A/N: I hope you enjoyed this mini installment. Other than launching this at the same time as my Skillshare class, this also heralds the way for the new story I'm posting in a few days featuring Jake and Tessa and The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield. Hope you tune in for that one too!

***

I sat in a daze throughout dinner.

After reading that first story, I felt the oddest sense that something was incomplete, as if a hole had been carved out of me somewhere and that piece went missing.

I'm not exactly a cheerleader for fated things and all that because I need to believe that our destiny is within our control. The life of someone trapped in an abusive household is a prison sentence with no one to bail them out. From there, it would become so easy to just give up. To resign yourself to it. If that's what fate has in store for me, then I'm done with fate. I'm choosing my own adventure, like in a book, except it's my one and only life with no high-tech features such as time travel and a reset button.

With a stomach full and warm from the beef stew we just had, I went back to the chair I abandoned before dinner and read through the rest of the stories. I couldn't remember most of them a good two hours later because my head was still stuck and spinning from the first one.

Soul mates, fated love, etcetera, etcetera—could they really exist?

And if they did, where was the other half of my heart?

How were we ever going to find each other?

For all I knew, he was in a totally different country, probably a different age, and possibly with a different set of preferences for the kind of girl he was looking for.

Would we recognize the other if we happened to run into each other someday?

"—Oh, sorry—"

"—You okay, miss?"

I barely had time to register the face of the man who hunched down to pick up the book I'd dropped on the floor. I thought I'd walked right into the wall as I went around the corner to the hallway but I knew it couldn't be. Walls didn't feel warm or pull away all of a sudden.

I only saw the gray baseball cap and the dark brown hair that peeked from under it, the navy blue sweatshirt that clung to broad muscular shoulders. Oh, and he smelled extra nice as if he had the best bath money could buy.

He was still crouched down when he turned the book in his hand, scanning the title.

"Designs of Destiny—A Collection of Love Stories That Were Meant To Be."

My cheeks burned a little at the amusement in his voice. It was a cheesy title, no arguments there, but did he really have to point it out?

"Some of us could use a happy ending," I said as I snatched the book the moment he looked up to hand it to me, his face half-obscured by the shadow under the brim of his cap. All I could make out were the sharp angles of his jaw, the day-old dark stubble that covered it and a mouth with a generous bottom lip.

"Even if it's just a fictional one?" he said, this time a little softly.

"Sometimes, it's all you've got," was my own quiet reply before Mrs. Gibson nearly ran over the man when she came around the corner just as he was pulling himself back up to his feet. He was about a foot taller than me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir!" the older woman said profusely, her hands landing on each side of her mortified face. "I didn't see you—"

I couldn't see the man's face anymore as he was fully turned toward Mrs. Gibson, his hand gently patting her shoulder. "It's alright. My bad too. I shouldn't have stopped right by the doorway."

"Shall we continue then?" Mrs. Gibson asked, gesturing toward the communal room with a dramatic sweep of her arm.

Not wanting to be in the way of what looked like a tour, I pulled down the hood of my sweater further down my face and walked around the pair, the book tucked safely under my arm.

By the time I risked a glance over my shoulder, Mrs. Gibson and the mystery man were gone.

***

I have a love-hate relationship with alarm clocks.

I love them because they usually save my ass. And I hate them because they pull me out of sleep when I wasn't ready yet—like right now, when I was on the verge of an important dream.

My hand groped through what felt like piles of paper, hunting for the blaring, vibrating offender. I lifted my head up and swept aside the curtain of knotty, messy hair with my other hand so I could look at my cellphone screen and tap the off button on the damn alarm.

Blinking the bleariness off my vision, I surveyed the room to slowly place it.

It was my office and sleep-wrinkled in front of me were notes I was studying for the spring finals—which started in an hour.

I bolted out of my seat and scrammed to the bathroom to take the quickest shower in mankind's history. After toweling off, I slipped into jeans, a shirt, and my red Chuck Taylors, my rat's nest of a hair getting squished under a baseball cap. This is what you get for getting up so early in the morning to review and ending up snoozing at your desk anyway.

I scooped up all my notes from my desk and tossed them into my backpack before I grabbed my phone and tossed back what was left of my coffee from early this morning. I gagged and made a face because it was now a cold, bitter brew. I was just about to leave when I caught sight of doodles I'd written on a post-it while I was reviewing.

Destiny.

