can follow it. It's Monday. He should be working his regular hours.”

I could tell the man wasn’t thrilled about the idea of tailing his employer. 

I wasn’t either.

I hated any kind of deviousness but for the first time in my life, I had a lot to lose and I couldn’t act hastily.

It was like knowing that getting in front of a speeding car would be a sure way to die—or get seriously hurt—but crossing the street anyway in the hope that you’ll make it to the other side without a scratch.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Maxfield,” the man started slowly, using the formal address I was still battling him to do away with. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I need to know I can trust him, Gilles,” I said quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The man was quiet for a long moment that at first I thought he hadn’t heard me at all.

“Trust is no trust at all if you require conditions,” he said with a deep sigh that no more startled me than his words did. 

Tears stung my eyes as I turned away to stare out the car window. 

If I don’t protect my heart, I’d have none of it left to have and give. If I trusted with no reservations, I would’ve been shredded to pieces by my parents alone a long time ago.

Ten minutes later, Gilles parked by a spot along the sidewalk of a row of shops from across the east section of Maxfield Towers. 

It was about mid-afternoon and if Brandon followed his normal schedule, he should be out of the office in an hour. 

Gilles and I sat in silence as we waited even as the hour passed and there was still no sign of Brandon’s town car.

I was starting to feel ridiculous and was about to tell Gilles to maybe turn around and head back to the condo when my phone sounded off with a text message.

[I have some urgent work stuff to do. Will miss dinner and might be home late. Don’t wait up for me.]

I stared at the screen for a moment, my heart twisting painfully.

So I didn’t even get a call now? Just a mere text message. One day, I might stop getting any kind of courtesy notice altogether.

I was in the middle of typing up a reply when another line popped up in the message thread.

[I’m sorry. Will make it up to u. Date next weekend. Love u.]

I deleted the first few words of my scathing reply and typed a quick OK instead.

If you’re lying to me like I dread you are, there will be no weekend date. There might not even be a marriage any longer.

A sharp pain stabbed through me at that thought. 

How much could I accept? How much could I forgive? Will we be ever the same?

I shook my head as if it would physically rid my mind of the voices that were swarming me from every direction.

“Gilles, we probably should go—”

“I see him,” Gilles said at the same time and my heart slammed inside my chest as I glanced up and across the street. 

I recognized the car immediately. It wasn’t his town car but his sports car instead—the one he drove around on his own when he didn’t need Freddy about.

So, Brandon was working out of the office today. 

“Tail it, Gilles,” I said in a stony voice I hardly recognized as my own. 

When the chauffeur hesitated with a glance at me, I scowled. “I said tail it. If you won’t, I’ll grab a cab and go on my own.”

Without another second of delay, Gilles revved the engine to life and pulled out into traffic. 

We followed at a discreet distance, maybe a two or three car lengths, alternating lanes after a few blocks. If I weren’t so nervous, I would’ve asked Gilles whether he’d been some kind of clandestine operations agent or something similar before. It would certainly explain the non-expression expression he always wore.

Not before long, we were getting into Southie (or South Boston). It was a vibrant area—full of history and character being among America’s oldest neighborhoods.

Looking around the street name signs, I realized in dismay that we were near the address stated in that card from Nicole.

‘The first apartment you got for me. You know the way.’ That was what she said.

My stomach clenched like I ate something very bad.

We approached a block of charming, tightly huddled townhouses and saw that Brandon’s car had pulled up in front of a tall but narrow brownstone townhouse. 

Gilles parked discreetly at the end of the block behind an old station wagon, on the other side of the street the townhouse was at.

From where I sat, I could see most of the front steps and the sidewalk right along it. 

I didn’t want to see anything that would confirm my worst suspicions but I couldn’t tear my eyes away either.

“Again, I ask that you reconsider, Mrs. Maxfield,” Gilles quietly said. “You might think you’re looking for reasons to trust him but we both know you’re looking for reasons not to.” 

I bit my lip as I leaned forward to watch Brandon’s car. “Don’t they mean the same thing in the end?”

“They do,” he answered bluntly. “Either way, it means you already don’t trust him.”

