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Thanks to Hadley for spiffing this up, and to Sobhanya for pre-reading!

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Chapter Ten

"Liam?" I echo the name.

Bree's baby.

"I think a name change is in order," Charlie says, with a gruff laugh. "Something strong. Powerful. After all, he is a Swan now."

"Yes, he is." Kate grins and coos at the baby as she sits back down beside me.

"How did this happen?" I ask, careful to keep my emotions in check. "Why—"

My reaction must be the wrong one because my mother clicks her tongue in disappointment.

"Bella," she admonishes. "Congratulate your brother and sister-in-law."

I can't seem to find my voice anymore.

"Charlie made it happen," Kate answers my question while staring at my father with gratitude. "And we couldn't be more grateful."

"No, we couldn't," Emmett adds, his voice lacking the warmth that Kate's holds.

I look over at my father, but then my eyes zero in on Renee.

She's watching me.

Like she's expecting an outburst.

"Congratulations," I finally say, my gaze bouncing over to Kate. "This is wonderful news. I'm very happy for you two."

"Thank you, Bella." Kate cradles Liam close, and when she gently grazes over his small nose, he raises his little hand to grasp her finger. Bree was right. His hands are so tiny. "Would you like to hold him?"

My throat goes dry.

"No, actually…" I stand and push in my chair. "I don't feel well either. Rose was sick last week, so now I'm wondering if I've caught what she had. I would hate to get the baby sick, too."

"We wouldn't want that," Renee agrees. "Rose must have borrowed your vehicle?" I nod. "We'll send for a car."

"Nonsense," James chimes in, setting his napkin on his plate. "I'll give her a ride."

Before I can deny his offer, Emmett speaks up.

"That's okay," he says to James, scooting back his own chair before standing. "I can take her."

XXX

The ride home is quiet.

I keep looking out the window, watching the passing landscape. Shades of green and brown blur together with the white sky.

I'm staring but not really seeing.

"Is Rose gonna be okay?" Emmett finally asks, filling the silence.

"I don't know." I clear my throat. "She won't really tell me what else is wrong."

"What makes you think something is wrong?"

"She's acting funny."

"Funny how?"

I look over, scrutinizing him for a moment. "Just different."

He keeps his eyes on the road. "Hm."

"So, you're a father," I mumble. "I mean, that was the news I was expecting today, but not like this."

"I was blindsided, too."

"What?"

His jaw tenses, and his grip on the wheel tightens. "I just found out two days ago."

"How is that possible?"

"I guess Dad pulled some strings."

The question is why.

"So, he just handed you and Kate a baby, and that was it? No questions asked? No answers given?"

"I don't know… maybe I'm better off not knowing."

"Blind allegiance," I say so quietly I'm sure Em can't hear. "Liam already had a family."

"Guess they were unfit?"

I think about Bree in the office that day. She seemed okay. A bit emotional, but given the odd circumstances, that is to be expected. Even if she was unwell, what are the chances her parents would be, too?

"Unfit how?" I ask.

"I don't know. Again, I think I'm better off not knowing." With a brief glance my way, he adds, "And you're usually on the same page with that."

"It's strange," I say, but I can feel resignation seeping in. "You know it's strange."

"All I know is that Kate hasn't been able to get pregnant, and we have the means to offer this kid a good life. Okay?"

That's the only comforting part of all of this. Bree won't know the difference at this point, but at least her baby will be taken care of. Em and Kate are good people. They'll be good parents. It only lessens the sting a little, though.

"Okay." I pick at a loose thread in the sleeve of my sweater. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Yeah."

I hesitate before asking, "Are you happy, Em?"

His silence lasts for longer than I expect.

"What does that matter?" he finally asks.

"I don't know." Maybe it doesn't matter. But Rose asked me the other night, and I gave her my answer. Now I want to know his.

"Sometimes I am," he offers, eyes still on the road. "Sometimes I'm so fucking happy, and I feel guilty. Like I don't deserve it. Other times I'm just here. Existing."

His words strike a chord inside me.

Not the happiness part. But the existing.

We're all just existing.

Emotion rises in my chest. It starts off feeling so far away, like a wave in the distance. You think there's no way it will touch you, and then all of a sudden, it's there, crashing over you and taking you under.

I feel like I'm drowning.

The urge to cry nearly surfaces, but I push it back. Instead, I stare out the window again, letting the landscape blur from unshed tears.

XXX

To my relief, my car is in the driveway, and Rose is sleeping in her bed when I get home.

Em insists on coming in with me, but once he sees Rose is here and that she's okay, he's quick to leave.

It's quiet then. Sometimes I appreciate the silence, but today is not one of those days. My mind is left to run wild with unanswered questions as to why Emmett and Kate would be adopting Liam.

