"You look like a million dollar man." -Lana Del Rey
CHAPTER TWO
I look at Edward Cullen across the huge dinner table Renee's bought—even though I know for a fact we've never had ten dinner guests before, nor need a table that seats so many.
It's so Renee that it makes my eyes roll.
I fiddle with the ends of my drying hair. It's wavy soft, a little frizzy without products in it, so I pull it to the side and start braiding it slowly, as we wait for our food.
Edward shifts once.
But I just keep braiding, humming under my breath a little. It's not the girl's job to make conversation, after all. The mysterious leading lady always waits for the man to question first, and then she decides if she'll grace him with an answer.
Finally, he does.
He clears his throat. "Your mom tells me you go to a prep school in Pennsylvania."
It's not a question, so I just give a small curving smile in response as I keep braiding my hair. I shift and pull my legs up to my chest.
Edward taps at his water glass. "You like it?"
"No," I murmur sweetly but without hesitation.
He laughs, and the tension I felt building in him releases a little. He slumps in his chair ever so slightly, not so board-stiff and proper—not the way he is, I'm sure, when my mother is in here eating, too. "What is it you don't like about it? Being stuck there or the work?"
"I don't mind the work. I like school sometimes, when the mood strikes. It'd all just be so much more enjoyable if we weren't forced to sit in chairs all day, listening to a teacher fall in love all over again with the sound of his voice," I reply quietly, still braiding. "That and there aren't any boys allowed at my school."
Edward grins, crookedly again, and it squints his eyes and makes him effortlessly beautiful. "However do you go on?"
"I have my ways," I say, playful-sweet. I finish my braid and then pull on the sleeves of my white, cable-knit sweater. I knew it was what I wanted to wear as soon as I was in my room, changing. The sweater and my white lace shorts. It's one of my favorite outfits. And Rose always goes on about how good ivory and cream look with my dark hair.
Carmen is in the room, then, bringing out the food. She serves it to us on our plates despite the protests from both of us, and when I ask her to eat with us, she refuses that, too. Always worried about what's proper for her. Renee isn't here, but her holds are tight.
Sweet-soft words and gentle-beaming smiles are hooks she digs into everyone close to her. I know better than anyone.
And I wonder if Edward knows yet.
I glance up at him from beneath my lashes as Carmen dashes back out of the room. His head is bent towards his plate. His lashes are forever-long against high cheekbones. Those and his lips are what I notice most. He has a perfect mouth, a little bowed mouth that's just right for a boy.
A man, I correct.
I tilt my head at him and inquire, "So how did my mother and you come to meet?"
Edward smiles a little, but it's not like before. "We met at a dinner party my parents hosted. Renee was invited because of the museum. My mother loved it—wanted to get to know her personally."
"And you got to know her instead," I remark wryly.
Edward clears his throat, blinks, but he offers another smile, a pretty, pretty smile despite his discomfort. That's the only response he gives.
I purse my lips and look away, grabbing my water glass. "I bet it was a little bit uncomfortable when you announced your new girlfriend to your parents, then."
Edward laughs, but it's more of a breathy chuckle, and it's addictive. When he looks up at me, discomfort is gone and glimmering amusement is in its place. He smirks. "You seem to be dealing well with all of this."
"What did you expect?" I inquire, arching my brows, smiling a little as I sip my water. "Did you think I'd be one of those rebellious teenagers lashing out and writing emo poetry?"
Edward does the breathy-chuckle thing again and shakes his head. He looks so young when he smiles or laughs. "I was thinking more along the lines of the cold shoulder thing a girl can do so well."
I shrug graciously. "I'm sure you already know you aren't the first boyfriend my mother's had. And if you must know, I already like you better than the last one."
"Yeah?" he asks, smirking, arching his brows.
"Yes," I reply primly, sitting my glass back down and running my finger along the rim. "He had a beard that got food stuck in it and he always smelled like garlic—but he had a the most divine singing voice. To hear my mother tell it, anyway."
"Well, I'm glad to top that, at the very least." He's still smirking with those dancing eyes as he glances down to his plate.
I smile slowly and contemplatively. I let a few moments of time tick by as Edward cuts up his food. My own steaming plate goes untouched as I think. Then I say, "You're the youngest, you know."
"Excuse me?" he inquires, glancing up at me briefly before finishing dicing up his salad.
"You're the youngest man my mother's ever dated. Well, I'm sure she dated men your age when she was of the same age. But I meant this is the biggest age gap," I murmur.
Edward's Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows, and he keeps looking down at his food, pretending there's more cutting that needs to be done to it. "It is a bit of an age gap."
"But age is just a number, right?" I ask, my eyes narrowing, a smirk hovering on my lips.
