[chapter_30]
"There are three things you need to keep in mind when you're giving head," Rose starts with an arrogant, but not surprising, amount of authority. She's set them up for their lesson in the common room the night before midterms, one week before Thanksgiving Break, seating Alice and Bella side-by-side and standing over them with her head elevated in deep thought.
Alice is watching with a serious knit between her brow, focused intently; Bella, on the other hand, is trying not to sink into her bean bag chair despite the fact that she's the one that asked for pointers in the first place. It's just - she didn't expect Rose to take to the lesson with such zeal that Bella almost feels like she should be taking notes. Almost. She won't be caught writing this information down. That's just asking to be blackmailed at a later date.
Rose holds up her hand, ticking her fingers off with each point she makes. "First, keep your teeth covered, because nobody wants to hear a man whining about his scraped dick, unless that's something he's into. Second, make peace with the fact that the back of your mouth is not a sacred space. It's inevitable for you to gag, even if you're not attempting to deep throat, so you need to prepare yourselves. Of course, some men are into gagging, so play that one by ear," she adds thoughtfully. "Third, and most importantly, there is no such thing as a truly bad blowjob."
While part of Bella is relieved to hear that, she's also equally as confused as Alice, who pipes in with a befuddled, "There isn't?"
Rose purses her lips in thought. "Well, maybe there is for a casual hookup, but since you're blowing a boyfriend, you really don't need to overthink it," she decides, nodding to herself. She reaches down to pat Alice and Bella on the head, as if they're particularly sweet-and-stupid children. "He's going to be happy about whatever you do, simply because it's you. Just make sure to cover whatever your mouth can't reach with your hand. Otherwise, the technique isn't something you need to worry about."
Bella understands the point, but her competitive edge wants to improve because Masen so effortlessly breaks her apart and she would really like to return the favor. It's not that she thinks her first attempt was bad, exactly, because the objective was accomplished - it's just that she felt ill-prepared for it, and she thinks that might have affected her performance.
Bella has very rarely ever performed poorly in anything. The first time she tries something, perhaps, but she's a firm believer that hard work and the slow-grinding tenacity that comes from consistent efforts toward a goal is enough to cancel out any potential for failure. The second time she seriously does anything, she fully expects to succeed.
She really, truly has a mortifying desire to succeed in this, too. Hence, the invitation for the humiliation that Rose is so apt to deliver on command.
"I can see the wheels turning, Bella," Rose says, plopping down on her own bean bag chair, an open bag of Tootsie pops in her lap.
Bella lifts her orange sucker, twirling the stick around. "I'm just wondering how a Tootsie pop is supposed to help with any of this."
Rose scoffs. "The Tootsie pops are here mostly because I like them and I demand payment for my tutoring."
"I should have known," Bella mutters, fighting a laugh. Typical Rose.
"But they can be helpful. Here, look," Rose says a beat later. She takes the wrapper off one of the Tootsie pops in the bag and proceeds to deliver a shameless demonstration. "See? Sucking enough of these helps you get used to the weight on your tongue, how to move your tongue around it, and how to keep your throat relaxed if you push the sucker far enough."
Bella blinks down at her own sucker. "Huh."
"You really thought I was just bullshitting you!" Rose exclaims, waving her candy in the air.
"Honestly? A little bit," Bella admits.
Alice giggles, trying to work the paper off her Tootsie pop. "Me too," she says. "I always thought, I don't know, bananas would be a good prop. But I guess suckers work?"
Rose flops back, pouting around the candy. "All of my efforts, absolutely unappreciated," she mumbles.
"You have your Tootsie pops," Bella reminds her.
Rose snorts. "Right. Well, do your worst. Let me see your technique."
Rose coaches them both with a few directives, repeatedly telling Bella to open her mouth wider and relax her jaw. But it's hard, because how she can keep her jaw relaxed while she has to also keep her lips firmly around her teeth and keep her mouth wide? Rose keeps returning her frustrated huffs with "it gets easier and it takes practice" which Bella finds barely reassuring. At least Alice is having similar struggles. Bella concludes that she's probably going to have to do some one-on-one practice with the Tootsie pop to develop some semblance of a technique.
