As far as her move to Forks and her subsequent attempt to start over, Esme could emphatically say that she had not expected to fall for a man, never mind a vampire. A relationship, in any sense of the word, had been so far down on her list that part of her had secretly given up on the chance of anything remotely romantic after escaping her life with Charles.

And part of her had been okay with that.

She wanted her freedom again.

She wanted her life back.

But the life she had started to rebuild came with the awful price of secrets and lies and carefully constructed walls meant to protect her.

It also held the people she might have cared about just out of reach.

Because as much as she attended the weekly social at the pub with the other teachers, and showed up to yoga class regularly, and was greeted by the same people week in and week out when she went to the grocery store, the truth was that no one really knew her. Not the real her. An unfortunate reality she'd kept up to protect herself.

And yet, somewhere in the middle of all this, Carlisle Cullen had showed up, bowling her over with the strength of her feelings for him. Not only did he make her heart beat frantically whenever he looked her way, but he had his own secrets. Secrets that were just as dark. Just as dangerous.

Secrets with walls he had crafted to protect both him and his family. But for some reason, he had let her into his world, and he'd subsequently wormed his way into hers.

So that's how he ended up spending the weekend with her.

A lazy Saturday spent unearthing the pasts they both usually kept locked tightly turned into Sunday and still Carlisle had not left her side except to change his clothes and check in with his family in the early morning. He had pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek before disappearing just before the sun completely cleared the treeline, though he was back before she'd even finished making breakfast for herself.

He stood over her shoulder, hovering close enough that his presence sent nervous tremors through her hands as she poured hot water over her instant oatmeal.

"Is that really what you're going to eat?" He took one of the empty oatmeal packs and inspected the ingredients.

Esme plucked it from his hand with a gentle smile. "Someone who doesn't eat the . . . traditional diet, shouldn't get to comment on mine." She considered him. "You don't, right?"

"Eat human food, no. It doesn't do anything but sit in our bodies. Eventually we have to bring it up again."

Esme wrinkled her nose. "Have you had to do that before?"

"On occasion, to keep up appearances. And it was as unappealing as this looks."

"Hmm," Esme mumbled. She took her spoon and stirred her oatmeal until the water was absorbed. "I don't feel like cooking anything more complicated right now, so oatmeal it is." She took a bite, then pointed her spoon at him. "No matter how unappealing it looks."

Carlisle snatched her bowl from the counter. "You know, I am a doctor and must strongly oppose this."

He held it high above her head as she began to protest and she quickly realized there was no way she'd get it back. Her spoon wasn't very threatening after all. But before she could protest again, he moved, disappearing from sight. She heard the cupboard near the garbage open, a splash of water, the suction of the fridge. When he stilled again, he was standing in front of the stove holding a spatula. There was a fine layer of yellow eggs beginning to fry along the bottom of a non-stick frying pan.

She blinked at him and tried to remember to close her mouth. There was only ever a period of three minutes before he did or said something that completely awed her, so she'd become well versed at masking the look of shock on her face over the last forty-eight hours.

He chuckled softly. "Did I make you dizzy?"

"A little," she confessed.

"I'm sorry. It's harder to keep up appearances now that you know." He stepped towards her, brushing his free hand along her cheekbone. "Now that I don't have to pretend."

"You don't," she assured him, catching his hand with her own. "Just maybe warn me next time."

Carlisle laughed outwardly. "You haven't really seen anything yet. Edward is the fastest of us all."

"Well that might explain that day at school when I thought I saw Jasper and Emmett appear from the woods."

"So you did see them," Carlisle mused, his expression perplexed. "You never said anything to anyone."

"I wasn't sure what I saw exactly. And I wasn't going to be the new to town weirdo that goes spouting off strange stories about things that can't possibly be true." She grinned at him. "Especially after I hit my head. One night in the hospital was enough for me."

"Yes, we wouldn't want people thinking you were crazy." He played with a piece of hair that had pulled from the knot at the back of her head. His fingers brushed her neck and she felt a pleasant shiver shoot down her spine. "I'm afraid being seen with me will cause rumour enough."

"I work at a high school. Spend a few lunches in the staff room and you can handle a few rumours."

"They sound as bad as the nurses at the hospital," Carlisle admitted with a smirk.

"There was that one in the ER that seemed like she had her head screwed on straight. I liked her." Esme eyed the stove around his arm. "So . . . you cook?"

He turned to examine the eggs. "I wouldn't exactly call pushing eggs around a frying pan cooking, but it is an improvement on what you considered an edible breakfast."

She grinned at him. "I can cook just fine, I'll have you know. But I appreciate it all the same."

He leaned towards her and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth before trailing across and pecking her lips.

She leaned against the counter, slightly dazed and he chuckled.