I glowered at Gilles despite the pang of guilt I felt at his statement. “You know, it was so much more convenient when you weren’t saying much.”

Gilles gave me a half-smile. “Since I’m the only one here with you, I feel compelled to point out what you already know but you’re stubbornly ignoring.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Insolence is what I get for being so nice to my staff.”

The chauffeur’s smile deepened this time. “No. Concern is what you get for being so nice to your staff. None of them want to see you get hurt.”

Even reluctantly, I felt myself smile when a movement from Brandon’s car caught my attention.

My heart resumed its nervous, ragged beating as I watched Brandon emerge from his car and pull something out—a huge plush panda.

He was just rounding his car when the front door of the townhouse opened and a woman stepped out, holding her arms out to him.

Tears stung my eyes but I blinked them stubbornly away, refusing to miss any bit of the truth that was being revealed before my very eyes.

Nicole.

She was a small woman, maybe only a couple of inches taller than me, but she had a daintiness about her—from the fine, shoulder-length brown hair pulled back by a white headband to the pale green sheath dress she was wearing. She was actually quite beautiful, her smile broad and sunny as she came down the steps to greet Brandon in a tight hug. Brandon’s back was to us so I couldn’t tell whether he was simply pressing his face next to hers as one would in a normal hug or he was giving her hickeys. They were embracing long enough that it was possible.

My breaths were coming out sharp and choppy as I continued to helplessly watch the train wreck in slow motion.

Brandon wrapped his free arm around her with genuine affection, his face lighting up with a smile as he stepped back to look at her.

They both looked up from their excited conversation when a blur of motion came through the front door and materialized in the small form of a boy who latched himself to Nicole’s leg as he looked up earnestly at Brandon.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as I watched my husband bend down and touch the boy’s head, grinning at him indulgently.

Of course you knew he was going to be a good father. If only you knew as well that he was already one.

He was telling Zach something that made the boy’s face brighten up and loosen his hold on his mother’s leg. 

Brandon handed him the panda, which looked almost bigger than Zach, and waited as the boy stared at it with a mouth rounded in curious delight. Brandon laughed when the boy put his arms around the toy for a quick hug. He suddenly turned to Brandon and awkwardly put his free arm around him in a similar hug before he staggered up the steps with fierce determination to manage carrying the panda on his own.

Pain seared through me as Brandon and Nicole shared an amused glance before Brandon laughed and scooped up Zach with one arm and walked him up the steps with Nicole at his side.

In a matter of seconds, they were gone from my sight.

The pain though—the slow, steady stabs through my heart until it was bleeding everywhere—stayed with me.

“I want to leave now,” I said hoarsely as I sagged back into my seat. “Now, please.”

I took deep, long breaths to calm myself and hold it together but my hands started trembling as I tried to literally rub the pain away from my tightening chest. 

“Charlotte?” Gilles asked warily as he turned the engine on. 

Now he was using my first name? Nothing like witnessing someone's pain and humiliation to get personal.

I lifted my eyes to meet his and through the film of tears in my vision, I saw him wince.

“I don’t need your damned pity,” I choked out just as sobs started to rack my shoulders. I pounded on my chest with a clenched fist, trying to stop them but I only felt more suffocated. “Just get me out of here!”

We flew out of there but after only a few minutes, the car stopped.

Through my gasping sobs, I looked up as the door swung open and Gilles poked his head in. 

“Get out,” he said. 

If there was a good time for my bulldog of a chauffeur/bodyguard to leave me alone as he usually did, it would be now. 

“What do you want?” I snapped, grabbing my hair. “Just do your job, goddammit, and get me home!”

Home? Do you mean the penthouse where you’re living out your farce of a marriage?

“Oh, God,” I moaned as fresh tears coursed down my cheeks. “I don’t even have a real home anymore, do I?”

“Get out, Charlotte,” Gilles repeated stubbornly.

I glared at him. “I swear, Gilles, I’m going to kick your—”

I yelped as he grabbed my wrist and unceremoniously dragged me out of the car. I stumbled onto a patch of grass and nearly fell if he hadn't caught me by the elbow.

“Now, shout until you get it all out,” he ordered, standing back. “Or go hit something. Get it out before it eats you alive.”