"Any other pearls of wisdom I can offer?" Rose asks after watching them struggle for ten minutes.
Bella clears her throat. Her mouth is sticky with sugar and her Tootsie pop is misshapen on one side from her efforts. "What do we do at the end? Do we…we swallow or…?"
Rose shrugs, talking around her sucker. "Depends on you and your man. Some don't care, but it turns others on more," she says knowledgeably. "If you can stand to swallow, you might as well since it's less cleanup. If you cant, have a tissue ready and learn his cues so you don't get anything on your face. Unless he's into that, I guess…"
Bella thinks about Masen, flushed in the ears and bracing himself back on his desk, his mouth dropped open and his eyes hazy as she knelt between his legs. He had watched her so avidly, even as she coughed and sputtered at the gush of salty tang in her mouth. She isn't sure he has a preference, although he certainly didn't shy away from kissing her after she was done. She'll have to think about it more.
"Ali?" Rose calls.
"I think I'm good," Alice decides, staring her Tootsie pop down for a second. Bella wonders what's going through her head and if it's anything like what's going through Bella's. Alice's eyes shift to the bag in Rose's lap. "Can I have the chocolate ones?"
Rose sighs, put upon. "You may have three," she says, fishing them out.
"You're so stingy," Alice complains.
"It's my payment for services rendered," Rose insists. "You should be glad I'm not charging you individually!"
Bella laughs, tucking her sucker back in her mouth. "Yeah, but you also enjoyed this way too much."
Rose smirks. "That's true. But when else do I get this kind of free entertainment?"
Alice giggles and Bella can't help but join in. This is the scene that Leah walks into five minutes later - the three of them, all sucking on Tootsie pops, with Rose telling Alice to "suck harder, don't you want him to feel something?"
"What in the actual fuck am I witnessing?" Leah demands, leaning back against the door with an expression of confused horror. "What are you guys doing?"
Rose pops her Tootsie pop out of her mouth, lifting a brow. "Do you really want to know?"
Leah surveys the room, seeming to take in the hefty blush on Bella's cheeks, and makes a swift decision. "Nope. No, I do not want to know. I have a feeling it's going to scar me for life, and I'm too young to be traumatized by...whatever you three are up to."
"A wise decision!" Rose calls after Leah as she retreats to the relative safety of her and Bella's shared dorm room. Rose then looks between Alice and Bella. "Now, where were we?"
Bella represses a sigh, reminding herself that she explicitly asked for this. She wants to improve. Really, she does.
Really.
L Clearwater ʘClearlyFlimingThis
I don't know what I just saw but I would like to unsee it
Seth Clearwater ʘchangethisquil
What did you see?
L Clearwater ʘClearlyFlimingThis
I don't know, but I think you're too young to know about it
Bella Swan ʘthelittlecygnet
Some of you weren't raised with dramatic siblings who take every opportunity to Not Suffer In Silence and it shows
Jakey Wakey ʘjbisnowhere
Yes girl! DRAG HER! She deserves it!
L Clearwater ʘClearlyFlimingThis
Wow ʘthelittlecygnet you're really going to be like that on main? The audacity
L Clearwater ʘClearlyFlimingThis
Also, I see you ʘjbisnowhere
Jakey Wakey ʘjbisnowhere
I know things about you, Clearwater, and I'm not afraid.
Seth Clearwater ʘchangethisquil
I can't wait to be in college so I can have weird college things to not tell my siblings, too :(
Midterms go about as well as can be expected. Bella had studied for them until her eyes burned and she's fortunate enough to be relatively confident about how well she performed. Multiple-choice tests aren't her favorite things in the world, but she can manage them well enough - it is somewhat alarming, however, to learn that midterms were this hard because she can only imagine how difficult finals will be.
But it's fine. Totally fine. Finals are weeks away, so she has plenty of time to prepare. For now, because she's lucky enough that her finals were done by Wednesday, she plans to spend the rest of the week at Midnight Sun. Masen had announced that the company would be taking a week-long break during Thanksgiving so everyone could travel as they pleased, a decision motivated by how much they've gotten done on the demo so far. Bella figures it wouldn't hurt to pitch in any extra assistance she can give, so she heads over to Midnight Sun early on Thursday morning, an indulgent latte snuggled in her hand as she walks into the office.