"That's not fair."

"Sit," he said, pulling a plate from her cupboard. "Please."

So she did.

He tipped the eggs onto the plate and placed it in front of her with a fork, looking somewhat anxious for her to begin eating.

To ease his nerves, she picked up a forkful and took a bite. The eggs filled her and it was only after finishing half the plate that she realized how hungry she had been. Things like eating regular meals had seemed sort of inconsequential when she had a three-hundred-year-old immortal whispering classic poetry to her as she fell asleep at night.

"Do I pass?"

"You pass," Esme agreed easily. "If the whole doctor thing doesn't work out, you could always take up cooking."

Carlisle grinned. "Strictly breakfast foods of course."

"Of course. Do you know how many ways there are to prepare an egg?"

"Probably more than I know." He shook his head as he ran the tap and washed the dishes.

"You could make it a family business," Esme teased. "Give the kids something to do once they all graduated."

"Bella would probably go for it, if I let her in the kitchen. And Edward would do anything Bella wanted to do. Emmett would think the entire thing was much to amusing to pass up. But the others," Carlisle chuckled, "oh, Rosalie might not talk to me for a decade or two."

They both laughed, falling into a comfortable silence, and Esme had to pinch herself at the fact she was spending her Sunday morning eating breakfast in her pyjamas, laughing at things with a beautiful man like it was normal. Like it was something they had been doing for years. This is all she had ever wanted—cozy Sunday mornings and small talk over eggs. It had never been that simple with Charles and she hated thinking about all the years she wasted, trapped in his mind games. She pushed the thoughts of Charles out of her head, refusing to let him have any of the time she spent with Carlisle.

She grinned at him as he stole glances over the sink bubbles, filling the room with the heavy scent of green apples. Then his phone buzzed from its spot on the counter. He glanced at it quickly, but ignored whatever it said.

"The family?" she wondered.

"Yes. Being nosy again."

"You know," Esme began, pushing the last of her eggs around her plate. "You haven't gone in to work this entire weekend. I'm sure someone misses you at the hospital. As the rumours go, you're one of the best things to have happened to Forks General in a long time."

Carlisle ducked his head, but the smile he gave her was warm and grateful. "I may have used some well deserved vacation days."

"I wouldn't exactly consider this a vacation," Esme said. "I'm sure there are more productive things you could be doing with your time off."

"On the contrary, I am enjoying myself immensely." He dried his hands on a towel and came around the counter to sit by her. He stroked her skin, his hands still flushed from the warm water. "And trust me, this by no means cuts into what I've accumulated. Though I sense that my vacation time is going to be put to good use all of a sudden."

She blushed, turning away to push her plate across the counter. He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips, causing her heart to make that strange bounding motion.

"So, Ms. Platt," he whispered. "Speaking of work. I'm sure there are some very important teacher things I am keeping you from." He turned her hand over and kissed her wrist, right above her pulse point.

"I might have marking to do," she admitted, trying very hard to control her breathing. "And lessons to plan."

"Will I be a great distraction if I stay?"

Esme swallowed. "Most definitely. But I would very much like you to stay."

"Then I will," he said. "Go get your things. Let's at least pretend you are going to be productive."

They spent the afternoon on the couch, Esme snuggled in a blanket, leaning against Carlisle. She poured through her copies of Shakespeare, making notes for her slideshow presentations while Carlisle made interesting asides that sometimes made her lose her train of thought. Every now and then she would be reminded of just how much history he had lived through. How much knowledge he had. How many things he had seen. It made her feel slightly unimpressive in comparison, but Carlisle seemed fascinated by her, and the last thing she wanted to do was put too much pressure on whatever this was. She wanted to enjoy what was developing between them, and she did.

As the sun set and the afternoon turned to evening, her stomach growled and Carlisle chuckled, poking her gently in the side. It made her squirm, but he caught her, cuddling her close and she could feel his sweet breath on her neck. "Time to feed the human," he teased.

She eyed him, doing her best to maintain a serious expression, though when his lips pecked her cheek she caved, giggling as he tickled her sides.

Eventually she managed to wriggle away to the safety of the kitchen, throwing open her cupboards to consider her options. After a moment, she settled on a can of chicken soup.

"Am I going to be disappointed in your choice of food again?"

"Probably. Though I bought the can that's low in sodium even though I have excellent cholesterol levels."

Carlisle frowned, crossing the kitchen to meet her.

Esme tucked the can of soup behind her back, leaning against the counter as he made to reach for it. "No one ever died from eating chicken soup. In fact, I'm pretty sure doctors used to recommend it to mothers to give to their ailing children. In fact, you were probably there. Early nineteen hundreds perhaps?"

