Sorry for the wait! It's been a day.

Big thanks to Hadley for the hand holding and telling it to me straight. Mich helped biiig time, too, so I owe her, and Kimberly for prereading!

Thank youuuu all for reading and being so lovely. See you Saturday.

It's 7 p.m. on the dot when Edward and I are seated at an empty table.

"This place is nice," I muse, glancing around the upscale restaurant.

I smooth my hands down my thighs, over my dress. When I glance at Edward, I find he's already staring at me.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs. "Did I tell you that yet?"

I smile gently. He was anxiously quiet on the drive over, and though he doesn't necessarily seem completely relaxed, he's at least talking again.

"Yes, you've told me. That's twice already tonight."

"Good." His gaze lingers. "And your hair?" Green eyes drift toward my half-assed attempt at a tousled low-do. I'd bring a hand up to touch it, but I'm afraid it'll all come undone.

"Yes. My hair. It's something, right?" I laugh. "The shitty YouTube tutorial I watched wasn't any help at all."

He smirks. "It looks good. I like it. A lot."

"Note to self: watch shitty YouTube tutorials more often." He laughs softly, eyes squinting a little when he does. "Well, you look handsome, too," I tell him.

He does. He really does. But it doesn't feel like… him. His hair is more tame than usual, and I can hardly see any ink because the white button-up he's wearing sufficiently covers it all. The only tattoo I can see is part of the raven, which just barely peeks out from his collar.

It's like he's trying to impress his father. Which I understand. I just wish it didn't come in the form of playing a role.

The waiter comes over to check on us, but we tell him we're still waiting on a third person. Ten minutes later when he comes over again, we decide to at least order drinks.

I look over the menu for something to do, and list off all the things that sound delicious, getting overly excited for dinner. Edward hums in response, then hooks an index finger between his shirt and neck, tugging at his collar. His leg bounces under the table, and I wish I could ease his nerves.

"You okay?" I ask gently.

"It's warm in here."

"Roll up your sleeves." He gives me a look. "What?"

"I'm not gonna do that."

"Why not?"

"Because…" He glances around. "Look where we're at. I don't think they'd appreciate what's under my sleeves."

"What? People don't care about tattoos. There's way less stigma over that nowadays."

"My dad cares."

I frown. "I hate that you can't be yourself around him."

"I can, I just… it's easier if I do this. You know? I don't want him to find something right off the bat to come at me for."

My stomach turns. I was wrong about Edward wanting to impress him. This is self-preservation. I can't imagine having to play defense against your own father.

Edward notices my somber expression and reaches over to brush his fingers against my arm. "It's fine, okay?" He swigs whiskey from his glass, then nervously taps his finger against the tablecloth. "I have a time limit for him, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"If he doesn't show up within half an hour, I always leave."

I want to hug him. "How many minutes does he have left?"

"Twelve."

I reach below the table for his hand, wanting to take his mind off of this. "What was your mom's favorite dessert?"

"She wasn't really into sweets. Definitely more of a savory person."

"Okay. Her favorite comfort food?"

"Mac and cheese," he remembers, smiling a little. "But, like, the crappy kind from the box. None of this fancy shit that's on the menu."

I think I would've really liked her.

"So, if your dad doesn't show, let's go buy some boxed mac and cheese and call it a night."

Edward focuses on my face, and his fingers squeeze mine. "Thanks for being here. I..." He clears his throat. "I just really appreciate it."

I let my fingers squeeze his back, trying not to let my expression show just how much it makes my heart hurt when I imagine him sitting here alone.

We're halfway through our beverages when his dad shows up.

Edward stands, so I do, too. I kind of like that even though his dad might be awful to him, Edward still respects him enough to greet him this way.

"Sorry. I got held up," his dad says gruffly. He's wearing a suit, has graying hair, permanent eye crinkles, and a strong jaw. I can definitely see the resemblance. "Were you waiting long?"

"We got here at seven. So, we've been waiting for twenty-eight minutes," Edward says flatly. "This is Bella," he tells his dad.

"Hi. It's nice to meet you," I say, and I try to mean it as I reach out to shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you, too. I'm Dr. Cullen."

So, he's a doctor and the kind who tells you to call them by their degree instead of their first name. If he weren't staring me in the eyes, I'd roll mine at how egotistical he comes across already.

Then I remind myself to give him a chance.

He's Edward's Dad. I want him to like me. And even if my stomach is still in knots over how anxious Edward was before he arrived, I need to stay unbiased.

