A/N: Hi everyone! It's been a while, I know, but I've written a bit of the remaining chapters that I thought it wouldn't hurt to give you some of it now.
Also, I made a small tweak at the beginning of the story, placing Charlotte's house farther away geographically than I when I first wrote it. I didn't have plans of placing the story in Boston, it just kind of happened, so I stuck with it. But to be realistic, Charlotte can't afford a house close to downtown so I had to push it a bit farther out. It doesn't really make a huge difference except in the plausibility of the story.
Thanks!
************
As Brandon promised, we spent the next day together.
We started our morning touring the top three schools I was seriously considering: Boston University, Fisher College and Northeastern University. There were definitely a lot of options out there (especially now that I could afford most of them) but I wanted to stay in the city.
Looking at all the different requirements and deadlines the night before, after Brandon and I came home and happily and enthusiastically ‘reunited’, we decided that I would put off enrolling until the winter term started. Besides, my calendar was booked up with Championette stuff for the next few months, most of the biggest events all clustered together right before the holidays.
It was a fun morning, walking hand-in-hand around the different campuses like college sweethearts, wearing jeans, sneakers and preppy shirts. With the fall term being a week away, the campuses were starting to pulse with activity already.
I couldn’t help notice the cart-load of girls checking Brandon out and giggling to themselves, and I was instantly relieved that he wasn’t going to school with me because I would’ve been like a very jealous girlfriend who would snap and snarl at anyone who came prowling around him.
When we poked our heads into one of the admission offices just to get some pamphlets and brochures, Brandon made the mistake of introducing us to a woman who’d approached us in greeting.
At the mention of our names, she contemplated us for a few seconds before she lit up like a Christmas tree. To say that she was thrilled at the prospect of having me (the 'endearingly original Mrs. Charlotte Maxfield'—words she quoted from a society paper article) attend their school would be an understatement. For one, I was a notable philanthropist being the co-chairperson of the highly esteemed Lady Championettes Society. It didn't seem to matter that I was nineteen (almost twenty!) and as average as the next college kid.
The biggest incentive for them might be more the fact that the Maxfields were one of their important benefactors, Brandon having donated a new wing on the commerce building just over two years ago. I certainly felt the weight of that new wing on my shoulders when I realized just how much people will expect from me.
When we were heading out of the campus, I blurted out to Brandon, “Obviously, you’ve donated enough money to a bunch of these schools that if you really wanted to just pull strings, you could’ve. Why bother doing all of this legwork with me?”
He shrugged and smiled. “Because I wanted you to experience this as a normal person would. And I know how you much you dislike using the advantage of our name and money.”
I rolled my eyes. "Hard to avoid the reminder whenever I pass the Maxfield Annex."
"If you stop caring so much about it, so will other people," he said as he draped an arm around me while we walked to the car. "Anna and Tessa both go to BU where one of the dorms is named after my grandfather. They never mentioned that it bothered them."
I arched a brow at him. As if I really had to explain it. "Your sisters were born into this world, Brand, where they don't bat an eye at the prestige and privilege of being part of an important and powerful family."
Brandon glanced at me, his expression amused. "You know, sometimes I wish you were born with every luxury in the world so that you would've never had to experience one moment of discomfort or distress. But I realize that you wouldn't be the kind of person you are now if you were."
I smiled cheekily at him. "You're right. If I'd been born in the lap of luxury, I certainly would've asked for more than a million dollars to be your wife."
Brandon laughed although I caught the flash of anxiety in his eyes at the mention of the money. I opened my mouth to say something quick and light but he just slowed us to a stop, slowly turning me to face him.
"I don't care how much it would've cost me," he murmured in a soft, husky voice, tucking a stray lock of my hair behind my ear.
Standing in the middle of the cobbled pathway, amidst the tall, ancient evergreen trees that bordered the walk, and the busy smattering of people bustling about, Brandon pulled me into his arms and kissed me with scorching intent, whispering in the few seconds his lips released mine for air, "You're worth everything, Charlotte."
