Indelible

A/N: This is different. I hope you like it.

Chapter 26: Through a Son's Eyes

A couple weeks ago, Grandma was trying to convince me I should go to prom, and wanted to show me "how handsome" Dad looked in his old prom photos. Everyone always says I look a lot like my dad. We always have. Even when I was younger, I looked a lot like he did as a boy. So I fully expected to see our resemblance in those prom photos. What I didn't expect, was the way I felt looking at them.

I'd seen plenty of pictures of Dad with his friends growing up, but I'd never seen photos of him with a girl. He never mentioned any old girlfriends. He'd only ever said that he hadn't dated many girls before Mom, and left it at that.

Up until that moment, I think I'd always looked at photos of Dad's childhood and youth with equal parts amusement and curiosity. But seeing him in those prom photos, I knew he was right where I am now—seventeen, just shy of eighteen, finishing high school, and heading for college in a few short months. It made that young version of him more real to me.

He looked nice, just like Grandma had said. Handsome, I guess. But seeing him, all dressed up in that tux, made me think. Unless you're in some profession or social circle that includes formal events, there are really only two occasions you wear a tux: to your prom and your wedding.

Within five years of the time those pictures had been taken, Dad had done both. And he'd become a father.

I couldn't imagine that for myself, five years from now. I doubted that boy in the photos had imagined it either. Or the girl standing with him.

That was the first time I'd ever heard of Bella Swan.

*I*

She's small, barely reaching to Dad's chin, and the photo is clear enough that I can see she's pretty in a very natural way. Her skin is pale against her dark blue dress and long brown hair, but her cheeks are tinged pink, like she's shy or embarrassed and it makes her seem sweet and innocent. Her big, dark brown eyes are sparkling, though, and I can tell she's really happy to be standing there next to Dad.

His arm is wrapped around her in both photos, and he looks proud as he tucks her into his side. They're both smiling for the camera's lens in the first photo. In the second one, though, they're looking at each other, their smiles just for each other, and I can clearly see how important she is to him.

"Who's the girl, Grandma?" I ask, not taking my eyes off that second photo.

"Her name was Bella Swan. She was your father's first real girlfriend—the first one who really mattered. She was from Forks, but she was new in school that year. Her parents had divorced when she was little and she moved away with her mother, but halfway through your father's senior year Bella moved back to live with her father. He was the Chief of Police in Forks."

"Did she and Dad date for very long?"

"About two years. I think prom was only their second or third date. Grandpa didn't want your dad getting involved with a girl, since he'd be graduating and leaving for college so soon. He wanted him to keep his focus on school. Your dad stuck to Grandpa's rules for a while…until it got too hard for him to stay away from her." She looks over the top of her reading glasses and gives me a smile and a conspiratorial wink. I grin. But looking back at the photo, I'm only more curious.

"What was she like?"

She looks down at the album, spread across our laps. "She was a very sweet girl. A little on the shy side, but I think your dad really liked that about her. I think it made him feel protective of her."

"Do you know what happened? Why they broke up?"

She gives me a look, smiling because I'm nosey. She's already told me a lot, but this is like discovering buried treasure.

"Come on, Grandma, tell me. I won't say anything. What happened between them?"

She shakes her head at me, and then exhales a little sigh as she looks back at the photo.

"Your dad wouldn't talk about it for a long, long time, but I guess he broke things off with her when we made the move to Chicago. He knew it would be doubtful they'd get to see each other, so he thought it was for the best. He really missed her though, and I think he came to regret what he'd done. I'm sure it really hurt her, too. I don't know why he didn't just let things run their course."

She looks at me over the top of her readers again and smiles fondly at me. "But…life goes on, things change, people's lives change. Two years later, he met your mother and then they had you. And you're everything to your father, Masey. He wouldn't trade you for the world."

I smile. I know. Dad has been telling me that for years. Still, I feel kind of bad for that high school couple. They look happy in those photos.

"Now, you'd better not rat me out and get me into trouble with your father," she cautions me, and I laugh.

"You could always bribe my silence with a slice of chocolate cake, Grandma."