Bella had expected the usual commotion of everyone working toward the collective goal. It's never loud at Midnight Sun, but there is usually a lot of ambient noise going on, between clacking keyboards and hushed conversations and whatever mischief Peter is sowing that day.
But when Bella walks in this morning, she arrives in a space full of dead silence and two dozen men all staring at Masen, swiveled in their chairs as he stands in the middle of the large space. His expression is flat, but his jaw is tensed, tic-ticking at the hinge. He is staring at this phone, scrolling through something on the screen.
"Well?" Peter says impatiently, rolling his chair forward an inch or two. "What does it say, boss?"
"December 1st," Masen says flatly, pocketing his phone as a small furrow crawls between his brows.
Bella doesn't understand the significance of the date, but she's the only one. As soon as Masen speaks, the room erupts with noise - a chorus of denials and "can you believe this" and other noises that cross between disbelief and agony.
Bella blinks, catching the way Peter throws himself into Garrett's arms with a wretched, if not overdramatic, cry; as Garrett pats his back and stares intently at Masen; as Masen shoves his hand through his hair, ignoring the way Emmett has slouched back onto his chair, head in his hand; as Alistair simply stands up and starts pacing around the room. And these are far from the only reactions she observes, frankly a little baffled.
"What's going on?" she asks, raising her voice.
"It's horrible!" someone says.
"Awful! Just awful!"
"They're making us suffer, Swansong!"
Bella makes a helpless noise of confusion, looking directly at Masen now as she wades into a room full of despair. "Why are they acting like this?" she asks him.
Masen breathes out deeply, evenly. "Volturi has moved up the demo deadline by four weeks," he tells her dispassionately, ignoring the new wail Peter lets out into Garrett's stomach.
Bella, very suddenly, understands the dramatics. "Oh," she says meekly. "That's...very soon."
"Thirteen days," Garrett says.
Thirteen days - that's much, much sooner than the original deadline, which was supposed to be the week after Christmas. Bella's mind touches briefly on the amount of work she knows the graphics team has to complete and comes to the conclusion that there is almost no way they will be able to get all of that work done before the new deadline. Cuts are going to have to be made, probably, because she doesn't think either Alistair or Masen will be willing to sacrifice quality. She has a feeling that it's her character design interface that will be cut, given that it's arguably more superfluous than other projects.
"Oh," she says again, feeling the weight of the new deadline. She feels like she needs to sit down. She looks around, finds a chair, and does exactly that.
"This is bullshit!" Peter says loudly, swiftly switching from sadness to abject anger. "Why are they doing this?"
"I'd like to know that, too," Emmett agrees, looking at Masen warily. "Did they say why?"
Masen crosses his arms over his chest. "Volturi's COO, Caius, is having surgery in early December. The demo deadline is being rescheduled so that he can have enough time to recover before the holidays."
"That's fishy as fuck!" Peter exclaims. "They should have just rescheduled the deadline to be after the dude is recovered, not before the surgery!"
"Tactical advantage," Garrett says succinctly, folding an arm around Peter's waist to hold him still.
Masen nods.
"What, are you saying this was done on purpose?" Emmett demands. "Are you kidding? How? And why?"
"Almost certainly," Alistair says, grim-faced as he paces closer. He narrows his pale eyes in thought. "Was it Denali?"
Masen tilts his head. "Caius Volturi and Eleazar Denali both graduated from Marshall Business School at USC," Masen tells them. "It's possible Denali called in a favor to put us at a disadvantage."
Several men in the room let out colorful curses at this news, but Masen raises his hand up, calling for silence. Dimly, she admires the way he so effortlessly commands the entire room.
"Be upset later," he says, flint in his voice and in his eyes. "We need to strategize. Meeting in the conference room in ten minutes. You four, with me," he adds, flicking his fingers at Alistair, Emmett, Peter, and Garrett, who all trail after him to the office, the door shutting behind them soundly.
"What are we going to do, man?" one of the programmers asks the room.
Liam snorts. "Fucking idiots, what do you think we're going to do? Do you see who's in charge of us?"
