A/N: Thanks again, everyone, for your enthusiasm, pimping and encouragement for our story! We enjoy reading each and every review. It's amazing how some readers are so tolerant of the 'humanness' of our characters while others are incredibly critical. Just know that we appreciate all of you and your opinions. These characters are flawed, just like most of us are/were at one time or another.
Huge thanks to our pre-readers, Caz, Keye and Sandy, for their invaluable input and friendship and to Jess (jkane180) for her beta skilz. Mwah!
Chapter 8
~Focker~
~*Bella*~
On the way to Charlie's house, I find myself driving much slower than normal. I think it's because I need to process all that's happened in the past forty-eight hours. Although I'm happy that Edward is back in my life, a lot of stress is attached to recent events, and my heart is beating faster than normal, my breaths shallow.
A few blocks away from Charlie's, I pass the park he used to take me to when I was a child. It has no name—it never did. Everyone just called it 'Green Street Park' because of the road it was on, and I wonder if the local kids still use the nickname.
Since my nerves are jangling, I pull to the curb, deciding to sit in the park and think for a few minutes. Today, I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt with Edward's hoodie—he insisted I take it, and I wasn't about to argue. I sit on a swing, and before I know it, my legs are pumping me higher and higher until I feel as if I'm flying. It's exhilarating, and for a few moments, I'm a child with no worries again. My hair blows forward then streams back on each pass, and the movement of the swing is hypnotic. The metal chain biting into my skin brings a nostalgic feeling, and I know my fingers will come away smelling like metal.
Eventually, I allow the swing to slow until it stops, and I hop off, heading toward the monkey bars. When I reach the top, I huddle down in Edward's hoodie, breathing in his masculine scent, which pleases me but also pulls my mind back to the matters at hand.
It didn't escape my notice that neither of us mentioned Edward crawling into bed with me last night. He was probably afraid to mention it for fear that I'd be angry, and I was ashamed at how happy it made me to find him there, how natural it felt. Even though we'd just met again, and there was a lot of drama surrounding us, things were comfortable with Edward—I felt at ease in his presence. I'd always felt different with Edward than with anyone else—at least until we'd had our falling out in high school and he'd stopped talking to me.
This isn't going to be easy, and when Tanya returns from her trip to Fiji, she's bound to make trouble—that's a fairly obvious assumption after seeing the damage she did to my rental car. I also recall how vicious she sounded when she was arguing with Edward at the cottage and the way she acted at the church. My blood boils all over again when I think about the cold-hearted way she plotted against Edward and me in high school—as though it was more of a business deal than screwing with someone else's future. She had Mike drug me, for heaven's sake! What if I was allergic to the GHB? I wonder if she would have cared so long as I was out of the way. Well, if Tanya Denali thought I would step aside so she could take another shot at Edward, she had another think coming.
The cool breeze is biting, so I climb down from the monkey bars and head back to Edward's car. It warms me that he let me drive the Volvo instead of that horribly defaced rental. Another lick of anger runs through me when I think about Tanya out there spray painting the car during the night. The spiteful part of me hopes she peeked in the window last night and saw Edward in bed with his arm wrapped around me. It would serve the bitch right.
When I pull up in front of Charlie's and see that he's home, I'm both relieved and disappointed at the same time. Most weekends, he gets up early and goes fishing with his best friend, Billy Black. Part of me was hoping he wouldn't be home, and I could put off this conversation a while longer. I know my father will support me no matter what, but I'm hoping he's not disappointed in me. Nobody looks forward to telling their father what I'm about to tell mine, no matter how understanding they are.
I look up at the little white house where I spent most summers and my senior year of high school. It looks much the same, but the white clapboard could use a power-washing, and there are some weeds peeking up between the cracks in the concrete walkway that leads up to the front porch. Charlie never has been good at taking care of himself, and I'm willing to bet he's back to eating at the diner and letting his clothes pile up until he's forced to spend a whole day washing them.
Before I reach the front steps, the door is flung open, and there stands my father in the doorway. He's wearing his usual weekend uniform of a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt layered over a t-shirt; today it happens to be burgundy and gray plaid over light gray. He looks as handsome as ever, only a few strands of gray marring his jet black hair.
"Bella," he says with a sardonic smile, "so nice of you to finally show your face."
"Sorry, Dad." I hang my head. How do parents manage to make one feel like a chastised child with a simple look or a word?
"Well, come on in, and let's have us a talk, young lady." He tries to look stern but fails miserably; his mustache twitches as he attempts to keep a smirk at bay.
"Oh, stop it, old man," I mutter with a laugh as I follow him inside.
I examine the house as I walk in, looking for signs that he's not taking care of things. It's surprisingly clean and tidy. Charlie notices my perusal of the house.
"Oh, uh, I've been having somebody clean up a little around here," he stutters nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck, which he only does when he's nervous or uncomfortable.
"Oh?" I cock an eyebrow.
