Much love to Hadley for going over this with her magic pen!
Thanks for reading - see you Friday or Saturday!
Chapter Six
The drive across town is slow to give myself ample time to change my mind.
I should turn around. Head home. But I keep driving, and the closer I get to my destination, the more I buzz with anxious energy. The more I'm set in my decision.
If anyone found out what I was doing, they'd be worried.
If Gianna found out, I'd probably be fired.
After today, I'm already on thin ice.
But that doesn't stop me from going to Edward's house and lingering outside in my car.
This part of town is quiet. A little run-down. I pass some abandoned houses at the end of the street, the windows boarded up and graffitied.
From the outside, Edward's place looks small. Some of the lights are on, but most of the shades are drawn. As concerning as it is that I'm here unannounced, I find myself irrationally annoyed that he potentially lied and didn't go to the after-hours clinic like he said he would.
Just because the lights are on, it doesn't mean he's inside. And just because I'm here, it doesn't mean I need to actually see him.
I don't make a move to go, though. I just sit inside of my warm car and stare at his house.
Then his front door opens.
Shit.
I only have seconds to decide if I want to drive away and pretend like this never happened or face my embarrassment head on. I'm still deciding what to do when he walks outside and toward my vehicle.
Reluctantly, I turn off the engine and get out of the car.
I can't read his expression, but if I had to guess, I'd say he doesn't exactly look surprised to see me. As frustrating as that is, I don't have any right to be annoyed.
"Hi," I say cautiously. "I can explain."
He just grins. "Explain away."
"You lied. You didn't go to the clinic."
"And you… stalked me?"
"No," I glower, more annoyed with myself than I am with him. "I just… wanted to make sure you were okay." I say it softly and quickly like that will make it less embarrassing.
"You wanted to make sure I was okay?" he echoes, his own tone soft.
"Yes."
We stand awkwardly in front of each other and just... stare. He doesn't tell me to leave. I don't try to go.
Running a hand through his hair, he nods toward the house. "Well, since you're here, you might as well come on in. I made soup."
Soup.
Fuck.
"My roommate. She's sick," I blurt.
Amusement flashes over his face. "My condolences to your roommate."
"I told her I'd be home tonight."
"Call her," he says simply. "Tell her you'll be late. Then I can send some soup home with you."
He turns before I can argue. All there's left to do is follow him inside.
So I do.
The house smells good. Warm. Lived-in. There's almost a nostalgic scent to it, but I know from growing up, my own home didn't smell or feel like this.
Edward gestures to take my coat, and I let him hang it up before we make our way into the kitchen.
He starts moving around, pulling out bowls and spoons like having me here is the most normal thing in the world. I don't overthink it as I pull out my phone to call Rose.
"Hello?" She sounds groggy, like she was sleeping.
"It's me."
"Where are you?"
"At a friend's," I lie, not bothering to look over at Edward when I say it. "Are you doing okay?"
"Feeling much better."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Haven't puked since this morning, so I think I'll be able to go to Emmett's party."
"Oh, good." I watch Edward ladle soup into three bowls. "I might be a little late."
"That's okay. I'll probably take a bath and pass out."
"Okay. I'll see you soon."
The kitchen is too quiet after we say goodbye and hang up.
"Can I help?" I ask, feeling awkward just standing there.
He looks at me and shakes his head. "It's okay."
I stare at his back as he reaches above his head into the cupboard and grabs a couple of tiny orange bottles, pills rattling inside. He pulls out a tablet from each and places them on a tray with a single bowl of soup.
"I might be gone for a few minutes," he says. "You can eat without me if you're hungry."
"I'm okay. I'll wait."
He avoids my eyes and picks up the tray. "Okay."
Mild panic sets in when I'm alone. I don't know what I'm trying to achieve by being here. Clearly, he's fine.
I'm waffling on my decision to leave before he comes back when the sound of scratching on the back door catches my attention. I pause, listening. It happens again, so I move toward the door, pulling back the curtain. It's dark, so I can't see anything outside, but I still hear the sound. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I open the door to find a small black cat at my feet, staring up at me with its own curious, wide eyes.
"Well, hello there," I say softly, squatting to pet the cat. Tiny meows greet me, and she rubs her head against my hand before letting herself inside.
Standing, I shut the door. The cat seems to know her way around, strolling to the other side of the table to find an empty bowl on the floor. I open random cabinets, searching for some kind of food to give her. I don't find what I need, though, and I feel Edward's presence in the kitchen before I see him.