Carlisle dropped his hands to his hips, doing his best not to smile at her jab. "I'll have you know that I have never ordered any of my patients to eat chicken soup. I give much better medical advice than that."

Esme covered her mouth with her hand. "I am aghast, what kind of doctor are you?" She giggled at the affronted look on his face. "Well, no one I know has died from eating chicken soup. Besides, I'm out of eggs."

She placed a pot on top of the stove, added the soup, a can of water, and turned it on high. When it came to a boil, she turned the stove off and poured it in a bowl.

"So," she said, adding a few crackers to the top of her soup. She glanced across the counter at him. He watched her patiently, like she was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, his hands folded under his chin. She swallowed down the nervous flutter in her chest at the thought. "When will I see you again?"

"I have a shift tonight at the hospital, but may I see you after school tomorrow?"

"I—yes, I'd like that."

"You're not concerned, are you?"

"About what?"

"I know what you said about rumours, but the fact of the matter is people will talk. They always do when it comes to us." He winced slightly and she wanted to brush the uncertainty on his face away. "I just don't want you caught off guard. As fascinating as people find us, there is also an element of fear there. Most humans don't know why they feel it, and most never will, but sometimes that ignorance breeds hostility."

"I can handle a few stares, Carlisle. I'm not as delicate as I look."

"Of course not."

"And you're not concerned about being seen with me?" she teased. "And what that will do to your reputation?"

"On the contrary," he said. "It's taking all my self-control not to take you around town on my arm. I am very much in awe of you."

Esme was at a loss for words. She simply shook her head and smiled shyly. He dazzled her with his words as much as with his looks. She didn't even know how to take that kind of compliment.

"Say something," he whispered. "Please, if I ever overstep just say so—"

"You haven't, Carlisle, sometimes you just dazzle me." She shrugged. "And I don't now how to respond."

"I'll keep my dazzling to a minimum then, shall I?"

"Yes, if you could that would be greatly appreciated." They both laughed, falling into another one of those easy silences. She never felt the urge to fill them. Never felt the urge to read the conversation for cues, or to double check her words before speaking, or to watch his fists for signs of agitation. These habits she had were slowly becoming obsolete.

Carlisle's phone buzzed and he stared at the screen for a few moments. Esme ate her soup, waiting for him to reply to the text message. There was a grin on his face when she looked up.

"What is it?"

"Alice is very eager to meet you." He sighed. "And very impatient."

"Technically, I have met her," Esme said, brow furrowing. "I've been teaching her for three months now."

"You haven't met her properly, not since finding out about us," Carlisle explained, "which she wants remedied as soon as possible."

"Well, I suppose I will see them all tomorrow, though I'm not sure the school is the best place for the kinds of conversations we will inevitably have."

"Actually, Alice has informed me that this week is going to be unusually sunny, which means an impromptu hiking trip is in order."

Esme frowned.

"It's much to risky being in town with the sun. So you won't get the chance to see the kids this week and Alice is very unhappy."

"You know, the weather is very temperamental. And I've never lived anywhere cloudier in my life. Plus it was snowing just yesterday. I think a week of sun is pushing it."

"All very true things," Carlisle said. "Though we never bet against Alice."

"I sense another story in your tone."

Carlisle laughed. "You would be correct."

Esme worried her lip. "Is this one of those Edward type things?"

"It is very similar, yes. And I believe I will save it for another day. I promised to keep the dazzling to a minimum."

Esme grinned. "Well, I suppose I will see you in a few days then?"

"Not a chance. As far as Forks knows the Cullen's will be on one of their sunny day hiking adventures. What it really means is that they'll spend most of the day holed up inside the house, arguing with each other, or deep in the forests hunting. But I will indeed see you tomorrow."

"Carlisle, don't risk it. If everyone thinks you've gone hiking and someone in town spots you—"

"No one will see me. Trust me." He put her soup bowl in the sink and gave her hand a gentle tug. "Come, I'll sit with you until you fall asleep. I've been practicing my Lord Byron."

He pulled her close, his lips grazing her ear, "She walks in beauty, like the night—"

If Esme ever had a hope in controlling her heartbeat around this man again, it was not going to happen when he said things like that to her. And judging by the gentle smirk on his face, he knew exactly that.

She drifted off to sleep that night to Carlisle's soft tenor, his words sweet against her cheek. And not for the first time she pleaded with herself not to wake up from this dream, for the reality of it might just crush her.

A/N: So . . . I suck, I know. And I'm sorry for going AWOL for like a month, but in my defence, finishing nursing school took more effort than I anticipated. On the bright side, I'm now finished, so woo hoo for that. Though I do now have to study to pass the licensing exam. To bad I suck at studying and usually just spend my days writing instead (hee hee). Expect all the updates now. :D