by Aurora, Lexi
“Wow.”
"I don't think it's exactly a wow moment, do you?" she asked, laughing him off as she slid out of the bathroom and hurried to her bed. It was ridiculous for her to feel nervous about him seeing her in her booty short panties and white ribbed tank. He had seen her naked. He'd had his face between her legs, for God's sake. Still, she was grateful when she was under her covers and even more grateful when Wesley was done with the bathroom and turning out the lights. She was tired, goddamnit, so terribly tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep. It was a good thing that there were two separate beds, whether her wounded pride and stupid expectations liked it or not. She silently reminded herself of this fact over and over again, staring up at the ceiling fan as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. The dark and the feeling of another person in the room with her, also trying to sleep. It had been a long, long time since Liza had tried to sleep in the same room as a man. She had forgotten how much more intimate things could feel when everyone's clothes were on. She had no idea why that might be so, other than to think that without the distraction of slick, moving body parts, people were left with nothing but being themselves. If she'd been more aware of this, she would never have agreed to Wesley's impromptu trip.
"Liza? You awake over there?" Wesley whispered hopefully. Something about the sound of his voice drew up the summer camp image again, only this time it wasn't such a bad thing. It wasn't bad because it wasn't about her. Wesley's voice sounded almost childlike calling out to her from across the dark. She could imagine him being in some summer camp somewhere, too, wondering why his parents had insisted on getting rid of him for months on end and whether or not he was going to make it through the summer without crying because he missed home. It was a sweet, vulnerable picture and it made her heart ache. When she thought about Wesley that way, they didn't feel so far apart. It was a foolish thing, to infer so much from so little, and yet she could not make the whisperings of her mind quiet.
“I’m awake,” she answered, surprised by the serenity in her voice. Her heart was pounding, pounding violently. She had no right to sound so calm.
“Will you do something for me?” he asked in that same new voice. Because it sounded like he was afraid that she would refuse him, Liza knew her only answer could be yes.
“Depends. What is it you want me to do?”
“Nothing too awful. Just hop into bed with me?”
Liza peeled back the covers without saying a word. She would never tell him how happy his simple request made her, no matter what transpired between the two of them. She would keep the feeling in her pocket for a rainy day and pull it out when she was feeling blue. To be wanted. Such a simple thing but maybe not so simple, too. When she reached the edge of his bed, the covers were pulled back, Wesley waiting for her to slip underneath. She pressed up against the warmth of his body, marveling that one man could generate so much heat. She waited to see if he would reach for her the way he had the times before – if he would begin whispering dirty things to make her blush in the dark. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. Her head rested on his chest, and she listened to the sound of his heart beating, steady and strong. She was aroused; she was always aroused when she was around him now, but she was glad he didn't make a move. When he kissed the top of her head and sighed deeply, contentedly, she snuggled up closer, wondering if she would ever be able to get close enough.
“Thanks for coming over,” he said softly, his breath blowing across her hair and making her shiver.
"No problem," she smiled against his chest, "it wasn't that far of a walk."
“Thanks for coming with me, too. And for all of it, I guess,” he said even softer this time.
"No problem," she whispered. She couldn't make her words sound any louder if she tried. It was perfect, lying there just the two of them in the dark, but it was sort of awful, too. Because now she knew, really understood, that she was falling for him. The knowing was like opening Pandora's box. She would never be able to put everything back where it belonged again. As for telling him about the baby, she couldn't do it. It was probably the perfect time for it but she just couldn't. Instead, she nuzzled his chest and shut her eyes, willing herself to drift off to sleep. She was almost there when he opened his mouth one last time. What he said next kept her up for a very, very long time.
"I have another favor to ask, and it's a big one. I don't think you're going to like it all that much."
Chapter Eleven
Wesley Baker
"For Christ's sake, Wesley, will you stop that? You're making me nauseous with all of your pacing back and forth," Charles said in his droll, ‘I can hardly be bothered’ voice from his place by the living room mantle.