"Um, yeah. Sue Clearwater's been doing some light housekeeping for me." If I didn't know better, I'd say my father is blushing.
"Sue Clearwater... from the Res?"
"Yeah."
"Something I should be aware of, Dad?"
"Don't be changing the subject there, Bella. What the heck is going on with you and the Cullen boy?"
"The Cullen boy?" I giggle, feeling like I'm on an episode of 'Little House on the Prairie' or something.
"What's his name... Edwin?"
"Ed-ward," I correct.
"Whatever," Charlie grouses, leading me into the kitchen. "You hungry? Thirsty?"
"No, thanks. I just had breakfast."
I glance around the room, and not much has changed. The cabinets are still painted a sunny yellow—a color my mother chose in an attempt to brighten up the room—although I can tell they've been repainted fairly recently. It has the same old, worn linoleum floor from the 1960's, which came all in one big sheet, rendering you unable to replace a bad section easily. There's a particularly worn-down section in front of the window looking out into the back yard, as if someone spent an inordinate amount of time waiting or watching for something.
Charlie has all 'serious talks' in the kitchen. I'm not sure why, but that's the way it's always been. I sit across from him, fiddling with the cuff of Edward's hoodie nervously.
"Dartmouth, huh?"
"What?"
"You're wearing a Dartmouth sweatshirt." Charlie raises his eyebrows, pinning me down with his cop stare.
"Um, yeah. It's Edward's; he lent it to me."
"Didn't bring a jacket all the way from sunny Florida, huh?"
"Can we just... get on with this, Dad?" I huff, looking him directly in the eye without looking away for the first time.
"Okay, let's start with what I heard around town. I heard that you busted up Edward's wedding yesterday. That true?"
"Yes, it is." I lift my chin slightly. Maybe it's a bit taboo to break up a wedding, but I know I was in the right.
"Want to tell me why, honey?" Charlie asks gently. "I know you're not an impulsive girl, so there must be a good reason."
I realize that the real 'truth' wouldn't have gotten around town because very few people knew the whole story. All my dad would have heard is that I interrupted the wedding but not why. I can only imagine the rumors that are floating around, the speculation that must arise to fill in the empty space left by unsatisfied curiosity.
"I did have a good reason, Dad. Wow, this is going to be harder than I expected—I've never had to tell you something like this before."
"Honey, whatever it is, we can deal with it together," Charlie assures me. "When's the baby due?"
"The what?" I choke out. Of all the things my dad could have said, that isn't what I was expecting.
"It's okay, Bells. Your mom was pretty young when she had you; I know how it is. I just wish you'd waited until you were married, but..." he shrugs.
"I'm not pregnant, Dad! What gave you that idea?"
"Mrs. Stanley did. So... you're not carrying Edwin's love child?"
"Ed-ward, Dad," I huff in exasperation. I know damn well he knows Edward's name now; this is just his way of taking Edward down a peg or two when he's not even here to defend himself. Mrs. Stanley is going around telling people Edward knocked me up? Fuck my life.
"Yeah, whatever. Well?"
"No, Dad, I'm definitely not carrying Edward's love child. How could you believe anything Mrs. Stanley says? She's the biggest gossip in town!"
"Calm down, and tell your father what really happened." Charlie folds his arms with his elbows firmly planted on the table and waits, his dark brown eyes earnest.
Steeling myself, I open my mouth, unsure where to start. But as I begin speaking, the words tumble over one another, coming faster and faster. I have no more control over what spews out of me than I would over a car careening down a steep hill with no brakes. It all comes out. At some point, and I'm not entirely sure when, tears start a steady stream down my face. As my story pours out to a relatively uninvolved party, I allow myself to really feel all of the emotions for the first time—without filters. The grief, betrayal, disappointment, anger—tempered by a glimmer of hope for the future—all mingle together until I find myself in a heap on my daddy's lap. I'm not even sure when I got out of my chair and moved over to his side of the table, but as I finish my twisted tale of woe, my dad's arms are wrapped tightly around me, and he's rocking me the way he did when I was little girl with a skinned knee.
"Ah, Bells. I'm so sorry you had to go through this all alone. Why didn't you say something?"
Embarrassed, I climb off Charlie's lap and stumble over to the counter to grab a handful of napkins to wipe my face and blow my nose. Keeping my back to him, I gaze out the kitchen window that faces the side of the house, and from this angle, I can just make out my favorite spot in the corner of the yard—a little hidey-hole created by a small grouping of trees and bushes. The entrance isn't very noticeable during the months when the vegetation is lush, and when you duck inside, there's an open area where you can be surrounded by a cocoon of wood and leaves that shield you from the outside world. I used to bring a blanket to lie out on the moist ground under there and spend hours inside my secret place, thinking, dreaming, reading, and writing in my journal. I long to be out there now, but I know that running away isn't the answer.
"I just couldn't talk about it, Dad. It's really difficult."
"Yup, I expect it is. So, where are you staying?"
