The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Thirty-Three: Finding Fortitude and Freedom

A/N: This hasn't happened in TMMM history before but since my email exploded and everyone's happiness seems to hang on the balance of Charlotte and Brandon's relationship, here's something to get you by till the last chapter. Yes. Since you've all asked for me to update, we're now only a chapter away from the finale. 

Hope this gives you something to hang on to until the next update.

I appreciate all the comments. I'm glad Charlotte and Brandon can still surprise you, and that even in their weakest moments, you continue to see their strength. I hope they do the HEA justice when it's time.

Hope you have a good week and no, I'm not going to post the next/last chapter right away. LOL. This is me indulging you already. =)

**Dedicated to Favor99. You know why. Thank you for the message. It has been a year, hasn't it? Glad you're still here. 

***

Do you know that image of a person standing solitary while the rest of the world blurred around them?

That was exactly how I felt in the days that followed my departure from the penthouse.

Danny and Riley had taken one look at me when I arrived at the door of my own house before scrambling to prepare my old bedroom.  

Danny dismissed my protest and assured me that he was going to be comfortable on the couch. Layla had been using the only other bedroom in the house which was where Riley bunked over as well. 

Within an hour, I was curled up in bed in my old pajamas, lethargic and mute, sipping some chicken soup that Danny had made. Riley sat next to me, keeping the conversation going for the both of us as he told me about meeting his grandfather, not minding at all that I barely made a sound. 

I dozed off, not having had a wink of sleep since the day of Martin's birthday, and woke up maybe a day later, burning up and croaking with a sore throat. 

Layla was there, feeding me more soup and crackers, not asking any questions either but mothering me quite efficiently. 

I had no interest in saying anything anyway. 

I had no interest in anything. Period.

In those few days when I mostly stayed in bed, barely lifting my head over the covers, life continued around me. Layla told me about Bessy's release from the hospital, the emotional first meeting between her father and Riley, the gig Danny scored with the Championettes in modifying Oakley Stead to fit the bill as home for the Rainbow Roof project, the new job she’s looking to do in her father’s family company now that Don had been fired, and finally the the new house she'd set her eyes on in Back Bay—a sore reminder of the house Brandon had gifted me for my birthday which would now likely stay empty for years to come. 

Even though I’d offered no explanation, everyone in the house seemed to have figured out that any reference to Brandon, or even the mention of his name, wasn’t something I wanted to hear. 

It must’ve been that one time I dragged myself out of bed to join them for breakfast and in the middle of eating a bacon quiche which Layla had so cheerfully prepared, tears started rolling down my cheeks so fast I could barely keep up with chasing them back with my hands. The three of them wordlessly stared at me, finishing their own breakfast, as I continued to fork through mine like there was nothing at all unusual about eating an exquisitely made quiche while your eyes leaked like faucets.

Layla narrowed her eyes on the tabloid Danny was reading before she snatched it and folded it close. Splattered on the front of it was a medium shot of Brandon standing against a podium, smiling faintly, headlined with the official announcement of his role as Maxfield Industries new leader.