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.
Yet, despite all these questions in my head, I agreed to the revisions she wanted to make on the contract, knowing somewhat that no matter how our opinions differed, I wanted her signature on that paper.
I didn't miss the irony when I found myself reassuring her that she wouldn't be dealing with my supposed extra-marital affairs when I couldn't even think of any other face beneath me in bed other than hers. It was a wise decision to break things off with Simone because I didn't feel very exclusive with her whenever I was around Charlotte. Even though we'd only agreed to a marriage in name only, it didn't stop my head and my body from running with the idea of exercising my husbandly rights with her. I didn't dare say anything about it to her because God knows she'd bolt and run at the first sign that I wanted more with her. Why I wanted more was an even more confounding dilemma for me. Sure, I was attracted to her but I was always attracted to pretty women and Charlotte had more charms than she was aware of. I was certainly never attracted enough though to go after a woman who provoked me to no end, even as I chased after her and still never seemed to be able to keep up. Charlotte and I had no more than three pretty intense conversations where she'd flipped me on my head and back with little effort, and while I might normally think of this as too exhausting (which is why I didn't date complicated women), I seem to be only hounding for more. Even though she infuriated me at times, I can't remember being as amused or as aroused as I am when I'm with Charlotte and she'd done no more than banter with me. Well, there was that slap but it almost felt like an invitation to punish her cute little ass with a bruising kiss we would both never recover from.
On an impulse, I asked her to go shopping with me for our rings.
The truth was, I had the engagement ring and wedding rings picked out a couple days ago when I summoned Barford to my home with a vast variety of options. They were going to be delivered to me tomorrow morning but I somehow decided that I probably should've done the picking with Charlotte. For one, she was never short on opinions and I didn't want to send her home right away after Marlow's. I was actually still having fun.
I'd discreetly sent an email to Barford about our visit just as we were waiting for the bill to arrive. He wasn't going to like the change of plans but he wouldn't complain because his shop had been designing custom-made jewelry for the women in my family for years.
The drive there had been interesting. Charlotte had been more than mildly upset about my not wearing a seatbelt. It was the first real stricken look I'd seen on her. When Clarence was trying to force himself on her, she had just been angry but with me in the car, fear flickered in her usually smiling eyes.
And I felt like a total cad, remembering what happened to her father. I wasn't a big fan of the man, considering how he'd callously left his daughter in dire straights because he was too drunk to look after her, but Charlotte, despite her resilience that no nineteen-year-old girl should really know yet, was still a somewhat a child who'd lost the only parent she knew. I couldn't deny that I felt protective of her the moment it sank in on me that she truly had no one. I decided that marriage in name only or not, she was going to be my wife and I protected and cared after my own. She wasn't going to be an exception, no matter how brief her stay in my life would be.
Which was why I felt like wiping the dismayed look on Barford's face when he greeted us and saw Charlotte. He and I had words before we left the shop today. He wasn't going to make that same mistake again, not that Charlotte hadn't quite put him in his place all on her own.
She continued to be full of surprises, including the fact that even after telling her how old (and how much older) I was, she'd looked at me with unmistakeable appreciation as she openly inspected me. I was worried for a second that she was going to make a break for it because at nineteen, she should be going out with someone younger and less saddled with the kind of responsibilities and expectations I had, even though I wanted to argue the fact that some young, clueless boy wouldn't be able to take care of her the way she deserved to be. I felt oddly satisfied to ascertain that yes, despite the years I didn't like to count between us, Charlotte was attracted to me just fine.
That realization didn't help my confidence though because I found myself holding my breath after I presented the engagement ring to her. It was a pretty thing—and appropriately expensive for a future Mrs. Maxfield—and I picked it out because I felt that it somehow suited her. It was simple but the few small stones around around the frame only complimented the large diamond at the center. Charlotte is a little bit like that—like a large, pure diamond needing very few trappings because she shines on her own. Yes, yes, I've become a romantic moron, for the love of God.
When I saw her eyes soften as she gazed at it, I had to resist the urge to buy everything within my sight in the store so she didn't worship the one ring like it was the only piece of jewelry she would ever own in her entire life.
I let her choose the wedding bands. The design I'd chosen myself was in the selection and I was very pleased when she ended up picking it out anyway. She and I may have more in common than what was initially obvious.
After we'd stepped out of the shop, I did a terrible miscalculation.
She was insisting on taking a cab home which didn't sit well with me. So we were arguing again and before I knew it, I stole whatever words she had in store for me with the kiss I'd been resisting to inflict on her all day. It was nothing like I'd imagined because other than my lust flaring to life at the feel of her soft, sweet lips and the heartbreaking innocence with which they kissed back, my reaction wasn't like any other time I'd gotten intimate with a woman.
Instead of my normal visions of a hot and quick roll in the sack, I found myself looking down into this bottomless pit where I could fall with the most fleeting touch from Charlotte.
I wasn't going into that territory at all—not when I was marrying her for a year to avail myself of a lifetime of freedom. That math just didn't add up.
So I pushed her away just in time to see paps across the street who were snapping their cameras at us.
Seeing them had been another reminder of what was at stake in this arrangement.
So I made up a sorry-ass excuse of why I kissed her because with the way she was looking at me, I was seconds away from throwing her over my shoulder and dumping her inside the car so we could drive off and continue kissing somewhere private.
I had way too good a poker face because she believed my crude fabrication about the whole thing being a publicity stunt. It was probably for the better.
I was way in over my head with this and this wasn't how I entered business arrangements. Our sham marriage wasn't my usual business dealing but it was all business in the end and I had to remind myself of that before I plunged headfirst into the terrifying unknown.
I knew this and kept my mouth shut as she sat in cold silence on the way to her house.
I kept repeating the argument in my head as I watched her march up to her house and disappear behind the door even though I wanted nothing more than to break it down, sweep her up in my arms and take her home with me.
- B
***
So, I'm writing a new story which is none of the other ones people had asked me to continue. I get struck with an idea and I just run with it. Creative writing can be a little disorganized like that. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to be uploading it. I kinda like writing the way I have it in my head so we'll see. I just wanted to tell you guys so you hopefully understand why I'm not writing a whole bunch of things right now.
Anyway, have a good week and happy spring break to those who get to enjoy it! =)
♪♪♪Journal Soundtrack: Static Waves by Andrew Belle feat. Katie Herzig ♪♪♪
I count the steps from where I am
To where I started
I tap my feet
And close the door, to your apartment
And I know you're never gonna understand
It's too late for you to stop and think
Too late to mention
I make a move and spill my drink
To break the tension
I know you're never gonna understand
I'll try my best to follow if I can, but
I would have let you leave [x3]
The static waves across the screen
Define this notion
Back and forth and in between
Like my emotion
And I know you're never gonna understand
And won't you slow this down oh if you can
You swayed your hips and stole the breathe
That I was taking