She laughs as she closes the album. "All right. If that's what it takes." She reaches out and ruffles my hair. "Go tell Grandpa it's time for dessert, Masey."

*I*

In the two weeks that followed, I didn't mention those photos or that conversation. And when Dad decided to attend a funeral in Forks during the week we'd be in Washington, I had no idea it was for that girl's father. I didn't even think about her again until our second morning in Forks, when we stopped to pick up breakfast on our way to Seattle.

That was the first time I saw Bella Swan.

Dad was on his phone, so I'd gone into the coffee shop alone to pick up coffees and food. Coming back out of the shop, juggling two big cups and a bag of baked goods, I was about to drop everything I was carrying when someone got the door for me. Looking up, I saw a familiar face, though it took a moment to place it. Suddenly, I knew I was looking at the adult version of the girl in the prom photos. She seemed as startled to see me as I was to see her. But then I realized—she probably thought I resembled Dad.

Walking back out to the truck, I wondered if he knew she still lived in Forks. Or if that even mattered. But it seemed weird to bring up, so I kept that odd little encounter to myself.

Back in Forks that night, after spending the day in Seattle, Dad reminded me about the funeral the following morning. When I asked whose it was, he just said it was for the father of someone he'd known in school. Someone Grandma and Grandpa had known too.

He looked somber the next morning in his black suit and tie. He was quiet and preoccupied, but I figured he was thinking about the funeral. But that afternoon, when I got a flat and he came to pick me up, he was downright broody and obviously distracted. I know a funeral is a sad occasion, but the emotion rolling off of him seemed kind of extreme.

*I*

"Dad, I'm really sorry..." I tell him as we load the bike into the truck bed. "I could have just patched this myself, you know, if you wanted to stay a little longer."

"No. It's fine. It's over." His expression seems pained.

"Were you still at the church when I called?"

He shakes his head. "No. I went to the burial after the service. And then I went over to… I went to… the family's house. But we… We were already finished when you called. There was nothing more to say." He rakes his hand through his hair and sighs. I nod, though he's not looking at me, he's scowling at the ground, and I wonder why he seems so upset.

"Ready?" I ask, because he's just standing there, frowning, lost in his own thoughts, and the bike is already loaded and I've even closed the tailgate.

He looks up and blinks. "Huh? Oh. Yeah." He nods and gets into the truck without another word.

On the drive back he's quiet. And when we stop at a light, I look over at him. His elbow is resting on the window frame and his eyes are closed as he pinches the bridge of his nose. I feel like I should say something. This funeral was for someone he hasn't seen in twenty years, so I wonder why it's affecting him like this.

"So, uh, how was it?" I finally dare to ask.

"Oh, you know…" He shrugs as he turns to look at me. "Depressing." He makes a little stab at a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He doesn't elaborate and I just nod.

"Did you see anyone you knew?" I figure he must have, and maybe my question will distract him from whatever is bothering him.

"Yeah." He nods. "I think most of Forks and half the Olympic Peninsula were there." That gets my attention.

"Who was this guy? You know…the man who died?"

"Charlie Swan. He used to be the Chief of Police here and I used to…" He hesitates. "His daughter and I… We used to be close…" He sighs. "But…that was a long time ago."

My mouth drops open. I'm stunned. I know exactly who he's talking about.

"Did you talk to her?"

I can see the muscles working in his jaw, and he shakes his head slightly at some inner thought before answering me.

"For a while."

The way he says it, I get the feeling that talk didn't go well. And given what Grandma told me about their break-up, I wonder if his black mood has more to do with that conversation, than the funeral or the death of her father.

*I*

I wasn't too surprised that evening, when Dad said he'd like to stick around Forks another day. He explained that he wanted to do some yardwork for Chief Swan's daughter the next morning, since she was all alone and had enough to deal with already. He said he used to mow their lawn sometimes and knew how the Chief liked it done. I thought doing yardwork sounded kind of odd, but I didn't question it. I knew it must have been important to him.

And maybe she was still kind of important, too.

*I*

I was still asleep when Dad left for her house the next morning, but there was a note to call him when I got up. So I did. And he sounded like himself again, over the phone. I heard a smile in his voice so I knew he was in a good mood. I knew something had changed even before he told me we'd been invited to dinner that evening. And it was only more apparent when we were getting cleaned up and ready to go, late that afternoon.

