For those who celebrate Thanksgiving, hope everyone has a SAFE holiday!

Thanks to Hadley and Sobhanya for their constant help! Love you, ladies.

Thanks for reading, and hope to see you Sundaaay!

Chapter Eight

On Saturday afternoon, Rose and I show up to my parents' estate a few hours before Emmett's party begins.

The house is buzzing with strangers milling about decorating, preparing food, and making sure every detail is to my parents' standards.

Oddly enough, the only people I don't find right away are my parents.

Rose slinks past a table of hors d'oeuvres and snags a couple when the waiter's back is turned.

"Rose," I admonish with a laugh.

"Whatever, they're just sitting here, begging to be eaten."

She's right. I steal some for myself.

"Bella." The familiar, teasing voice sounds from behind me, and it's my turn to get admonished.

With the uneaten canapé still in my hand, I spin on my heel to find Carmen watching us in amusement.

"Guilty," I say lightly.

"You two never were good at getting away with things," Carmen laughs and pulls me into a warm hug. The scent of her soft caramel hair overwhelms me with comfort. "How are you, honey?"

"I'm good." My response is automatic, and I can tell Carmen searches for more. "How are you?"

"No complaints." She offers an easy grin. "Well, go on. Don't stop sneaking food just because I'm here. Besides, it looks like you both could use it." Carmen grabs a few more hors d'oeuvres and puts them on a small plate for me.

"Don't mind if I do," Rose says simply, piling her own plate with food.

"Can you believe your brother's turning twenty-three?" Carmen muses. "It feels like just yesterday he was learning to ride a bike and tormenting you in the garden."

We laugh at the memory.

"He still torments me," I tease. "One thing's for sure—he wouldn't have survived without you." It's true. I love my parents, but Carmen practically raised Emmett and me. She ran the house, cooked the food. Supported us. Helped with homework. And some nights, when my parents were out, she'd tell us stories about the drifters who live in the unincorporated land.

"Is it true?" I'd asked, so curious to know more. "Do people really live out there in the wild?"

"They're just stories," she'd say and move on to more appropriate bedtime stories.

After Carmen and I catch up for a few more minutes, Rose and I find my dad in his study.

The door is open, but I knock twice out of habit.

He looks up from his computer and takes off his glasses. "Hey, you two."

"Hi, Dad."

"Mayor Swan," Rose greets.

"I always tell you to call me Charlie," he chuckles with a shake of his head.

Rose grins. "And I did. Before you became Mayor."

He waves her off, but I know his ego appreciates the boost.

"Wasn't expecting you so early," Charlie says, looking at me. "But I'm glad you're here. I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

His eyes bounce toward Rose. "Can I have a minute alone with my daughter?"

Rose nods, shooting me a brief look. "I'll go hang with Carmen then meet you in your room to get ready."

I nod. "Sounds good." She closes the door behind her, and I move to sit in the chair across from my father. "So, what's going on?"

The room is silent. He doesn't speak right away, and my mind runs wild.

He must know I was with a patient. That I abused my access to look up Edward's address. Showing up to his place was completely unprofessional on my part but staying the night makes everything that much worse.

"Is everything okay?" I ask evenly, despite the sudden spike in my pulse.

"I talked to Gianna this morning." I brace myself for the disappointment that will inevitably come. "She said there was an incident at the clinic regarding a patient."

"Um… well…" I bite the inside of my cheek, not even sure where to start.

"Ms. Tanner?" he prompts.

"Oh." He doesn't know about Edward. "Why would Gianna tell you about that?"

He doesn't answer right away, and it confuses me. Like his answer isn't as straightforward as it should be.

"She's worried about you," he finally says, his tone affectionate and concerned. "We all are."

I bite back the defensiveness that bubbles in my throat.

"Right. Well, it was just a miscommunication."

He watches me for a moment too long, smoothing a hand over his mustache. "How so?"

"I didn't have the whole story. I didn't know we were removing the memories of Bree's child. After talking to her—"

"Your job isn't to talk to the patients. You know this, honey."

"But—"

"You're simply there to assist with the Procedure, Bella. You get in; you get out. And one day, you'll be able to perform the surgery yourself. But until then, you follow the rules. You stay out of trouble."

I breathe deeply and sit straighter. My father doesn't take kindly to excuses. And I can't defy him, nor can I confide in how wrong everything felt. He wouldn't understand. I don't think many people would. But Edward… he understood. He made me feel less alone in my uneasiness over the situation.

"I was caught off guard," I mumble, throat dry. "It won't happen again."

