by P. M. Briede
Wesley on the other hand, well, he hadn’t seen any of it. For him I was a monster out of a horror movie who’d replaced his beautiful fiancée. “I know I’m a gruesome picture, Wesley, but the doctor says I’m actually healing quite well given how bad I was when I got to the hospital.”
He quickly dropped everything on the counter and came to embrace me, stopping when it occurred to him that it might actually hurt. “No, it’s not that,” he said reassuringly. “I’ll love you no matter what you look like.”
His words were meant to comfort me, but they didn’t. I knew that if I didn’t want to look at myself, there was no way anyone else would. This was the first time since learning the truth about Olivier that I was appreciative for his supernatural abilities. “That’s easy to say when they keep telling me I should make a complete recovery,” I barely whispered.
“Stop, I mean it,” Wesley countered. “I know our engagement is a topic for later, but where you’re concerned, in my heart we’re married. To me the wedding is a formality. You are mine, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part.” He did mean it. I might not be gently folded in his loving arms, but his words embraced and soothed me more than arms ever would. “I love you, Charlotte.”
Tears filled my eyes and his hands were there with a tissue before the first one spilled against my cheek. This is why I love him. This is what makes him the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. And this was what makes me dangerous to him, because no matter how safe parting would keep him, I just can’t do it.
I’d planned on turning back to the microwave to retrieve my meal, but when my back was to him Wesley placed his hands delicately on my hips. His lips were beside my ear as his whispered breath caressed it. “Is this okay, my love?” he begged. There was no pain or discomfort so I gently leaned back into him. “I’ve missed you. Please, don’t ever shut me out again. I don’t think I’d survive.”
While my skin could not get any redder, inside my blood was boiling. I’d missed him too. I just hadn’t realized how much. He always knew just what to say, just what to do. I wanted to feel him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to be swept up in his arms and carried off somewhere where I knew he’d make the rest of the world disappear. With my eyes closed that first night together played in my mind.
Sighing, I opened my eyes and pulled away from him. Living in my mind wasn’t going to make anything easier or better. I turned towards him, prepared for our talk as I took a few steps away. When I turned back to face Wesley I found him leaning against the counter. “Unless you don’t want me here,” Wesley began before I could say anything, “Alexander agreed to let me run the campaign from home until the doctor says you’re able to take care of yourself. My hope is that your prognosis will include a release to travel. I know you don’t want to quit your job. You love it and I get that. But, I hope you’re open to come see me from time to time.”
“How, Wesley?” came out of my mouth in a huff. “You’re the campaign manager and chief of staff; I don’t know how long this whole thing is going to take.” As much as I dreaded having him gone, his job was his life, even if he said it wasn’t. Paige’s words floated through my memory. Why, with everything that’s going on, would you tell him to do that? They were quickly followed by Olivier’s. To have him suddenly back down now would tip our hand. Nope, I would let Wesley go to work, in order to hopefully hold onto him forever.
“We live in a technology driven society,” Wesley explained. “I’ll be here but I won’t always be readily available to you, if that’s alright? If not, I’ll quit, simple as that. The interim governor already approached me about joining his team…”
This shocked me since he’d never given the impression of being dissatisfied with Governor Wyatt. “Why?” I asked dumbfounded. “Why would you even consider that?”
Wesley shrugged while his hand tenderly cupped mine. “Let’s just say word’s out that I’m madly in love and not eager to leave the lady,” he answered. Lustful eyes met mine and I found it incomprehensible that I could stir that in him looking the way I do.
As my pulse raced, I rallied my courage to get through all the unfortunate topics we needed to discuss. But again he beat me to the punch. “Charlotte, do they know what happened?” His voice was so small. Just like Paige and Olivier, he blamed himself.
I had come up with the public answer. “SHC, Spontaneous Human Combustion.”
Shock overpowered him and he unconsciously tightened his grip on my hand. When I winced, guilt took over and he pulled away. “You’re so fragile now,” he observed.
“Please stop blaming yourself.”
