The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

by Ninya Tippett

  “Almost twenty!” I chirped in brightly.

  “Almost twenty, then,” Brandon acquiesced, smiling indulgently. “My point is, I wanted to shelter you. I’m older and more experienced than you are. As your husband, it’s my duty to protect you and make you happy.”

  Oh, Brandon. Sometimes, you’re too noble.

  I rested my arms around his shoulders and touched my forehead against his. “As your wife, my duty isn’t to be put on a pedestal. My duty is to be your partner in everything—good or bad—to share your load, hold your hand, care for you when you’re weary, cheer you on when you lose hope. And I’m good at this, Brand. You’re going to have to let me out of my glass jar and let me do what I need to do. I’ll protect you.”

  Laughter crinkled the corners of Brandon’s eyes. “I’m six-foot-three and about two-hundred pounds of muscle and you want to protect me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah! I can fight them and I can fight with you.”

  He chuckled, his hands settling on my waist. “But you're so small.”

  “So? Think of us as David and Goliath—but on the same side.”

  Brandon threw his head back laughing and I grinned, pleased to see his face clear of his current worries.

  His arms tightened around me as he pulled me in for a kiss, his smile touching my lips. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

  “I’ve heard it once or twice,” I said cheekily, giggling when he suddenly rose from the seat, with his arms hooked around my waist and under my knees. “Brand! What are you doing?”

  “Bringing you into the ring to fight,” he said as he walked out of the library and down the hall to where his family was still gathered by the living room.

  They just gave us amused glances when they saw us.

  “Should we even ask?” Jake teased with a grin.

  “If you have to, then you don’t have much of an imagination,” Brandon answered, smiling rakishly. “It was nice to see all of you but as advised by my father, whose wisdom I always strive to emulate, I’m going to take my wife home now and express to her just how much I missed her these last couple of days.”

  “We didn’t need the visuals, you know?” Anna said, wrinkling her nose.

  Tessa laughed. “I think as long as we’re around these two, there’s no helping the visuals.”

  “Get out of here, you two,” Martin said with an indulgent smile. “I’ll see you around, kids.”

  “Are you going off to make me a nephew? Or a niece?” Mattie piped up eagerly. “I don’t really mind either one as long as they like music.”

  Brandon and I glanced at each other and laughed.

  “Um, no. No nephews and nieces yet, buddy,” Brandon told his little brother just as Tessa handed me my purse. “But as any musician would agree, practice makes perfect.”

  “Brand, he’s ten!” I reprimanded my husband, my face flushing with embarrassment, as the other adults chuckled.

  “Right,” Brandon said with no hint of remorse as he turned us toward the door. “Goodnight, everybody!”

  As soon as we were out the front door, Brandon walked down the steps to his sports car parked by the driveway.

  “Where’s Freddy?” I asked after he deposited me in the passenger seat.

  “I sent him home,” he answered as he got in and started the car. “Poor guy’s tired from running around all day with me. I sent him home as soon as we arrived at the airport.”

  “As if you’re in better shape,” I retorted. “Why don’t you let me drive?”

  He glanced at me in amusement. “As if you could.”

  “I got my learner’s today,” I told him proudly as he got us out into traffic. “I just have to figure out when to do the road test. I’m going to be a year older soon. I thought about becoming a more independent adult.”

  “You don’t think you’re independent enough?” he asked. “You have money. You own your own house. You’re a co-chairperson in one of the biggest charity societies in the city, if not the country.”

  I bit my lip in thought. “Sure, but I don’t have money of my own. I didn't really pay for the house myself. I don’t have a real job. I haven’t even gone to college.”

  I hated sounding like I was complaining because I was living the life of a queen as Brandon’s wife. I was basked in luxury like it was second skin. But all the trappings mostly came with my marital status. At the end of the day, they didn’t quite give me any real sense of self-accomplishment.

