The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Nine: The Curse of a Conscience

I have a quick temper but I have a hard time holding grudges.

I'd spent the night crying until my pillow resembled a mural with the smeared mascara and the lipstick soaked through its case. I eventually fell asleep from exhaustion and when I woke up this morning, I had a completely different perspective.

I hated saints because they suffered needlessly most of the time and reveled in the rightness of it. I hated them more each time I found myself doing the same exact thing because wouldn't life be so much easier if I were just always looking out for myself? 

Try as I might, I just couldn't stay angry—especially since I realized that my anger was mostly unsubstantiated. Brandon was crystal clear when he told me that he expected to be able to pursue his own personal affairs even when we were married. It was written in plain text in black ink on the contract I signed. I couldn't really dispute that. 

Also, I never once considered that Brandon's heart may have already belonged to someone else and that when Martin decreed this marriage between us, he had to give that up and hurt the woman he loved.

What if I was the third party? The force that will tear their love apart? The reason for his pain and heartbreak? The reason for her misery?

I know, dramatic, right? Meeting Brandon the first time, I couldn't imagine him being so passionately in love with a woman. Having spent time with him in the past week and a half, I had a harder time imagining him not being loving, sweet and generous to the woman who captured his heart. 

Even if that woman is Simone Clark—beautiful, sophisticated, rich and perfect in every way to become Mrs. Maxfield. The kind of wife Brandon would be proud of—nothing like the rugrat that I am.

So I decided that despite the emotional beating my heart took the night before, I wasn't going to hold it against him. He would marry me and continue on with Simone until he could officially be with her once we divorced. He'd been good to me mostly and this was the least I could do for him.

Yes. I was a pathetic martyr.

Having given Felicity and Gilles the day off, I went to most of my appointments for the day all by myself, canceling those that weren't important. Amazingly, no one checked up on me. For a moment, it felt like I had my old life back.

I went to the bank to discuss their sudden decision to extend the hold on my house. I told them they didn't have to since I was getting the money in a week but they insisted that I could take as long as I wanted to get the mortage cleared up without worrying about getting the house foreclosed. I suspected that my engagement to Brandon was responsible for it again. No one wanted to piss off his bride.

After lunch at Marlow's, I walked the Schuberts' trio of Pomeranians around the park where I met up with the reporters for a chat. If anyone noticed my slightly despondent mood, no one mentioned it. Since the media hadn't been allowed inside the party and most of them had left by the time Brandon and I went our separate ways, none of them really knew what had happened. They had asked about how my meeting with Jake for the first time went. One reporter asked if I had met Simone Clark and although my insides had turned into ice at that question, I managed a merry smile and said that I didn't get a chance to be introduced to her even though she'd been at the party. Another reporter had jabbed that guy in the stomach almost in reprimand and although I was touched by the gesture, I knew it was useless. The world knew what a joke I was as Brandon's fiancee and there was nothing I could do about it.

It wasn't until late afternoon that I took a cab to Martin's house to visit him. 

"Well, this is interesting," he said after he studied me for a long moment while nibbled on a scone.