"I was, um... hoping to stay here, if you don't mind." I turn to face Charlie, bracing my hands against the counter behind me.
"You're always welcome here; you know that. Where have you been staying, though?"
"I, uh... stayed at Esme Cullen's cottage last night. With Edward." I wince, once again feeling like a child.
"Oh..." Charlie whistles through his teeth. "So, that's how it is?"
"No! We didn't... do anything. I mean, we talked, but..."
"Bella, you slept there last night, you show up wearing his sweatshirt... I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"I know, Dad. We're going to try to move forward together. We lost four years because of what Tanya instigated."
"You could forgive Edward so easily for writing you off without giving you a chance to explain yourself? I have to wonder what kind of guy he is." Charlie always tells it like it is, and my stomach sinks just a little. "And don't forget, you kissed him once four years ago. Do you think that's really enough to build a relationship on?"
I don't mention the other kisses we've shared since I interrupted the wedding. "It's not just that, Dad. It's the way I feel whenever I'm near him and the way his touch sends shocks through me." Saying it out loud, I feel silly, and I know that there's probably no way my practical father is going to understand.
"I get it. I do." He nods his head, swiping a hand over his face with a deep sigh. "How do you think I felt about your mom? Renee was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen, and there was a special connection with her... but you see how that worked out. I'm not trying to discourage you, honey, but I think you need to move with caution."
"Okay, Dad. I promise to be careful."
"There's also the matter of what Tanya Denali did to you. She can do jail time for that." My father's eyes harden, and I can sense the cop in him peeking out.
"Tanya didn't actually do anything. Mike's the one that drugged me."
"Maybe so, but Tanya suggested it, and she provided the drug. She most certainly could be charged with conspiracy."
"But it happened four years ago..."
"There's a five year statute of limitations on conspiracy, Bells. This falls well within that time frame."
Do I want to send Tanya to jail? The temptation is great, but I know from the experience of being a cop's daughter that jail sentences are rarely served in full, and offenders are frequently slapped on the wrist and set free with a warning. Do I want an angry-as-a-hornet Tanya, who's just been through the humiliation of having her permanent record marred, to deal with while I try to forge a relationship with her ex-fiancé? I'd rather stick my head in the mouth of a hungry, salivating lion.
"No! I don't want to press charges right now. If I do change my mind, I have up to the five year mark, right?"
"Yup."
"Good to know." I chew my lip thoughtfully. Perhaps the threat of jail time might keep the devious shrew at bay. "I'm going to get my stuff out of Edwards' car..." I drift off, realizing that I left out part of the story.
"Edward's car?" Charlie raises his eyebrows.
"Um, yeah. Well, last night someone spray painted graffiti on my rental, and Edward didn't want me to have to drive it around town like that... so he lent me his car." There. That wasn't too bad, and I didn't tell the whole thing.
"Uh huh. And what graffiti was done on your car—in Forks, of all places—in the middle of the woods, at Esme Cullen's cottage hideaway?"
Shit.
"Someone wrote some words on the car. But I'm sure the rental insurance will cover it."
"What words?"
"Um... whoretrampandhomewrecker." I say it so fast it comes out as one big, long string of mashed-up insult.
"Oh, boy. Looks like Tanya Denali is going to be trouble. Do you want me to pick her up and have her questioned?"
"No. You can't anyway... she's on a plane to Fiji right now."
"Fiji?"
"Yeah, she took the tickets that were intended for her honeymoon with Edward."
Charlie shakes his head and slaps a hand on the table as he gets up. "Wow. This is too rich for my blood. So much drama," he mutters then opens his arms wide. "Come give your daddy a hug, huh? I think I need one as much as you do after all that!"
Giggling, I snuggle into my father's embrace, breathing in his cologne. He smells exactly the same as when I was a child, and I close my eyes, pretending that I'm five and life is as simple as a hug and a cuddle after yet another trip over an invisible obstacle. Even as a young child, I was accident prone.
"Let's get your stuff out of the car and get you settled in."
We walk out to Edward's silver Volvo—the same one he drove in high school—and my heart speeds up in response to memories of seeing it back then... how I longed to talk to the driver and ask him what it was I did that caused him to stop speaking to me. Again, anger effervesces inside me when I think of Tanya and what she got away with for four years. Have you ever wished you could go back in time armed with the knowledge of an older you? My mind wanders into a daydream where I discover Tanya's deception and pummel her in front of everyone. I'm not a violent person by nature, but this fantasy causes a wicked smile to spread across my face.
"Bells!" My father's voice snaps me out of my reverie.
He's standing by the trunk of Edward's car, loaded down with my suitcase, duffel bag and the sombrero that Renee brought me back from her trip to Mexico. A snort of laughter escapes when I look at the colorful hat perched on Charlie's head.
"A sombrero, Bells?"
"Renee brought it back from Mexico." I shrug.
"Why is it here with you, though?"