He kept kissing me and I kept kissing him back until someone cleared their throat loudly.
Seriously, why did people keep announcing themselves this way?
We broke away, Brandon's arms still wrapped tightly around my waist, and turned to the small, middle-aged man standing a foot away from us, his hands on his hips. He looked like a professor and he looked downright disapproving.
"I realize you, young people, live your lives for the highly idiotic purpose of broadcasting it to the world where other more civilized individuals are sometimes forced to be unwilling spectators, but you may want to consider the economic breakdown it will cause to run the pornographic film industry to the ground by video-tubing live sexual intercourse in public," he muttered sulkily. "There are other more private avenues for your amorous expressions where you may not assault other people's moral sensibilities and encourage further insolence from your fellow students."
He stood there, still scowling at us, a few other people having stopped to watch the scene, snickering to themselves.
I paused, glancing at Brandon first and catching the laughter sparkling in his eyes even as he struggled to keep a straight face and fight off the tinge of pink on his cheeks.
I grinned and turned to the old man, spotting the ID that was ineptly clipped on the lapel of his slightly wrinkled, wheat-colored tweed coat that was probably too warm for this weather. No wonder the eccentric Dr. Arthur Wiley, Professor of Philosophy, was cranky.
"That was brilliant!” I told him earnestly, ignoring the grumpy frown he was still trying to send my way. “Sorry to have caused such a stir but we were just in the middle of a... um, ah... a social experiment."
The man raised an imperious brow. "A social experiment?"
I glanced at Brandon again who just shrugged at me, giving me free reign on where this conversation was going to next. "Yes! A social experiment—purposed in determining society's tolerance on expressions of intimacy. To figure out the range of comfort before one's moral sensibilities feel assaulted and identify the factors possibly influencing this range, such as economic and cultural environments, age, gender, political and religious affiliations, educational levels—just to name a few."
Dr. Wiley looked at me, pursing his lips, almost as if he was trying to determine whether I was springing a prank on him or telling the truth.
He rubbed his chin for a moment before his eyes narrowed at me suspiciously. “You attended my Pandemonium Culture lecture this summer, didn’t you? I spoke strongly about the entitled, sexually rebellious and self-liberating youth of today’s generation and many of you are out for my blood.”
Before I could reply, he shrugged his shoulders almost dramatically. “If you wish to counterpoint my argument with your own research, go right ahead. I look forward seeing you try, Miss... um... What’s your name, child?”
“Charlotte...” I hesitated. “Um, Maxfield.”
Recognition didn’t flicker in his eyes but he looked like he was seriously jotting down my name in his mental notebook. “I expect I’ll see you in my Self Theory class this fall, Ms. Maxfield, where many of my critiques are signing up like it’s the season tickets draw to Eden.”
I had no idea what class he was talking about but I knew for certain I was going to take some Philosophy classes as soon as I could get myself enrolled. The man was surly but brilliant, brimming with conviction despite his apparent unpopularity because of it.
I didn’t have to agree with him to respect his intellectual causes.
“I’ll see you there, Mr. Wiley,” I promised him, smiling. I could feel Brandon’s gaze on me but I forged on. “It’s going to be one hell of a class.”
The man drew himself up proudly. “Nothing better than a room full of people actually putting their brains to work as designed. I’m curious to hear your opinion.”
Brandon cleared his throat, and I could tell that he was choking down a laugh. He put an arm around me and asked the professor, “Should we continue with the... social experiment?”
Dr. Wiley looked startled that the question was left to him and he looked conflicted for a moment. “Well... I’m not one to stand in the way of learning so if you must... then carry on. For the sake of knowledge, of course.”
“Of course,” Brandon answered, the light vibration on his arm telling me he was about to burst out laughing any second now.
Time to exit gracefully.
I beamed at the professor. “Thank you, Dr. Wiley! I’ll see you in class!”
He grunted some kind of acknowledgement before nodding and continuing on his path, striding with purpose, his shoulders hunched in thought as if they carried the mystery of mankind on them. They probably did.
