Brandon's Notebook (A TMMM Bonus Material)

Journal 9: Nothing Else

On Sunday morning, day of the engagement party, I called Simone. 

Well, I called Charlotte first to greet her good morning and reassure her that she's going to be just fine at the party. Talking to her reminded me of the other woman I'd hurt in all of this so after I hung up with her, I dialled a number I hadn't called in a while.

I'd sent Simone an invitation to the party because despite our past intimacy, she's still an old friend of mine, but after Gerard's comments the night before, I was questioning the wisdom of it.

She sounded excited when she picked up and I had to suppress a sigh because the first words out of her mouth were that she missed me. 

As gently as I could, I told her that maybe it wasn't a good idea for her to come to the party. I could tell the instant her demeanour changed. She stonily told me that she wanted to meet Charlotte. She wanted to meet the woman she's forced to play second fiddle to. That was an even worse idea and I told her that. She didn't say anything for a long time that I thought she hung up on me. Then she asked the question I've been dreading: Where does this leave us now?

Nowhere, really, because there's no us anymore. 

I'm getting married, even if it's just for a year, and despite all the stupid things I said to Charlotte about being with other women, I not going to cheat on her. To be honest, even if I wanted to, I don't know where I'll ever find the time because Charlotte would be pretty hard to ignore. She isn't the type to be put on a corner to be forgotten. She's a mini blonde bulldozer.

In the end, all I ended up telling Simone was that I was sorry for hurting her and that she deserved better. She asked me if she should wait until I was no longer married after a year. I haven't looked that far into the future and at this point, I didn't want to just yet. I told her we'll have to wait and see what the future brings but that she shouldn't put her life on hold for my sake.

I spent the rest of the day working from home because I was taking some time off for the wedding and the honeymoon (which I still haven't finalized). In between emails and reports, I called Charlotte to check on her progress and ensure that she hasn't bolted yet. She was spending the day with Felicity and her style team, prepping for the event, so she was in good hands but I was still a little paranoid. The party was going to be our first official appearance together in public and that spotlight could be daunting to someone who wasn't used to it. I made arrangements with Felicity to make sure that there would be as many familiar faces as possible in the party for Charlotte so she wouldn't feel so alone in a sea of strangers. 

Barford came in the afternoon, bearing the necklace I'd commissioned for Charlotte to wear to the party. It was purely a thing of whim I decided on after our ring shopping at the jewelry store where Charlotte declared she could afford nothing more than the paper bag. She deserved something sweet and special and the pink and white diamonds were perfect for her—unconventionally beautiful, fun and enduring.

It took me no time to get a haircut, shower, and get ready for the party. Jake also left me a message to say that he was going to be there because he wanted to make sure I hadn't hit my head or something. Jake was a far more advanced ladies' man than I was and he took the news of my engagement like it was an apocalyptic announcement. He went as far as to promise rescue if I were indeed making this decision under duress. 

When I showed up at Charlotte's house and saw her standing in the middle of the living room, clad in what looked like a stream of starlight, I felt like someone knocked the wind out of me. The fact that she had a slightly guilty look on her face with her bottom lip thrust out, her eyes sparkling with humor because she wasn't really all sorry for fantasizing about cheeseburgers, made me want to run up and grab her, the engagement party be damned. I had to remind myself I was a civilized man and Boston's elite, who was waiting for us at Thurston House, wouldn't appreciate my caveman tendencies.