Charlie looks at herself in a mirror. Anthony is standing right behind her. It is an early morning on their second day of counting down to the wedding of the year.

She is wearing a tight light blue jeans. She put her long dark blonde hair carelessly in a messy knot on the top of her head this morning after waking up. Her locks that normally flow loosely over her shoulder blades are still in that knot.

She wears dark brown leather ankle boots, with small heels. Somehow she has to get used to being in jeans and heels that make her feel just a bit taller and stronger. But then somehow, she feels more like herself too.

Her eyes fall on the words printed on the light grey shirt she is wearing. And she smirks to her own reflection in the mirror.

I am a Charlotte. Black letters are printed on a grey cotton shirt.

Anthony looks at Charlie. 'Well, you are rocking that shirt hon.'

He found the shirt when he was shopping in Austin when preparing for Aaron's and Priscilla's wedding. It was a long forgotten piece of merchandise for a tv show and culture now almost forgotten. The shirts had been a big hit when the tv show had been everywhere and everyone loved to talk about it.

The art of shopping had faded. He still remembers the glamour and thrill of how it all used to be. But hey, someone had to be strong, so he held his head up high and still called it shopping these days.

Charlie places a hand on her hips. Anthony had walked into the room with the shirt a bit earlier. A wide smile on his face. He had told her about a TV show from years ago. About four single woman who lived their lives in New York, being all fierce and strong. And one of them, her name was Charlotte. She tried to remember how Anthony had called the show. There was something with sex and a city.

'Sex and the City, Char.' Anthony sighs, reading her mind. Annoyed at her short term memory for these kind of important fact she should remember.

'God Char, those delicious men guarding you like with their lifes may be good at fighting and looking hot, but you are lucky I am here now to teach you all these things.'

Charlie rolls her eyes at him at how he keeps on mentioning her uncle, and maybe even worse, Monroe like that. Her guys.

'I Saw that.' Anthony says strongly as he watches her face. 'Good shirt Char. Good body too.' He says with appreciation. He narrows his eyes a bit.

'Although you still definitely look like a Carrie.'

Charlie has no idea what he is talking about, but she can't help but smile. She is not sure if she, as a Matheson, should smile this much. She is starting to like Anthony. Fast. He fills her mind with more than fighting and struggles.

She listens how he rambles on about Carry, and Charlotte, and Miranda and a city she knows just from postcards.

I am a Charlotte.

She looks at the words again. She loves knowing more about that show. But what she loves even more is the idea of walking with this shirt on in the room where he will be too. Monroe. Something to yank his chain.

For all the times he yanked hers and called her Charlotte. Her name rolling of those lips of him in an infuriating broody smouldering way. His low voice is way too close in her head all of a sudden. She shakes that thought away.

Charlotte. In that pool, in many stupid discussion where he acted all delusional. All the times he called her that.

She will walk into their next meeting which is about ten minutes away with this shirt on. The place where the letters are placed in the middle of the shirt, right over her breasts, is only adding more to the sweet anticipation of knowing he will squirm like a pathetic kitty as she will walk in.

'Okay Char, time to get moving.' Anthony turns to grab his organizer and walks out of the door.

Charlie grabs her leather jacket from the chair and holds it loosely in her hand. Everybody else is waiting in their marriage headquarters, where she suspects Miles and Monroe hang out mostly because of the whiskey they share like a couple of kids share their toys. Their banter is kind of sweet to see, in a childish kind of way, now she can see brotherhood shine through. So they drag their asses in to drink booze, nag about wedding planners and pink shit and then run those asses out of the door the moment her mom walks in with more wedding planner and pink shit stuff.

Anthony looks at the young woman next to him. Oh this girl is strong. With a warm heart she carries around in many layers of protective grins and stubbornness. .

He doubts she even knows how beautiful she actually is. He also doubts she knows how very much the men he sees around daily care for her. Like care care. Because they do.

That Miles guy, all sarcasm, all protectiveness over his niece. Connor, with his dark curls, cocky shit but a good heart who is a magnet for girls around town but shows how much of a friend he is for Charlie in small gestures. That dangerous delicious Monroe guy with eyes that linger a bit too long on Charlie to be just casual looks. Eyes from Monroe that Anthony watches make every guy around her take a turn in a different direction after Monroe throws them looks of steal, to every guy that comes even close to Charlie.

And maybe Monroe and Char are in a sweet city called denial, but he sees it. He knows three things: how to plan a wedding, how to shop with stamina and people.

They just have to figure their shit out. Oh the drama, he sighs. But one week of crazy wedding , a lot of alcohol and family, well, he just knows, the shit will eventually hit the fan.

He sighs heavily at all the delicious drama waiting to happen, making his job a whole lot interesting as he closes the door and follows Charlie out of the door to their next meeting.

Charlie walks through the hallway, as she can hear her mom talking things over with Priscilla, as Miles plays with his life and makes a well placed sarcastic line about decorations. She does not have to be in the same room to picture the death glare her mom is giving Miles right now.

Miles needs a drink after Rachel turns away from him and gets back to her planning and talking with the soon to be Misses Pittman.