I turned back to Brandon when I heard a chuckle or two, or three, finally slip out from him.
I smiled broadly at him. “I think I know which school I’m picking and what I’m going to take as my pre-law degree. What do you think?”
He looked thoroughly amused, his hazel eyes dancing as he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. “I think that you’re going to be so much trouble, Charlotte. You’ll turn this school upside down.”
“Naturally,” I played along, fluttering my lashes at him. “This is promising, Brand. Since we’re not bantering so much anymore, I need another outlet for my inclination to debate. Think of all the many wonderful arguments I’ll have with other people.”
He smiled indulgently and pressed a kiss between my brows. “You’ll need to come with a warning label, love. Something like—Charlotte Maxfield: To be taken with food, fortitude, and only in small, non-lethal doses.”
I giggled. “I’ll have it tattooed somewhere. Then no one can sue me.”
“I’ll sue you,” he murmured, tightening his arms around me again, pressing me close against his body as the tip of his nose grazed mine. “For descending upon me with no warning at all—or at least a manual—and knocking me off my feet until I was falling hard and fast and for good. I now have to live a life dependent on your welfare and happiness, and forever suffering this soul-deep love you’ve inflicted on me and for which there is no cure.”
I melted a little as Brandon followed up his complaint with a sweet, slow kiss. “I think you like this suffering, Brand, and wish to be never cured from it.”
He grinned. “Never.”
And then he started kissing me deeply again, as he had been earlier before we got interrupted. I managed to push him off a little, giggling as I half-heartedly reminded him, “Brand, we probably shouldn’t stand here and keep making out.”
He didn’t release me an inch—just smiled smugly. “You heard the professor. We can carry on... for the sake of knowledge, of course.”
Whatever I had for a retort slipped away from my lips as Brandon leaned close to kiss them again.
Learning had never been so much fun.
***
Nicole agreed to meet us at this private garden cafe outside of downtown called Flower House.
It was mostly a charming, post-war bungalow on a sizable corner lot in the suburbs owned by an elderly couple who’d created one of the most beautiful gardens I've ever seen. It was brimming with lush, colorful flowers of all kinds still vibrantly in bloom even late in the summer. The canopy of trees and the vines creeping on the wall cast the cozy backyard in the shade and made you think of secret gardens and sun-dappled woods.
It definitely seemed like the perfect place for a discreet meeting. Brandon remarked it was somehow a well-known location for illicit lovers to rendezvous in.
When I arched a brow at him and asked how he would know such a thing, he just rolled his eyes and retorted that he could know things without actually having done them himself.
I actually believed Brandon but sometimes, it comforted me to make him squirm. It reminded me that his heart was at stake as much as mine was.
I know. I’m terrible.
Nicole and Zach were already there when Brandon and I arrived.
"Hi!" I said brightly when Nicole rose from the table and turned in our direction.
She was as I remembered from a distance—the small, slender frame, the light brown hair she'd pulled back into a half-ponytail, and the delicate grace of her every movement.
Up close, she was actually quite lovely with an almost ethereal quality to her. She had smiling hazel-green eyes, a heart-shaped face and a porcelain complexion. Her pale pink sundress only added sweetness to her dainty beauty like whipped frosting on an already perfect vanilla cupcake—the kind that went bad real fast if left out in the heat and at the mercy of harsh elements such as Francis Pelletier.
I took her hand in a tight clasp between both of mine. “Thank you for meeting us when I know you’re still trying to stay incognito. If the most forbidden lovers in this city can get away with meeting here, I’m confident we’re safe from any prying eyes. Brandon guarantees this place is Days-Of-Our-Lives caliber.”
Nicole blinked rapidly in surprise before bursting into a soft chuckle.
"Hello, Charlotte. It's great to finally meet you," Nicole said, sniffling back some of her laughter. “Brandon talks about you nearly as much as the local tabloids do that I thought I’d know you well by now, but you are still larger than life.”
I rolled my eyes, grinning impishly. “A little too large if you ask some people but that’s alright. I’d rather not get trampled on because someone didn’t see me.”