"Go to a different room then, why don't you?" Wesley snarled in return. He stopped to deliver the answer, running his hand through his hair distractedly. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and saw how insane he looked, he started up the pacing again, moving faster than before. If he could move fast enough, maybe he could get the damned day over with and be done. He caught Charles giving him one of his patented dismissive hand gestures from across the room and turned on him. He and his brother had never been friends when they were kids. People always said it got better when you grew up, but that was a lie. Maybe it got better for some people, but Charles was a sanctimonious prick. He had been one when they were in high school, and he was still one today. There had been plenty of times over the years that Wesley was tempted to beat the shit out of him. Fear of either school or parental retribution had always forced him to keep his shit in check, and then Charles had moved away, and it had been a non-issue. Now that they were back in the same room, though, settling the score didn't sound like a bad idea at all. Good way to pass the time and a way to use some of his energy, too. Win-win, as far as Wesley was concerned. And it didn't hurt that he was roughly double Charles' size. Seriously, when had the guy turned into such a pansy?
"Please, boys, let's not and say we did, shall we? This macho stuff is so gross," Charles' fiancée said from her place on the couch. Wesley was tempted to turn on her, too, but for a wonder, he actually kind of liked the chick. She was no way the kind of woman he'd want to be with, which he thought helped when a girl was already with someone other than you. She was funny, though, and his short-term impression was that she wasn't inclined to put up with any of Charles' shit. If he was ever in a situation where he had to spend another holiday with his brother, which was unlikely but you never really knew, Wesley thought he wouldn't mind so much hanging next to Charlotte and making fun of people's bullshit. He thought Liza might like her, too. She could be an ally, and that was a good thing. That was a very good thing because Charles was being a dick and his mom was already halfway through her second stiff martini as the grandfather clock struck noon.
“Charlotte, please,” dear ol’ mom said, swaying slightly in her most expensive Chanel suit, “don’t be fooled by little Wesley here. He does so love to go on about things. He’s been making mountains out of molehills ever since he was born.”
“Gee, Mom, I'm flattered. I didn't know you were there. When I was born, I mean." Wesley eyed his mother, daring her to start something real. He was pissed. That was the plain and simple of it: he was pissed, and on top of it he was pissed that his family could still piss him off. She had no right to act this way. Not when she was the one who'd insisted on this fucking lunch to begin with. She had no right to act like she was doing him a favor or like he had done something for which he was supposed to be ashamed. She was the one on her way to sloshed in the middle of the day. She was the one who didn't know how to mind her manners.
"I'm sorry, Charlotte, but you might as well learn the truth of it now. My youngest son never really took to the Baker way. His father was disgraced for it, I can assure you, but I did my best. We soldier on, don't we? That's something you should be prepared to do since you are to become one of our clan." Wesley's mom raised her martini and drank deeply. When she s
et it down on the mantle beside a still scowling Charles, some of the gin sloshed over the side. Wesley already knew that she would see it tomorrow and blame the housekeeper for sloppy cleaning. That was the way things went in the Baker Mansion. Nothing was ever one of the family's fault.
"I'm sure tensions are just high. I suppose I would be a bit stressed, too, if I were bringing a new girlfriend to meet my family for the first time," Charlotte said diplomatically. Wesley studied her, trying to figure out if she was being a bitch or not. For a wonder, her face was open, and when he made eye contact with her, she held it. He almost felt bad for the lie. There was a perverse desire to tell her everything – that Liza wasn't his girlfriend. That she was a means to an end. If he did that, though, he'd probably tell her the rest of it, that he was afraid he'd gone and developed feelings for his contingency plan.
"Please, don't spare him the pity. If you'd seen the kind of girls he's spent time with. I'm sure it's safe to say that this one doesn't deserve our pity," his mother said, looking at Charlotte conspiratorially. And Jesus, what was he playing at? He wanted to get at his mom. It was unattractive, but it was true. But what about Liza? He hadn't thought about that part, and now he was the asshole, no ifs, ands, or buts. She was going to be here soon, any fucking minute, and it would be his fault when she walked into a lion's den.
