The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

by Ninya Tippett

  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.”

  My sobs came to an abrupt halt as I blinked several times and saw that we were in a piece of scrubland somewhere in an industrial area. The weeds were tall and the alleys around it were devoid of people.

  "Shout," Gilles prompted.

  I straightened and gave him a wary look. "People will think you're murdering me if they hear me screaming."

  That didn't perturb him as he shrugged. "Then make it quick before anyone can hear you and come running."

  I sniffed, dragging the back of my hand across my wet cheeks. "You're not doing a good job of copying this from the movies, you know? This doesn't feel as dramatic as I'd imagined."

  "I never claimed to have a dramatic bone in my body," he answered, leaning against the car and crossing his arms. "But if this stops you from having a panic attack, then do it."

  My heart dropped back down into my stomach at the reminder as I walked forward a few steps and started kicking some small rocks around.

  "I'm not going to shout," I told him in barely a whisper. "I can breathe now."

  We were both quiet for a long while and I was alright with that.

  There were hardly any words within my grasp that would accurately describe my acute suffering.

  I picked up a handful of small jagged rocks and started throwing them, harder and farther with each new attempt.

  The violence of my emotions ebbed away slowly, emptying out of me until I could see the yawning void they left behind.

  "While I agree that what you saw didn't look good, I have a feeling it isn't the whole story," Gilles finally said as I bent down and scooped another handful of rocks.

  I paused and glanced at him over my shoulder. "You're very eager to give Brandon the benefit of the doubt and believe that he has a good explanation for all of this. I know he's your boss but why would you do that for him?"

  A small smile broke over the man's face. "Because that's what you taught me—and a lot of other people who know you, Charlotte. I know it's not easy for you when it hurts a lot but if there's anyone who deserves your faith more than the rest of us, it's your husband. He loves you. Everyone with eyes can see it. Hell, even a statue will probably get a heartbeat just being near the two of you."

  I couldn't fight the trembling smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

  "Oh, Gilly," I said with a small, weak laugh, dropping the rocks and dusting my hands off. "That was way better than getting me to scream my head off like I was being hacked to pieces by an ax murderer. Thank you."

  He nodded gruffly and smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

  “I promise to let Brandon explain,” I told him as I turned back toward the car. “Can you take me home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we stop at Sugar Box for a dozen of those mint-chocolate chip cupcakes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we grab a case of beer?”

  “No.”

  “Damn,” I said as I climbed inside the car. “It’s alright. I never figured out why people worsen their suffering by gulping down what smells like cat pee.”

  I smiled when I heard Gilles try to smother a laugh as he slipped back into his seat and started the car.

  I felt a rush of gratitude.

  If he hadn’t distracted me, I probably would’ve completely shattered to pieces.

  Brandon loves you—so much no one could miss it even if they wished to. You have to believe, Charlotte. Trust that you can mean that much to someone. Trust that you’re worth it.

  It was a gamble with the odds not looking in my favor at all.

  But love required risks—the only way it could mean much was for it to mean everything to you.

  With Brandon, it was all or nothing.

  ***

  “Who are Nicole and Zach?”

  I had a whole script memorized as to how I would approach Brandon but civility was easier planned than done.

  Any preliminaries I had ready were swept clean from my mind at the nearness of the man I loved desperately but whose secrets kept him oceans away from me at the same time
.

  I watched and waited as Brandon’s hand paused midway to his mouth with a forkful of scrambled eggs.

  It was the next morning and this was the first time I’d seen him since spying him at Nicole’s front steps yesterday afternoon. I’d gone home and gone through the motions until I hit the bed. He must’ve crawled in much later after I was asleep and he was already up and showering when I woke up this morning.

  He didn’t raise his eyes to meet mine.

  He seemed suspended in time for what felt like eternity before he continued with his breakfast and chewed slowly. At the rate he was going, you’d think he was chewing on rubber.

  Just like the thick, heavy weight of lies on your tongue.

  My fingers tightened around my own fork and it took a lot of my nearly-depleted self-control to keep from snapping at him. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear my question, Brand. They don’t go away just because you ignore them.”

