Love Awakens Part 4. Chapter 1. February 1922.
He didn't even ask anymore I had noticed. It had become a ritual of sorts. So, in the very early hours of the morning, before the sun had risen, I would get ready. I dressed to match the weather: a white fox fur lined wool coat with gloves over my sea green brocade dress. I wore t-strap heels the color of my dress. After fussing with my curls, I added a cloche hat with peacock feathers and waited for Carlisle. When he came home, we would go for a walk, in all kinds of weather—thunderstorms and blizzards, clear crisp nights or foggy, dreary ones when it seemed the sun would never break through, which was fine with us.
The streets were always abandoned in those hours and we had long talks, walking all the way across town sometimes or just sitting in the park or venturing into the nearby forest. Tonight we had gone down Main Street, not on the sidewalk, but right down the center of the road, until I had been drawn to display of Valentines in a nearby shop window.
Carlisle was standing so close behind me that he seemed to be the entire world to me. I didn't even have to try anymore. I was growing used to what had formerly been the very overwhelming presence of everything. I had learned to focus my attention on certain things. Just as in human life, other things slowly faded into the background. It wasn't a conscious choice always though that Carlisle was the center of my focus. Like now, as I tried to concentrate on something else, all I could think about was how close his body was to mine.
"Valentine's Day seems like a. . .strange holiday to me," he said, continuing our conversation. I could feel his breath against my ear, and I felt something like shudder dance over my skin.
"I think it's lovely," I replied.
"No," he started slowly, "I just mean I've never really participated in it, I guess you could say. It's foreign to me."
I wasn't looking at the pretty cards anymore, but at our reflection in the glass. I couldn't help but think we made a beautiful pair, and I caught myself admiring the ways we complimented one another. His body pressed up against mine and, without thought, I gasped at the sensation.
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to gain my composure. These desires only grew stronger and, for whatever reason, tonight I could think of nothing but him touching me. Maybe it was because of the way he had kissed me before leaving for the hospital earlier that day. As he spoke, I wasn't really listening to the words so much as they way they fell off his lips.
Our embraces had become more desperately passionate lately for whatever reason. I wanted him so badly that I was completely distracted by it. I had even stopped dead, letting my prey escape when we had gone hunting together a few days ago, just to watch how stealthy and strong he was. He paused, holding a lean, beautiful deer down to the ground, whispering "thank you" so softly that no human ear could have detected it before feeding from it.
He had stopped abruptly though, noticing that I was frozen as few feet away. "What's wrong?" he questioned gently, licking the blood from his lips. I felt my entire being shake with a very complicated, deep-seated desire. The thought of licking the blood from his lips nearly sent me into a frenzy of lust and thirst.
I had walked over to him, controlling each step, kneeling down slowly, looking into his eyes. I wanted to tell him that nothing was wrong, but that I was just so overwhelmed by my love for him. Instead, I kissed him. It quickly became deep and passionate with me gripping his shirt and his fingers tangled in my hair as the snow fell around us. I could not hold back my moans of pleasure; his mouth tasted like blood, the lingering warmth from the animal still on his lips. I longed for him so badly that I would have made love to him right there on the forest floor, but my hunger managed to get the better of me.
Now though, there was nothing to draw my focus away, even for a second. I turned to glance over my shoulder at him and he brushed at my hair, tucking a stray strand behind my ear gently. We hadn't talked about this a great deal: we knew that we were in love. We had confessed that to one another, yes. Maybe it didn't need saying: we were just us now—Carlisle and Esme.
In public, I was masquerading as his as Edward's widow sister—just to give any ounce of propriety to the fact that I, an unmarried woman, lived here with two men. Posing as Edward's sister made that easy, but Carlisle. . . well, maybe that is why it was never suggested that I should pretend to be his sister.
I did not socialize much, uncertain of whether that made it worse or not. We attempted to make it appear as if Carlisle was nothing more than generous and charitable toward a poor widow, but I knew people talked about us—perhaps only if because they really had nothing better to do here. Perhaps my isolation only fed the curiosity. I found it increasingly difficult to pretend though.
I turned fully to face him and he took my hand in his, lifting it to his lips to kiss gently.
"I've been thinking," he began, his eyes moving from my fingers back to my eyes, but not before they lingered on my lips. I felt them part and a small sigh escaped.
"Yes," I replied.
"Actually," he said, taking my arm and starting to walk back toward home. "I was hoping it could be a gift of sorts, but one that you might want some advance notice about."
"Oh?" I questioned, wrapping the fingers of my other hand around his arm, matching the rhythm of his steps.
"I was wondering how you felt about moving," he began, looking off into the distance.
"What about your job though and we haven't been here for very long so. . ."
"I know you have been wary around people, Esme. You have done very well though. I thought perhaps if we just went far away from here and started over completely. . ." He turned to look at me then, his eyes full of meaning.
I wasn't sure what to say.
"What is our story this time, Dr. Cullen? Do I get to be Edward's cousin?" I teased. "Your sister? A woman you treated in the ER with amnesia who had no other place to go?"
He laughed slightly before looking over at me with a smile. "Clearly, we are not going to run out of options anytime soon with your imagination."
I shrugged. "I read a lot," I replied jokingly, looking down at my feet. "So moving is a gift, you say?"
"Part of it," he answered, looking back down the street.
"Oh, a mystery. How tantalizing."
"Are you making fun of me?" he questioned.
"Naturally, because that is obviously the best way to get you to share your secret with me," I joked.
"All of my secrets are already yours, Esme Anne," he replied, smiling over at me again. "How do you feel about a highly inappropriate weekend trip, just the two of us?"
"I feel highly inappropriately thrilled about that idea, Carlisle," I answered, nudging against him slightly as we walked up our front steps.