  “Last night, I sat and listened to people as they talked about their classes or their professors or a paper they were doing,” I said, hoping Brandon would somehow understand. “It all sounded so fascinating but it was something I couldn’t quite relate to. Here I was, this hotshot society wife everyone envied, sitting there and listening to all of them, without anyone knowing that for a moment, I envied them for their experiences.”

  I looked out the window and at the darkening streets, feeling a bit like an idiot for how inane I must’ve sounded.

  I anticipated a scoffing response from Brandon but all I felt was his hand taking mine as he softly spoke. “Darling, if you want to go to college, do it. If you want to go to pastry school after that, do it."

  Surprised, I glanced back at Brandon. "But you need me to be around for all your social duties. If I'm in school, I won't be able to concentrate on some of those."

  "I don't care about your social duties half as much I care about your happiness," he replied with a shrug. "You've committed to the Championettes for a year though so I'm not sure how you want to manage that."

  "I could start with a lighter class load so I could still do my duties with them," I said. "After the year, if they'll still have me, I might stay on with a more minor role so I can focus on school. I want to study. And graduate. With honors!"

  Brandon smiled. "And what would you want to study?"

  I smiled, excited by the thought. "I don't know yet. Maybe business or finance. Or maybe law. I make pretty damn good arguments, I thought I might make money out of them."

  Brandon laughed. "I can see it now—Attorney Charlotte Maxfield, pro bono lawyer, champion of the poor and unprivileged."

  "You know me too well," I said, giggling, before I sighed dreamily and sat back in thought. "But seriously, it'll depend on what I get for scholarships. I'm going to get all my school records and paperwork straightened out. I won't make it to this fall's deadline but I might be able to get in on the next semester."

  Brandon squeezed my hand which he was still holding. "Charlotte, who said you needed a scholarship? We have enough money to send you to school until you're ninety."

  "I know but I want to do this on my own," I protested. "And I could've if I'd really wanted to do it back in high school. I had good grades and I could've gotten myself a college scholarship if I'd pursued it, but I just wanted to get out, to get a fresh start somewhere else. Paris sounded lovely then and I loved baking so when Mr. Schubert suggested it, I thought it was fated."

  "I understand, babe, and I'm sure you will have no trouble passing all the academic requirements," Brandon said in a patient, understanding voice. "But they probably won't grant it to you because of your financial status. Also, do you really want to take up a spot that someone less privileged than you could make use of instead?"

  I looked at him, considering his points, and groaned in defeat. "Ugh, you're right. Maybe I'll get a job and I'll pay my way."

  "Charlotte, for the love of God, just let me pay for it," Brandon insisted, his exasperation showing a little now. "Actually, we'll pay for it. It's all the same money."

  I frowned. "No, it isn't. We have a pre-nup."

  He shook his head. "No, we don't. You signed it but I didn't. I didn't even send it in. I want whatever's mine to be yours. Not to sound like a dick but I'm assuming that my assets are always going to encompass yours so you're in no danger of me needing your money in case we separate."

  My mouth hung open, flapping like a fish, as I grappled for some
thing to say.

  But Brandon kept going anyway. "Besides, we're never going to separate. I won't allow it. You're stuck with me until we're old and gray and buckling on our knees."

  I love old couples—those who still hold hands and go everywhere together, as in love as they had been fifty years ago.

  But wait. What is Brandon talking about with your pre-nup?

  “What do you mean you didn’t send it in?” I repeated as soon as I found my voice. “It was one of the conditions you demanded.”

  “I know, but in case you haven’t noticed yet, Charlotte, my strict plans keep flying out the window where you’re concerned.” He sounded resigned but he had a faint smile hovering over his lips. “I married you because I wanted to, Charlotte. The scheme quickly became the best excuse to convince you to go through the wedding.”

  I shook my head, dazed, the shafts of light from the traffic and street lamps we passed dancing in the interior of the car and illuminating Brandon’s face in a random choreography.

