*waves* Hi guys. It's been awhile, and I'm really sorry. This was supposed to be up for my birthday... then yesterday... and finally today. I hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for being so kind and understand with all that hubba-jubba that went on in August :-)

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but the rest of this is mine.

"I don't want to."

"Just do it!"

"But I don't want to."

Sigh. "JUST FUCKING DO IT!" Complete silence. "Crap! Gotta go, Cruella is calling."

The dial tone bid me goodbye.

I sighed and set the phone down on the dock, anxiety rolling through my spine. I could do it. I could definitely do it.

Fingering the soft t-shirts sitting on my lap, I steeled my back, said a little prayer and… stayed seated. When the idea had come to me two weeks ago, I'd thought good job, Bella! And now, sitting there at my desk at ten minutes until five, I was thinking more along the lines of you should've just bought a gift card, Bella.

Shit.

It'd been about three weeks since I found out about my scholarship. Three weeks since I'd swallowed my pride, all of my memories from before Christmas, and took a deep breath. Project: Be Nice To Mr. Cullen had been initiated.

I was proud to say I hadn't rolled my eyes once. I'd only called him an asshole about ten times—which was really good considering it had been—at one point—a multiple daily occurrence. And apparently that alone had been enough. We'd reached a quiet truce of sorts. In return, I hadn't gotten yelled at once. He'd lost his temper but somehow managed to rein it in. And, as Angela had said, "He bought you lunch twice, twat."

What more could I ask for?

So when the idea of buying Mr. Cullen something as a late Christmas present hit me, I kind of felt obligated to do it. So I did. And I was now acting like a complete and total chicken shit.

"Isabella!"

Of course. Of fucking course.

I swallowed and got up, leaving the package on top of the desk. Wiping my clammy hands on my pant legs, I walked and stood at the doorway, watching Mr. Cullen fiddle fart around his desk, collecting his things and organizing the small collection of pens he had on the corner in a holder.

"Can you forward me the Lake County file before you leave?" His bright eyes flickered up to mine briefly when his hands dropped the pens. "Please." Still an afterthought and it might always be, but I'd take it.

I nodded at him, taking a single step back before he spoke again.

"Your dress is lovely."

That was one of those moments that I had to ask myself whether this was real life or not. When I looked back up at him, his expression was wide and earnest, and it sucked the air out of my lungs. A smile my cheeks weren't familiar with creeped over my face timidly.

A second later, I put up a finger asking him to give me a second before hightailing it to my desk to grab what I'd left on top of it. My fingers ached as I hiked it back to his office, holding the two shirts out to him and feeling like I was offering up a kidney instead of something I'd bought off a website for fifty bucks.

I scratched at my cheek while he unfolded one shirt at a time silently. "It's a late Christmas present," I found myself telling him.

Those emerald green eyes slashed up to meet mine as he set both shirts wide on top of his desk, smoothing them down. The urge to babble things about how I'm not sure whether I got the right size or not was on my tongue but I squashed it down. I knew his size. He was a solid medium. Not brawny enough for a large and not scrawny enough for a small.

"These are great," he finally said. "I don't have either one of these."

They were both band t-shirts. Bands that I knew without a doubt he liked. Rush and Dream Theater. They were pretty nerdy. Really nerdy. I'd seen grown men wearing shirts like these tucked into belted jean shorts. Super fucking nerdy but from the curves he had on the corners of his mouth, I had a feeling Mr. Cullen didn't think the same thing.

"I hope you like them."

And then he smiled. Full on smiled. Bright white teeth that were so straight they had to have been the product of years with braces. Pink lips that pulled neatly back. It hit me right in the chest.

"I really like them," he admitted, still grinning wide. His eyes went back and forth between me and his shirts over and over again. "A lot." That long-fingered hand went up to pull on his earlobe. "It's probably the most thoughtful gift anyone besides my parents has ever given me."

I smiled back at him, exhaling in relief. When his eyes settled a little longer on his desk, I took a step back, shaking off the nerves that had settled their spindly legs on my back. "Well, I'm going to go send you that file."

Well. My name should've been Bella The Cowardly Lion.