Brandon wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my temple. “My wife can be a little overwhelming, Nic, but she’s a treasure.”
Nicole glanced up at him with a knowing smile. “And I can see why you just had to have her, Brand.”
My face warmed a little but I both gave them a broad smile. “I don’t think it was really because he wanted me. He merely wanted to save the rest of mankind by suffering me on his own.”
“I can see he’s in real agony,” Nicole said with a laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help him out of this. I think he fully deserves it.”
Some kind of cutlery fell with a clatter and we both glanced at the small boy, about two, who was studying us with big-eyed wonder.
He was perched on a high chair, chubby legs dangling, half his face covered in chocolate ganache from the mutilated cupcake in his hand.
Nicole reached out and took one of his sticky hands. "This little runt here is my son, Zach."
He turned his slow, blinking gaze to me as he clasped his mother's hand with his free one, his eyes lighting up.
I didn’t notice him right away because I was so focused on Nicole but my heart instantly melted into the consistency of the ganache smeared all over the boy's face.
"Hi, Zach!" I dropped to a squat so I could be eye to eye with the boy. "I'm your Auntie Charlotte. It's very nice to meet you."
I usually got along with children—I think they could sense the inner child in me (more often than I'd like them to, to be absolutely honest)—so it was no surprise when Zach gave me a gap-toothed grin and said, "Hi, Auntie Charlotte," which sound like "Hiyanneesharwot."
"Good enough, my man," I said with a laugh, dabbing at a small smudge of chocolate that was on the tip of his nose. He scrunched up his nose but didn't move away while I cleaned it up.
I glanced up at Nicole, who was smiling down at us, and grinned at her. "He's wonderful, Nic."
She looked pleased even as she shook her head. "He is until he gets chocolate handprints on your clothes. He thinks they're fascinating."
I turned back to Zach. "I looove chocolate handprints—during playtime, of course. Maybe next time we'll do them with paint and cover an entire big sheet with them. What do you think, Zach?"
His eyes were large and excited as he bobbed his head up and down. As to whether he understood what I said wasn’t clear but children seemed somehow wired to trust the adults.
"You know he's going to hold you up to that promise, right?" Brandon said as he came up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders to rub them gently. "He'll be asking his mother about it every two hours until you eventually show up for it."
I rose to my feet and faced Brandon indignantly. "I'll do it. I don't break my promises to children."
Then I turned back to Nicole. "We'll set something up. Maybe you can bring Zach to the penthouse and I'll bring in other kids I know and we can make it a hand-painting day or something for all of them. I’ll make animal-shaped cookies and lots of cupcakes and they all get to decorate them!"
Brandon softly groaned while Nicole just chuckled.
"We should probably get a replacement housekeeper first if you’re about to turn the penthouse inside out," he said with a grimace. "I'm about to fire the one we currently have, if she hasn't disappeared from the face of the earth yet."
Nicole frowned. "Why? What's wrong with your housekeeper?"
I sighed, feeling again that tight knot of guilt which conflicted with my sense of justice. It irritated me, especially given the report that Brandon’s head of security, Ron, had given us while we were on our way to one of the schools. But in a way, I always felt that I may have been able to do something different that could’ve influenced Gwen not to betray us like that.
The what-ifs always come too late, don't they? If they didn’t, we would never ask them.
"She's the spy who mopped me,” I muttered under my breath but then I snorted at the cheesiness of my line. “Sorry, bad pun. Gwen is apparently the sleeper agent of He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless-Until-He-Becomes-Worth-Our-Breath. Brandon will explain.”
“Oh,” Nicole’s eyes rounded as my words dawned on her. Her expression immediately strained, her lips pressing into a thin, anxious line.
“Why don’t we sit down and order something to eat first?” Brandon said as he pulled a chair out for me. “When we’re full and happy, we can properly talk about it.”
So we settled down and got some food first.
Zach and I did the Battle of Honey Mustard with our potato soldiers while Brandon quietly relayed the report he got about Gwen to Nicole.