  I knew Brandon completely fell in love with me at some point during our scheme. I thought it was after we were married, when we started living together. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.

  His hand squeezed mine again as he caught my eye. “I’ve chosen you, my love, before I married you. Fortunately, you chose me years before I ever laid eyes on you, and for that I’m grateful because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t know how I would’ve convinced you to marry a man you just met—a man who’s too old, too worldly and too difficult for you.”

  His gaze drifted back to the road but he lifted our joint hands to his mouth and kissed the back of my fingers. “You weren’t the wrong girl, Charlotte. I was the wrong man for you. But you married me anyway and every day, I say thank you and do my damn best to make sure you never regret it.”

  Either the world got wobbly or there were tears in my eyes.

  Dammit. When Brandon plays dirty, he devastates.

  I sniffled once or twice, my voice warbled by tears. I bit my lip so I didn’t go bursting into sobs. “Okay, we’ll pay for school together. You don’t have to go on so about your undying love for me. I already know.”

  Brandon barked out a laugh. “I’m glad I got you to agree but I meant every word anyway so it was no hardship. So don’t cry, babe. I’m taking the day off tomorrow and we can go through the schools and programs you’re interested in. And we’ll go visit a few schools just to look around. And you can drive, if you’d like.”

  I gave him a watery smile, my heart swelling in my chest. “I am glad to have you finally back home, Brand.”

  He smiled. “Me too, Charlotte. Me, too.”

  The next ten minutes of our drive was spent with Brandon recounting his favorite college memories and coming up with ideas about me for school.

  I was happy with his reaction—he actually seemed more excited about it than I was.

  He was telling me about his best tricks, whether to ace a test or write a paper guaranteed a glowing A, and I was hanging on to every word that I hadn’t really noticed where we’d arrived at.

  “Oh,” I said when I finally looked out the window and realized that we were in a familiar neighborhood Gilles and I were scouting several days ago. Brandon had pulled over on the side of the road just across the street from the house where Nicole and Zach lived.

  Dusk had already descended on this late August evening but the house, like many others in the neighborhood, was still lit as people readied for the rest of the night.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked nervously.

  Brandon rolled the windows halfway down and turned the engine off.

  He smiled at me. “Letting you in on the fight.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, my heart quickening as it dawned on me.

  It was time for the truth.

  I had to be ready for it, whatever the truth was.

  “Tell me.”

  “Nicole was an acquaintance of mine I met through another friend,” he started slowly. “I liked her and spent a lot of time with her when we would run into each other in some party or event. She had just started her career as an interior designer when we met. I had started contemplating the idea of dating her when Francis asked her out. He and I used to get along well, despite the rivalry that’s always been between us growing up.”

  I didn’t say anything but I noticed the hint of regret in Brandon’s voice at the last sentence.

  “Francis was orphaned at fourteen and my father took him in then. Even before then, he’d always admired Dad, always thriving with his approval and praise,” Brandon said as he stared off into the distance. “I guess I couldn’t really blame him. His parents divorced early and his own father took him for granted, forgetting to show up for things. His mother was always too busy with her friends, attending this party and that. Dad, who’s brother to Francis’s Mom, often filled the role that neither parents could manage. It sounds morbid but I almost think it was a relief for my cousin when his parents were both finally gone. Then he could stay with us, with Dad, for good.”

  In spite of how I usually felt about Francis, I sympathized with the boy he’d been, always hungry for love and approval.

  Martin, with his tendency to pick up strays like me and care for them, probably saved Francis before it was too late for the boy he’d been.

  “I didn’t really mind having him around at all,” Brandon continued. “It felt like having a brother closer to my age. He and Jake even got along. I didn’t mind the rivalry either. It pushed me to work harder and do my best in everything. I always suspected Francis took it a bit more seriously than I did. He pretty much did all the same things I did. Even dated some of the girls I’d dated. But he got to Nicole before I could and they seemed perfectly happy so I backed off. I liked Nicole but not enough to bother my cousin. So I let them be.”