Words I’d hoped would relieve his suffering instead enraged him. Turning his back on me, he started pacing across the kitchen, my trapped wild animal, words tumbling out. “Love, how can I not? If I’d been honest with you, if I’d trusted you, you would have been by my side the entire evening and it wouldn’t have happened.”
While what Wesley said was actually true, I couldn’t tell him that. “Spontaneous, Wesley, as in unpredictable. Who’s to say whether it would have happened or not? We’ll never know.”
Pained and disbelieving eyes peered over his shoulder at me. “So that’s a real thing, not just some urban legend. That’s what the doctor told you?”
Actually it was what I’d offered to the doctor and since there was no evidence to the contrary he said it was as good an explanation as any. “Yes.”
Dragging his eyes from mine, he gazed out the window of my kitchen as his carriage collapsed. “I’m quitting, Charlotte,” he announced resolutely in a small voice.
Panic welled up inside of me. He couldn’t, it was too dangerous, but how to convince him not to? I couldn’t break up with him now, it would make no sense, and I don’t think I’d be able to say the words anyway. “Why?” I asked, impressed that my voice didn’t relay my emotions.
“You are the most important anything to me,” Wesley confessed. “It should have been me that rushed you to the hospital, because I should have been there.”
If you had been, I’d be dead. Inadvertently though, he’d given me the reason for him to stay with the campaign. “Wesley, you can’t protect me all the time. You can’t live in fear. One day something is going to happen again and you being there isn’t going to change it. I learned that with Giles. I need you and I want you, but having you as my constant shadow is not an option to me. I promise you, it’s not the life you want either. If running this campaign is what you truly want and we’re meant to be, run it and we’ll work out. If it’s not, quit.”
Wesley had closed his eyes as I spoke, and I was prepared for him to fight me. Surprisingly, he didn’t. “You’re right, I know that.” Sighing, they opened and were less damaged and grief-stricken. “I’ve side-tracked you, what we need to talk about and figure out is how we can mend.”
Carefully taking his hand, I led him to the den and positioned him on the corner of the couch before curling up beside him. Through concentrated trial and error, we figured out that I could sit, in minimal pain, with my back to him so his arms could envelop me. He’d been reluctant at first, but I needed normal and I’d put up with a little discomfort to have it. Once situated I dove right in. “Wesley, we need to talk about Olivier.”
It required a great amount of restraint to keep him from tensing his arms or jumping off the couch. He took a deep breath before sighing loudly and replying in an emotionless voice. “Must we start there?”
Not seeing his facial expressions was a blessing and a curse. Being a political phenom, Wesley’s adept at controlling his tone of voice to mask his true feelings about people and ideas. Having known him forever, I knew his “tells,” the twitch of his left eye, the way he’d look through or over you, or flex his hands to keep from clenching them. But for this conversation, while those minor actions would clue me into what he was really thinking and feeling, they’d also make me upset.
I leaned into his chest with hopes that it would soo
the him and ran my bandaged hand over his. “We must because if you can’t accept him, there can’t be an ‘us.’ So everything else would be moot.” Besides I needed Olivier to help figure out how to protect Wesley and if I was barred from seeing Olivier it would make this whole ordeal much more difficult. Wesley’s fingers curled to make the fists that spoke of his frustration, but he held his tongue. So I took a deep breath and continued. “I know you don’t like Olivier and I don’t expect you to. But you need to understand that I do, plus I trust him. He’s always looked out for me when you haven’t been able to.” His arms shook from the emotional rampage that had to be coursing through him. “There are people in your sphere whom I’d prefer to never interact with, but I know that loving you means dealing with them,” I continued. “I expect the same from you.”
“Who?” he asked, surprised.
“Abigail,” I admitted. “I know she’s Alexander’s and Regina’s daughter, but the woman is vile. It’s no secret that she despises me and covets you. But I don’t think it’s out of love or a desire to make you happy. She sees you as a conquest, a notch to put in her belt.” Just thinking of her made me cringe with disgust.