I try to distract myself by cleaning a little and doing some laundry. It isn't until I'm emptying the pockets of some dirty clothes that I remember the treasure that's in my own. I finish filling the washer then slide my hand into my pocket to fish out the ring I found earlier today.

It must be garnet, but it's not a large gemstone. Dainty red on slim gold. I have no idea where it came from, and it's still loose, but it fits best on my index finger.

An hour passes, and I check on Rose, who is still sleeping soundly. Restlessness takes over, and the silence of the house becomes deafening, so I slip into my coat, wrap a scarf around my neck, and leave Rose a note that I've gone for a walk.

It's brisk out. The clouds look heavy, angry, and there's a harsh chill in the air that makes me think it'll snow today.

I walk and walk until I find myself on the bus. I'm not even going anywhere in particular—I just want to ride and be lulled into relaxation.

I watch people come and go.

I listen to the rumble of the engine and the hissing of the doors.

And then I see him.

Dark beanie, charcoal coat, hazel eyes.

Eyes that light up so brightly when they see me.

It's then I realize I was riding for a reason.

I was riding for him.

Waiting for him.

My heart is on fire when he immediately sits next to me. I'm staring straight ahead, pretending to appear unaffected.

"Hi," he says quietly.

"Hello."

"Where are you going?"

I panic for a moment. "The store."

"Ah." He angles his body toward me, a delightful smile on his face as he pulls off his beanie and scrubs a hand through his hair. "You sure you weren't looking for me?"

I hold his gaze and unravel my scarf, leaving the heap of wool in my lap. "Do you want me to be looking for you?"

"Yes."

He admits it so easily.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because that means I was right."

"How so?"

"The day of my Procedure, when I said you were drawn to me. I was right."

I'm irrationally annoyed that I'm so easy to read. "And you're not drawn to me?" I fire back.

"I am. You have no idea." His voice is low and close, and the way he says this so desperately and candidly makes my heart buoy in my chest.

"Oh." I say it quietly, suddenly very aware of how close we're sitting. The side of his knee is touching mine, and I can't bring myself to remove the small contact we have.

It looks like nothing, but it feels like something.

"Oh?" he repeats my lone word. "Did I say too much? I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You're not making me feel uncomfortable," I tell him.

He looks like he wants to smile, but he doesn't. "Okay."

I stare out the window and watch snowflakes float around in the air. We ride in silence for a few minutes, neither of us speaking or getting off the bus. We just… stay. His knee never moves from mine, and I'm lulled into comfort.

"I've always loved the snow," I murmur as the flurries fall faster.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. When I was younger, I'd sit in the bay window in my room during snowstorms and press my face close to the glass, so I'd feel like I was in a snowglobe." I smile a little at the memory. "I'd sit there for hours. Maybe it wasn't hours, but it felt like a long time."

When I look back over at him, his eyes are already on me. "I like that story," he murmurs, watching my face. "I've never cared for the snow," he adds as he sinks a little lower in the seat to get comfortable, like we'll be here for a while.

"Why not?"

"Because I love the sun." When he says it, his face breaks out into a warm smile that I can almost feel. "Hot summer days that go on forever."

"Hmm." I smile a little. "Not for me. I much prefer cold winter days where you can bundle up under a blanket and bask in the warmth."

He's still grinning. "Do we finally have something in common?"

"How'd you figure that?" I ask, amused. "I like winter, and you like summer. They're complete opposites."

"But we both like the warmth," he points out. "I prefer it from the sun. You prefer it from being wrapped up." When he says this, the low timbre of his voice makes me feel like I'm being enveloped.

"I guess so," I reluctantly agree. "Sounds like a stretch to find a commonality, though."

He laughs a little, eyes softening. "I bet you're beautiful in the summer. Can we both agree on that?"

My stomach somersaults. "What?"

"Don't get me wrong. You're beautiful all the time, I'm sure. But, summer?" He stares intently at my face. "Yeah."

"What makes you think that?" I ask quietly, stunned by how forward he's being.

"Just a hunch." Still staring. "I like your freckles."

I think of the faded smattering of spots across my nose and quickly look out the window.

"So, you do this a lot?" I ask.

"Do what?"

I look back at him to find one corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.

"Ride the bus. Hit on random women."

"No." When he laughs, his eyes squint a little. "You're not random."

"But you are hitting on me," I confirm.

"I'm being friendly. And stating facts. You're attractive. If that comes off as flirtatious then… I guess it is."

"Hm." I unbutton my coat, growing a little warm. "You talk like this to women you don't really know?"

"I know you."

I scrutinize his face. "Not really. Not fully."

"Feels like I do, but if you don't think so, then tell me about yourself."