  The thought of Brandon liking Nicole rankled a little but observing his indifference when he mentioned it quelled the first few pangs of jealousy in me.

  “It should’ve bothered me that Francis, after having dated Nicole for a few months, never brought her over to meet the family, but I was busy with my own life to really notice.”

  Brandon’s brows gathered into a knit as he paused in his story. “One day, she came to see me in my office, during a week that Francis was gone on a business trip. She told me she was pregnant, about four months along, and that Francis wasn’t happy when she told him before he left. He’d told her to take care of it. He was too young to settle down or have responsibilities like fatherhood. He’d told her he was yet to make something important of himself, to accomplish all his goals, to be something he can be proud of. He blamed for her for getting pregnant when they had no agreement of any sort to start a family. Nicole has no family of her own either. She grew up with her grandmother who left her enough money to make it through a fine arts school. She had a friend from college who moved in our circle and dragged her along. She was young and completely alone and Francis wasn’t taking any responsibility for it.”

  I pressed my lips together into a tight line.

  This kind of abandonment happened often enough in real life.

  “I told her I’ll take care of it. That I’ll talk to Francis,” Brandon said, his expression growing grim. “When he returned, I confronted him and he was furious. He was upset that I was meddling. He accused me of many things—that maybe I was the one who knocked up Nicole since she was seeing me behind his back. That I was merely using her and the baby as an excuse to make him look bad to Dad. I couldn’t believe how immature and childish he’d seemed about the whole thing. He’s a couple years younger than I am but I didn’t expect him to be a complete brat about his responsibilities.”

  Brandon ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly before he went on. “I decided I was going to have to help Nicole on my own. I made arrangements to have her set up in a comfortable house, to make sure she and the baby are looked after. But when I came to see her to tell her of my plans, she was no lo
nger in the apartment—the same one that Francis got her because he wouldn’t deign to stay with her in her old studio apartment that she shared with a roommate and he wouldn’t let her intervene with his life by letting her live with him either.”

  “One of the neighbors saw me as I was walking out and told me that Nicole had just left in a rush, crying, only armed with a small bag and a cardigan in the middle of winter,” Brandon said, his voice tight with anger. “My asshole cousin kicked her out. I had Freddy drive around the area to see if I could still find her. I saw her standing in line outside of a shelter a few blocks away, shivering and freezing to death out on the sidewalk. She told me her friends were mostly out of town for the winter holidays and she just needed somewhere to keep warm for the night. I took her back to the penthouse, set her up in the guest bedroom and let her get comfortable enough before I demanded a recounting of what exactly my cousin had done.”

  I reached out and touched Brandon’s arm, feeling his muscles strain with tension. He relaxed and covered my hand with his own.

  “He told her that he was never going to acknowledge the child, or her, and that she should leave, and that if she bothered him, or me, ever again, he would find her and make her life hell. I decided then and there that Francis needed to be cut out of their lives for good. I got her this townhouse under a different name, told Francis to leave town if he didn’t want my father to find out how he’d treated the woman who was to be the mother of his child. He probably never saw me that angry before that he took my threat seriously and transferred to the London headquarters where he’d been slowly stewing for the last couple of years. I set up temporary false identities for Nicole and Zach and moved them to a nice house in Vermont where she’d been staying in the last year or so because I worried that Francis was going to try to find them. He’d confronted me once or twice about them, demanding that he was the one with the right to know, not me. Since he’d never given me a good enough reason to trust him when it comes to them, I kept them hidden away. I have a man assigned to plant false leads about them every now and then, just to throw Francis off their scent in case he went sniffing around. When Nicole decided to return to society, I had my man busy doing all the corrective paperwork. It was like a goddamned witness protection program he’d built for them but it had been necessary because we were afraid that Francis was going to try and take Zach away. I had to protect them, you see.”