I'd been studying various philosophical debates on destiny for my exams.

And you were dreaming about it.

Or was I?

Because while I definitely just woke up, it wasn't a dream.

It's a memory.

My mouth dropped as all the puzzle pieces whirled in my head together and made a compelling picture. My mind raced and I started to pace, unsure of how to proceed.

Then my chime on my phone went off, signaling a text message.

[Brandon: Good luck on your exams, babe. Chinese take-out later as promised if you make it through.]

I resisted the urge to dial him because I was cutting it real close in time.

So I just texted him back as I ran down the hallway to the door.

[Me: There's luck and there's fate. I pick fate.]

To him, that text message probably didn't make sense but it was all I had time for because as soon as I swung the door open, I saw Gilles standing there, in the process of dialing the security code on the door.

"I was just wondering if you'd slept in," he said as he stepped back to let me through.

"Well, you and every human being I run into today will know that I did because I look like it," I told him as I nearly sprinted down the front steps of the house. A little of my frantic energy left me as I slid into the back of the waiting town car and finally peeked outside. Our Back Bay neighborhood was blooming in the spring, the sunlight gleaming off the white exterior of our town home and the cherry blossom trees lush with pink and white flowers. Despite my current state, I couldn't fight the surge of happiness that would come over each time I remembered where my life was now.

"How do I look, Gilly?" I asked my driver/bodyguard/counselor/friend with a small smile when he finally got into the car.

And of course, he replied with aplomb and a straight face as he looked at me through the rear-view mirror. "Like any sleep-deprived, overly-caffeinated and perpetually harassed college sophomore, Mrs. Maxfield."

I grinned. "Perfect."

College would never be normal for me, I guess, no matter how much I tried to stay under the radar at school. But it didn't mean I didn't try my best. Brandon would never pass for a normal college boyfriend either even if he would tag along with me sometimes to some party or concert. He didn't to do any of that for me but I didn't mind that he did. I knew it was his personal mission to make sure I never missed out on a full life.

Gilles raced me over to campus and I made it just in the nick of time for my exams.

Once my day was done after two exams, I got Gilles to help me run some errands and pick up several things for my little surprise for Brandon. I made my own version of Chinese food take-out which Gilles taste-tested for me before I sent him away with a big container of food.

It was almost six when Brandon walked through the door, slipping off his suit jacket and loosening his tie. Even after a long day, he was still as breathtaking to me as he was this morning when I kissed him goodbye before he headed to work—his dark hair thick and deliciously rumpled, his broad shoulders constantly offering to be the eternal resting place of my arms for the rest of my life.

"Hmm. If you start losing clothes right now, we might have to skip dinner," I said from the kitchen island where I was taking out some plates.

Brandon stopped in his tracks to take in the scene. I cooked up a literal feast of food, the warm, comforting smell of spices and fragrant rice filling the entire penthouse. I also had a large bowl brimming full of fortune cookies and he was addicted to those.

"Did we buy an entire Chinese restaurant?" he asked as he walked over to me, looking over the selection on the counter. "Because I'm okay with it if we did."

I grinned and stood on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a slow, sweet kiss. His head angled down to catch my lips again when I moved to pull away, his arms circling my waist and drawing me closer against him until all my senses were filled with this wonderful, strong, sexy man.

"Should I start with the tie? The shoes?" he murmured against my ear with a soft chuckle. "I take off one piece, you take off two."

"Brandon!" I smacked him on the arm even as I laughed, trying to push him away from me. "We have to eat first. I'm starving!"

"Fine," he said smugly as he teasingly set me aside. "You're going to need all your strength, after all."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Go change into a shirt at least while I pour some wine. I want to eat on the couch." When we didn't have company over or it had been a long day for one or both of us, we'd spend the evening curled up in the couch together, eating dinner and watching TV and just being together.

He left me for a few minutes while I got all our cutlery and wine glasses out. I didn't hear him come back until I just happened to glance up and found him standing there, across the kitchen island from me, holding a book—one I'd left on his pillow.

I smiled and stood back, watching the expressions flickering across his face. "Designs of Destiny—A Collection of Love Stories That Were Meant To Be."

Brandon's hold on the book was so tight, his knuckles were white with the strain. He stared at the book for a long moment, his Adam's apple working furiously as if he was struggling with words.

"That was you?" he finally asked, his voice a little husky. His warm, hazel eyes slid back to me, so much emotion shining in them. "The girl who was happy with just a little fictional happy ending?"

