A/N: Hi everyone. I'll keep this short and sweet. Here's the newest entry to Brandon's journal. This happens around the same time as Charlotte's meeting with the Championettes. Enjoy!

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My mother, having come from an old and influential family, had been doing philanthropy since she was a teenager. Becoming Mrs. Maxfield changed nothing for her when it came to that except maybe give her causes more weight. Evelyn came from a family of diplomats that doing charity work was a natural next step for her after she married Dad. Both women were the toast of Boston—gracing every society page, every charity gala, every fundraiser.

Then there's Charlotte—adorable in her fancy dress and sneakers, an ex-diner waitress, practically an orphan, champion of the poor and helpless, wielder of a mean right hook I've fortunately managed to avoid, and verbal trasher of the unworthy.

Despite her impressive resume though, she apparently couldn't fit the mold of the Championettes that in my opinion was too small anyway for Charlotte's big heart.

I should've known it, the moment Charlotte mentioned the coveted invite from the prestigious group. It didn't occur to me then that they would have ulterior motives because to be honest, my first thought was why not? Why wouldn't anyone love her? How could anyone not love her?

And then I remember how I was the first time we met—my own tendencies at underestimating her, thinking the worst of her. So yes, I understood that people will have their prejudices. But it didn't mean it didn't make me angry. That may seem hypocritical to some but I'll gladly admit to anyone that I was happy to have been proven wrong when it came to my first impression of Charlotte.

It took a couple of calls for Felicity to ferret out exactly what happened. The staff is always willing to talk if you ask them the right questions. It was only the fact that Charlotte needed me to be there by her side that prevented me from marching down to Clifton House and rattling the place up to its rafters. But my wife, with her usual tendency to downplay her suffering, simply tried to put the whole thing behind her.

I watched the fleeting mix of emotions on her face as I held her in my arms after I dragged her into my office, trying to pry the truth from her despite her obvious reluctance. I knew, even without her putting it in so many words, that she was quietly devastated by what she considered her failure to live up to the reputation of a Mrs. Maxfield. And she believed enough in what she stood up for that afternoon to not change her mind, even if it meant not fulfilling what she pretty much thought were my own expectations of her role.

Screw the checkboxes.

While being Mrs. Maxfield was synonymous to a lot of fancy, lofty social accomplishments, the bottomline of those great, powerful women in the past was the strength of their character. Both had to be remarkable if they could not only marry a man like my father but love him as well for his complicated inner workings. Charlotte had survived more than her fair share of adversity, stopping for no rest when she took me on my offer to turn her world upside down for a year.

An easy fix would be to pay her admittance to the Championettes—to offer so much money and support they would probably spit back out their own words only to eat them again.

But I knew Charlotte wouldn't want that.

Even more so, it wouldn't get her what she really wanted—genuine respect.

Me greasing up my wife's way to everyone's good side will only serve to worsen their perception of her. She didn't need my money to show them just exactly what they were passing up. She just needed the smallest opportunity. And it irritated me that for all of my own influence, I was helpless to let Charlotte navigate her way among the society sharks.

l told Felicity to let it go. There was no need to appeal to the Championettes for another invitation. Not because they were done with Charlotte but because she was done with them. Good riddance.

I cleared the rest of my afternoon that day to spend time with her, my brain running away with all kinds of ideas to cheer her up. Some people might think I'm a hell of a lot smoother than this when it comes to women but they'd be wrong. Not to be a jackass but when you've had it easy, or had people as efficient as Marissa to make you appear thoughtful, making an effort wasn't a typical occurrence. And whatever skill I might have had at it was as rusty as a tetanus-guaranteed nail.

So I did what I could do under the circumstances, without the luxury of any lavish preparations. I just went for it. I dared to ask her out on a date for the first time since we met. Yes, we've been out together as a couple, initially to make appearances and later due to the fact that we were engaged/married. This was the first time I asked her as a man would ask a woman that he was interested in.