This question prompts me to look down at my feet, all laughter forgotten. "Because I don't think I'm going back to Florida, and I took almost everything with me when I left Mike," I say quietly.
"Oh, boy." Shaking his head, Charlie shuffles into the house, his shoulders weighted down by my most prized possessions and God only knows what else.
I follow him upstairs to my old room. He puts my stuff down and, without a word, shuts the door gently, leaving me to my thoughts. Everything looks exactly the same as it did in high school, and this, too, brings back bittersweet memories. Maybe I should get out some of my old journals and read them over; it might be painful, but I probably need to remember how I felt back then. A frisson of fear niggles at the pit of my stomach... fear that it really is too late for Edward and me. That we're trying to take a spark from four years ago and turn it into a life. A big part of me understands how devastated Edward must have been when he saw me making out with Mike—God knows, I was when I saw him kissing Tanya the Monday after the party—but if he'd only told me why he was upset, we could have cleared the whole thing up. Then again, I could have persisted when he brushed me off instead of accepting that it was over before it even started.
I grab my old bear, Misty, off the rocking chair in the corner and hug her soft white body against my chest. Lying down on the bed, I fall asleep with her in my arms.
~SN~
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Rubbing my eyes sleepily, I hear a vibration from the nightstand beside... my bed at Charlie's house? The memories slip into place one by one, and I remember.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
My cell phone shimmies slowly across the wood, heading for the edge. I grab it up, and see that it's Edward calling. My heart leaps in my chest, and I can hardly breathe.
"Hi."
"Hey, beautiful." Edward's sexy velvet voice caresses me through the phone. "Sorry to bother you, but I... didn't hear from you. Is everything okay?"
A glance out the window indicates that dusk is fast approaching. Where has the day gone?
"Oh, shit, Edward! I'm so sorry! I fell asleep." I sit up, stretching, and yawn widely.
"Do you want to skip going out then?" he asks, disappointment evident in his voice.
"No, of course not. I've just spent the better part of the day sleeping."
"Great. So... what time can I pick you up?"
"I have your car; maybe I should pick you up."
"Nope. I have another car in mind for our date. Wear something pretty, and don't eat dinner."
"Where are we going?" I'm curious now, and my mind starts running through what 'pretty' things I have in my suitcase.
"Not telling you. How did it go with your father?"
"It was... interesting. We can talk about that later. Give me an hour? I'd like to shower."
"Sounds good. And Bella?"
"Yes?"
"I can't wait to see you." His voice is low and sexy. "I've been thinking about you all day."
"I can't wait to see you, either. Um... have you seen 'Meet the Parents' by chance?"
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
"You're Focker." I giggle.
"Oh, shit. Is your dad going to be okay with us dating?"
"Edward! I'm too old for my daddy to tell me who I can date. He might be cleaning his shotgun when you get here, though. He's all bark; don't be nervous."
"Okay then... see you in an hour." He definitely sounds nervous.
After hanging up with Edward, I giggle some more. My dad will for sure give Edward a hard time when he gets here. I'm not sure why I'm so amused by this, but I am.
Feeling lighter, I unzip my garment bag, which holds my nicer clothes. I choose a long-sleeved burgundy knit dress. It hugs my curves in all the right places and hits a bit above the knee. It's not something I'm ashamed to wear in front of Charlie, but I'm pretty sure it's going to catch Edward's eye. I smirk to myself when I think about what's ahead when Edward picks me up. Focker.
~SN~
~*Edward*~
Knowing that I've already talked to my family about what happened yesterday does nothing to calm my nerves or make me want to get out of Bella's defaced rental car in the garage. When I talked to them before, they were just as shocked at the whole situation as I was; now, we've all had nearly a full day to process all of the information. Plus, they know that Bella and I spent several hours together at the cottage. They don't necessarily know that we spent the night together, but between Alice practically being psychic and Emmett just being nosy, it will undoubtedly come out before the conversation is over.
Difficult or not, I have to go in there and face the music, so to speak. I climb out of the car, shut the garage door using the automatic opener, and leave the stand-alone structure through the door at the side of the building. I'm torn between wanting to avoid the upcoming conversation and a desire to just get it over with. After a few heavy steps on the path between the garage and the house, 'getting it over with' wins out, and I pick up my pace.
I still view this place as 'home;' I still have my key, despite the fact that I live in New Hampshire nine months out of the year. Because of this, I don't feel the need to knock on the door before entering the house, especially since the knob twists easily when I try it. The other five members of my family—both parents, Alice, Emmett, and Rosalie—are sitting in the living room, and I get the feeling that they're talking about me based on the sudden hush that falls over the room when I enter. Standing in the doorway, I look around, locking eyes with each of my family members in turn.
My mother is the first to break the silence by standing and striding over to me quickly, her heels clicking as she walks across the hardwood floor. I somehow never realized in all my years that the floor here matches that of the cottage. Before the thought has time to manifest any further than that, Mom's arms are wrapped tightly around my mid-section. I've been taller than her since I was fifteen years old, and she stretches up on her toes now to whisper in my ear. "I know that this is a taboo thing to say at this point, but I'm glad you didn't marry Tanya, Edward. I would've put up with her—for you—but it's so much better that I don't have to."