Charlie regards me for a moment longer. "I know you have it all together. I've never had to worry about you." His gaze grows distant, like he's reminiscing about my younger days. "You've always been steadfast. You know to follow the rules to be successful. Emmett, however…" He pauses and shakes his head, biting back amusement. "He needs to be steered in the right direction."

"Not everyone can be as cool as me," I tease, and Charlie laughs.

"Are you sure everything is okay? You can tell me anything."

"Everything is fine."

He exhales, gaze softening. "I don't want to be hard on you, Bella, but I can't have you blatantly going against Dr. Howard's orders again. Okay?"

"I didn't—" I stop myself, thinking better of it. "Yes, sir."

He's satisfied then and slides on his glasses. "Have you seen your mother yet today?"

"No."

"She's losing her mind," he tells me, smiling. "Emmett and Kate have some news to share with everyone."

"Oh?" She must be pregnant. It's easy to mirror his smile now.

"Go find her. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

I move around his desk and peck his cheek.

"Be smart, Bella. It's all I ask of you."

I swallow back guilt. "I will, Dad."

XXX

"Good of you to join us for your own party."

"Nothing wrong with being fashionably late," Emmett laughs, pulling me in for a hug.

By now, the party is in full swing, at least two hundred guests in attendance.

The event planner turned my parents' garden into a winter wonderland. Lights are strung up all around us, and heaters fill the tent to keep guests warm. Everything is glitz and glam and glowing, and judging by Emmett's face, he hates it.

"On a scale from one to ten, how much are you loving this party?" I joke, sipping my champagne.

Em laughs. "Why do you think I was late?"

"Avoidance never works."

He just grins. "'Course it does."

"You been okay?"

"Yeah, you? Heard you were causing trouble at the clinic the other day."

"Oh, shut up," I mutter, biting back a laugh.

"Don't be embarrassed. I'm proud. I can't be the only Swan stirring up trouble."

"Yeah, yeah." I watch his face for a moment, noting the tired eyes and the lack of light in them. "I've missed you."

"Yeah, I've missed you, too, punk." He says it lightly, his eyes growing tender when he looks over at me.

He's always been softer than our father. More sensitive. Compassionate. In fact, other than their smiles, they don't have much in common.

"Where's Kate?" I ask, glancing over his shoulder. "I heard you two have news."

"We do. It's more of a family announcement, though."

She's totally pregnant.

"You mean you don't want to share something big with two hundred of your closet acquaintances?"

Em squints out at the crowd and swigs his scotch. "I hate these parties."

"Me, too." They're usually for other people, not the person they're meant to celebrate. We learned that early on. "Well, fine," I sigh. "Keep your secrets… for now."

"I will," he replies, and then his attention is over my shoulder, eyes lighting up when he smiles.

I'm expecting it to be Kate, but when I look behind me, I see Rose walking toward us.

"You're seriously killing it tonight," I compliment her, admiring the red dress she was self-conscious about wearing.

"Yeah, you look beautiful," Em agrees.

"Thank you." She's grinning wide, which must mean she's champagne-tipsy. "And of course, you look handsome. For such an old man, I suppose."

"Hey, I'm only twenty-three," he pouts.

"Gettin' up there," she snarks.

"You know, a simple 'Happy Birthday' would have sufficed," he laughs, shaking his head.

"Not really my style. How are you, anyway?"

"For just being insulted on my birthday? Good, I guess."

"You're so dramatic," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

"You really are." Rose tips her head back in laughter. "I like your tie."

Emmett looks down at it, smiling shyly. "Yeah?"

"It's kind of dorky. Totally you."

"I'm not dorky," he counters, still smiling.

I'm about to counter that yes, Emmett is a huge dork, when James approaches. He's wearing a tux, hair smoothed to the side, playful glint in his eyes. He and Emmett exchange pleasantries, he acknowledges Rose, and then his gaze is on me.

"Bella." He leans down to kiss my cheek, arm sliding around my waist.

I nod a hello, moving out of his grip just a bit. "You clean up well."

"As do you." He eyes my silky, black, floor-length dress. It hugs my curves, and his eyes are on those, too. "You're absolutely stunning," he compliments.

I think Emmett senses my awkwardness because he pipes in with, "And we all know I look great."

"Oh, shush," Rose laughs. "Not everything is about you."

"I beg to differ," he snarks. "It's my birthday."

"You don't even like birthdays," Rose argues. "Or parties."

Em smiles at her. "That's… actually true."

I'm about to mention one of Emmett's more memorable birthdays that probably contributes to his disdain for the day, when someone across the tent catches my eye.

Tall, broad shoulders.

Sharp, unshaven jaw.

Unruly auburn hair.

Edward.

He's behind the bar, and his eyes are on me.

I wonder how long he's been watching.

