The guilty glance they exchanged said they had intentionally ignored the slamming door.
Red-faced and breathless, Bella glared at Charlie, and he glared at Edward, summoning the courage to ask . . . "Are you having sex with my daughter?"
It remained unspoken, as Charlie watched the reluctant parting of their bodies, the untangling of limbs and the straightening of clothes. Too coarse. Too crude. Words he couldn't say.
Bella pouted, refusing to speak; she dared Charlie to object. A little conscience is a dangerous thing.
All waiting for an apology that would never come. Afraid to break the sound barrier, they were.