Monday

When the door that led to our offices slammed shut, I looked up. Mr. Cullen was already in his office, so it couldn't have been him. We didn't really get that many visitors throughout the week besides the mail clerk and an occasional assistant that dropped off something.

"He has time."

"Esme, he's busy."

"Carlisle, he has time to see me."

Oh snap.

I'd heard stories about Esme Cullen even back downstairs. Jasper had told me the last time we'd gone to lunch a week ago, about a time when he and Mr. Cullen were in college and she'd shown up to their dorm room unannounced. She'd checked their drawers for pot and made them take a random drug test. Needless to say, I almost peed myself laughing, and luckily for them, neither one of them touched anything stronger than black coffee so they were off the hook. But still.

To say that I was equal parts excited as I was scared to meet the notorious Mrs. Cullen would be a huge understatement.

In less than a second, the eldest Mr. Cullen—Carlisle, as he'd told me I could call him before—rounded the hall with a petite silver streaked auburn-haired woman with a pantsuit that screamed power.

The nerves decided to wreck into my stomach like a bowling ball. Should I stand up or sit down? It felt like I was meeting Queen Elizabeth.

"Good morning, Bella," Carlisle greeted me like we were old friends, but I was too stuck on the fact that he remembered my name to think of anything else.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen," I answered him, smiling at him and his wife.

Esme turned to look at Carlisle over her shoulder. "This is Ms. Swan?"

"You can call me Bella," I told her nervously.

With a cool smile, her attention focused back at me, one perfectly manicured eyebrow rising on its own. "Bella Swan, the young lady who is pressing charges against that little heathen trollop?"

I swear to God I couldn't help it. I couldn't. I laughed loud, leading it with my nose.

When I had somehow managed to get myself under control, Carlisle had his eyes to the ceiling with a hand covering his mouth. There was no way Mr. Cullen hadn't heard them minutes before, especially now. But he still hadn't appeared.

Curling my lips behind my teeth, I figured by Esme Cullen's tone and word choice, I could be honest with her without fearing for my life or job, so I nodded. "That would be, Mrs. Cullen."

She smiled at me so wide, I knew where Mr. Cullen—son, not husband—got his facial expressions from. It was pure pleasure. Easy. Powerful. "In that case, it's a pleasure to meet you, Bella Swan. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you." Esme maneuvered those glowing green eyes at Carlisle. "I hope you don't have plans for lunch because we were planning on kidnapping my child," I noticed she didn't say their child, "and you as well. I won't take no for an answer."

Well.

"My lunch can stay in the refrigerator," I told her, smiling nervously still.

"Perfect," she answered, winking at her husband. "Edward! I know you're here!"

And she disappeared into his office without a second thought.

Half an hour later, after the most awkward car ride of my life with Carlisle steering a four door Porsche around Orlando while arguing with Esme about what restaurant they were going to with Edward and I in the backseat silent, we were finally seated at an Italian restaurant I'd never even seen before. It screamed money and it made me just a little uncomfortable, but I didn't dwell on it as I took my seat between the two Cullen men.

We had barely started tearing into our salads when Esme turned those brilliant eyes at her son. "Are you eating regularly, darling?"

Tension rolled into Mr. Cullen's shoulders. "Yes, Mother."

"Are you sure? You're looking a little on the sallow side. Have you been feeling ill?"

"No," he answered stiffly.

"I'd like for you to be honest with me, Edward," she admonished him gently, tucking a forkful of Caesar salad into her mouth. "You don't tell me things like you used to."

Uh oh.

Mr. Cullen sighed, flicking his eyes toward his father before answering. "Can we talk about this later, please?"

She sighed but refused to take her eyes off of him. "I worry about you, you know. Ever since you broke it off with that—," she slid her eyes over to my direction, smiling sweetly, "woman, you've been in an awful mood. Don't think I haven't noticed. Isn't that right, Carlisle?"

To his credit, Carlisle didn't grin or even blink, he just stared back, but it was impossible not to take his silence as agreement.

"I won't even put Isabella on the spot, I'm sure she knows better than anyone that you've acting like a spoiled pumpkin."

