Brandon's Notebook (A TMMM Bonus Material)

Journal 22: The Birthday Girl

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry that this is a bit delayed but what I did was write out all of the five remaining entries to wrap up Brandon's Journal. They're a little shorter but I couldn't really write several days into one entry because it defeats the journal-style of the posts. I hope you've enjoyed this little sneak peek into Brandon's head. It's not meant to tell a different story. It's just to let you get better look inside this prince charming's heart. 

Enjoy!

***

In the week leading up to Charlotte's party, I've been tempted so many times to tell her to cheer up because the family and friends she thinks hate her are in fact planning her surprise birthday party.

She came out of that Sunday brunch with my family in far better shape than I'd imagined once our secret was out but there was an undeniable weight on her shoulders. She'd often chase away the faraway gazes with a tight smile and her typical dry humor. Most people who didn't know her well enough wouldn't see the cracks but in the short time I've met, married and loved Charlotte, I've definitely gotten close enough to know that her scars make no steel armor. She's still all skin, and while the scars make her tougher, they still break and bleed all the same.

But as much as I wanted to squeeze her tight in a hug and tell her that she has nothing to worry about, I bit my tongue and willed the days to move faster. Given everything I was trying to do, I could've probably used the time but I was lucky that my sisters and Felicity and every single of one Charlotte's close friends were more than happy to help out in the party-planning. I was looped in on almost everything but I couldn't push Anna and Tessa aside to fully take over if I'd tried with a bulldozer. So I focused my time on closing the deal on the house at Back Bay. I've also instructed Filbert to make contact with Louisa Samuels. So far, he's reported a lot of resistance. I don't blame her. Technically, she'd fraudulently married her husband and probably never told her other children about the family she'd left behind. I still really don't know what I'm doing if she agrees to discuss Charlotte (or even admit to their relation) but I feel like I need to do something with an advantage like this. But that's a surprise that will have to wait another day.

This morning, knowing that I would only have a couple of hours alone with her before the plan sets into motion, I made breakfast as best as I could. I'm not talented in the kitchen and the only time I ever made breakfast was many years ago, when I was eighteen. Anna and Tessa were eleven and ten and I was overseeing their little project—to make breakfast for Evelyn who'd just come home with baby Mattie from the hospital a day after he was born. She and Dad were with the baby in their room while the three of us were making a mess of the kitchen, trying to make chocolate chip pancakes and a fruit smoothie. I had to pay the staff some extra money to never mention to our parents the disaster they had to clean up after us. Evelyn probably wanted to throw up at the sight of the mushed up, overcooked pancakes my sisters presented her, but she'd smiled and kissed both of them, thanked me with a knowing look in her eyes, and happily downed several bites. This time, I had some preparation (Youtube videos—honestly the best thing out there) and without the distractions of two fussy little sisters. It was just waffles from the high-end waffle-maker I ordered. Some fresh sliced strawberries and whipped cream and syrup. Some crispy bacon and perfectly fried eggs. A glass of orange juice and a single-stemmed pink rose. Charlotte's grin was from ear to ear that it was worth the many minutes, possibly a few hours, I'd secretly spent watching the how-to videos in my office.

I hated leaving her but I had to get to Marlow's to meet with my sisters and the others to finalize our plans. Jake had volunteered to lure her out, claiming it would seem less suspicious. I doubted it but I had a feeling he just wanted to harass my wife again for advice. The man's been acting lovesick lately, all brooding and moody. Whatever problems Jake's having with women (only women are ever Jake's problems), he seems to have found some kind of counsellor in my wife. I love Charlotte and adore her but she's going to interfere way too much. She and I are a bit like that. I should probably sit him down on night over some drinks and tell him to get out in the open. There's not a problem that can't be solved. Besides, knowing Jake and his tendency to let his heart run away with him all the time like some kind of Romeo, this problem is probably just a temporary one until something else comes along to distract him. But I'll give it to him that his lure worked.