"Both of you are being ridiculous if you want my opinion," Charles offered from his spot. Charlotte shot him a warning look, and Wesley mentally put another check mark in her yes column. Then the doorbell rang, and Wesley felt his stomach slingshot into his throat. Christ, but this was a mistake. There was no amount of compensation that would be worth what she was going to have to go through at this stupid lunch.
"I'll get it!" his mother trilled, picking up her martini and clomping towards the door. Wesley followed, feeling like a dog at her heels. For a wild minute, he thought about pushing in front of his mom, so he could get to the door first. He would fling it open and tell Liza to run while she still could. What he did instead was stand there like a jackass watching the inevitable shitshow's inception.
"Well, dear, you didn't have to bring anything. This isn't a dinner party," Mrs. Baker said instead of a greeting. Wesley looked around his mom's shoulders and saw Liza standing there in the frame of the door. She looked like she was standing in a life-sized picture frame and for some reason it made Wesley want to cry. He kept seeing her the way she had looked the morning after their night in Austin. Waking up with the yellow early morning light making its way through the window. There was only a sliver of space for it to make its entrance, the small amount of space between the window sill and the blackout curtains. It was like it had been looking for Liza's face. He thought Megan had probably taken hundreds of pictures, thousands with her famous photographers, and not one of them compared to Liza's face in that light. He told himself his thoughts had only arisen from being half-asleep. It was nice, having someone in his bed, and as long as he didn't think about it too long, it didn't bother him that he’d enjoyed it despite not having sex. Now she was here holding a bottle of wine that would invariably not be good enough for his stupid fucking family. His mom would use it as a weapon. Because that was what she did.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought it was the polite thing to do,” Liza answered uncertainly.
“Don’t be sorry. It looks great. I’m a fan of this one,” Wesley interjected. He pushed past his mom and took the bottle in one hand, Liza’s fingers in his other. It felt better when he had a hold of her; like the world was more solid.
"Thanks," she said quietly enough that it was almost a whisper. When she looked at him her face was so full of gratitude he was tempted to drag her back out the front door and take them both far away. Only that kind of thinking was bullshit, given their current situation. She was a means to an end, and he couldn't forget it. She was a means to an end whose fingers were running discreetly up and down the inside of his palm. The feeling was electric, and his body shifted, trembled, and started to react the way it always did when a chick was getting to him. Having a boner during the horrific family get together was a good sight below optimal. Fortunately, his mother's clearing throat took care of it before it could go any further.
"Yes, well, it's lovely to see the two of you getting along so well. Now, if we could take the pleasantries into the parlor where the rest of the family is waiting," she said, sounding more bored than anything else. Wesley knew better. He'd heard her sound this way enough to know that she was far from bored. She was sizing Liza up, figuring out how far she had to push in order to fuck up Liza's world really. Mrs. Baker was a predator, and she was readying herself for the hunt. As he watched, she looked Liza up and down once more, appraisingly and with a frown, then turned her eyes to Wesley and winked. Goddamnit, she actually winked at him. She might as well have said, “let the games begin.” At least it would have been more interesting, less waspish. Then she turned on her perfectly respectable heels and waltzed back towards where the rest of the piranhas lay in wait. He felt a little bad about lumping Charlotte into that category, but for the time being, he didn't know enough about her not to. She was an unknown entity, and for the time being, that meant she was as good as the enemy.