Silence answered me and remained longer than I expected. Slowly his hands opened. “Charlotte, you think that’s not how I feel about him?” Wesley countered. “I’m not blind or a fool. Having been in his position, I know when a man is pining for your heart. But while I never tried to steal you from another, he does. He looks out for you not out of friendship, but in hopes that you’ll realize he’s the better man.” His voice was controlled, holding back the tempest that wanted to be unleashed.
“He’s not the better man…”
Before I could finish, he broke in. “I’ve questioned whether or not he’s the better man, so I’m not dumb enough to think you haven’t.” His voice cracked at the end. I knew he was jealous, and I even understood it, but he’d never admitted it ran so deep as to make him question himself. “Cheval’s more suited for you, you two have more in common. He’s artistic like you are, and more private. The life I’m offering you, a very public, political life, isn’t one you want. It’s not one that will make you happiest. I saw you with Giles and you put up with it because you loved him. In the past, I stepped aside to give you what you wanted, what made you happy. But I’m more selfish now. You keep telling me to run this campaign, because it’s what I want, but I’m so afraid to be away from you for that long with Cheval lurking in the shadows. You’re enough to get me through the times apart, but I’m not sure that I’m enough for you.”
Wesley’s words were grave and the truth in them broke my heart. The life he was offering, it wasn’t what I wanted. Stepping out of that kind of spotlight with Giles’ death had been a relief I’d never admitted to anyone. Yet Wesley knew, and in many ways he was right. Even without all the added pressure of worrying about his safety and the decisions he was going to make, being apart from him was going to be torture. I finally have a career that’s mine, which I’m great at. I can’t be that dependent on a man again. Yet regardless of all of that, I love Wesley, just as much as he loves me.
My silence unnerved Wesley. His heart was pounding against my back and I could actually see his pulse in the veins in his hands. What he said next disrupted my thoughts. “You know you don’t have anything to worry about with Abigail, right? She’s nothing compared to you. The Wyatt’s tried to get her and me together for a long time. I tolerate her for them, but she is not my type at all.”
“She’s beautiful, Wesley,” I replied. “Even I can see that, more so than I, especially now that I’m basically a walking corpse. You say Olivier is more suited for me; wouldn’t the same be true for the two of you? Abigail wants a public and political life, she thrives on it. I guarantee, wherever the campaign goes, she’ll be there.”
“You’re wrong,” he argued. “She’s a sweet enough girl, and she likes the attention. I don’t agree that she’s vile; maybe brash and offensive. And please, stop saying you’re hideous. This is going to be temporary, and even if it wasn’t, you’d always be beautiful to me.” He put his face in my wiry hair, tenderly kissing my head.
Wesley’s confidence in my recovery was astounding, and he didn’t even know about Olivier’s abilities. Guilt washed over me when I remembered what had to be done in order to get back to being the woman Wesley could be seen with in public without turning everyone’s stomach. Even without all of that, I needed Olivier in my life and I didn’t want to sneak around Wesley to have him. “Wesley, all I’m asking is for you to tolerate him for my sake.”
“So it’s me or him?” Wesley hissed. All the restraint and consideration was gone from his tone.
“I don’t want it to be.” Was it too much to ask of him? Was it cruel to ask him to tolerate a man we both knew loved me? Probably, but I was still unwilling to give either of them up.
Wesley shifted his body and I felt him rest his head on the back of the couch. “Is this truly what you need?” he finally whispered. “You can guarantee that he’ll remain just a friend?”
The desire to tell him the truth, that I’d have to kiss Olivier in order to get back to myself; that it did stir an attraction; that given all that I still choose Wesley, was overwhelming. So I gave the simplest answer I could mutter, “Yes.”
Resignation drenched Wesley’s words as he spoke. “Then I’ll not deny you of it, love. Can we please talk of Olivier as little as possible and limit my interactions with him? Oh, and can I have some leeway for occasional jealousy?” I nodded, snuggled in closer to him even as my skin stung from the effort, and felt him relax. “Can we now discuss our engagement?” he pleaded with me.