I choked on my bite of salad, and then I wheezed trying to clear out my passage.

"See?" Esme Cullen asked, amusement tainting her tone purple.

Carlisle slid a glass of water over to me when I still hadn't been able to control my crazy choke/cough. After three drinks, I looked over in Mr. Cullen's direction, face flaming, to find him looking at me with a hint of a smile on his lips. Pressing the linen napkin to my mouth, I sucked back a breath and tried to control the urge to smile.

"I, umm, Mr. Cullen's a great boss," I spat out.

The most ladylike snort erupted from Esme. "What Isabella is trying to say is that you're acting like a workaholic prick."

Well.

I shifted my gaze over in his direction, feeling that flaming heat dipping down to my throat. "I don't think you're a prick," I told him, then blinked. "Anymore."

The eldest Mr. Cullen threw his head back and laughed out of my peripheral vision and luckily the younger Mr. Cullen smiled that huge, broad grin that he'd only shared with me once just recently. And just like the last time it had that epic, tidal pull that I was unable to fight, and it was useless to battle the pull of such an enigmatic smile from such a beautiful—and only somewhat asshole-ish—man.

"I'm always right, see?" Esme asked.

"Oh yes, you're always right," Carlisle laughed.

The rest of lunch went by uneventfully. There was no more ribbing or mention of things I probably shouldn't have known of. Instead, the Cullens talked about an upcoming charity that Mrs. Cullen was working on—sounded boring to me—and then went on about Jasper and Alice's pregnancy announcement just two weeks ago. It made me happy to see them speak so highly of two people I was incredibly fond of, and while I only added my two cents in every few minutes, I found myself enjoying the chemistry that parents and son had.

Though, lunch did answer a lot of questions as far as Mr. Cullen's personality's origins. Esme was extremely involved and curious about everything my boss was involved with. I could totally imagine her having an ironclad grip on his life when he was younger, and she was so pushy. So pushy. I had a feeling she would've been a better leader for MSC than Carlisle Cullen would've been. The woman was a likable bulldozer. The bulldozer gene being inherited by her only child.

Mr. Cullen and I were dropped off at the entrance to the building with a warm wish goodbye and a "I hope to see you soon" from Esme that had me deciding whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. We had just gotten into the elevator when the boss turned to look at me after pressing the button to our floor.

"I appreciate your honesty," he murmured with eyes to the ceiling.

Shifting to face his direction, that familiar embarrassed heat climbed down my nose and cheekbones. God, I was such an ass. I shouldn't have said anything. "I'm really sorry I said that in front of your parents," the words were panted out of me for sure.

He shook his head, still facing upward. "They know me better than anyone, and I know they appreciate honesty just as much as I do. It's hard to find that in their circle, you know."

I didn't know, but I didn't say that either.

Instead of continuing, Mr. Cullen shrugged to himself more than to me. "I'm sorry for being such a prick," that corner of his mouth quirked up just a little. "Jasper says I'm usually an asshole but not without reason."

I wanted to say you are! But I didn't. I smiled at him and nodded. "It's fine. I know you aren't a complete prick." I smiled even wider at the use of the last word. There was not point in me thanking him for all the kind things he'd done since Atlanta and bringing it up made me feel awkward.

The elevator chimed when the doors opened, and we walked quietly toward the office. The nice Mr. Cullen opened the door for me and waved me forward. We each went to our own work areas with coy, awkward smiles in exchange and got back to work.

As soon as I sat down, I opened up my email like I usually did and that's when I saw it. An email from Human Resources.

Subject: PRIVATE—Transfer Approved for March

Holy shit.

Two things real quick:

A lot of you wrote me and I tried to write everyone back, but for some reason all of my PMs from August 15th to September 14th somehow disappeared, so if you wrote me in that time frame and didn't hear back, that's why. I'm sorry! I sucked at checking my email for the longest, and then I had that surprise.

AND for those of you wondering what's going on TPoB and TLRH, I was planning on announcing it now, but I'm going to wait a couple more weeks until I'm completely done with my original.

Blah. That's it. Thanks for being the best readers, ladies. You are definitely loved and appreciated. -Mariana