The secret camera he had set up in his office after it was burglarized showed the housekeeper snooping around for a good twenty minutes or so before I walked in on her.
She'd leafed through a good amount of files sitting around his desk and even tried to get into his computer but she couldn't manage. She was recorded hovering by the safe but didn't attempt to access it, which was smart of her as Brandon had it rigged to set off an alarm after it was easily broken into last time.
The video was sufficient evidence to show that she was definitely snooping for information but not to align her with Francis. That was where Ron had come in, conducting a private investigation about Gwen. She had mysteriously skipped town, telling her landlord that she was going to be away due to a family emergency. After questioning some of the other tenants in her apartment building and sifting through what surveillance video they got from the front lobby camera, it would seem like Francis had dropped in on our housekeeper a few times in the past month since he arrived in the country. A deeper dig on Gwen's employment records though showed that she once worked part-time as the receptionist at the resort villa in the Florida Keys where Francis owned a unit. He must have met her there because she didn’t start working for Brandon until about a year and a half ago.
“Why would he hire someone to spy on you?” Nicole asked, shaking her head in bewilderment. “If it’s too look for information about me, that’s an awful amount of time and resources he’s spending on someone he’s written out of his life. And it can’t be Zach because God knows Francis didn’t care one bit when I told him I was pregnant.”
My heart squeezed as I watched Nicole’s gaze drift to her young son who had been let off of his high chair to totter around the flower beds a couple feet away from our table.
Brandon sighed. “I think, most of it was to find some kind of leverage he could use on me. He always felt that I was holding you over his head as a secret that could ruin him with my father. He knows Dad will never accept this kind of behavior from him. He needed something to counter my threat.”
“And what wrong could you have possibly done that would ever carry any weight as a threat to you?” Nicole asked with a disbelieving expression. “I can’t imagine you would ever do anything that you’d wish to bury as deep as as you could into the ground you would pay the price Francis demands.”
I swallowed with difficulty as Brandon and I briefly exchanged glances.
Oh, we have a pretty big dead body we’ve buried under the flower bed and we’re crossing our fingers that no one bothers to sniff around and ask questions.
But Nicole knew none of the agreement Brandon and I had struck or the fact that Francis was now using that against us to draw her and Zach out.
Brandon and I had decided that until we knew exactly how we were going to deal with Francis, we weren’t going to admit to Nicole that he was blackmailing us.
She and Zach had just settled in. She was starting to put her life back together and it wouldn’t be an easy process. We wanted her to come to her own terms in how she would deal with Francis.
I, for one, wasn’t going to let him force her into difficult circumstances once again.
I cleared my throat, hoping to direct the topic away from mine and Brandon's skeleton in the closet. "Regardless of Francis's search for Brandon's Achilles heel, he definitely wants to know about you and Zach. Any reason you can think of why he would want to learn your whereabouts?"
Pain flickered across Nicole's eyes as she shook her head. "Not really. For a long time, I thought I knew Francis but when he reacted the way he did after I told him I was pregnant, I realized I didn't know him at all. I knew he was far from perfect but I never expected he would hurt me as much as he did. Why he wants to bother with me now is something only he knows. I certainly have nothing he could possibly want."
"Could he have had a change of heart?" Brandon asked quietly.
Nicole gave a weak, tremulous smile. "Knowing him the way you do, Brand, do you think he's capable of it?"
I waited as Brandon took a moment to answer. "I'm not sure. Having changed as much as I did after I met Charlotte, I won't consider it impossible. A man can change with the right reasons. I just don't know if Francis has realized those reasons."
We were all paused in a taut stretch of silence when Zach squealed in excitement as he happily pointed to a large dragonfly that was swooping around the flower bed.
Brandon rose and went to him, squatting next to the boy and telling him about the insect.
I watched Nicole as she stared at her son, an expression of tenderness and a certain haunting sadness crossing her face.
“Do you still love him?” I ventured in a hushed tone.
She didn’t have to ask who I meant.