'Do they ever get tired of...' Miles looks in agony as he waves his hand at all the wedding shit in pastel and pink that lies on the table., '...all this shit?'

Priscilla and Rachel keep on talking with enthusiasm in the background.

'They are chicks man. Chicks like to talk about this shit. A lot.' Bass answers, amused to see his brother in agony.

'And of course with Rachel, she will take planning to a whole new ...' he is about to finish it when Miles cuts him of.

'All right Bass, that's enough.' Rachel throws a cold look towards Bass and Bass gives her a Like I care for all of your shit look back.

When they boys decide to sit and wait and have their first, well that is not true, third drink of the day, Bass hears the sweet sounds of heels.

Both men look up to the door, like boys who cannot help themselves at the sound.

Bass sees her first. Her hair is different, revealing her neck now she moved into a sexy as hell bun on her head. Those jeans work for her and those heels, smoking. fucking hot. But then, after he sits there with his mouth a bit open, he sees it. The shirt. I am a Charlotte.

He swallows as he sees the daring look in her eyes that she combines with a grin from hell that makes him need to do things to her badly. As he realises he has not only been reading the words on her damn shirt, but that he is also looking straight at her tits.

With Miles next to him.

Miles needs exactly three seconds to slap him on the back of his head. Hard.

Charlie watches Monroe. Darker eyes, stronger jaw lines as his attention is all on her. She watches him look at her, and she likes to see him swallow hard. Uncomfortable Monroe is a fun Monroe to watch. Especially because he does not see Miles' hand behind him, ready to smack him straight on the head.

'Miles, seriously?' He whines at Miles slapping him as he moves a hand over the back of his head.

'You were checking out my niece. Don't. do that.' Miles voice is serious as he pronounces each and every word with a deadly precision.

'So you like the shirt Monroe?' Charlie says, widely grinning, hand on her hip.

Before he can answer she continues. 'Because it is my new favourite. Picked it out especially for you.' She pouts a bit at that last word.

Miles openly catching Monroe checking her out, is something that would use to fill her with loathing. Now, it just feels a wildly all kinds of good. It makes her feel in control.

God, this is fun, she likes it. It used to be all hate and loathing that he managed to edge the sharpest pain off until it changed into something else.

With him fighting with them, with him fighting for her, coming back for her and saving her life. With silent concern from him, crude remarks that made her want to slap his face. With long stares, his shoulders close in a fight or near a fire when she needed it most. With all of that, Sebastian Monroe, Monroe, Bass, he had pulled her, them both into a new place.

She still likes him to suffer, but somehow the stakes in this game had changed, and the banter, the eye locks, the daring words board lining too much, were swirling inside of her. Forming into new darker dangerous things she felt low in her belly, new banter that was moving between them.

He does not know where the hell she got his shirt, but her name, the name that he only uses for her, his, only his. There on that shirt is a invitation to more raw banter and her noticing he only calls her that. It should not shoot straight to his chest by that weird pull between them.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks again, too hoarse. He curses at hearing his own voice.

'Oh I think it is adorable, Charlotte.' His eyes light up, as the tone of his voice and his eyes betray there is more than adorable there. She knows it, he knows it. Dammit.

'Good.' She says with a sugar sweet voice as she turns away from her. The air between them filling with that weird locking electricity.

The Anthony storms in, walking past Charlie and moving in front of Monroe. She watches him lock his jaw before reality kicks in. Bass and Miles drink some more as Charlie eyes fall on the list her mom is making on the table. She almost groans as the smile disappears from her face and the endless list her mom is not even close to finishing.

'What Charlie? This is important.' Rachel simply says.

'Jesus mom, seriously?'

At that point, Aaron walks in. 'Kiddo, if we get to the church in like five minutes, I would really appreciate it if you did not use one of your favourite words that much. You know, out of respect to Jesus himself. Or maybe don't mention him like at all.' Aaron thinks about his own words and nods to himself in agreement as he looks at Charlie. ' Yeah, that would be simply terrific.'

Now, Charlie looks annoyed. 'Do I use that word a lot?' A frown appears on her face. ' No I don't.'

'Yeah, you do.' Both Miles and Bass say right behind her. Two low voices that combine and annoy her even more.

Leaving her stomping her heelsout of the room with annoyance, and Bass with one hell of a view with a furious Charlie in that shirt and those heels. Miles pinches his nose as he grinns at his niece's annoyance and the rest of the day that is still in front of them. As Anthony and Aaron walk out the room together. Priscilla and Rachel not even looking up from their lists as they walk onto the porch and into town.

Charlie keeps her eyes in front of her. But she can feel him, Monroe right behind her. She can sense his taller frame behind her, his tall shoulders in that stupid leather jacket of his.

The sound of his boots in the sand mixing with the sounds of her heels and swinging of her hip with every solid steps she takes in the air.

Authors Note The wedding preparation week continues and today, there were some moments that made Charlie aware of certain feelings... Anthony, well, he already sees how much the men around her care for her. Maybe one man in particular. There is banter between Charlie and Bass, but it is changing. More from the wedding and them in next chapter. Thanks for reading and your reviews, I loved reading them! Knowing you are here reading the story is such a great reward for the writing I love to do. Love from Love