*I*

I get out of the shower, wrapped in one towel and drying my hair with another. Dad is standing at the sink just outside the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror.

"You think I should ditch the beard?" he asks uncertainly, turning his head and looking at his beard from different angles.

I shrug as I dry my back with the towel in my hands. "I don't know. You look younger without it."

His eyes shoot to mine in the mirror. "I do?"

"Yeah, kind of. And you look less dour without it."

He blinks. "Dour? I look…dour?" He frowns at me.

"Yeah… Isn't that the right word? Sort of gloomy, broody, overly serious?"

He nods, frowning at himself now, in the mirror.

"How come you never told me that before?" he asks.

I shrug. "I don't know. You never asked."

And with that, he takes his razor and shaving cream out of his toiletry kit.

I walk away to get dressed before he catches me smiling.

Later, when he's done shaving and showering and he's getting dressed, I tell him he looks more buff in his black polo shirt than the gray one. He just rolls his eyes at me. But he goes with the black.

*I*

Dad is what women would call an eligible bachelor. They find him appealing for a lot of reasons. He's smart and successful, has a good job, he keeps in shape, and he's good-looking. For his age. I would never call my dad hot, but I've heard it from friends. The girl friends. They think he's hot for a dad. That's a little creepy, but I think it's because he's younger than everyone else's dad. He's not even forty, but most of their dads are a good ten years older.

He didn't get involved with anyone for a long time after he and Mom divorced. I'm sure he was hurt things didn't work out and she left, and I'm sure he was cautious about taking a chance on a relationship after that.

I was too young to really understand what was going on when they split up, but I remember being sad. But I also remember worrying Dad could leave me too, and that thought used to upset me even more. Looking back on it now, I know he spent most of his spare time with me—focusing on me, making sure I was happy, and knew he loved me, and didn't think it was my fault Mom left. Or that he would ever do the same.

I remember when I figured out the timeline didn't add up—that I had either been an early arrival or an unplanned one. He was honest with me when I asked him about it. He told me babies aren't always cooperative about sticking to their parents' schedule, explaining that I might have been unplanned, but I certainly wasn't unwanted. He's proven that to me all my life.

But Dad really has never dated very much, and when he does, it's usually not for very long. He must be really picky, because it's not like he doesn't have opportunities. Some of my friends' moms think he's prime husband material. They're always asking, "So what's your dad up to these days, Masen? Is he seeing anyone?"

I just roll my eyes.

The married moms try to set him up—like Alec Demetri's mom. She's the worst culprit. First it was her sister, then her best friend, followed by a cousin, a co-worker, and finally, a neighbor. I can't blame Dad for not wanting to do anything social with the Demetris anymore, because he can always depend upon Renata Demetri to dig up some woman to introduce to him. I've seen it happen at two barbecues and a New Year's Eve party. He's polite. He smiles. He'll even laugh. But you can see he's onto Renata Demetri's match-making schemes, and once he starts rolling his eyes at me, I know he's had enough and he's waiting for the chance to leave.

The single moms we know are like moths to a flame. Jane Afton—the baseball team's booster mom is the perfect example. She's all over Dad at our games and team parties. For about five minutes, I thought it would be kind of cool if she and Dad hooked up and got married, because her son, Marcus, is a good friend and he's an only-child, like me. But Jane would drive us nuts. She's a great team booster mom, always cheering us on, and she's organized and on top of things, but she's loud and gregarious and kind of pushy. That's fine for a team booster mom, because she gets the job done, but I don't think she knows how to just calm down and relax. I don't know how Marcus can take her sometimes. Dad and I would lose our minds.

It's not just the single moms. I think Miss Harrison, my Honors British Lit teacher, has a thing for him too. As soon as Dad showed up to Back to School Night this year, she started calling home regularly to give him updates on my progress. Even though I'm in the top of my class. I thought maybe she had decided to start doing that for all her students. But then I asked around.