She simply said, “What use is there to love someone you can never be with anyway? Someone who would never be the right choice for you?”
There was no straightforward answer in that statement but it was an answer in itself.
I felt a pang of sympathy.
We all have certain truths we’re ashamed to admit—whether it’s a guilty pleasure or an unrequited love for the last man to deserve you.
“I can’t say I like Francis a lot but you must’ve seen something in him to have taken the risks you did with him,” I told Nicole as my own gaze averted to my husband whose shoulders Zach had climbed on as the two of them moved on to another flower bed, trying to chase after the dragonfly.
My heart thrummed with a warm, featherlight emotion as I watched both boys. “Sometimes, all an eternally-romantic heart needs is that one glimpse of the man he could be to bear it past the beastly facade.”
“It’s a terrible risk to take, especially when behind the beastly facade is an actual beast, well-skilled in luring you in like prey,” Nicole agreed, a hint of bitterness to her tone.
Sometimes, the frog you kiss is really just a frog.
I had been lucky with Brandon.
He actually turned out to be everything I ever dreamed of and more. But not every woman lived the life of Cinderella.
“I haven’t seen Brandon in a long time, you know,” Nicole said and I arched a brow at her for the swift, not-so-suave shift of topic. She was smiling though. “The last time he came to see us was several months ago. He avoids visiting too often, not wanting to draw attention to me and Zach, but I think in his heart, seeing us made him feel guilty for what Francis had done even though it was in no way his fault.”
I sighed and sat back in my chair, taking a long sip of my cold mint tea. “Brandon thinks he has to fix everything and he doesn’t forgive himself easily if he fails. I’ve tried to cure him of it but he’s not as self-indulgent as I could be about my own shortcomings.”
“Being the Maxfield heir, the sense of responsibility is probably instilled in him forever,” she said thoughtfully. “But the Brandon I last saw more than six months ago and the Brandon who showed up at our door recently don’t seem to be the same person. He’s less serious, for one.”
I snorted. “Less stuffy, you mean? He has to be, to be married to me.”
Nicole gave a light chuckle. “True. But it doesn’t take much to see that you’ve been good for him. He seems younger, you know? Happier, too. He smiles and laughs a lot and he’s lost that look he used to wear as if the world was on his shoulders.”
I felt a rush of pleasure at the thought, especially as I glanced toward Brandon just as he threw his head back and laughed at something Zach said.
“We’ve been very lucky with each other,” I murmured softly, my gaze never leaving the man whose name was forever etched in the deepest recesses of my heart, untouched by anything in this world.
Nicole reached forward and placed a hand over my own, her expression earnest. “I already know he’s extremely lucky to have found you and while I’m sure that there’s no need for me to point it out, I want to reassure you that Brandon is a wonderful man who will make you happy any way he can. He has a good, generous heart. I mean, just look at what he’s done for me and Zach.”
I warmed at the fierce conviction of her words. “You’re family, Nic. Of course, he’ll take care of you.”
She shrugged. “I guess but I know for a fact that Brandon’s generosity isn’t limited to his extended family. When he found me outside of the shelter, huddled and freezing with other people who were also waiting for a spot inside, he didn’t merely just come along to take me away.”
I leaned forward, intrigued. I didn’t say anything though—just simply waited for Nicole to continue.
“He deposited me in the car and went in to talk to someone in the shelter. He just... marched in... and people just gave way, even when a riot was nearly escalating as those waiting outside got more and more restless in the cold,” she went on, her gaze drifting into space as she replayed the memory. “He was gone for a good twenty minutes or so that I started worrying he was never going to make it out of there. It was one of those small, poorly organized shelters where they take in anyone, no questions asked, which was why it was so packed full. A little while later, a couple of school buses came and picked up everyone waiting outside who were unlikely to even get a spot in the shelter.”
“Oh. And where did the buses take them?”