I chuckle at my mom's words. I've always suspected that my mom didn't like Tanya, but she's a good actress and never let on that she had anything but love for her.
My mother releases me and holds my hand as she pulls me into the room; she seats me on the couch between herself and my father, making me feel like I'm eight years old again.
"So?" Emmett says suggestively. "How'd things go last night with Bella?" The way he emphasizes Bella's name is almost comical; I can read his thoughts clearly through his tone.
"We just talked," I say in direct response to Emmett's question but to the room at large. "We both realize that we have a lot of crap to work through, but we're willing to give it a try." I shrug, not sure what else to say.
"Edward," my father starts, "are you sure that's the right course of action? I probably should have said something yesterday, but there was just so much emotion in that room that it honestly escaped me. I know you have that recording, and based on that alone, I have no problem with you not marrying Tanya. Frankly, I think that was the right decision. But to start something new so soon after having been standing at the altar? This just doesn't sound wise to me, Son."
"The thing you don't understand, Dad, is that Bella's my 'it' girl. If I hadn't been such a douche in high school—"
"Edward!" my mom cuts me off, obviously offended by my language.
"Well, I'm sorry, Mom, but there's no better word for the way I acted. Anyway, if I'd just listened to my gut instead of the lies Tanya was feeding me, I would have given Bella a chance back then. I wish I had." The wedding would have had the right bride and wouldn't have been interrupted if I'd behaved appropriately back then. It's with that thought that the guilt hits. This was my fault just as much as it was Tanya's. Shit! What did I do? "Hey, guys, I need to go think for a while, okay? I'll be around later to talk some more." I get up and leave the room swiftly, not giving any of them a chance to say anything.
By the time I've reached the front door, Emmett's right there with me. "Let me come with you," he insists. "You need to talk through things now; you don't need to do it with everyone, but you do need someone. Let me be there for you, bro."
I look into his eyes and see his sincerity; he's not pushing himself on me, and if I say 'no,' he'll back off. My brother is my best friend, though, and he's right; I could use someone to vent to right now. I nod infinitesimally at him, and we walk together through the front door and down the porch steps.
We make our way across the yard and into the woods that eventually lead to the cottage. Right now, I have no destination in mind; I just need the clear, clean air to breathe and the time to process things.
"What's going on, Edward?" Emmett asks after we've walked in silence for five minutes. "You kind of freaked out back there."
I'm not sure how to express what I'm thinking, so I remain silent for another minute while I gather my thoughts before responding. "This is all my fault. The whole screwed up situation is my fault." There are no other words to say; nothing else is appropriate, and I can hear the despair in my voice.
We haven't stopped walking yet, but at my confession, Emmett halts abruptly. "How the hell is this possibly your fault? You're the biggest victim of all here."
His tone is convincing, until I remember what put the guilt in my mind in the first place. "If I hadn't been—"
"Yeah, yeah, you behaved poorly four fucking years ago. How does that make you guilty now?"
I sigh. This is so clear to me; how can he not get it? "If I'd just given Bella the chance she asked for back then, I would never have settled for Tanya, and Bella would never have been with Mike. If only I'd fucking listened to her instead of Tanya, how different would my life be today?" I run my hands roughly through my hair as I lean against a large oak tree. Its rough bark against my back is a welcome discomfort—I don't deserve to be comfortable right now.
"Just because you don't like the way things are going today doesn't mean it's not right or that it would even have turned out differently if you had listened to her. Who's to say Bella would have kept your sorry ass around all this time, anyway?" He grins at me, so I know he's teasing, but his words just plant another reason to be worried into my head.
"Oh, fuck! You're right! What if she doesn't really want me? I totally get that she wanted to let the truth be known, but what if that's it?"
"Okay, you need to stop for just a minute. I can't help you when you get like this, Edward. Back up and explain things to me. You're obviously going through something major here, and I get that; you have every reason in the world to be insecure right now, but damn… What the hell happened between you and Bella last night that's got you wigging out so bad now?"
I slide down the rough bark of the tree until I'm seated on the mossy ground. After a few deep breaths, I recount everything for my older brother: how things seemed so natural with Bella, the small things we shared overnight—everything from the walk in the woods to listening to Charlie's voicemail to the tender kisses, even how I'd climbed into the bed with her—and ending with the defaced car we'd found this morning. Emmett lets out a low whistle when I describe Bella's rental.
"It sounds like the two of you have been through a lot together in the past twenty-four hours, then," he says when I'm done talking. "You've still got a long way to go, but you're making strides in the right direction. And it definitely doesn't sound like she's just going to leave you high and dry. I mean, if you've been kissing her, and she's been kissing you back, and you guys fucking slept together—"
I cut him off. "Only in the literal sense. There was no fucking going on."
