Hello, again! I know it was a bit longer of a gap between the last chapter and this one, but this is also the longest chapter so far . . . forgiveness?
Artificial Sweetener
Chapter Four
Bella watches, frozen, as Edward unbuttons his jacket and settles into his seat. She sees his lips moving out of the corner of her eye, but his eyes stay locked on hers, almost holding her in place. Her heart is loud in her ears, and she hopes she isn't sweating. Briefly she considers asking Jasper to turn on the air conditioning, but she doesn't want the it's-November-in-Seattle lecture.
When Jessica approaches the table with her notepad in hand, Edward finally looks away from Bella, and she sucks in a few deep breaths while he isn't watching. She takes a few steps to the left, trying to get to a better angle so she can see the man in the other side of the booth, but she's stuck looking at the back of his head. He, too, is wearing a suit.
"Can I take your drink orders?" Jessica asks.
Edward glances over at Bella again, and she feels a blush creep up her neck. "Actually," he says, "I was hoping that Bella would be our waitress."
Jessica takes this news much better than Jasper does, much to Bella's surprise. She turns on her heel and gives Bella a teasing smile as soon as her back is to the guests at Table 20. Date him, she mouths.
Bella gulps.
Jasper rests a hand on the edge of the table and addresses only Edward. "Sir, I assure you, Jessica will take very good care of you."
"Oh, I know," Edward says. "As you said before, I was just here on Tuesday, and we did, in fact, have excellent service. I'd just really like to have Bella as my waitress."
"Well—"
"Is that a problem for you?" Edward rests his elbows on the table, staring intently at her boss's face.
Bella can't see Jasper's expression when he speaks, but she knows he's always had a great customer service persona. "Of course not," he says. "She'll be right with you." When he turns, he meets her gaze immediately. You're up, he mouths, pointing to the table discreetly with his thumb.
Edward returns his eyes to her, and Bella finds that she can't look away. Blindly feeling for her notepad in the pocket of her apron, she starts walking forward, holding his gaze the whole way. She almost trips on a chair that hasn't been pushed entirely into the table, and the corner of Edward's lips turn up into a crooked, amused smile.
"H-hi," she says, leaning the front of her thighs against the end of the table to keep herself up right. Staring down at Edward's face, she realizes that she hasn't touched up her makeup since that morning and hopes her nose isn't shiny; she's been sweating all day. She stands, unsure of what to say next. Should she introduce herself like she does with any table? He already knows her name.
"Good to see you again, Bella," Edward says softly.
She bites her lip to keep her smile from getting too wide. "And you, as well." She blinks and turns her whole torso so that she's facing the man across from Edward. "Welcome to the Jazz Bar. I'm Bella, I'll be your server tonight. What are we drinking?"
This man is older than Edward, but Bella knows that they're related in some way; they have the same nose, and though Edward's hair is a little more reddish-brown and his counterpart's is a darker brown, they style it in almost the same way. He grins at her. "It's nice to meet you, Bella. I'll have a beer. Whatever you have on tap."
"Corona?"
"That's fine." He holds his hand out for Bella to shake. "I'm Edward Mason Senior." He gives Edward a narrowed-eyed stare, as if it's an inside joke.
"Damn right, old man."
"I should call you Junior," his father says.
"I'll put you in a nursing home."
Bella finds herself smiling at their banter; it all makes Edward seem more real, more approachable, more human—less like a towering CEO and more like a man she could, potentially, date. She glances at Edward, catching his eyes wandering down her body. She's grateful that the lamp that hangs above the table is dim; it probably shadows her face, hiding the warm, pink embarrassment on her cheeks. "Scotch on the rocks?" she asks him.
He nods, grinning.
She turns on her heel, and a shiver runs up her spine. She knows without turning around that he's still watching her, and unconsciously she puts a little swing in her walk, a little extra swaying of her hips.
Eric is behind the bar, and he looks up when Bella taps on the counter. "You tending bar today?" she asks.
Eric pretends to look around dramatically, as if Tyler is just hiding from them all. "Whitlock doesn't appear to see the need to hire a chef's assistant and a bartender for the same night, so yeah, I guess. What do they want?"
She tells him, forcing herself not to sneak a peek at Edward over her shoulder. She smooths down the front of her apron before even realizing that she's doing it.
Jessica steps up to the cash register to run the elderly couple's card through the system. She glances at Bella and talks through her teeth, like she doesn't want someone to read her lips—Edward must be watching. "Are you flirting with him?" Jessica asks. "Please tell me you're flirting with him."