At this, Edward finally glances up, smiling. "I've prosecuted men that say that, so I wouldn't go that far. But Renee's mature, and I like to think I am, too. So thirteen years isn't so bad. Renee's a nice woman, too."
"Then you obviously don't know her," I say, before I can stop myself.
A shadow dims the dance in Edward's jewel eyes, and he swallows again. Shifts. His lips part, but he doesn't speak.
I just smile, trying to smooth it over as gracefully as I can. "Oh, look. I suppose I am a lashing out, after all."
Edward laughs, but I can tell I've unnerved him.
He sits a little stiffer the rest of the night.
"Bella, baby," comes a soft-sweet hum as I feel the lightest touch stroking my hair.
I stir slowly from my sleep, blinking in the darkness of my bedroom. But there's enough moonlight pouring in from the windows to see my mom sitting on the edge of my bed, still in her dress and makeup and jewelry.
"Mom," I sigh, rolling over.
"Hello, sweet girl." She leans in and kisses my forehead, like she has since I was little. She smells like expensive perfume, now, though. When I was little, she just smelled like Sweet Pea lotion. "I've missed you."
"I missed you, too," I yawn and sit up. I flick on the bedside lamp, bathing my room in warm-golden glow.
Renee is smiling, like sunshine and natural beauty, and she's like she's always been. Except now, there are a few more lines around her mouth, around the big brown eyes like mine. "I'm sorry to wake you. I just couldn't wait any longer to see you."
I smile back at her, resting my head on the headboard. "It's okay. I'm glad you did."
"I heard you met Edward," Renee says, smoothing out my bedcovers to give her hands something to do.
"I did."
There's a hovering pause.
And then we both laugh, almost identical voices sounding through the air.
"Don't mess with me," Renee cries, pushing at me while we giggle. "Tell me what you think!"
"I think you did good," I reply. "He's nice."
"Yes, he is, isn't he?" she hums dreamily.
"And rich," I add.
Mom's face falls a little, and her tone tries so hard to be firm. "Bella."
I hold my hands up in surrender. I don't like fighting with Renee, after all. Things go so much more smoothly when we are united. Being on bad terms with Renee is like standing in Wisconsin in a record-breaking blizzard.
"How was school?" Renee asks.
"Great. I loved it."
"Yeah?" She smiles, scooting closer. "Any boyfriends?"
"Two."
"That's my girl." Renee laughs and touches my cheek. "How's Rose doing?"
"She's Rose."
"Hm." Renee nods as if this tells her everything, which I suppose it does. Then she says, "Anything exciting to report?"
"Not really," I say and then yawn again, but this one is a fake.
And Renee leaps up just like I knew she would. "Oh, sweetie, I know you've had a big day. I'm sorry. We'll talk more tomorrow, okay? I'll try to get off early from the museum and then we'll have a girl's day. How does that sound?"
"Great," I say, smiling up at her.
"Good." Renee leans in, kissing my forehead again, and then she says goodnight, and she's gone.
I fall back into my pillows as soon as the door is shut, and I turn off the light. But I can't go back to sleep now. There's a nagging knot in my stomach, twisting tighter and tighter the longer I stay still.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Edward and his very nice smile.
I sigh and sit back up, turning the light on again. I pull out my notebook and try to write. But it doesn't help because I can't think of any lines that don't revolve around jewel green eyes and old Hollywood grace and niceness.
So I kick the covers off and sneak out of my room, ease down the moonlit bathed curling steps, down into the kitchen, and I find the phone. I dial the number I know by heart, and I smile because I know that despite the time, she'll be up.
"Hello?" she answers with a drawn out English accent.
I sigh in relief and lean against the wall. "Hello, darling."
"I thought when it said Eddie on the caller ID it was too good to be true," she sighs luxuriously, dramatically. "But alas!"
I laugh and sit on one of the bar stools at the granite island and look out at the glistening pool through the big windows. "It's me. I've missed you."
"Darling, you have no clue. Do you know that I tried watching Absolutely Fabulous the other night, but I started crying halfway through? I didn't even get to hear Patsy and Eddie insult Saffron."
"A travesty."
"It is, it is—just as your absence has been. Why haven't you called?"
"Renee," I sigh.
"Oh," Alice returns sourly.
"Yes. Did you know she's dating a twenty-seven-year-old?"
"Stop!"
"No."
"Cougar-licious. Well, let's just hope I'm as good as Renee at hooking a man that much younger when I'm her age."
I laugh softly. "He is quite heavenly."
"On a scale from one to George Clooney."
"George Clooney."
"When can I visit?" is her quick return.
I shake my head and smile and lean back against the cool countertops. "I've missed you so much, Alice."
