The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Seven: Dresses, Ducks and Dinner

A/N: If you like how this story is going so far, and you're interested in more of my work, please check out Virtue and Vice. It's a completed book—a little bit more intense than this one and it's fraught with a dark, desperate love, secrets, lies and an epic love story that keeps you on your toes. 

As always, vote and comment! 

=========

I was wide awake by five on Wednesday morning and it was my day off. These days, sleeping in wasn't an option.

There just wasn't enough time in the world to do everything I needed to do—get my job and errands  done, and also do everything that being Brandon's fiancee required.

Getting up before I could fall back asleep, I walked barefoot to the kitchen and made myself a big cup of coffee. Sitting with my laptop on the dining table, I checked my day's calendar which Felicity kept up to date with amazing efficiency.

6:00 AM     -Morning run

7:00 AM    -Breakfast meeting with Felicity 

                 -Profile review of engagement party guests

8:00 AM    -Dance lessons

10:00 AM  -Fitting at Marcellina's for engagement party dress

                 -10-minute media interview

11:00 AM  -Food-tasting for wedding

12:30-3:00 PM -Charlotte's Me-Time

3:00 PM    -Meeting with Shelly (Re: wedding music and entertainment)

4:00 PM    -Spa appointment at The Retreat

6:00 PM    -Dinner with Brandon at Chianti

 I smiled. 

Brandon went to Vancouver for a few days on business. He was supposed to return later today. Felicity and I had been dealing with all of the wedding-planning but he had things to approve. We  also had a pre-nup to sign despite Martin's grumblings about it. 

I'd hate to admit it but I looked forward to seeing him. He made me miss him, dammit.

Well, maybe I just missed having someone to complain to about the fanfare of the wedding and the new life I hadn't even wanted in the first place. No one but the two of us knew about our arrangement and that secret bound us together no matter how much we clashed.

 Not that your clashes have been what's preoccupying you lately.

That Sunday, after we left brunch, Brandon took me to a small, nearby park for a nice stroll with my arm secured around his. When I asked why we were there, he insisted that the media needed to take a good look at me as the future Mrs. Maxfield. With so many eyes trained on us at the moment, a walk around the park would bolster the romantic strengths of our engagement.

Of course, I rolled my eyes at that but decided to play along. I had the urge to fluster him out of his typical control but I didn't. My own restraint evaded me that day and I needed his for the both of us.

The stroll had been perfect—until my feet started to hurt. I kicked off my shoes and carried them with me. Brandon didn't approve and made us sit so I could rest a little and put my shoes back on before resuming our walk.

While sitting on a bench across from a fountain, a feisty furball of a dog came bounding from nowhere and snatched up one of my shoes. Before I could think better of it, I tossed my wristlet aside, leapt up and ran after the dog, barefoot, leaving behind a bellowing Brandon as I pursued the sly, little thief who jumped into one of shallow tiered fountains.