The last woman Dad dated for any length of time was Irina Dunn, maybe a year and a half ago. She was smart and pretty, but she was overly concerned about her appearance: rail thin and always perfectly groomed and made-up. Not a single hair out of place. But she hated doing stuff outdoors. She didn't like the wind. I mean… Hello? You live in Chicago. The Windy City. Get over yourself and your hair. She didn't really have much of a sense of humor either. Maybe if she would have eaten a little more, and gotten some fresh air and sunshine once in a while, she would have been more fun to be around. Whatever. It didn't last that long. She wasn't right for Dad.

It got to the point where I didn't think the right woman for Dad existed. Until Thursday evening in Forks.

That was the night I met Bella Swan.

*I*

On the drive over to her house, Dad told me a little about his "friend," Bella, and her late father, Charlie. He never actually referred to Bella as his former girlfriend. Maybe he didn't want me reading anything into the situation. So I didn't let on that I knew. I figured he had his reasons.

When we got to her house, I felt like I was about to enter the Natural History Exhibit at the Museum of Dad. Walking up to her front door, I was thinking about how many times he must have made that same walk, going over to see her, picking her up to take her out, or bringing her home afterwards. Maybe he'd kissed her goodnight right there on that same front porch where we were standing.

When he rang that doorbell, I felt like I was in the sort of situation where people might say, 'I wish I could have been a fly on the wall…' only I was about to be the fly on the wall.

She was dressed casually but she looked nice. And for an older woman, she's in great shape and she's still very pretty, with kind and expressive eyes. She smiled at Dad, but did a double-take, and I wondered if she thought he looked younger and less dour without the beard. When he introduced me, she gave me a warm smile, but I could see a flicker of curiosity in her eyes and I wondered if she recognized me from the coffee shop.

I met her dog next and almost laughed out loud. Who names their dog Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy? A girl who'd liked Pride and Prejudice, I guess. But Fitz suits him. He's hilarious and kind of funny-looking. I swear he has a bunch of different facial expressions, but maybe it's just because of the way Bella talks about him—like she can read his thoughts. He's a cool, big dog, though. Way more pleasant and entertaining than Penny the Piranha—the yappy, snappy little Pomeranian bitch Mom has in New York.

I expected to feel a little awkward, being there with Dad and Bella, knowing they used to be together, and watching them interact. But it wasn't awkward at all. I felt at ease and included in the conversation, and they were normal together. That's pretty amazing when you consider they haven't seen or talked to each other in so many years.

Bella was easy-going and friendly, and she seemed interested in what I had to say. It wasn't like she felt obligated to take an interest in me. She had a good sense of humor and a nice laugh and I think she found it comical how Dad and I would tease each other and give each other a hard time. Maybe it was good for her to laugh too—I can't imagine losing my dad.

The house smelled like heaven and I was salivating at the aroma before we even sat down to eat. Dinner was insane—the lasagna, salad, and garlic bread. Everything was terrific and everything was going great, right up until I let it slip that I recognized Bella the other morning. I had to throw Grandma under the bus and tell them about those prom photos. That was awkward, but afterwards, we were done dancing around the elephant in the room. And I don't think Dad really cared that I'd brought it up. I hoped Bella didn't feel too awkward, though I did see her blush.

It must have been strange for them—already knowing each other, yet having to catch up and fill in the gaps. But they seemed to be having a good time, laughing and exchanging looks as we talked about all sorts of things. Dad didn't give me the time-to-leave-eyeroll once. And when Bella went into the kitchen to make dessert during the ballgame, I found out just how un-ready Dad was to leave.

*I*

"You okay with this? Just hanging out here?" he asks me quietly.

"Yeah, this is fine. She's nice." He smiles. and then he chews at his lip a little.

"Listen, Mase… I was thinking… What would you say to staying in Forks another day or two and then flying back home?"

My mouth drops open. I wasn't expecting that.

"You wouldn't have the truck—you'd be depending upon friends or public transit again, when I can't loan you my car. But it would mean a five hour flight instead of a three-day drive. Just…think about it and let me know, okay?"

I nod, still surprised. And then I'm not. I can see he's enjoying getting to know her again, and he just wants a little more time.

