Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading this foolishness. I had to pick between review replies and schoolwork—despite my wishes, school won.

All the usual applies—no beta, SM owns them, Carlisle and Edward own me.


Chapter Forty-Nine

EPOV

By the time Carlisle returned to the kitchen, I was pulling a tray of freshly baked French rolls out of the oven to accompany the canned beef stew I found in the pantry. He walked up behind me at the counter and rested his chin on my shoulder, rubbing his still scruff covered cheek against mine. I set down the hot baking sheet, then turned around to take him in.

He'd washed up, I could smell the fresh scent of musky sandalwood drifting around him, and changed his clothes. The khaki trousers he'd selected had been paired with a forest green polo shirt. I dragged my thumbnail across the scruff, loving the raspy vibration against my skin. He smiled, brushing a kiss across my lips.

"You approve?"

"Very much so. I know you'll have to shave soon, but it's a good look for you. You don't look quite so…refined," I teased, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead. "Actually, I have to say, I don't think I've ever seen you so casual, even when I came over the condo the other day."

'Remember I said things had changed at work?" I nodded, waiting for him to continue while my hands smoothed across the piqué fabric on his shoulders. "I don't work on the floor anymore. Since my promotion, I direct client accounts, pass on orders to the floor, monitor market trends, and am generally sitting on my ass behind a computer all day. My only contact with the public is tele-conferences. It's a lot less stressful and the environment is more casual."

"So the scruff can stay?" My eyebrow quirked. The thought of seeing Carlisle like this every day sent a spark of fire to my groin.

"If I keep it trimmed, yes, it can stay. Do you really like it?" He peered around me to look at his distorted reflection in the gleaming stainless backsplash behind the stove.

"Does this answer your question?" I slid my hands to his ass, pressing him against the wood I'd sprung.

"Mmhhmm. Yes, it does," he hummed. "You might want to put that away for later, though. Pastor Weber will be here in about 30 minutes. He's out visiting a parishioner near here and offered to drop by, rather than both of us driving to the church."

"Oh. Well, then, we'd better hurry up and eat."

We worked together to get lunch on the table, finishing our meal with enough time to clean up the dishes before Pastor Mike Weber arrived. Carlisle answered the door while I finished the dishes. After putting the last bowl away, I dried my hands on a dishtowel, then joined them in the living room. Accepting his offered condolences, and the invitation to call him by his first name, I shook the older gentleman's hand, before joining Carlisle on the sofa. He reached over and twined his fingers with mine, resting our clasped hands on his leg.

"Well, Makenna would have been pleased to see this," Mike offered, with a warm smile. "I'm sure she's smiling in Heaven, she always knew it would only be a matter of time before you two patched things up."

We both nodded, neither of us sure what to say. We were saved the trouble of making small talk when he spoke again.

"Honestly, there isn't a whole lot for us to go over. Your grandmother had made most of the arrangements last year when she had that scare with the pneumonia. She didn't want you to have to be bothered with the details, knowing you would have to handle so much long distance." He reached into the folder he carried, pulling out a few sheets of paper. "Makenna had already decided on what passages she wanted read, music, even included a message that she wanted to leave her friends with."

Carlisle leaned forward to accept the papers, holding them so I could see what Makenna had written. I'd have recognized her precise handwriting anywhere. I pointed to one of the songs on the list, causing us both to smile at the shared memory of her telling us it would be played at her funeral a couple years earlier. We'd both shushed her, not wanting to have to consider the possibility of her leaving us. She'd gotten her wish, anyway.

Mike cleared his throat, "Carlisle, I was hoping you might be able to say a few words, too." He paused, then directed his attention to me. "You too, Edward. She considered you every bit her grandson, also."

A lump formed in my throat, blocking any words I might have been able to come up with. Carlisle squeezed my hand, then handed the papers back to the pastor. The two of them discussed the time frame for the funeral, working out the few things still needing to be finalized. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw Seth's name flashing on the screen. I'd asked him not to call while we were on the road, promising I'd call him when we reached Arizona. Of course, I'd expected to be in a day sooner, too. Flipping the display towars Carlisle so he could see who was calling, I excused myself to step out of the room and take the call.


Wonder how Seth is going to take the news that Carlisle and Edward have reunited? Stay tuned.

I'm working on a little surprise, too, hopefully for tomorrow.