"Flirting with who?" Eric asks loudly.
"Shut up," Jessica hisses.
Bella covers her face with her hands, even though her back is still to Table 20. She looks at Jessica through her fingers. "Did he hear that? Please say no."
Jessica squints over Bella's head and bites her lip. "He's—uh, not paying attention."
"That's a lie."
Jessica nods. "Yeah, that's a lie. He's laughing."
"Kill me."
Eric's head whips back and forth as he tries to keep up with their conversation. "Seriously, who's flirting? You gotta give me something here! Something to get me through the next, like, four hours that I'm stuck here."
"Scotch on the rocks, Eric," Bella says. "Please."
A little bit of beer spills over onto Bella's fingers as she walks unsteadily back to Table 20, but she doesn't drop either glass, so she calls it a win. She stares at her feet until the last possible second, when she has to take their dinner orders. "Now, what are we eating?" she asks.
Edward grins. "Steak. Medium-well. Baked potato?"
"Sour cream and butter?"
"Both, please."
Bella nods and keeps her eyes on the pad. Her cheeks, it seems, are permanently pink tonight, and thinking about how she's already got a date with this man planned in two days makes her arms shake. How can he be so relaxed, when all Bella wants to do is squeal? Perhaps he's not as into her as she thought.
But then again—why is he here?
He must be into her . . . if he's here. He knew she was working tonight.
And yet, his shoulders are low, and his face is relaxed. Bella's body is covered with embarrassment, but Edward doesn't seem affected at all.
When she looks at the other man, he closes his menu and hands it to her. "I'll have the same."
"I'll put that right in for you," Bella says, tucking the menu under her arm. She reaches for Edward's and can't keep herself from raising her eyes to his face.
"Thank you, Bella." Edward's eyes are wide and warm. He doesn't let go of the menu right away, holding Bella still in a way that feels so unbelievably intimate; for a moment, Bella feels like they're holding hands.
A loud shatter echoes around the room: a broken glass. Eric pops up from behind the bar and yells, "Sorry, sorry, my bad."
Edward lets go of the menu, but his face begs her to stay. He licks his bottom lip.
"It shouldn't be too long," Bella says for the hell of it, just for an excuse to stand there a few seconds longer. The rest of the restaurant is empty, now.
In the kitchen, Jessica is sitting on the counter while Mike stands at the stovetop. She's holding a bowl of cut-up strawberries, spooning them into her mouth like she hasn't eaten in days.
"So I told him to go fuck off," Mike is telling her.
Jessica chokes, and Bella thinks it would have been a laugh if her mouth hadn't been full. "You did not."
"I did!"
"You really told your grandfather to go fuck himself."
"Did you miss the part about him telling me my career is stupid because I'm not a pediatrician?"
"You told your eighty-four-year-old grandfather to go fuck himself at the Thanksgiving dinner table."
Mike shrugs. "In hindsight, it might have been an overreaction." He glances at Bella. "They order yet?"
She hands him the slip, and he fires up the grill for the steaks. "Did Jasper leave?" she asks him, glancing at the clock; he'll be due for dinner with Alice's parents soon.
But it's Jessica who answers. "Ten minutes ago."
"I didn't see him go."
Jessica smirks. "You were flirting."
"Stop saying that!"
Mike looks up from the steaks. "Who is she flirting with?"
Eric yells from the storage room: "That's what I wanted to know!"
"You're both unbelievable," Bella says.
Jasper appears at the order window and peers into the kitchen, resting his elbows patiently on the counter. "Table 20 needs drink refills," he says, and Bella tries not to notice how his eyes flicker to Jessica when he says it.
Bella can't imagine that they've both downed their drinks that quickly, but she fixes her apron and marches out to the dining room anyways. As the kitchen door swings shut behind her, she looks over to see Edward sitting alone at the table, his body facing forward but his face turned towards her. He smiles when he sees her, and his torso relaxes from his rigid posture.
She glances at both glasses when she reaches the table, and both are only half empty. "I'm sorry," she says, staring down at her feet. "My boss told me you needed more to drink."
"My fault," Edward says softly. "I told him we did. My father is in the bathroom, and I just wanted to—" He must see the question on her face because presses his lips together for a moment. "I think I owe you an apology, Bella."
"For what?"