The three of us take our seats, and Edward nervously spins his glass between his fingers.

"I didn't realize it wasn't going to be just the two of us tonight," his dad says stiffly, looking at Edward.

"I couldn't get hold of you."

"Did you try the hospital?"

I sip my wine as Edward answers, "No."

"Well, that would've been the way to reach me."

Dr. Cullen just shakes his head, and the subject is dropped.

The waiter comes over and Dr. Cullen immediately reprimands him for not arriving sooner. I flinch at his tone, and listen to him rattle off how he'll take his scotch.

The waiter plays it cool and nods, mumbling "yes, sir." I offer him a small, apologetic smile. This doesn't strike me as the type of place where the staff spit in drinks, but I wonder if they'll start tonight.

"Do you always have to do that?" Edward mutters when the waiter leaves.

Dr. Cullen stares. "Excuse me?"

Edward falls quiet, like he's deciding whether or not it's worth saying whatever he's thinking.

"Why do you treat people like that?"

"I have expectations. And a tight schedule. He took too long," his dad says, simple and emotionless.

"You were late," Edward points out. "Do you know how many times he came over to take our orders, and you weren't here? God forbid anyone makes you wait, but you have zero problem wasting our time."

I love Edward for saying this. I get the feeling that he rarely speaks out against his dad, so that probably took a lot of courage for him.

Any high-fiving that's going on inside of my head is cut short when I catch Dr. Cullen's expression.

Shit.

He's clearly not pleased with being called out.

I watch them stare at one another, eyes slightly narrowed, like they're having a private conversation. The tension between them crackles in the air, so I step in.

"So, you're a doctor," I say, trying my best to be the buffer Edward needs me to be. "What do you specialize in?"

"I'm a cardiothoracic surgeon."

"Oh… is that like a cardiologist?"

"No." He frowns. "Not like a cardiologist. I perform surgery."

"Oh. Sorry." He looks offended at the comparison. "Sounds intense."

"It is," he says dryly.

The three of us fall into an awkward silence.

I try again. Surely there's got to be something that can break the ice and get the conversation going.

"Do you live around here?" I ask.

"I don't."

When the waiter drops off Dr. Cullen's drink, I'm thankful for his interruption. We order food, and I almost ask the waiter to repeat the specials for a second time just to keep him around as my buffer.

"So, where did you two meet?" Dr. Cullen asks. The question seems polite, normal. His expression looks disinterested, though. Almost like it's a task for him to be here and engage with me and his son.

I look at Edward and offer an encouraging smile.

He answers for us.

"I co-teach the coding class for her brother," he says simply.

And maybe it is that simple.

"My brother loves Edward," I say, smiling a little. "He seriously thinks—"

"You're still doing that?" Dr. Cullen interrupts me.

Edward's jaw tenses. "She was talking."

I shake my head. "It's okay."

His dad pulls out his phone, types on it for a second then says, "Teaching that class doesn't pay well, does it?"

"It pays enough," Edward says.

Dr. Cullen sips his scotch. "Huh."

Edward mimics him and drains his own glass.

"Crowley's son recently went into accounting. He said you should reach out to him. You'd have to start taking classes again, but—"

"Why are you talking about me to Tyler Crowley?" Edward asks, visibly annoyed.

His dad glares, seemingly unhappy he was interrupted.

"Your name came up because I'm trying to help," Dr. Cullen says stiffly.

"No, you aren't. Are we really doing this right now?"

I don't like the way he's looking at Edward. Like he came here to pick a fight. Like he purposely wants to get under his skin and make him squirm and embarrass him in front of me while he's at it.

The table falls quiet, and conversations nearby fill the air. Forks clink, and laughter surrounds us, yet we are silent.

"I don't want to argue," Edward tries, tone softer. "It's Mom's birthday."

"We aren't arguing. This is simply a conversation." He turns his attention to me. "Tell me—what do you do, Bella?"

I clear my throat. "I'm a florist," I say, holding his gaze. The corner of his mouth tugs into the faintest smirk. He's not impressed. But I'm not here to impress, and I'm sure as shit not here for him. I'm here for his son. I'm here to be the buffer and the friend and whatever else Edward needs me to be tonight.

"I don't like flowers."

I'm tempted to say that I don't like him, but I bite my tongue and instead, tilt my head a little. "Why not?"

"They die."

So do people.

So did his wife.

And I try to remember that. I try to muster any sort of compassion I can for him, but he's making it really fucking hard.