Before I can reply, though, Bella comes out of the kitchen with her gelato spumoni dessert creation, and hands us our bowls. I watch Dad—the way he looks at her—and I know I'd be a jackass to tell him no, with everything he always does for me. So when she heads back into the kitchen, I'm already done thinking about leaving my truck here and flying home, so I let him know.

"I can deal with that, Dad. That's fine." He looks surprised, but really pleased.

"You sure?" he asks.

"Yeah. That's okay."

"Would you mind if I skipped the end of the baseball game to visit with Bella a little?" he asks.

"No, I'm good. Fitz can keep me company. Your Mariners are going to lose the game, anyway." I smirk at him and he chuckles.

"Thanks, Mase." He claps me on the shoulder as he stands, dessert in hand.

In the kitchen I hear them talking about sitting out on the back porch. And when he comes back out to grab their sweatshirts, Bella looks out from the kitchen doorway. I watch her as I eat my ice cream, wondering what she thinks about him, after all these years, but things must be okay, if Dad is wanting to stick around.

When I hear the back screen door shut a couple minutes later, I'm tempted to tease Dad and yell, "The door stays open!" like he quietly reminds me when I have a girl over at the house. But I don't. I don't want to embarrass Bella, even though she seems like a good sport. I also don't want to look like an immature idiot.

*I*

I didn't think to give them fair warning later, when I stepped out back, to see if they wanted to catch the end of the game. Maybe I should have whistled, like Dad does, to let me know he's on the approach, so I can get my act together if I have a girl over. But I wasn't thinking. So that was awkward—like I'd caught them making-out, even though I could see they'd just been talking. But they had been sitting close together. And the way they moved apart and Bella jumped up from that porch swing—clearly blushing—I couldn't help grinning. They both looked so guilty. It was like the adolescent shoe was on the parental foot.

Dad was flustered that I'd interrupted, but probably conscious of how it seemed—like the tables had been turned on our usual roles. I wondered if he'd told her we were thinking of staying, or if they'd made plans, but when I asked, he looked a little peeved, and told me he hadn't gotten the chance because they were busy. I knew what he meant, but I was still tempted to comment on them being busy. But then I got the glare and the eye roll. So I went back inside.

But I could still hear.

I heard enough to know Dad needed help. When he asked if she had plans the next day, and she wondered what he had in mind to do, he was clueless. I was rolling my eyes in the kitchen. So I suggested the beach. Out loud. From in the kitchen. It was out of my mouth before I even thought about what I was doing. And I heard Dad curse. He sounded pissed I'd butted in yet again, but then I heard Bella start laughing, and then he was laughing with her.

When they came inside a few minutes later, it seemed I'd been forgiven for eavesdropping. At least Bella has a good sense of humor and can roll with our flow.

*I*

I look over at Dad as he drives us back to the motel. He's been quiet, but I can see he's happy. We've got plans in place to spend the next day at the beach—and it's even going to be warm enough to wear a bathing suit. He has to see the potential in that, I figure. Maybe that's why he's happy.

"So… Bella Swan, huh?" I say, drumming my fingertips on the window frame.

Dad looks over, his eyes narrowed, but he starts chuckling. "What, exactly did your Grandmother tell you?" he asks.

I laugh. The cat's already out of the bag, so we might as well chase it around a little.

"She really didn't tell me that much. Just Bella's name, a little about her parents—that they were divorced, and Bella's dad was the chief of police. She said you met her in high school and she was your girlfriend for a couple years before the move to Chicago. That's about it. Oh, and she said Bella was very nice."

He's shaking his head, looking forward as he drives. "So you knew. This whole time."

I chuckle. "I pieced things together. Like I said, I recognized her at the coffee shop the day before yesterday. And yesterday, when you said the funeral was for the former police chief, I remembered that was her dad. So I knew she was the daughter you stuck around to talk to after the funeral. And whose yard you went to mow this morning. And who invited us to dinner tonight."

He's chuckling now. "I can't believe you never said a word. I should have wondered why you weren't asking me more questions." He looks over at me and I laugh. I can freely admit to being nosy.