“Yes.”
The tension was visible in his arms as they flexed around me. “Are we still engaged? Will you still marry me?” His words were spoken hesitantly and with dread.
I had thought the conversation around Olivier would be the most difficult to get through. I’d been wrong. Problem was I didn’t know how to answer him. I wanted nothing more than to plan a wedding and marry him. However, we had so much to get through first: the campaign, the exiled angel rebellion, my health. “I want to marry you…” I began.
“But?” Wesley interjected.
“But I no longer think the timing is right,” I admitted. “A lot has changed in the course of this week. We need to get through this campaign. Honestly, Wesley, have you given any thought to what it’s going to mean for us if Alexander wins not only the nomination, but the presidency?”
“No,” Wesley confessed, “I guessed we’d figure it out. A love conquers all kind of thing.” He sounded so optimistic, but I knew better and love doesn’t always conquer all. Hard work, time together and immense commitment, that’s what conquers all.
“You say you know I can’t quit my job. Is that going to remain true when you’re in Washington full time? Are we really going to go four years, possibly eight, without actually seeing each other?
“I don’t know, love,” he said with contrition. “When I proposed, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that. I just knew I loved you and wanted to know I’d be able to, openly, for the rest of our lives. That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t fair.”
Fair had nothing to do with. “Here’s what I offer,” I began. “Run the campaign, the way you want to. Don’t compromise your dreams for me. If you want to be engaged, then we can be, but don’t say anything to anyone about it. We’ll keep it between us until we’ve worked out all the kinks. That way if it doesn’t work, there’s no scandal or embarrassment. When the time comes and we need to choose between us or work, we’ll cross that bridge then, knowing we still find each other worth giving up our other dreams for. How does that sound?”
Wesley sighed and pulled me into his chest. “What you’ve proposed suits me fine. If it’s a long, secret engagement you want, in order to sort through the unromantic aspects of our relationship, then it’s yours as long as in the end you marry me. It just seems like it’s still you that’s conceding.
Are you sure?”
I nodded because I absolutely was. Apocalypse or not, I couldn’t push him away. I couldn’t let him go.
* * *
The weeks flew by as Olivier healed me but all was not well with Wesley. While Alexander had told Wesley he could stay home and take care of me, according to Wesley, Alexander was constantly making him feel guilty about it. Then there were the lobby groups with outrageous demands on government who kept catching Alexander’s attention. Both were completely un-Alexander-like which led me to believe Alexander was being prodded by the exiles. Every night Wesley threatened to quit and every night I hated talking him out of it. When I couldn’t take it anymore I lit into Olivier one morning when he called me as I took my coffee on my patio.
“Get them to back off of Wesley, and do it now.” My tone was harsh. I wasn’t mad at Olivier but he was going to pay the price for what his “exile superiors” were doing.
“Charlotte,” Olivier exhaled in exasperation, “we’ve been over this, that’s not how it works. We don’t get to make demands. You asked for my advice on how to protect Breaux and keeping him under their thumb should do so, at least for the moment.”
“This is not a request because I want to spend more time with him,” I seethed. “They are pushing Wesley away and he’s going to quit if they don’t back off. Paige and I weren’t kidding when we said he’s perceptive. I think they’re trying to use Alexander to pressure him to come back but he knows Alexander would never force him to leave me in the state I’m in. And turning the campaign into a media spectacle isn’t going to make him rush back either. He’s close to walking away. If he’s soooo important then they need to back off and give him the few weeks he needs. I’ll do whatever it takes to speed the recovery process, short of sleeping with you, to get him back, but I’m not going to talk him out of quitting anymore. Is that clear?”
“Crystal. I’ll get it taken care of. I guess I underestimated his level of commitment to you. You think he’d really walk away?” When I answered in the affirmative, Olivier finished. “You’re pretty shrewd yourself, my dear. Enjoy the whelp for now. Until you’re healed, the heat will be turned down.”