  Finally, he swallowed, reaching for his glass of orange juice and downing at least half of it. The wait for him to say something, anything, seemed interminable.

  That bad, huh.

  “How do you know about them?” he asked slowly, his expression tight and inscrutable.

  “I don’t,” I answered shortly. “Which is why I’m asking you.”

  Brandon sighed and sat back in his chair, tossing his napkin beside his plate. “They’re not your concern, Charlotte. I’m taking care of it.”

  The dismissal actually stung and I was already as raw inside as I could manage without starting to bleed out.

  “Oh? What, are you renting a U-Haul truck?” I snorted, passing off a sound that sounded like stone scraping together as a laugh. “Should I wrap-up a housewarming gift?”

  Brandon grimaced but he was doing an amazing job of not letting my sarcasm provoke him. The fact that he had so much control was antagonizing me further.

  "As I said, I'm taking care of it," he said emphatically. "Don't concern yourself with this. It has nothing to do with you."

  I slammed my clenched fist down on the table. So much for my attempt at civility.

  "You have a son and you're possibly still sleeping with his mother and it has nothing to do with me?"

  His eyes widened as my words sank in. He reached out and clamped a hand on my upper arm, none too gently either, and I tried to shrug him off.

  "Charlotte, no. God, it's not that!" he exclaimed with a look of sheer panic on his face. "Zach isn't my son and I've never been romantically involved with Nicole."

  The blood rushing to my ears stilled as I narrowed my eyes at him, afraid that his confession was actually just buffering a truth worse than the one I'd imagined.

  "Explain the panda."

  He blinked. "Uh, the panda was a stuffed toy I gave Zach—wait, how do you know about the panda?"

  I opened my eyes to answer but I stopped short when I realized that to explain was to admit that I followed him yesterday.

  "Did you spy on me?" he asked, his own eyes narrowing.

  I raised a brow. "Spying would imply it's a secret. And it is a secret, isn't it, Brand? One you don't care to share with me."

  "Should I bother when you're just going to go nosing around for it anyway?" he asked sharply.

  Seething openly now, I glared at him. "I wouldn't have if you'd trusted me enough to tell me what the hell is going on."

  "The way you trusted me to know what I'm doing?" he countered, his cheeks flushing with anger and his eyes bright with intense emotions. "Don't you think that I'm doing my best to look after everything, after everyone?"

  I paused and looked at Brandon closely. "What are you looking after, Brandon?"

  His agitation eased at my softened tone and he met my gaze for a long time before sighing and slumping back in his seat. "Nothing that I can tell you right now, Charlotte. But you have to trust that I'm doing what's best, not just for us, but for those who are caught in between."

  "Caught in between what?" I persisted, reaching out and grabbing his hand, desperate to unburden him from whatever it was that was slowly snuffing out the light from inside him. "Let me share your load, Brand. Whatever it is, I can take it."

  He gave me a sad smile and squeezed my hand. "You've had the world on your shoulders for a long time, love. The last thing I want is to keep you from spreading your wings and soaring high into the sky."

  I pressed my lips together to keep my stern expression on even though his words, and his rare and exclusive inclination to always keep me happy and unfettered, tugged at my heart. "Do you know why birds fly in a V formation? Each bird helps in reducing drag and spreading out the flight fatigue among the flock during the long journey. They take turns leading the flock and bringing up the rear so that the burden isn't solely shouldered by a few."

  Brandon's mouth twitched in amusement. "I didn't know you were so well-versed in the behavior of migratory birds and such."

  I shrugged. "I didn't have a lot of money in high school to buy books so I ended up reading my textbooks a lot if I didn't have anything borrowed from the library. I read what was available and they weren't always a bunch of romance books."

  "I'll build you a library," he said quickly, his voice catching a little. "Any book you want, as many as you'd like."

  Oh, Brandon. One moment you’re breaking my heart, the next you’re holding it in your hands like there’s nothing more you cherish.