"Are you ready for this?" Liza asked quietly from his side. He looked down at her and saw that her face was fundamentally serene. It didn't make sense; Wesley was no expert in the inner workings of a woman's mind, but he was pretty sure most in this situation would be close to shitting themselves. Everything about his mom was designed to elicit that precise response and Wesley had seen more formidable girls crumble under the patented Mrs. Baker effect. But Liza? She looked like she was taking a stroll through a park instead of playing girlfriend. He probably would have been okay if he hadn't seen that; if he hadn't seen that he wouldn't have understood what kind of woman he was really dealing with. He'd had a feeling about it if he was honest with himself. He'd had an idea that she wasn't anything like the kind of chicks he'd been with before. Seeing her grace and calm now made it impossible to ignore. Perversely, he wanted to let her hand go and tell her to get the fuck out of the house, and good riddance. Things would be easier that way, for everyone. Instead, he gripped her hand harder and ran the tip of his finger along the inside of her index finger. She sighed so low that it could only have been audible to him and he knew he wouldn't be tossing her out anytime soon. He'd like to take her into one of the upstairs bathrooms, lift her prissy skirt up around her hips, and fuck her until she screamed, more like it. Instead, he had to settle for pulling her chair out and helping her take her seat. He noted that she'd been placed between him and Charlotte, and said a quiet thank you to the universe. He didn't think anyone at lunch was exactly safe but if he had to hedge his bets he would say that Charlotte was the safest. When she caught his eye she smiled at him, and he was sure as he figured he was ever going to be. He sat, lowering himself into his seat slowly and without any desire to be doing so, and laid a hand lightly on Liza's back. She didn't look at him, didn't even flinch, and he knew they both understood. They were in the trenches now, by God. They were in the trenches, and there was no way for him to push rewind and get them both the hell out of dodge.
“Wesley!” his mother barked sharply, pulling him rudely out of his thoughts, “be a gentleman, won’t you? Your new friend was kind enough to bring that bottle of wine. Open it and pour her a taste. Let her approve it for the lot of us.”
"No! No, sorry, I can't do that. My stomach hasn't been in the best condition lately, and I don't think the wine would help," Liza countered apologetically. The hair on the back of Wesley's neck prickled when he heard that, and he looked at Liza closely without really understanding why. She didn't return the look, but her face flushed a deep red. From across the table, he could almost hear his mother rolling her eyes.
"Dear, please, you insisted on bringing the wine. You may not be aware of this, but it is customary for the person who chooses the wine to do the tasting," she said, her voice drippin
g with false friendship.
"Mom, it's fine," Wesley cut in, doing his best to keep his voice light. It was a hell of a lot harder than it should have been. He remembered Adam mentioning the woman who was supposed to work for him and calling her a bear. The conversation felt like it had taken place about a thousand years ago, but that image of a bear woman had stuck. If there ever lived a bear woman, it was his mother, no doubt about it. She was entirely in her element now, too. She knew how uncomfortable he was, and probably Liza, too. She knew, and she fed off of it like a vampire fed off of human blood.
"No, honestly, Wesley, I only want to make sure she feels comfortable. She should feel free to do the tasting," his mother insisted, her eyes twinkling maliciously. His fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically, angry both with her and with his own feeling of impotence. Any question of how the lunch would go was long gone; the tone had been set, and it was, to put it mildly, totally fucked.
"That's alright, I've had this one before, and I think it's just fine. I'll just open it, shall I?" Wesley looked at Charlotte sharply, searching for some sign that she was in league with his mother. Instead, she gave him another small look, and he saw that she was only trying to help. Looked like he owed somebody one hell of a wedding gift. And it would need to be something that was just for her, too, because Charles deserved exactly nothing. It was true that he wasn't doing anything to make things worse, but he wasn't trying to help anyone either. That was Charles all over, and Wesley knew it. The only person he was liable to look out for was himself, and if his future wife chose to put herself in the line of fire, so be it. She would learn. If she didn't, she would suffer. Such was the way of things in the Baker household, and Charles wasn't going to challenge it. Wesley almost understood it. It was only recently that bucking the system had started looking so attractive. It was easier to toe the line, and a quick look at his mom's reaction to Charlotte's interference was enough to remind him why. Mom wouldn't say anything now, an outright confrontation wasn't really her style, but he did not doubt that Charlotte would pay. She might not even realize it was happening either.