"Sure, whatever. That's not the point, though. Whether you had sex with her or not, sharing a bed is kind of a big deal, Edward. What did she say about it when you guys woke up this morning?"
I think back—it seems like it's been a million years since I woke up alone in the bed. "Nothing." It never even crossed my mind before that we hadn't discussed the fact that we'd shared a bed. It was just the most natural thing to do at the time, and in that moment last night, sleeping on the futon in the den was not an option.
"Nothing?" I can't tell if he doesn't believe me or if he's just confused by my answer.
"No. She was already asleep last night, and neither of us mentioned it this morning. It wasn't in a that-didn't-happen way, though. It was more like of-course-it-happened-not-being-together-isn't-an-option type of thing. Does that make sense?"
"It does." He looks contemplative for nearly a minute before speaking again. "You were right before, then, you know?"
"What do you mean?"
"When you told Dad that Bella was your 'it' girl. I can see in your face that you're not totally over what happened yesterday, bro, but I can also tell that even in your guilt, you're happier than you've been in four years. Four years is a long time to be unhappy."
"I wasn't—"
"Whatever, dude. You can deny it all day long, but I'm right. You were not happy with Tanya, no matter what you say." I start to contradict him again, but he continues, barreling over me. "Seriously, Edward, there's nothing you can say that's going to convince me otherwise."
My impulse is to argue my point again, but I opt instead to think over what he just said. Was I unhappy? I can't reconcile the fact that I truly had loved and trusted Tanya—which I know to be the truth; until yesterday, I had no reason not to—with the fact that perhaps my brother's right. Love and trust aren't necessarily the same as happiness. If I was happy, why was I so miserable yesterday, both in the dressing room and even going so far as wishing that something would happen to prevent me from marrying Tanya? Did I even love her? I think I did; I hope that I'd never be so rash as to propose to someone I didn't love. I realize that I've had these thoughts before. I did love Tanya, and nothing, not even admitting that I wasn't happy, can change that fact. She broke that trust before she'd even earned it, though. That's a bizarre thought, but it's the only way to explain things. She hadn't done anything recently to betray me; her breach was from before we were technically together. The jumble of thoughts gives me a headache.
When I lift my gaze to meet Emmett's eyes, he examines my face for about five seconds before breaking out into a huge grin. "You get it now, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do," I reply slowly. "Kind of."
"Kind of is good enough for me," he says, reaching one hand out to me. I grab it, and he pulls me up off the ground.
We walk back to the house in silence, and Emmett fidgets the whole way; I get the impression that he wants to talk some more but is leaving me to my thoughts. I'm grateful to him for that because I know that after the way I took off so suddenly, everyone else is going to want some sort of explanation from me; I need the few minutes to mentally prepare for that.
Surprisingly, no one mentions anything else about Bella or my odd behavior from earlier for the whole rest of the afternoon; it's just a normal, Cullen family afternoon, like the kind we share every time I'm home from school.
~SN~
I call Bella later in the afternoon, and the conversation starts out innocently enough, but before it's over, I'm frightened to the center of my being. I'm Focker? Oh, dear God, please don't let that be true. Focker got royally screwed in that movie. I'm not sure I can take it in stride like Ben Stiller did either. Bella's asked for an hour to get ready, and I spend that time worrying about being interrogated by Jack Byrnes, aka Police Chief Swan. Fuck! This is going to be even worse than Meet the Parents; Charlie has a gun. And he 'might be cleaning it?'
Taking a cue from Bella, I decide a shower might not be the worst idea in the world. Standing in the spray, I let the water scald my back; I'm going to need to be tough-skinned if I'm Focker. The hot water does nothing to calm my nerves, and I'm just as nervous when I get out as I was when I went in. I quickly dry off and drape the towel around my hips for the walk from the bathroom to my childhood bedroom, where my suitcase lies open on the bed. There's nothing in there that's appropriate for my plans for this evening—I've told Bella to dress nicely, and it would be tacky of me to show up in denim shorts and a Hawaiian print shirt with sandals after that. Fortunately, I didn't take my entire wardrobe with me to Dartmouth; I find a suit in the closet—white shirt, black slacks, matching jacket, and a royal blue tie—and put it on. Socks are a bit trickier; none of those got left behind. I pull my cell phone out of the pocket of my jeans and send a quick text to Emmett requesting a pair. I realize it's absurd to send him a text message considering we're in the same house, but I'm not quite ready to face the rest of the family yet. I'll have to before I leave, but I at least want to be fully dressed before I do.
I hear Emmett's bellowing laugh drifting up the stairs from the living room, and I know that he's just received my message. "Yeah, I'll be right there, E," he hollers. True to his word, he bounds into my room less than two minutes later, black socks in hand. "Where the hell are your socks?" He laughs.
"In New Hampshire," I reply, taking the black ball from him and unrolling the socks. "I wasn't going to need them in Fiji, so I left them at my apartment."
