The multitude of emotions playing in her too expressive eyes had Carlisle racking his brain for a way to help her decide. Even to his emotionally impaired self it was blatantly clear that her hesitancy wasn't born out of distaste for him, but rather as a result of a painful past. Come to think of it, he had a vague recollection of reading about some sort of scandal regarding her divorce. For a woman as reserved as she seemed to be that ought to be the worst kind of torture.
"We are not dead, you know. And even if we were, who's to say the dead can't find solace in each other?"
Had he any doubt as to the idiocy of his remark, the unmistakable stiffening of her spine would have confirmed it. A woman who had been hurt by an uncaring husband wouldn't take lightly to being linked to some sort of second rate choice. Cringing in dismay, he forced his eyes to search her face for a clue on how he could salvage the situation.
Before his wary eyes, the anger contorting Esme's face melted away and amusement took its place. Disconcerted by her changing moods, he could only stare in dumbfounded silence while she laughed delicately.
"You surely choose your words poorly, Dr. Banner."
"That, my darling, is the male's curse. And, please, call me Carlisle."
"Carlisle. What are you doing tonight?"