"I've missed you, too, sweetie. But I was being halfway serious. Well, not in the fact of wanting to come over just for delicious George-Clooney-hot boyfriend. I do want to come over. When can you sneak me in?"
"Soon, I hope. You know Renee works most of the time. She'll probably be going on that annual trip to Paris by the end of the month. Any scheduling conflicts?"
"As if. My life is utterly boring."
"Then plan to sneak yourself in. We'll go through the entire Marilyn and Audrey movie collection while binging on ice cream and we'll ogle George-Clooney-hot cougar bait during breaks."
"You've mapped out the key to my happiness."
I smile. "Love you."
"Love you, too! Kisses!"
And then I hang up.
Renee doesn't get off early the next day, not that I ever expected she would.
So my afternoon consists of swimming and then watching black and white movies with Carmen on the couch. I take the time to paint my nails red, too, while I'm talking on the phone with Rose, listening to her complain about the lack of degenerate boys hanging around in the country club.
This will be my summer.
And I wouldn't want it any other way.
Except it's all disrupted the next day by jewel eyes and a crooked smile.
When I come down from my room the next morning, I hear him talking to Renee below, and I pause—freeze, really, because I haven't done the best work on my hair nor my makeup. And I'm a bit of an eavesdropper and snoop.
He's saying, "Isn't it a little early for that?"
"Edward, honey, you're paying a ridiculous amount of money for that closet space downtown. This would only be a half hour drive, and it'd be free. Of course, you could have your own room. There are seven, after all."
"Well," he begins.
"Edward, sweetie, we rarely see each other as it is. I work so and so do you. It would make things easier, don't you think?"
I roll my eyes and drift through the conversation of Edward-sweeties and Edward-honeys and Edward-darlings and softly-spoken reasons and sweetly-spun manipulations.
"What about Isabella?"
I perk up at the sound of my name, tuning in with laser focus again.
"What about her?" Renee inquires, completely baffled sounding.
"Well, she's your kid. Don't you think that's gonna be kinda weird for her? Her mom's boyfriend moving in just down the fucking hall?"
"Bella is a very mature girl, Edward. She handles things so wonderfully. She won't mind at all."
"So you've spoken to her and know this for a fact? Or are you just speaking for her?" He lets irritation leak into his voice, and I can't help it. I smile a little.
Renee huffs and pauses. "Is what my daughter thinks so important to you?"
"Shouldn't it be to you?" he returns, his voice rising a little.
And just like that, I think I'm in love.
Renee doesn't sound so smitten when she returns with a slow-eating bite in her voice. "Well, I wasn't aware you were on such good terms with Isabella."
"All I'm saying is, she's being nice enough about this situation as it is. Put yourself in her shoes. Her forty-year-old mom is dating a fucking twenty-seven-year-old."
"I didn't think you dwelled on our age difference, Edward."
"I don't. She might."
"Edward, if you don't want to spend more time with me and be here with me, you can just let me know now. I'd rather you say it to my face than tip-toe around the issue."
"I'm a lawyer. Tip-toeing is what we do."
Renee huffs louder this time. "Spare me your jokes, Edward."
"And spare me your manipulation."
I'm smiling bigger, now, almost so much that my cheeks ache.
"Manipulation?" Renee almost barks, as if the idea is ludicrous.
"I'm a prosecutor, Renee. Don't you think I'm familiar with the art?"
"I am not manipulating you."
"Then what are you doing, exactly? Because I thought I made it pretty clear when we started this that I don't take bullshit. I just want honesty. I see enough goddamn lying in a courtroom. I don't need to see it in my personal life, too."
He's a foul-mouthed prince.
And Renee is at a loss for words. It takes her a full minute to respond with, "Fine. I want you to come live with me. If you don't want to, then tell me. Is that better?"
"Much."
"Then what's your answer?"
"I—"
"Mrs. Swan!" Carmen calls from somewhere else in the house.
Renee sighs irritably. "What is it, Carmen?"
"Your cell phone keeps ringing. I think it's the museum!"
"I'm coming!" Renee calls back and then directs her voice to Edward. "We'll finish this conversation later, then?"
"Fine," he mutters, and a moment later, I hear the front door open and bang shut.
As quick-quiet as I can, I tip-toe up the steps to the second level and run down the hall, to the windows facing the drive.
I catch Edward as he's walking towards what must be his car—a sleek BMW, of course. He's not wearing a suit today—just dark, expensive looking jeans and a white button down. He's all agitated movements and gorgeous, chaotic hair and leading man attraction as he yanks open his door and slips inside.
I watch as he fires his car up and drives away, a little too fast, but I wonder if maybe that's the way he always drives—fast.
It's something I'd like to know.
Thank you to those who've given me feedback so far or expressed interest. Of course, I'd appreciate any more comments you're willing to give. oxoxoxo
