The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Eight: The Other Parties

It was the big day.

No. Wait.

Not that big day. Just the engagement party.

I was such a nervous wreck that it might as well have been the wedding. It was the first official and public event that Brandon and I were attending even though we've only invited around a hundred people or so—ninety-five percent of which I've never met before.

"Do I look presentable?" I asked as I moved away from the mirror and faced Felicity, Armina, Noli and Clyde who were in my living room, clustered around me as they made the final touches to my look tonight.

"Don't insult us by calling yourself presentable, Charlotte," Clyde chided, patting the tip of my nose with the fluffy end of his powder brush. "You look absolutely gorgeous. Am I right, guys?"

The two women nodded their approval while Noli assured me that I was going to take everyone's breath away.

I glanced back at the mirror, studying my reflection.

Noli had tweaked the dress, taking it to the next level when he lengthened the skirt to a slim, floor-length A-line shape, overlapping the old rose-colored tulle with a layer of a pale, burnished gold version. The beadwork remained but he'd cut out the back into a deep V that stopped just at the small of my back and he removed the cap sleeves, displaying my shoulders and collarbone with the boatneck cut in front. My honey-blonde hair was swept up in a mix of messy braids pinned together in low bun.

My cheeks were flushed, my eyelids dusted with a pale, pinkish gold shade, my lashes maximized with dark, brown-black mascara and my lips dabbed with a tinted lip balm. Clyde insisted we kept my make up minimal for a barely-there look. He said it kept me looking young and elegant without trying too hard.

I wasn't sure why we should pretend I wasn't trying too hard—my head was crammed with a hundred or so names and profile photos after all.

The doorbell sounded. 

"Oh, that would be Mr. Maxfield," Felicity said as she hurried to the door. "Let's wrap it up."

"Here you go, Char," Armina said as she handed me a white, flat leather clutch studded with pale gold beads. "Now, lift your chin up, square your shoulders and look down on everyone else."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't look down on people, Min. Let's try a different mantra. I'll lift my chin up, square my shoulders and think..."

Clyde, Armina and Noli looked at me expectantly.

"That after the party, I'm making Brandon get me a cheeseburger with fries after I starved myself today to fit into this dress," I finished with a smug smile. "No one will suspect that while I seem to be nibbling here and there, I'm looking forward to my fast-food treat."

Armina groaned and smacked her head. "You are the weirdest girl, I swear. Savoureux is catering your party and you're fantasizing about cheeseburgers."

"Who's fantasizing about cheeseburgers?" Brandon's rich, dark voice drifted into the room as he strode in, sharply dressed in a sleek, dark brown suit with a cognac-colored tie. His dark hair was trimmed and combed back, a few locks falling over his forehead, his shaven face showing off the stark planes of his angular face. 

He looked so perfect it hurt to stare at him.

I bit my lip. "Me. I told them you'll need to take me out for cheeseburgers and fries later as a reward for my restraint in not eating more than just crackers today."

His hazel eyes lazily appraised me as he stopped a foot away, his lips curving in an admiring smile. 

"I'll get you as many cheeseburgers as you want just for looking the way you do right now," he said, his eyes crinkling before he brushed a light kiss on my cheek. "For now, I hope this will do."