Yeah.

You could say I'm interested in Charlotte.

I'm interested in what makes her smile and laugh.

I'm interested in every beautiful inch of her body.

I'm interested in all the ways I could show her pleasure.

I'm interested in how her mind works, even as I suspect I'll never figure it out.

I'm interested in having her close all the time, as much as possible, because to wrap her in my arms or have her press her face on my chest—there's just something absolutely life-altering about it each time.

I'm interested in days with her, months, years, decades. As far as the calendar would go.

Yeah.

I'm interested, alright.

Anyway, to my eternal relief, she didn't turn me down. I'm not exactly sure how I would've coped if she had. There's some degree of absurdity to being nervous about asking your wife out on a date but backwards seems to be our style of romance since day one.

And just like Charlotte, our date was very much understated. And much like Charlotte, I enjoyed every bit of it.

It was nothing elaborate but I was glad to see her loosen up and smile more easily again. It struck me that the effect probably wouldn't have been that much different had I decided to shut down the city and have her serenaded with the orchestra floating up on hot air balloons because she wasn't big on the production. She was content to just hang out with me and enjoy some pretty decent street fare.

And since the grand gestures weren't going to do it for me, I had to get creative in finding some means to show her that this afternoon date with her meant so much more to me than she could ever imagine.

The simple cuff bracelets are a bit cheesy, I know, especially with the inscriptions, but they were something I could wear every day to remind me of my wife—of my promise that she's not quite fully aware yet I was making.

And while I felt that our little outing had significantly cheered her up after the day she had, I knew it wasn't quite enough to fix the damage of those claws that had come tearing at her.

So when I was sitting in my office the next day with my lawyer, going over the will I was changing to include Charlotte in it, I gave instructions about starting up a charity fund for my wife. She'd asked for one before, and she could keep it, but this one would give her the financial capacity to launch strong at whatever cause she wanted to put her heart in.

I'll tell her about it after some time has passed for two reasons—I didn't want her to see it as some kind of consolation prize, which it would appear as considering the timing. And I wanted her to feel more comfortable with her baby steps into philanthropy before she started sprinting for gold.

She would probably think it still too much but there's no way in hell I'm going to let Charlotte be at the mercy of a bunch of shallow and catty socialites.

After all, a Mrs. Maxfield enjoys the favor of many but she's not slave to any of it.

Charlotte only gifts people with her soul when they can trust her enough to let her in. Whoever bolts their doors shut at her can say goodbye to the sun because theirs would be a dim world indeed without her in it.

I know mine would've been if I'd stayed stupid for too long.

- B

***

So, what do you think? I personally like that Brandon didn't do anything extreme. Considering how protective he is, he could've gotten carried away but I liked that he let Charlotte fight her own fight. 

Anyway, as promised, I'll be posting twice weekly. The entries are just going to be a bit shorter to align more with what a normal diary entry would be. If there's more to write about from Brandon's perspective on a scene, then there'll be more. But I don't want to fluff up a post too much just to get the word count. 

Have a fantastic rest of the week!

XOXO!

-Ninya

As for this song, I just love how perky it is. But it sounds like something Charlotte would play about Brandon.

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Bring Me The Sunshine by Jess Penner ♪♪♪

(Verse 1)

You sent me a cord from paradise

With coconut trees and a turquoise sea

A nice little note that closed with x's and o's

A sweet little tease from you to me

(Chorus)

You bring me the sunshine (la, la, la, la, la)

You bring me the sun (la, la, la, la, la)

Bringing the the sunshine (la, la, la, la, la)

To everyone

(Verse 2)

It's been a cold, gray winter

And you've been away so long

You sent me a smile from the clouds and a kiss into the crowd

I almost forgot how perfect life could be

(Chorus)

You bring me the sunshine (la, la, la, la, la)

You bring me the sun (la, la, la, la, la)

Bringing the the sunshine (la, la, la, la, la)

To everyone