"Are you snooping?" he laughs.
I turn around, busted. "Yes, but I'm looking for cat food."
"Ah." The cat meows by her empty bowl, and he smiles. "You again," he says to her.
"Is she yours?"
"Sort of. More like a neighborhood nuisance," he says, but there's a fondness to his voice. "A few of us pitch in to take care of her. She's an outdoor cat, so she doesn't like to stick in one place for long."
I watch as she winds herself through Edward's legs until he reaches down to pick her up. She's so tiny in his arms, and it makes me smile.
"What's her name?" I ask, moving closer to scratch under her chin while he holds her.
"Pepper."
"Pepper," I echo. "Because she's black?"
"Because I found her in the alley licking the grease and scraps from a box of pepperoni pizza."
"Ah," I say, laughing a little. "It's short for pepperoni." She meows at me, nuzzling her head against my hand. "She's certainly cute. And seems to like it here just fine."
I can feel Edward's eyes on me and realize how close I'm standing to him, so I clear my throat and move away. He bends down to let Pepper go and fills her bowl with some kibble.
"Come on," he says to me. "Let's eat."
He carries a tray with our soup into the living room and sets it on a coffee table as we sit on the couch side by side. Now that it's quiet and we're close, anxiety creeps in again. But I'm reminded of why I'm here.
Or at least, why I told myself I'm here.
"You were feeling faint?" I ask, a formal tone to my voice now. He merely nods. "When did it start?"
"Yesterday?"
I hum. "Why didn't you go to the clinic?"
"I don't know. I gotta take care of my mom," he says quietly.
"That's who the third bowl of soup was for," I guess.
"Yeah." He watches me. After a moment, he sighs heavily. "Bella, I…"
"What?"
"I gotta come clean."
"About what?"
"I wasn't actually feeling faint."
"You lied?" I don't know why this shocks me, but it does.
His smile is sheepish as he pulls on the back of his neck. "Yeah."
"Why?"
He shrugs. "I'm sorry. Are you mad?"
I'm not. I'm relieved he wasn't actually having any worrying symptoms. Now my concern is that I'm here, and I have no real reason to be. But truthfully, even if he were feeling lightheaded, it's not my place to be here at all. House calls aren't necessarily part of my job description.
I've already overstepped my boundaries.
"I'm not mad," I tell him. "But I'm gonna need you to promise me if you do actually start to feel lightheaded, you'll go get checked out?"
His eyes are soft. "I promise."
"Thank you."
He picks up his bowl, and I follow suit, eating a few spoonfuls.
"Do you cook often?" I ask him, humming in appreciation for how good it is.
"Yeah. Mostly 'cause I gotta eat. Not because I particularly enjoy it."
"This is good."
His eyes shine. "I'm glad you like it."
We fall into a comfortable silence while we eat, and after we're done, Edward grabs our dishes and heads back into the kitchen.
"I gotta check on my mom again," he says as I follow behind him.
"Okay."
I start cleaning once he leaves. Rinsing bowls, covering the Dutch oven, and putting the leftovers in the fridge.
I'm nearly done by the time he comes back in.
When I look at him, his eyes hold a certain softness that makes me nervous.
"You didn't have to clean."
I toss a dish towel on the counter. "I don't mind. Thanks for dinner."
"You're welcome."
He sets his mom's nearly full bowl in the clean sink. As much as I don't want to pry, I can't help but ask if she's okay.
"She's sick," is all he tells me.
"I'm sorry."
It could be a number of things, but I don't push.
"So... do you want to stay a little longer?" he asks.
"Wouldn't that be weird?"
"Weirder than you looking up my address and showing up here?" There's a playfulness to his voice, but it sobers me.
"You're right. I definitely overstepped."
"Bella, I'm kidding. I like that you're here, and I don't want you to go just yet."
The earnestness in his voice catches me off guard. Truth is, I don't think I want to go yet, either.
"If anyone from the clinic finds out..." I don't need to expand for him to know it won't be good.
"Who's gonna find out?" he challenges.
"I don't... know," I mumble, uncertainty rising in my chest. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."
It's one of the more honest things I've said to him, and it comes out as a faint whisper.
"Good. That makes two of us," he says with a quiet laugh. "Just... stay. A little longer."
The low timbre of his voice and the pleading look in his eyes tugs at my heart.
He makes it sound so easy.
And even though the idea of staying longer feels reckless and secretive, in the strangest way, it also feels comforting.
So when he says it again and adds "please," all I can do is tell him yes.