"I figured you had your reasons for not saying more, and I didn't want to pry into something that was obviously personal." He nods at that, probably glad to know I can respect some boundaries.

"And what did you decide about my former girlfriend?" he asks and it's clear he knows I've been analyzing the evening. I feel a little embarrassed for myself, but then I think maybe he is curious to know what I thought of Bella.

"I think she's very nice. Friendly and down to earth. She was easy to talk to and she has a good sense of humor. She was funny too—like some of those things she said about Fitz?" Dad smiles. "She's an awesome cook, too. That was seriously the best lasagna I've ever eaten." He nods in agreement. "And she's pretty. You know…for a woman her age."

He laughs at that, but then he looks at me with narrowed eyes. "You know enough not to say that to a woman's face, right?" I bust up.

"Yeah, don't worry. You haven't raised a total idiot. I just didn't want you thinking I might start vying for her attention." I grin at him and now he's cracking up, shaking his head at the crap I say.

"So, how about you?" I ask. "What do you think of her, now that you've gotten to see her again?" He gives me the old raised eyebrow. We can all agree I'm nosy.

"I pretty much share your opinions, Mase."

He leaves it at that but I'm not done digging. Boundaries shmoundaries

"Do you like her?" I ask.

He doesn't answer immediately. The question hangs in the air. And maybe I really overstepped.

But then he looks at me and shrugs. "I've always liked Bella."

The way he says it, I think he's trying to play it off, but from what I've seen this evening, I think he does like her. As in, he likes-her-likes-her. And then I think about his answer. And I wonder if maybe he's saying he has always liked-her-liked-her.

Maybe that's really why we're here.

*I*

Second Beach was beautiful—way more rugged and untamed-looking than any beach I'd ever been to before. I liked that we had to actually hike down a trail to get to it, so it wasn't ridiculously crowded like the beaches I've been to on the East Coast.

I was interested in what Bella said about that trail—that The Washington Trails Association heads up improvement projects that are kind of like a vacation too. I thought it was cool she mentioned it, as if she realized that sort of thing might appeal to me.

I tried to give Dad and Bella a little space. I didn't feel like I was unwelcomed, but I could see they were enjoying each other's company, talking, catching up, reminiscing. So I didn't mind when they occasionally lagged behind on the trail down, along the beach, or out by the beach stacks when we were checking out the tide pools.

Dad and Bella were checking each other out, too. But I didn't say anything. I wouldn't mention it to Bella. But I did give Dad the eyebrow when I caught him staring. He gave me the frosty glare in return. I just laughed it off. Dudes are dudes, and even dads are dudes. And later that afternoon, I remembered to tell him Bella had been checking him out, too.

After we had scoped out the tide pools, Fitz and I ran back up the beach to our spot. I dug my phone out of my backpack and took a couple selfies of me and Fitz, a few shots of the beach and headlands, and then four candid photos of Dad and Bella as they strolled slowly back up the beach…

Dad laughing at something Bella was saying...

Dad pulling Bella back by the hand when she started to march away...

Bella trying to shove Dad with her hands on his chest...

Bella holding her stomach and Dad bent over with his hands resting on his knees—both of them looking at each other and laughing like crazy.

I didn't tell them I'd taken pictures of them, and I have no idea what the hell that conversation was all about, but it sure looked amusing. I'll print the photos up at home, and if they come out clear enough, once I blow them up a little, I'll give them to him. I think he'd like them. I think he'd like to remember that day on Second Beach, when the two of them were acting like teenagers.

*I*

Last evening worked out well. After our eventful day at the beach, we both wound up with plans for the evening. I got to go to the bonfire with Bree, and Dad got to take Bella out on a date. He didn't say it was a date, but it was obvious.

We took turns, shaving and showering when we got back to the motel. Dad dressed in his black jeans and gray polo shirt, but then he just stood there, looking at himself in the mirror for a moment, frowning. Finally he turned to look at me, sprawled across my bed with my phone.

*I*

"I'm going to run to the store," he says. "I don't have a decent shirt to wear for dinner."

I nod, without taking my eyes off my phone as I reply to another of Bree's texts.

"Where are you and Bella going?" I ask, without looking up.

