Love in his Lie

Permission

I wondered how Wes felt, hugging his brother's fiancee close to him and acting as her knight in shining armor while her "true love" was off somewhere gallivanting around Europe. He didn't know how little there actually was between me and Justin. And though these traitorous feelings riddled me with guilt, I could dampen them, because one tiny voice of reason still managed to speak louder than my anxious screams. It reminded me that there really wasn't anything between Justin and me. However, to Wes, I was his brother's future wife and perhaps that's why he couldn't look at me.

Instead, he sat at the other end of the sofa, watching through the window that sat above the back of the couch. Clouds had rolled in and the warm gold of the afternoon sun shifted to a cool white glow that softened the sharp curves of Wes's boxy jawline and illuminated his steely blue eyes, that were usually covered in the shadow of his brow. In that light, I saw the cerulean flecks that shimmered in his irises and the long lashes that failed to so much as flutter as he watched the picnic with a stern set to his lips.

"I-I'm sorry," I started, desperate to break the silence and welcome some noise to distract me from the confusion that burned across my skin. "I guess I ruined our chances at that basket..."

I tried to flash him a smile. A goofy, shaky one, but still a smile. However, he didn't even flinch at my words. He just kept looking outside until finally he got up, walked straight over to the door, and opened it.

"How is she?" asked a voice from outside. "We've brought some food. I bet she could use a hearty meal and I've got some wine to dull the pain."

There was some laughter, and it sounded like three or four people were at the door.

"The kids are certain she broke it. I assume it was only a sprain. I had to practically tie them down so they wouldn't come over and rush in to see how it looked."

"Thanks," answered Wes, though there wasn't much gratitude in his tone. Not that it mattered. The ladies went on like he said nothing.

"Kelly, you should take a picture and show them, so they'll stop pestering you about it. I'm sure a good bruise will amuse them, anyway." Again a sprinkling of laughter and I heard some feet shuffling around, but Wes stayed firm at the doorway.

"Thanks for the food. She needs her rest."

"Oh, okay..."

He shut the door and then walked back over, his eyes trained on the window. Once he was pleased by what he saw, he put the plate down on the coffee table and returned to his seat.

"Do you want to swing around so I can put a pillow on the coffee table for your foot, or do you want me to prop you up with some pillows on the armrest? Are you even hungry?"

"Oh, I'll eat," I said, my tongue already salivating at the smell wafting off the plate he carried. "I guess I'll try to swing around."

I started to shift my weight and pull myself up, but Wes was at my side before I could do any damage. He put one hand behind my back and another under the pillow that cushioned my ankle. He leaned down to get some proper leverage, and I remained still, mesmerized by how my breath rustled the short strands of his hair. I did what I could to help with my hands and arms, while he did most of the heavy lifting to make sure I didn't inadvertently put pressure on my ankle. Eventually he'd gotten me facing the right way, but to do so, he ended up on the seat next to me on the sofa with his arm around my shoulders as if we had simply been cuddling during a movie. I kept my eyes forward and swallowed down the tension tightening my throat.