“Where else but to a school?” Nicole said with an amused smile. “He didn’t tell me anything when he got back to the car. I read about it in an article someone wrote later that week. An anonymous benefactor had opened the doors to a nearby school gymnasium for these homeless people where they were provided cots and blankets. Staff had arrived with loads of hot soup and bread and water to last them through the night. Three months later, the entire block corner where the shelter was located was purchased by another anonymous benefactor and converted into a massive, well-funded and well-organized lodging for the poor and homeless. It was renamed St. Martin House, if you’ve heard about it.”
I remembered to shut my mouth close.
I knew St. Martin House. It was a very clean, very nice homeless shelter run by a compassionate and competent staff. They offered separated facilities and accommodation for men and women, clean, comfortable beds, good, hearty food, basic health needs, and some means of counseling whether it was to help people find jobs, or reach out to family or friends who could help them.
I choked down the sudden sob that swelled in my throat.
“He never said anything about it but I know without a doubt that Brandon was behind the whole thing. It was even named after his father.” Nicole gave a decisive nod and patted my hand. “I think, if Brandon had a chance to sit still and see how the world suffers, he won’t be able to help himself and he’d try to help everyone he can.”
My smile was a little shaky. “I know. He doesn’t like to admit it but Brandon’s real wealth is his heart of gold.”
Sometime later that day, after we’d bid Nicole and Zach goodbye and went home, I confronted Brandon as he was cutting up the cucumber for the salad we were making for dinner.
“Did you build St. Martin House?” I asked.
He paused in his task, glancing up at me with a raised brow. “Why do you ask?”
“Just answer me,” I prompted almost impatiently.
Sensing the significance I was attaching to my question, he set his knife down and faced me. “In a way, yes. The shelter was already there. I just expanded it.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay.”
His brows furrowed. “Why? What about it?”
My lips quivered as I fought to maintain my composure. “Do you know that it was named after Saint Martin of Tours, the patron saint against impoverishment, alcoholism, beggars and a whole variety of the unfortunate, among other things?”
His expression was inscrutable as he continued to watch me. “I know.”
“You do?” I asked with a faint smile. “I thought you named the shelter after your father.”
He didn’t smile. In fact, he looked quite serious. “In a way, he and the saint have some things in common.”
I laughed at that. “You’re right. They do.”
My brief laughter trailed off as I lowered my gaze and stared at the shiny surface of our marble countertop which was probably worth someone’s salary in a year.
It was a bit ironic, making dinner in our penthouse suite in the city’s most exclusive high-rise residence price-tagged in the seven to eight digits, when a few years ago, I was practically licking leftovers from a chipped and warped laminate countertop in a dilapidated shanty of a building.
“Why do you want to know about the shelter?” Brandon prompted again after our extended lapse into silence.
You’ve been trying to get around to this all day. There’s no use dissembling now. Say your thank you.
“There were times when I couldn’t stay with Aimee to avoid my Dad,” I started slowly, biting my lip and risking a glance at my husband.
He looked intent and impatient.
“I would sometimes pass the time taking the bus and walking around the city,” I paused, smiling a little at the memories. “Back Bay was my favorite—looking at all the pretty houses made me feel a bit better, ironically enough. I’d dream up of the life I kept telling myself I might still have a shot at someday—a charming, little town house with a good husband who would help me in the kitchen with the kids as we baked cookies.”
I couldn’t help my blush at how silly I sounded. “I was a teenage girl, you know? I had all kinds of ideas. They’d helped blot out the more dreary facts of my life then.”
I sighed and settled on one of the stools around the kitchen island. “I’d gone to Embers a few times before, just for a night here or there when my Dad was dangerously drunk. They didn’t ask a lot of questions, didn’t bother trying to call my parents at home when they all suspected I was too young to be wandering about on my own. I stayed for an odd night or two. One day, I came and it was this entirely new place called St. Martin House. It was very nice. Everyone there was very kind and helpful.”
I couldn’t help a smile. “It actually felt better than home the couple of nights I stayed there. I hadn’t gone back though because I left for Paris a few months after that.”
Brandon looked devastated.
His hazel eyes were full of tender sorrow even though his jaw was set tight with the intense emotions he was fighting to rein in.