"Back then, it was all I've got," I said as I slowly walked over to him. "But not anymore."

With his free hand, Brandon touched the side of my face, his thumb grazing my cheek. "I never thought... I couldn't see your face very well. You had your hoodie on and we only talked for thirty seconds with me crouched on the floor... I didn't..."

I just smiled at my husband who was still gazing at me long after his words had trailed off. He was studying me as if there was an explanation to this mystery on my face somewhere.

"Funny that our story should belong in the same book as those that were just meant to be," I said, running up a hand over his chest and resting it where his heart pounded, strong and steady.

Brandon wrapped his arms tightly around me for a long moment before his head lifted. "So. It's my turn now for a surprise."

I raised a brow. "I didn't realize this was a contest. You just can't be outdone, can you?"

He grinned and pulled me by the hand toward one hallway. "Well, you know this one's been coming along the past six months. It's not completely done but I think you can take a peek now."

We were heading down the last bedroom down the west hallway which Brandon, along with Nicole, had boarded up. Even after the new doors were installed, he'd locked it and told me to wait until it was ready for unveiling.

"Is this your Red Room of Pain?" I asked as Brandon looked through a set of keys from his pocket. "Where you keep all your kinky toys to play slave and master with me?"

Brandon made a face. "I still haven't forgiven you for making me sit there while you read that book out loud to me."

I was still laughing when Brandon pushed one of the double doors open and stepped aside.

"After you, Mrs. Maxfield," he said, his hazel eyes twinkling.

Interested to see what he'd been secretly working at in here for the last few months, I stepped inside and froze on the spot.

My head went up, sweeping the long row of shelves that entirely filled one wall of the room all the way up to the ceiling. A rolling ladder that could go from one end of the wall to another was installed, its dark wood grain matching the shelves. In one corner, there as a small spiral staircase that led to a cozy mezzanine that only had enough space for a red wingback chair and a small coffee table. It looked out one of the smaller, higher windows in the room.

As for the rest of the main level, plush armchairs and a day bed were scattered around a reading area. There was a mapping table of some sort in the middle of the room where the map that Brandon gave me with all the places he wanted to take me to was preserved under a glass top.

"There are a few more boxes of books still sitting at a corner that I have to unpack," Brandon said as he came up behind me, his arms slipping around my waist. "There are a lot of first editions there. Then we have the all the other books from the current library that we have to move in here too."

There was an inexplicable tightness in my chest as I stood there and tried to take deep breaths in, fighting the sting of tears. Finally, I turned within my husband's embrace to look at him. He had a soft but smug smile on his face.

"I gave you a book and you gave me a library," I said, biting my lower lip to keep my voice from trembling. 

"Well, I did promise you I was going to build you one."

I sniffed. "This is supposed to be Cinderella. Not Beauty and the Beast."

Brandon laughed. "I think this is supposed to be Charlotte and Brandon."

 I looked up at him, my breath catching at his tender expression. "I love you, Brandon Maxfield."

His smile turned tremulous and there was the tiniest bit of sheen to his eyes as Brandon leaned down to cup my face, his forehead touching mine. "I love you, Charlotte Maxfield. No more fictional happy endings for you."

I smiled because I was perfectly alright with that.

***

So, what do you think?

I hope this was a real fun read for a lot of you. The bonus chapters were there to reflect the real-day Charlotte and Brandon we knew and came to love in The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield but both storylines here—past and present—all speak to the theme of destiny and just how much of it we do not know or have control over. Sometimes, you have to believe in a little magic for the fairy dust to work. =)

Thanks again and see you at the next story!

Don't forget to check out my Skillshare class and the two other one that'll be coming your way soon as well. 

Ninya

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Better Place by Rachel Platten ♪♪♪

I'll tell the world, I'll sing a song

It's a better place since you came along

Since you came along

Your touch is sunlight through the trees

Your kisses are the ocean breeze

Everything's alright when you're with me

And ah ah ah ah ah, you're my favorite thing

Ah ah ah ah ah, all the love that you bring

But it feels like I've opened my eyes again

And the colors are golden and bright again

There's a song in my heart, I feel like I belong

It's a better place since you came along

It's a better place since you came along

I see the whole world in your eyes

It's like I've known you all my life

We just feel so right

So I pour my heart into your hands

It's like you really understand

You love the way I am