"Ah. That makes sense. So you're going out with Bella tonight?"
"Yeah… Listen, about that. I was wondering if I could borrow your Vanquish. Bella's got my car at her dad's place, and I don't really want to drive the vandalized Toyota. Plus, I kind of already promised her I'd pick her up in a hot car."
"And what would you do if I told you 'no' right now?"
"Beg?"
"Fuck. No one wants to see you beg, E, especially me. Here." He digs the key out of his pocket and hands it to me. "You know that car is Rose's pride and joy, though. If you so much as burn out a headlight, there'll be hell to pay—for you and me. Don't make me have to hurt you after."
I grin at my brother; he'd never hurt me. Rose, on the other hand… I shudder. "I'll be careful," I promise. "Here, just in case." I hand him the key to Bella's rental.
"What the hell is this?"
"The key to the rental. Like I said, just in case."
"Didn't you also say it was vandalized?"
"Yeah. Tanya spray painted epithets all over it."
"Yeah, no thanks. I'll be fine until you get home. Just remember that it's my car; no overnight trips this time, all right?"
"Deal," I agree. I sit on the bed, pull on the socks that Emmett's brought me, and slip into my black dress shoes, glad that I left them here. Emmett and I descend the stairs together, and I offer a quick explanation to the rest of my family that I'm going out for the evening.
"With Bella?" Alice asks.
I narrow my eyes at my sister; I wanted to avoid the grand inquisition that would surely come if they all knew the nature of my plans. "Yes, with Bella." There's no real way to lie since it was a direct question; I can never lie to Alice anyway.
My mother reads my body language, though, and offers a quick smile and ushers me out the door before anyone else can say anything about my date. When it's just the two of us standing on the front porch, she leans in and kisses my cheek. "Have a nice time, dear. Just remember that you were supposed to have been married to someone else yesterday. Not that I'm complaining about the canceled wedding because I'm just as glad as everyone else that you didn't marry that—" She cuts herself off before uttering something derogatory about Tanya. She may not have liked my former fiancée, but she's incapable of saying bad things about people. After taking a deep breath, she tries again. "Don't take things too quickly, dear. It's been a whirlwind couple of days for you; you need to keep your head about things. I don't know what's going on between you and Bella, but it just all seems very sudden to me. I don't want to see you get hurt again."
Placing my hands on my mother's shoulders, I look into her eyes. "I'll be careful, Mom." I'm not lying to her, but at the same time, the speed with which things are moving between Bella and me is the least of my worries. My talk with Emmett in the woods was all the reminder I needed that I'm doing the right thing.
It's been ages since I've driven Emmett's Vanquish, and I'd forgotten how much I love this car. Driving through the streets of Forks, it's like the car can somehow read my thoughts. Each turn I make is smooth and effortless; I hope I can one day buy a car like this. It's almost enough to make me forget the interrogation that awaits me at Bella's dad's house—almost. The promise of the movie-style inquisition that awaits me is impossible to forget, though.
I've got a few minutes to spare before the hour's up and it's time to pick up Bella, so I stop at the local florist shop and purchase a bouquet of flowers. The stop is just enough of a delay to put me at Chief Swan's house exactly on time.
Holding the flowers, I knock nervously on the door. My breathing picks up, and for the second time today, I feel much younger than my twenty-two years.
Bella answers the door, wearing a dark purple dress that stops at her knees and fits her like a glove. My mind goes blank as I take in her appearance, raking my eyes up and down her body; not a single thought is forthcoming.
"Hi," she murmurs, reaching for my hand. Her voice pulls me from my non-thoughts.
"Hi," I rasp out, then immediately clear my throat. "You look… amazing."
"Thanks. So, this fits your definition of 'pretty,' then?"
"Yeah, definitely." Still holding my hand, she pulls me into the house. I've never been in here before; our relationship in high school ended before it had gotten to the 'meet the parents' stage. Shit! Meet the Parents! "Um, so am I still Focker?" My voice betrays my wariness at the idea of this meeting.
Bella giggles. "Oh, yes. But like I said before, don't worry. He's all bark."
"Bells! Who's at the door?" Charlie's voice booms from the kitchen area.
Bella rolls her eyes. "As if he doesn't know," she mutters. Then says louder, "It's Edward, Dad. He's taking me out tonight, remember?"
"Right, right," he says. "Well, aren't you going to introduce him?"
"Not Focker, not Focker," I mutter to myself as quietly as I can.
"What?" Bella asks, looking at me.
"Nothing," I lie. "Let's go meet your dad."
Charlie is, indeed, cleaning a shotgun when we enter the kitchen. I'd hoped Bella had been joking about that, but I'm somehow not surprised that she wasn't. I swallow noisily as he flicks his wrist and the gun loudly clicks into place. "Da-ad," Bella admonishes him, stretching his title into two syllables. "Honestly, are you trying to scare him?"