I smiled broadly this time. “Don’t look so horrified, Brand. I wanted you to know about the shelter because it had been my refuge in the past. To know that you’d once seen what was home to a lot of us who were unanchored at some pretty low points in our lives, and had done something to improve it—it’s made me indescribably happy. You put those nice pillows under my head, those clean sheets to keep me warm. You put that bowl of hot soup in my hand so I could sleep with a full stomach. You put that fireplace there in the communal room where I curled up in a corner to read a book from the shelves you stocked full of classics. You did all that without even knowing I would be there, that you would someday find me and love me.”
I rose from the stool and rounded the kitchen island to stand in front of him.
His shoulders were rigid, his eyes stormy as they met mine.
He didn’t move as I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my toes, a soft smile curving on my lips. “Thank you for that act of kindness, my love. If you hadn’t done what you did, we may have never found each other.”
“Charlotte.” He choked out my name through a clenched jaw before his arms suddenly locked around me, nearly crushing me into the warm, hard frame of his body as he buried his face into my neck. His breath was warm and moist on my skin as he murmured my name over and over again.
Still smiling, I rubbed a hand in soothing circles across his back.
I knew Brandon hated to think of the hardships I’ve lived through but I needed to tell him in order to make him understand just how much he’d done for me without having even known me.
You never know how far your actions echo into the future. Every choice you’re faced with is a fork in the road that maps the rest of your journey, and determines who will be waiting for you when you get to your destination.
Brandon gently released me just enough so he could look into my eyes.
“I don’t think I will ever take anything for granted again,” he rasped, his large hands cradling the sides of my face, his thumb slowly grazing across my bottom lip. “To love you fully is to love you in every way possible, even in the smallest, most inconspicuous ways that will eventually all lead back to you.”
I grinned and held up a finger to stay him. “Can you hold that line for a sec while I go find a pen and paper?”
Brandon laughed, his cheeks flushing and his eyes sparkling with humor. “No, you’re not writing this down.”
I pouted. “But I have to so I don’t miss a single word! I want to have something to read to myself in case you’re too busy to tell me new declarations of love.”
Brandon stuck his tongue out at me. “I’d never be too busy.”
“What kind of hotshot CEO has time for corny declarations of love to his wife?” I asked with a dramatic roll of my eyes.
“My kind,” Brandon said with a teasing grin before he suddenly swept me off my feet and clipped me to his side like a sack of potatoes big enough to feed a small village.
“Brandon! Where do you think you’re going?” I demanded as he strode out of the kitchen, my legs pumping into the air as I twisted and turned to see where he was taking me. “We were in the middle of making dinner!”
“I know,” he answered nonchalantly as he turned down the hall that led to the bedrooms. “I decided we’ll have dessert first.”
Even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was grinning.
I sighed and gave up my struggle.
Hey, every good man deserved dessert.
======
A/N: Hope you liked that. There is nothing too crazy about this chapter except understanding a little more of Nicole' s story and setting a connection to both Brandon and Charlotte's past when they didn't even know each other yet. I figured it's Christmas and we could all use a good-deed story. LOL! This song is pretty perfect for Charlotte (except that she has blue-green eyes) but hope you enjoy it anyway. =)
♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Crazy Beautiful by Andy Grammer♪♪♪
[Verse 1]
She's got big brown eyes and tangled hair
Voguing in her underwear
And nothing is better
Than doing nothing together
Now she got a toothbrush as a microphone
Belting out the Rolling Stones
And I'm the last one to stop her
Can't believe that I got her
[Pre-Chorus]
We get so close
Kissing like eskimos
It's a little bit much, I know
I do
[Chorus]
Isn't she cra-crazy beautiful?
Isn't she strange, strange and wonderful?
I think I love her more than I even understand
[Verse 2]
She got a classic style that's all her own
A smile you can hear through the telephone
And she says she's a rebel
But she's way too sentimental
And she's precious even when she's mad
Gets angry and I start to laugh
And I know that it's nothing
She's just pushing my buttons
======