"I made reservations at a place I found online—a steak and seafood restaurant, overlooking the ocean a little ways down the coast. It had good reviews."

"Sounds nice," I tell him as I press send.

"You want to come to the store, Mase?"

I look up at him. "No, thanks. I'll just hang out here."

He grabs his keys and wallet. "I won't be long."

"Take your time. I'm good."

He nods and crosses to the door.

"You should get a button-up shirt," I say as he opens the door. "With long sleeves. Slim-fit if they have them." I glance up in time to see him rolling his eyes.

"Thanks for the advice…Dad," he says as he steps outside. I laugh.

"Hey, I'm just trying to be helpful…Son," I reply, as he shuts the door and my phone dings with another text.

A short while later, I get a text from Dad, among the texts I've been getting from Bree.

Just checking the approval rating.

There's a photo attached and I start laughing out loud. It's Dad's reflection in a dressing room mirror. He's modeling a dark green, plaid button-up dress shirt with long sleeves. It looks like a slim-fit. But the expression on his face is priceless—like he can't believe he's doing this. I send a quick reply, laughing to myself.

You look like a stud. Buy it.

I can just see him, shaking his head, rolling his eyes again as he reads that. I'm dying of laughter just thinking of it.

But that's the shirt he comes back with.

*I*

Last night, when he returned after his dinner with Bella, he didn't seem to mind that Bree and the other girls were hanging out with me. He seemed really happy, and he was laughing as we told him about the rain dousing our bonfire. Judging from his mood, I didn't think the rain put a damper on his evening with Bella.

*I*

Today was the final day of our trip.

We stopped at the little coffee shop before leaving Forks and I met Dad and Bella's friend, Angela. Listening to the three of them talk, I was trying to imagine what they'd been like as teenagers, just hanging out. So I asked a couple questions once we were on our way to Port Angeles, and I got a bunch of entertaining stories about Dad, Bella and their friends back in the day.

It was funny, sitting in the backseat of Bella's truck, watching and listening to Dad and Bella interact in the front seat. They were definitely on even friendlier terms than Thursday night. Bella got flustered a couple times at things Dad said—but not in a bad way. He would tease her and she would laugh and tease him back. A couple times she blushed, though, and once she smacked at his legs. That was hilarious. But he deserved it. He just laughed. And he smiled a lot. And he had his hand on her shoulder practically the whole way to Port Angeles.

I wondered if he was reminding himself she was within reach, or hanging on before having to let go.

*I*

The few hours we spent in Port Angeles were nice. We walked along the waterfront and looked across the strait to Canada. Watching the big ships and smaller boats sailing by, reminded me a little of being back home, looking out on Lake Michigan.

After we did some shopping, we ate lunch in a little Italian restaurant. It was a place Dad and Bella used to go when they were dating. I guess I wasn't too slick and subtle, when I forced Dad into sitting next to Bella, but he didn't appear upset. Neither did Bella. I'm pretty sure they were holding hands under the table at one point, so I'm guessing it worked out okay.

After we ordered, Bella gave us books she'd bought while we'd been out shopping downtown. That was a complete surprise. And really thoughtful. The hiking guide she gave me was awesome. Perfect reading material for the flight home. She gave Dad a journal. I expect he has a lot to write about already.

Lunch was good, though not as good as Bella's lasagna. I think I wound up carrying the conversation during that meal, but I had a feeling they were thinking about us having to leave soon, and weren't feeling too talkative.

After saying goodbye to Bella at the airport, I headed inside the terminal, giving Dad a few minutes alone with her to say their goodbyes.

And ever since he met up with me inside the terminal afterwards, and we waited at our departure gate, and boarded our flight to Sea-Tac, Dad has been pretty subdued. I'm sure he's thinking about her.

I look over at him as our plane lifts into the air. I can see he's bummed to be leaving. He looks more than bummed. He looks…dour. Even without the beard. It's only been three days, but I can see he has real feelings for her. Maybe a part of him always has.

I have a feeling we're going to be seeing more of Bella Swan.

A/N: I'd love to hear what you thought of Wingboy's thoughts and behind-the-scenes conversations with Dadward. .