Bella considers Liam's assessment and finds that, objectively, he's probably right. No, he is right. Masen is just as competitive and ambitious as she is, but he has a flair for strategy that doesn't let her doubt, not even for a second, that he's going to come up with a way to get the demo done in totality. She thinks Denali and Volturi - if they're colluding - don't know Masen very well at all. What they thought might be a stumbling block that will make a young company like Midnight Sun cut corners is going to, instead, light a fire under all these minds - Masen's mind, especially.
This is why she isn't surprised to learn that Masen is reworking the schedule for the entire team and incentivizing it with bonuses and overtime pay. In the conference room, Masen calmly outlines the new strategy, which involves the next seven days working in shifts around the clock, taking Thanksgiving day itself off, and then finishing the demo work by November 30th. With a cool head, he talks about the small handful of projects that are being adjusted, explaining that he still wants those projects present in the demo, but that they need to be more limited. For Bella, this means her interface will be whittled down to show how it would work, rather than having the full selection of options that she had planned on; others have projects that are also similarly restricted.
Masen says the plan is realistic if everyone can perform well. Masen says he's confident Midnight Sun can meet this new deadline without sacrificing any quality. Masen says that failure is not an option for him, and it is not an option for any of them, either.
Masen leads and inspires and Bella's heart flutters, hope surging through her veins. What was once a bleak situation has turned into inspiration. Masen, who is not particularly verbose or, she can admit, charismatic by nature, has managed to invigorate all of his employees.
When they file out of the conference room, each of them ready to tackle their projects head-on, Bella stops Masen with a hand on his arm. "I'm helping too," she says firmly, not allowing any room for argument.
Masen's eyes soften. "Obviously," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Report to Alistair."
Bella nods in determination. She doesn't like the idea of this Denali company just throwing their weight around like this - just like she doesn't appreciate the newfound knowledge that it was James Denali, aka Relentless, who must have been behind Alice's harrowing internship experience. That kind of attitude, that entitled sense that they can do whatever they want and get away with it, churns away in her stomach. No, she doesn't like it. Not one bit. This, if anything, is another negative tally, another point of proof.
These Denalis are not a good sort of people.
Bella looks forward to being part of proving them wrong - all of them. It isn't so easy to conquer other people. It's about time the Denalis learned this lesson.
Piping Hot Tea (Group Chat)
Sleep Talker
Can someone bring me clothes?
And my charger?
Toiletries
Tampons
My sour stash?
Paparazzi
The fuck is happening?
Are you bunking down for the apocalypse?
Also why aren't you back yet?
You missed dinner
Sleep Talker
Something's happened at MS
New deadline
Nobody is going home
Paparazzi
Is he holding you hostage!?
Thorny
Hush babe don't be dramatic
I just heard about it too
Those Denali fuckers!
Short Cake
What happened?
I don't understand
Thorny
I'll fill you in later
How is Emmett doing?
Sleep Talker
(Picture Attachment: Emmett scowling
at a computer screen, hunched over a keyboard)
Thorny
Poor man
Alright
I'll bring your things over
Sleep Talker
You can't distract him
Thorny
I won't
Promise
Paparazzi
Why do I feel like we're sending you off to war?
Sleep Talker
It kind of is one
A business war
And the other side is cheating
Paparazzi
Fuckers
So you're just not coming back?
Sleep Talker
Not until my part is done
Short Cake
I already miss you 3
Sleep Talker
We're still doing Friendsgiving on Thursday
That hasn't changed
Half of us are just going to be sleep deprived
Paparazzi
What else is new?
Short Cake
Don't worry about a thing!
I'll take over the arrangements!
Sleep Talker
Thanks Ali
Thorny
I've got your stuff
Be over in 20
Sleep Talker
Thank you!
Paparazzi
Make sure you sleep
I'm serious
Sleep Talker
I will
Everything will be fine
Everything is fine. Everything is totally, one hundred percent fine. People are tired and falling asleep at their desks and Peter has been reduced to whining every time Masen circles the room to check everyone's progress, but things are fine.
It's only been a day, though, and she can see the signs of weariness setting in. It's Friday night and nobody has left the office building in a full twenty-four hours, with the exception of Rose, who sashayed in and out with her brows raised high and a whispered, "Are you sure?" to Bella. Bella had, of course, nodded and doubled-down on her decision to stay at Midnight Sun until the demo was done, hell or high water with a streak of infamous Swan tenacity.