My immediate reaction is to say no, but then I think about that night at his house, on his couch, the urge to know him bubbling inside of me.

"What do you want to know?" I ask.

"Everything."

"Everything?" I ask in disbelief. "That's too broad. Narrow it down a bit."

"Fine." He sighs, dramatic and playful. "What were you dreaming about the other night? When you stayed over."

"That's a bit personal."

"So is showing up at someone's house unannounced. And falling asleep on their couch."

"I didn't mean to, I just—"

"Bella." He breathes out a laugh. "It's okay. I like that you stayed."

"You do?"

"Yeah." He holds my gaze then says, "You say my question is too personal, but isn't that the point of getting to know someone? To get personal?" I don't answer this. "I'll tell you one of my dreams if you tell me one of yours?"

"You dream?" I ask, curious now. It's so rare after having the Procedure, and it's not really talked about, which is why we're both speaking in hushed tones now.

"I dream all the time," he tells me, and I envy his honesty and the candid way he speaks to me without hesitation.

"About what?"

After a moment of deliberating he murmurs, "A different life. Trees towering over me. Sometimes there's darkness. Other times fire. A lot of times they start off feeling so hopeful, but they all usually end with grief. And in every single dream?" I'm hanging onto his every word. "It's your face I see," he finally says.

My stomach freefalls. "What? Why?"

He shrugs, a faint smile on his lips. "I haven't consulted my dream book in a while, but it's safe to say maybe we knew each other in another life. Or maybe fate is bringing me to you. Or you to me. However you want to view it."

My heart is beating out of my chest, and I can't explain it, but a sense of apprehension kicks in. Like maybe this is dangerous. Like maybe he's dangerous. Nothing he's said or done so far backs up this phantom feeling. He's been nice. Kind. Charming, albeit a bit infuriating at times. But that's kind of what draws me to him. So, despite the urge to run off the bus and leave him behind, something in his eyes makes me stay.

Something deep in my heart keeps me in place.

"Now it's your turn," he whispers.

"I don't, um…" I'm nervously stalling.

"Come on," he urges gently. "A deal's a deal."

I swallow thickly, trying to recall my dreams. I don't ever remember the full picture, only tiny pieces to what I believe may be a larger puzzle. But I think of the one I had last night, and my voice is softer than a sigh when I say, "I dream about love."

The word hangs between us, lingering in the air.

Love.

His face stays stoic, and I have to look away.

"Love?" It sounds so sweet rolling off his tongue that it sparks yearning in my belly.

"Yes. It's usually overwhelming. It's…" My throat constricts from trying to rein in the sudden emotion that's taken over. I don't even know why I'm suddenly so sad. "It's devastating."

He shifts a little closer and brings a hand up to gently brush a tear that's fallen down my cheek. Like the night I slept on his couch, when he felt the scar behind my left ear, I don't pull away from his touch. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know." I look away. Down at my hands. Out the window. Anywhere but at him. "I don't remember as much as you do about my dreams. But the feeling recently is always the same."

"Love."

I nod. "Yeah."

"Do you dream about someone?"

"I guess so. But I don't know who."

"Maybe it's me?" he asks, almost hopefully.

I don't know what to say to this, but maybe we did know each other in another life. For a split second, I entertain the idea that he was the one I had removed from my memory. The thought doesn't last, though. I know that it can't be true.

"It's not you that I'm dreaming about," I say with finality to my tone.

"How do you know?" he murmurs.

"People who have dated in the past and have the Procedure never find each other again," I remind him. "History never repeats itself. They don't fall in love for a second time." His eyes nearly sparkle. "What?" I ask, feeling self-conscious.

"You're falling for me?" he asks, and his velvet voice warms me.

I open my mouth to speak then snap it closed. In a backward way, I guess I did just admit that I might have feelings for him.

"I already told you, I don't know what I'm doing," I whisper, betraying the thump, thump, thump in my chest. He just smiles. "What?" I ask again. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because you're falling for me." He's not smug when he says it, but he looks satisfied.

"And you're not falling for me?" I wonder, my voice even despite the nerves fluttering inside my stomach.

"I thought that was obvious. But if you need me to say it, then yes. You're on my mind a lot."

Just like the night of Emmett's party, his admittance sends a thrill throughout me.

"I'm on your mind, and you dream about me," I quietly recap, heart racing.

"I do." He watches my face closely, as if he stares hard enough, he'll be able to read me completely. "And you dream about love."

That simple word hangs between us again, but I don't look away from him this time. Instead, I hold his gaze and make my own confession.

"You're on my mind a lot, too."

The tiniest flicker of surprise flashes across his face. Maybe because I'm not denying or evading for once. With a small, gentle smile he admits, "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."