"Of course not," Charlie says, smiling wickedly. Or maybe just smiling; the wicked part is probably in my imagination. I hope so anyway. He stretches his arm out, offering me his hand. I grasp it nervously, hoping my own hand isn't shaking. "Nice to meet you, Edwin."
"Oh, for the love of… Dad, we've been over this. His name is Edward."
"It's okay, Bella; he can call me whatever he wants. Edward Cullen, sir," I say, somehow gaining my resolve and shaking his hand firmly.
"Have a seat, Edward," Charlie says, gesturing toward the chair across from him with his gun.
I do just that, placing the bouquet in my lap. I'm not entirely sure why I haven't given Bella the flowers yet, but now just doesn't feel like the right time; the surprise is obviously ruined, but I decide that regardless of that, it will be better to wait until the conversation with Charlie is over before presenting them to her.
"I can't believe you're actually doing this," Bella mutters.
Charlie ignores her. "So, Bella tells me that the two of you want to try starting a relationship," he begins.
"Yes, sir." I figure formality is my best bet at getting on his good side, at least until he warms up to me.
"And this is all based on one kiss several years ago?"
This feels like a trick question, so I think for a moment before answering. "Well, sir, I'm not going to lie to you; it did start like that, but there's more to it than just that single kiss. I was just talking to my older brother about this very issue earlier today, in fact. There's something about Bella that just holds me captive every time we're together. It's hard to explain; the term I used earlier—to my father, when he asked me this same question—was that she's my 'it' girl." I don't divulge additional information about our other kisses, just in case Bella hasn't told him everything that's happened; I don't want to embarrass her.
"Your 'it' girl?" Charlie looks skeptical.
"Yes, sir."
"What the hell does that even mean?"
"Dad," Bella whines. I glance up at her—she's been standing beside me since the moment I sat down in the chair her father offered me just a few moments ago—and see that her face is crimson. I grasp her hand with the one that's not keeping the bouquet from sliding off my lap and onto the floor, giving it a squeeze.
"It's hard to explain, Chief Swan," I begin. "There's just something about Bella that makes me… happy whenever she's around. And when she's not around, I'm a mess." I remember all of my insecurities this afternoon as proof to myself that these words are true.
"What about that girl you were going to marry yesterday? Wasn't she an 'it' girl?"
I sigh. "I hate to say it, sir, but no, she wasn't. I realize now that I shouldn't have been with her as long as I was, and I really shouldn't have gotten as far as the altar, but what's done is done. If I could go back four years and listen to Bella instead of Tanya, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'm just glad Bella was brave enough to come here and stop me from making what would have been the biggest mistake of my life."
"Hm. You seem to have all the right answers," Charlie mutters, not sounding very happy about that at all. I can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth, and, glancing at Bella out of the corner of my eye, I see that she's also fighting a grin.
"Thank you, sir."
"You need to know, Edward, that when it comes to my baby girl, I'll do anything to protect her. Right now, what she wants is you, so I'm going to reserve judgment, at least for the time being. But I'll be watching you." He actually channels Robert de Niro in that moment, making a V with his fingers and pointing them first at his own eyes and then at mine. "I'll be watching," he repeats, then gets up and leaves without another word.
"Holy shit," I mutter when he's gone. "You weren't kidding about Focker."
"Told you," Bella replies, giggling and sitting down on my lap. I manage to barely move the flowers out of the way in time. "You did well, though. I mean, he wasn't kidding about the 'I'll be watching you' nonsense, but you impressed him with your answers. I know he didn't act like you did, but it's the truth, I promise. I know him well, and he was definitely impressed with you."
"Well, that's a relief, I guess."
"So, are you ready to go now?" she asks.
"Almost. Here, these are for you." I pull the flowers off the table and hand her the bouquet.
"Thank you, Edward," she replies, smiling.
I place a gentle kiss on her lips, but before it can progress past chaste, there's a loud throat clearing from the doorway.
"Watching you, Edwin," Charlie barks, repeating the eye-pointing.
"Yes, sir," I say, not sure what else would be appropriate.
"Let's get out of here," Bella whispers, rolling her eyes and picking up the flowers. She's up off my lap in an instant, pulling me back through the kitchen and out the front door. On our way past her father, she hands him the flowers. "Would you mind taking care of these for me, Jack?"
"Jack?" Charlie asks, but Bella doesn't respond verbally, only looks at him pointedly. "Oh, right." He chuckles in recognition at her reference, but we're gone before he mentions it.
~SN~
A/N: So, what do we think of Charlie's reaction to all this? As always, we love to hear the reactions of our awesome readers.
Thanks so much for reading! Reviewers will receive a teaser for the next chapter. Please note that if you have PMs disabled, you won't be able to receive review replies/teasers.
Sarita has entered the TWCS Original Fic contest with her story 'The Weight of Roses.' The summary is listed on this profile. Here's a link: h t t p : / / tinyurl . com / 6f9ewhy The Prologue is up, and the next chapter will be posted in the next day or so.
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