But like she said - she can see the wear already setting in, and she doesn't think it bodes well for the project. It's clear to Bella that some of these men need sleep more than others and that some are thriving off the stress. But there are just as many who aren't, who are beginning to flag only in these early hours.
The fact that there are apartments upstairs is something of a boon for the heads of the departments and for Bella, who has been invited to stay in Masen's loft both to sleep and to take care of Atari. But there are at least twenty other men here who do not have beds and she can't imagine that sleeping on the lobby couches is in any way sustainable, especially since there are only two. Obviously, sleeping at their computers is also not an option.
Bella frowns, saving her work, stretching her arms up until her spine crackles, trying to turn the problem over in her head. Twenty men all committed to not going home, all committed to fighting for the company, and none of them have a place to sleep. And sleep is important if they want to produce good work. The state of things is, very simply, not tenable.
It doesn't look like anyone else is going to do anything about it, though. She's not sure the problem has occurred to anyone other than Garrett, who had told Peter blank-faced that they would be sharing an apartment for the next two weeks. It's too bad that solution doesn't work for everyone else, because Bella has seen the apartments upstairs, and while she figures at least two people can squeeze into a bed and a third on the couch, that still leaves over ten men without beds. Even rotating sleeping schedules isn't something that would work seamlessly - too many projects require cross-department collaboration, which means everyone in the building is signing up for the Einstein sleeping pattern of napping until the work is done. There's so much to do that it's the only realistic answer if the demo is going to meet the right quality standards.
Somebody has to do something, and it might as well be Bella. She's only an intern. The amount of work she has to finalize is negligible. For the most part, she is being tapped to fill in the gaps, the finalize details, rather than the larger project she had been working on before. Alistair has taken over her character design interface to smooth down the rough edges and make it feel more "complete", which really leaves Bella to comb through all of the animations and fix any obvious mistakes. But she has a feeling it won't be long until other little projects will be coming her way, because by now it's obvious that she has some experience with software programming given her double-major. She expects something from Peter in the next day or so, the same way Liam has grimly resigned himself to the same fate.
Given all of that - if Bella is going to do anything to fix this sleeping issue before it turns into a big problem, then she should do it now. So, with that in mind, she slips off to Masen's office, stifling a yawn behind her fist before she enters, knocking on the door.
Masen is behind his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard with an expression of intense focus. She has only the vaguest idea of the project he's working on - something about optimizing the speed performance so the CPU usage doesn't crash the entire program, which he has some experience with thanks to Menagerie. She waits until he looks up and registers her presence before she enters the office properly, and when she does, she rounds the desk with determination.
"They need to sleep somewhere," she says frankly. "And not in a way that has them rotating beds upstairs. It won't work."
Masen stares at her for a moment and it seems the problem genuinely hadn't occurred to him. How atypical. He's brilliant in every other aspect except, somehow, this. He must truly be consumed - concerned - by this new deadline. The corners of his lips turn down for a fraction of a second, and then he is opening the lone drawer of his desk and pulling out his buttery grey leather wallet and handing it to her.
"Fix it," he says simply.
Her eyes widen as she accepts the wallet. "I didn't - Masen, you can't just give me your wallet."
"Mm."
She feels a wave of incredulity. "Seriously?"
He nods.
Bella sighs. "I'm not sure about this…"
"Take care of them," he says, nodding again. "We need you."
Bella can easily fill in the words he doesn't say - the company needs Bella to be practical right now because as the only one who has noticed the problem, she's basically volunteering her services. Fine. It makes sense anyway. She had originally thought to bring the problem up to Masen and he would solve it, but he wants her to solve it.
She can do that.
Bella leans over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and marches out of the office with a renewed sense of purpose. Admittedly, with only her hands-on learning and the importance of this demo, there isn't much Bella can do. She already knows this; she is fully prepared to take care of the little final details of whatever work comes across her desk. But in reality, this probably means she's the only one with the time to arrange for other things - and she doesn't think that it's just because she's a woman, because Masen isn't like that and neither are the others. This is a matter of convenience. The fact that she noticed it at all might be because she's a woman, or because she has a more sensible head on her shoulders. Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter. There's a problem, or a growing one, and Bella needs to fix it.