  I sighed slowly and shook my head. “I know you can give me the world, Brand—even the moon and stars, if I really want them—but I’d trade them for your heart in an instant. I want all of it—the ugly bits and pieces, the beautiful parts that make up your love—there is no part of it I don’t want to know about.”

  Brandon’s hazel eyes pierced mine with an intensity before he reached out to gently brush the back of his hand across my cheek. “You have all of it, Charlotte—even the parts I’m afraid to surrender. In fact, if I look closely, I bet I’d find you in the place of my heart—you two are the same thing to me as far as I’m concerned.”

  Brandon’s touch seared me nearly as much as my own guilt did at his words.

  Despite what I said, I suspected that he wasn’t the one withholding parts of his heart, clinging on to them in persistent fear that someday, when this happy, shiny world burned to the ground as most happy, shiny worlds did, he would survive with the crumbs he held on to stubbornly.

  “You have nothing to fear about Nicole and Zach,” Brandon assured me further, cupping my face and pressing a kiss on the spot just between my brows. “I have a responsibility to them that I’m trying to fulfill. I’ll explain when the time is right but for now, no one else is supposed to know about them—not even you.”

  Tears clogged my throat but I forced myself to swallow them so I could speak, even with a choked voice. “If Zach had been indeed your son, I want you to know that I would have gladly accepted him, and love him as much as he’s able to let me. What drove me crazy was the possibility that you were still carrying on with his mother behind my back—having your own little family on the side.”

  Brandon pulled back and frowned at me. “Why in the world would you ever think I’d do something like that?”

  Tears clung to my lashes and I blinked them back only to drop them against my cheeks.

  Well, there was no point avoiding it now when I already gave away too much.

  I brushed the back of my wrist against my damp cheeks. “Because my mother did it.”

  Before I knew it, I was hauled over to Brandon’s lap, his arms circled around my hips, his expression grim but determined—like we were on a lifeboat and a really strong current was about to slam over us.

  I swallowed hard a second time as I forced the truth out. “When I was sixteen, I was home one weekend and watched a regional spelling bee. They interviewed the winner—a bubbly eleven-year-old blond girl with glasses and braces—and shots of her school mentors and family and friends cheering her on were included in the feature. Her mother was an uncanny lo
ok-alike to mine. I did the math in my head and figured out the truth. Mom left and started a totally different nest to hatch a completely different egg barely a breath after she scampered out the door. Either that or she already had an egg warming up to hatch before she even left.”

  “Oh, Charlotte. I’m sorry,” Brandon murmured softly, touching his forehead to mine.

  I shrugged casually—a little too casually. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault. It’s not that girl’s fault either. Her name’s Natalie. I would’ve liked to have known my sister but I don’t imagine she knows I exist—or know that much of what her family’s founded on doesn’t really.”

  “Have you tried to contact your mother? Or your sister?” Brandon asked.

  I shook my head. “Nah. I was quite angry when I realized the truth even though I was hardly surprised. But they both looked happy and I didn’t think they needed the extra complication in their lives.”

  “You’re your mother’s daughter, Charlotte,” Brandon said with a scowl. “You’re not just a complication in her life. You’re her responsibility.”

  I felt the familiar sting of the reminder and remembered why I usually never discussed my mother.

  But there was no help for it now. Brandon needed to understand why panic gripped me at the thought of him having a secret family on the side.

  “I was clearly one she didn’t want to be saddled with,” I said dryly, biting my bottom lip. “I will not inflict myself where I’m not wanted, Brand—not like this anyway. She has a new family and maybe she’s trying to do this right the second time. I don’t want to get in the way of it.”

  Brandon’s arms tightened around me as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “But don’t you need your mother? I know I did for a while after mine died but I was fortunate to have Evelyn around after that.”

  I smiled at his admission, one he probably didn’t make to a lot of other people, even his father. “A mother would be nice but it’s not worth reopening those old wounds or creating new ones, especially for her new family. If she’s a better mother to my sister, and possibly my other siblings, and they’re happy, I’d rather have one family have the fairy tale childhood than for two to have none.”