Edward twists so that he's sitting sideways on the booth, as if he's trying to make this conversation seem less like a customer talking to his waitress. Bella almost glances over her shoulder to see if Jasper is watching, but Edward's eyes—and the warm feeling that bubbles in her stomach when he looks at her—hold her in place.
"I hope that I didn't make you uncomfortable," he says. "Coming here, I mean. Tonight. I hope you don't think that I—that I'm following you, or something." He glances towards the door to the men's restroom. "My father is a shareholder in my company, you see, and he and I meet up from time to time to talk business. This month, it was my turn to pick where we ate, and—" He shrugs apologetically. "I suggested this place without really thinking it through."
"You don't have to apologize," Bella says. "I'm not—"
"I do need to, though," Edward insists. "I showed up at your work, and then I requested that you serve me." He shakes his head. "We haven't even gone on a real date, yet, and I'm showing up at your place of employment. I just don't want you think that I'm—I don't want you to worry that I'm some kind of—"
"Creepy stalker?" she offers. His face goes pale, and Bella smiles a quick smile to let him know that she was kidding. "Edward, please," she says, "I'm not uncomfortable." She bites her lip, staring into the hopeful affection in his eyes, and doesn't think too long about her next words, less she decide against saying them. "I'm glad that you're here. I'm glad to see you."
A huge smile breaks out on his face now. "I'm very glad to see you, too," he says. "The thought of not seeing you again until Sunday was disappointing, I have to say."
"Me too," she says softly, and the blush that spreads across her cheeks threatens to make a new round of sweat break out onto her forehead.
"So you don't think that I'm some possessive stalker for showing up here?"
"As long as I don't see you at the Dollar General on my way home tonight," Bella teases.
Edward grins and raises his eyebrows teasingly. "Okay, I'll stay at least one aisle away."
It's easy to joke with him, Bella realizes, and more teasing they exchange, the easier it is for Bella to relax her shoulders and slow her heartbeat. They talk for a minute, with Edward leaning forward so that his elbows are on the table and with Bella shifting her weight from foot to foot.
After a pause, Edward tilts his head to the side, staring up at her from his seat. "My memory of you from two whole days ago didn't do you justice," he says. "You're more beautiful than I remember."
Her blush is back, and she looks away. "You're pretty handsome yourself," she whispers, not knowing where her boss is and not willing to turn around to look for him.
"What's your last name?" he asks suddenly.
"Why?" Bella asks, smiling. "You need to stalk me some more?"
Edward narrows his eyes in a teasing glare, and his face brightens again before he answers. "I just want to know you, Bella."
"Swan."
"What?"
"Bella Swan," she says. "That's me."
"Bella Swan," Edward repeats.
"Well, Bella Swan," a voice behind her says, "I hope someday soon we'll have you sitting at the table with us instead of standing next to it."
Bella turns, and Edward's father is approaching, hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers and a knowing grin on his face. He gives Edward a look that seems to say I know what you're up to here.
Bella steps aside so that Edward's father can sit back down. He must think she's permanently pink—she hasn't stopped blushing all night.
Edward reaches forward to touch Bella's hand as his father scooches into the booth. "I hope so, too," he says.
"My wife's gonna be so jealous," Edward Sr. says. "I got to meet you first."
Bella's heartrate quickens again. Has Edward already talked about her to his parents? Was she a part of their Thanksgiving-dinner conversation?
"I'm—um—I'm gonna go check on your dinners," she says quickly. "Do you need anything—refills or, um, whatever?"
When they both decline, she gives Edward one more glance before turning away. They share a smile, and his eyes flicker to her hand again, like he wants to hold it but knows that he really can't while Bella's working.
Bella keeps a steady pace as she walks away, not really wanting to leave Edward but knowing that she is still on the clock. A giddy feeling in her stomach makes her want to skip, so she's extra careful to reign herself in.
From behind her, Edward Sr. speaks. "She's just as pretty as you described her, son."
She's not sure if she actually hears this or if it's just wishful thinking in action, but she smiles walking into the kitchen nonetheless.
I'm loving writing this story for a lot of reasons. Thank you to everyone for your positive feedback! It swells my heart and inspires me to keep writing these chapters.
Edward was very much present in this chapter . . . what did you make of that? Is he being sweet . . . or giving creepy stalker vibes? Or sweet? Or creepy stalker? Or sweet? Or creepy stalker? Or both? Maybe both. That's fair.
Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, and as always:
See you in Chapter Five.