She goes upstairs, letting herself into Masen's loft, Atari immediately greeting her as he winds around her ankles with a warm purr. "Hello to you too," she says pleasantly, kneeling down to scoop him up so she can nuzzle at his head. She sighs against his fur. "What am I going to do, huh? How should I solve this?"
Atari nips at her chin and she giggles.
It's really a simple problem, isn't it? The boys don't have beds; she just needs to find some. And, while she's at it, it probably would help to get some food into them. Nobody has eaten anything except for the kitchen snacks for the past day, so she should arrange for food, too.
Bella checks the clock. It's just past six in the evening, which isn't ideal for deliveries, but she's almost certain she can make it work. Somehow.
Bella spends the next twenty minutes hunting down the inventory at the nearby stores, trying to figure out something that works better than sleeping bags on the uncomfortable floors. The answer comes in the form of blow-up air mattresses, which she can pick up at the supermarket she catches a Lyft to. At the supermarket, she buys all six of the air mattresses (some of them a double) on the shelves, throws in enough fleece blankets for everyone, and discounted pillows. Then she steers her overloaded cart through the snack aisle, tossing in a little bit of everything, and then two cases of water because staying hydrated is important. After she checks out, while she's waiting for her Lyft to pick her up, she places a McDonald's order on UberEats, because it's cheap and filling and she has a lot of stomachs to feel. She pays with everything with Masen's card, which she hopes is for company expenses because she just spent...quite a bit of money in one go.
But then again - it's Masen. He wouldn't have given her his wallet, with no stated limits, without knowing that she would be charging it up. It's fine.
Back at the office, Bella spends the next hour unloading and sorting the food, pushing around the furniture to make space on the second floor common area and the office lobby so she can set up the air mattresses. Between all of that, she accepts the food delivery and sets everything up in the kitchen, keeping back a combo meal for herself and Masen before she calls everyone over for dinner. While the others are sorting through the food, Bella goes back to Masen's office, placing his wallet and his food on his desk.
Masen takes the food, tearing into it with an eagerness she hasn't seen before, but nudges the wallet back in her direction.
Her brows fly up. "You want me to keep it?"
Masen nods around a mouth of food.
"Masen."
"Bella."
"I can't just keep your wallet."
"You can," he insists. He nods his chin to the wide space outside of his office. "We'll still need to eat after this."
That, Bella has to concede, is a good point. And that's how Bella becomes the master of Masen's credit card for the next several days. While everyone else is toiling away on the demo or crashing in exhaustion, and while Bella is not currently wrapped up in one mini-project or another, she becomes in charge of putting three square meals a day in the hungry stomachs of her coworkers. It's not fancy food and it's probably not healthy, but it keeps everyone going. She even gets a better idea of what everyone's preferences are, so by the time Wednesday rolls around, she can easily go around and drop food off at the appropriate desks without second-guessing her choices. For the most part, when the boys have food in front of them, they do a pretty good job of feeding themselves.
Masen is a bit of an exception. She can tell that he's working more than everyone else, mostly because he is sleeping less - even less than Garrett, who she has only seen take twenty-minute naps every few hours. The fact that he doesn't sleep as much as he should is almost as worrying as the way he lets his food sit on his desk, untouched, for hours. The third time it happens, Bella huffs at him and stands at his side, feeding him by hand so he doesn't have to stop working. And when he's done, she tugs on his ear a bit, a silent censure for worrying her so much. Masen will catch her hand and kiss her knuckles, but she can see that his mind is somewhere else.
One time, Peter and Emmett catch her in the act, and true to form, they both open their mouths to say, "Ahhhh," as if she would feed them by hand too.
Bella chases them out by throwing ice chips after them, her face red, and when she looks at Masen, he has a half-smile on his face, most of his attention returned to his work. Had it been any other day, she thinks he might have teased her about being so flustered.
She sees the dark circles under his eyes and decides not to press.
But all that work is worth something because by Wednesday, the hardest part of the demo work is done - that big chunk of work that would have taken weeks to finish is mostly done. There's still a lot more work to do, of course, but Midnight Sun is in a good position. They're well within reach of their goal.