He orders another scotch. I stare at him and try to get a good read. I wonder what he was like before Elizabeth died. I know Edward said his mom made him softer but imagining a softer side to this man seems unimaginable.

"So." Dr. Cullen sighs. I half wonder if he's gonna offer an olive branch and try to start this entire dinner over. "The accounting gig. Look into it. At least it's something worthwhile."

"I don't want to do any of that," Edward says stiffly. "I…" He pauses and briefly looks at me. "I like what I do."

"All that college tuition wasted," Dr. Cullen grumbles, waving his hand dismissively in the air. "What a shame."

"I don't think of it that way," Edward mumbles.

"Well, you wouldn't now, would you?" His jaw is set, like he's grinding his molars together. I hope he chips a fucking tooth. "You weren't the one to write the checks. And what a charade that was, dropping out after a year." Edward opens his mouth to speak, then closes it when his dad mumbles under his breath, "Couldn't even stick it out."

I'm about to fucking lose it. But I'm trying my hardest to stay out of it. To not be that person who gets involved in other people's business. But… it's Edward. And it's killing me to hear his father speak to him this way.

"I've never asked you for anything," Edward reminds him, and his defeated tone kills me. "Not money, not… anything."

"The one thing I ever asked of you was to not embarrass me and find a real career," Dr. Cullen snips.

"You're a smart man," Edward says flatly. "I'd think you would've caught on by now that I'm never going to make you proud."

My eyes blur, and I stare down at my lap.

"Honestly." Dr. Cullen huffs sharply. "What would your mother think?"

I look up, glaring.

Heart pounding.

Blood boiling.

I can feel the tension rolling off of Edward, and I can't listen to this anymore.

"I think she would be really proud of her son," I pipe in. "From the sound of it, he found something he loves to do and is passionate about. I wonder what she would think of you, treating your own son this way. He doesn't deserve this."

My heart beats out of my fucking chest. Edward takes my hand in his under the table, but I don't look away from his father.

Dr. Cullen stares at me, seemingly unbothered by what I've said. We play the staring game. It reminds me of the early days with Edward. The coldness and what I thought was arrogance. But that was a shield for Edward, not the real him. Unfortunately, this is who his father really is.

"Do you know all the stress and trouble he put me through after Elizabeth passed?"

"No," I say sharply. I'm about to tell him that I don't care, but he speaks first.

"He's been arrested. He vandalized his high school. He got kicked out for drugs. He dropped out of college—made me look like a fool after I had to pull strings to even get him in. And what was it all for? To get my attention?"

I know his questions are rhetorical. He doesn't really want an answer. But I give him one anyway.

"Sure, maybe it was to get your attention," I offer sincerely. "Maybe he just wanted to know you loved him. Maybe he was hurting? I mean, did you ever ask him? Did you ever once ask him how he was feeling?" Dr. Cullen opens his mouth to speak, but I keep going. "I know you were mourning, too. I'm not saying he was the only one. But he was just a kid. He didn't… have the tools you would've had to cope."

"Don't sit here and insult my parenting, or try to assume that you know me or my son. I guarantee you do not. The same way I guarantee his antics were solely to further disappoint me," he responds, tone clipped.

Edward brushes his thumb over mine, and I can feel his eyes on me, but I can't look at him yet.

"Whatever you think he did or didn't do to disappoint you shouldn't matter," I argue. "You're still family. He's still your son."

"Sure. He's my son." Dr. Cullen frowns. "And who the hell are you?"

"Enough," Edward growls. "I'll let you talk to me like that but not her."

Dr. Cullen regards his son and clicks his tongue. "Nice to see you finally stand up for something."

I shake my head incredulously. "Are you really so arrogant that—"

"Bella, don't." Edward rises from the table, keeping my hand in his. "We're leaving."

Dr. Cullen shakes his head, tossing his napkin on the table. "Wonderful. Just great. Walk away from your problems. Your mother would be so proud."

Anger rises in my chest, and I go to open my mouth again, but Edward tugs on my hand and pulls me away.

"He's not worth it, Bella," he mumbles in my ear. "Trust me."

I know he's not.

But Edward is.

I don't want to cause a scene, more than we already have. The nearby tables are watching, unashamed, not even pretending to eat their food.

I need to show as much restraint as Edward has tonight.

So I rein it in.

With my hand in his, I take a deep breath and let him lead the way out of the restaurant.

I just hope he realizes how strong he truly is in this moment.