Journal 5: The Terrifying Unknown

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A/N: Hello, everyone! Sorry if this was a bit late. i'd been having lots of computer issues lately where I could only do one thing at a time if I didn't want the whole thing to crash. It's very frustrating but I'm coping until I get the whole thing replaced.

Anyway, here's another journal entry from Brandon. This covers Chapter 3 & 4 in TMMM and this might offer a different version of reality from what Charlotte thought when they kissed so I hope you enjoy it.

BTW, to those who'd asked for these entries to be longer and have dialogue, I really can't oblige you because this whole thing is supposed to be Brandon's journal which means they're going to read like diary entries. Dialogues usually don't get included in them and besides, the dialogue won't be any different from the one written in TMMM because this is just Brandon's perspective during the same scenes he and Charlotte had both gone through. 

Anyway, hope you enjoy. Thanks!


I came to Marlow's today knowing I'd won.

I knew from Gilles's report that Charlotte had been making rounds with banks and other loan agencies. I knew her mortgage payments had added up over the months and she was running out of time. There was no better way out for her than to accept my offer.

She was going to sign the contract and marry me with haste. 

I was mulling over the many satisfying ways this deal turned out when she arrived at my table. I have to admit that my brain experienced its first uncharacteristic malfunction when I saw her in this blue sundress that brought out the color of the sea from her eyes. Her wild hair was haphazardly twisted into a bun, revealing the graceful shape of her neck and her proud shoulders. Without a trace of make-up on, she looked as fresh as a damn spring flower and I felt the familiar coil of heat in my gut. 

Then I realized she was wearing flip-flops. 

It was rare to see them because all the women I'd been with were always elegantly put together, going almost everywhere in nothing but designer heels. With her basic white rubber flip-flops and toenails painted a baby blue color, Charlotte reminded me of just how different she was from the women I was used to.

At nineteen, she was too young that I probably would've never even glanced in her direction if my father hadn't spun me on my head with his ultimatum. She also had rougher edges and a personality stronger than I would've ever liked in the kind of woman I'd go for but that was really about where her cons ended. 

Her pros... well. Despite her age, her slightly faded dress and her mouth that drove me a little crazy when she was wielding it against me as a weapon of mass destruction, I wanted to kiss her so much she wouldn't be capable of smirking at me or tossing infuriating but amusing comments my way when I was done with her.

I kept fighting the mental image, which she'd worsened when she confidently declared that she had all her curves in the right places, as I sat there and watched her eat after protesting too much that she could afford to feed herself just fine. It was a matter of pride for her but I wondered if she realized how her eyes shimmered dangerously with tears when she stared at the giant plate of food in front of her. I felt a surge of anger at that. No one should ever be that hungry.

But it was a brief moment of weakness for her because Charlotte never seemed to dwell on bad things for too long. It would seem that she bounced back from anything, fiercer and bolder than the first time. I haven't decided yet whether that was a good thing or not.

As we sat there and argued about how Mrs. Maxfield should be (which we clearly had different ideas on), I wondered again if I knew what the hell I was doing. Obviously, I knew how a Mrs. Maxfield is expected to be. Both my mother and Evelyn sketched out that role to perfection when they held the title once. Society cleaved to them without question. Charlotte had very little in common with either woman and she showed no inclination of molding herself to the role, if her creative summary of what a Mrs. Maxfield should be was anything to go by.

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