"I'll be right back," I tell them.

I maneuver my way through the crowd until I'm standing in front of Edward, the bar between us. He's wearing a white button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with a black tie and black slacks. He's a little unkempt, but it looks good on him.

"Hi. Um…"

His eyes are on me, but he's not smiling as he automatically asks, "Can I get you a drink?"

I falter for a moment. "Champagne."

Grabbing a chilled bottle from the bucket of ice nearby, I watch him pour the golden liquid into a clean flute. I leave my empty glass on the bar.

"Here you go, Ms. Swan," he says curtly, as though he doesn't know me.

But I guess that isn't entirely untrue.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. Maybe it's a stupidly obvious question, but his presence has caught me off guard.

His eyes flick past my shoulder then back at my face. "I'm working."

"Right." I sip from my glass. "So you… bartend?"

"And serve."

"And… sort of attend school. And grade papers for free?" I add, still trying to get a read on him.

I see the hint of a smile, and it warms me more than the champagne. "I do what I gotta do."

"Well, I'll be sure my parents tip you well." I was aiming for a joke, but it falls flat and only highlights how glaringly different our lives are.

"Your parents are always very generous," he says neutrally.

"I wasn't—" I stop speaking when a blonde sidles up to the bar.

"Hi," she says to Edward. He doesn't respond other than a cursory glance her way. "Can I get a glass of champagne, please? With—"

"A splash of cranberry?" he adds for her.

"You remember." She lights up. "I'm Tanya, by the way."

Edward moves around behind the bar, and Tanya eyes me curiously, maybe wondering why I'm still standing here when I have a nearly full glass. So, I down my champagne in one go.

"Refill," I tell her, holding up my now empty flute.

My eyes flick toward Edward, and I swear he almost smirks.

"My kinda girl," Tanya laughs. "And my kinda guy," she adds as she stares at Edward, not even bothering to lower her voice.

Jealousy gnaws at me.

It's unwarranted, though. Edward and I have spoken a handful of times, and he let me sleep on his couch. He's nothing to me. We're nothing to each other. But the longer she stares at him, the deeper the jealousy coils in my belly.

Edward sets her glass on the bar.

She thanks him and winks.

"Wow," I say when she's out of earshot, and I blink slowly.

"Friend of yours?" he asks with raised brows.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," I say flatly. "But, no. We're not friends. Other than Rose and my family, I don't care for many of the people here tonight."

"Hm." His mouth settles into a straight line, and he points toward my empty glass. "More champagne?"

"You remember," I say, poking fun at Tanya. This time he does smile. He even laughs deeply. My stomach flips at the sound.

"I like your dress." His voice is low, and it makes me feel warm. "You look really pretty."

I more or less just received the same compliment from James but hearing it from Edward feels… different.

I think I like it more coming from Edward's mouth.

"You don't have to say that."

"Why wouldn't I?" His gaze is heated. "It's true."

"Well… thank you."

Emmett's behind me then. "Hey, Bell? Can I borrow you for a second? Mom wants us."

"Yeah. Sure. I'm just getting another drink. I'll meet you over there."

"Sounds good." Emmett nods before he strides across the tent, leaving Edward and me alone again.

"I guess I should go."

"Yeah," he agrees. "Probably."

When Edward hands me the flute, our fingers brush. I think back to Tanya's glass, how he set it down for her to grab herself.

My heart somersaults, and I bite back the feeling that the small touch was purposeful on his part.

"Thank you," I say, too quietly for how loud it is in here.

His eyes are still blazing. "You're welcome."

"I should… go."

His smile is soft. "You already said that."

"Right." I swallow. "Have a good night."

I turn to leave, but then he says, "Bella?"

We lock eyes. "Yeah?"

"For the record, that girl isn't my type."

My heart drums in my chest, and for a moment, I can't look away from him.

"She's not?" I murmur, and he merely shakes his head.

"And that guy isn't your type, either."

"Who?" I ask, but I know exactly who he's talking about—James.

His jaw tenses a little. "The one who kissed your cheek."

He was watching. I don't know why, but it sends a little thrill throughout me.

"It's not like we'd know who our type is, anyway. I mean, once the Procedure happens, we don't remember who we've dated."

"No, I guess we don't," he agrees. "But there's something to be said about chemistry. And desire." When he licks his lips, I instinctively lick mine in return. For a moment, it feels like we're the only two here, without this sea of people around us. "Maybe I don't remember who I dated, but I know who I'm attracted to."

I don't know if this is me talking, or the champagne, but I boldly ask, "And who's that?"

Again, with the quiet, heated stare. With his eyes intent on my face, my heart stutters when he says, "You."