If Bella catches Masen and Garrett backing up the demo - and then backing up the backup - then she doesn't say anything about it. She has an urge to back up the demo, too, given the fishiness Denali has stirred into the pot. As far as she's concerned, the more backups, the better.
When Bella goes to sleep on Wednesday night, it's after she bullies Masen into bed with her. He seems to humor her, pulling her into his arms and not breathing a word about the way Atari perches on his pillow, tail flicking him in the nose.
And in the back of her mind, beyond the sliver of relief that Midnight Sun is going to be okay, that the demo will be done on time, is the idea that she would be okay if this was her life in the future - if she could go to sleep with Masen every night, that would be good.
It would be really good.
It would be good, so of course, her mother has to swoop in to try to tell her how very not-good it would be. Sometimes, Bella thinks that Renee must have a sixth sense because it almost seems that she only reaches out to contact Bella when Bella is feeling especially happy.
But that's not fair. Renee always calls on Thanksgiving. It's just that sometimes, Bella wishes she would just forget. She fears this might make her a bad daughter but she isn't sure what to do about it. Her relationship with Renee isn't good and she has no desire to put the effort into fixing it when her mother seems to willfully ignore everything about Bella that makes her Bella. There surely isn't a fix for that.
So it's with no small amount of dread that Bella dutifully answers Renee's early morning call on Thursday. She's glad that Masen is in the shower because she has no control over the way her expression contorts when Renee actually brings him up. After the usual small talk, Renee lets it slip that she's heard about Masen through the grapevine - and she certainly has opinions about it.
"Are you getting serious about this boy?" comes Renee's tinny voice through the phone.
"I am," Bella answers, simple and honest while she strokes down Atari's back.
"You shouldn't be so hasty. Young love is fine, but it doesn't last, believe me. And honey, I know he has his own little company, but you know how startups are," Renee says baldly, while internally any hope Bella had that this would be a good conversation wilts. "And you know how men are."
Bella stiffens. Her tone is chilly when she responds, not that Renee seems to notice. "No, I don't know how men are, or startups for that matter. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"Oh, darling," Renee sighs, as if Bella is being silly and short-sighted. "You know startups are doomed to fail, don't you? Most of them don't make it, especially those technology companies of yours. Not everyone is Steve Jobs!"
But Masen could be, Bella thinks silently. Masen Cullen could be the next Steve Jobs, or the next Mark Zuckerburg, or the next Elon Musk. He could be, in a year or so. Midnight Sun is still so new, not even nine months old, but it's already had such rapid success. And Bella has software on her computer that Masen developed as an undergrad, software that she and countless others have bought and used, and she fully believes that this is proof enough that success is something Masen can effortlessly attach to his name.
Renee is still talking, though, as flighty and thoughtless as ever. "-and you know men never remember their first wives, right? Successful young men always have so many women vying for them. You'd be better going for an established man if you want to-"
"I don't want an established man. I want Masen," Bella cuts in, terse. Her seldom-seen temper is flaring, a calm lake about to surge with a storm. "And maybe men would remember their first wives if their first wives bothered to stick around," she adds icily, a pointed jab.
Renee gasps. "Isabella! That's not fair -"
Bella doesn't want to hear about fairness, not from this near-stranger she happens to share DNA with, someone who gave up everything important for the promise of money and an easy life. Bella doesn't even know what husband Renee is on, anymore, and it doesn't matter. It stopped mattering so long ago.
"You know what? I have to go," Bella says, tone sharp. "Happy Thanksgiving, Mom."
And then she hangs up, jabbing her thumb on the screen of her phone and then tossing it aside with a great sigh. From her lap, Atari squirms and mews up at her, confused. Bella pats at his head, trying to relax the hard press of her lips. She shouldn't let Renee get to her, but it can be so hard. She's never been able to relate to that amount of self-serving selfishness, and she's glad for it, but at the same time, it makes it so difficult to feel like Renee is actually her mother. Sue is twice the mother Renee has ever been to Bella. She doesn't know what her dad was thinking when he married Renee right out of high school. The two are entirely incompatible.
A hand settles on top of her head, startling her out of her thoughts. Masen is leaning over the back of the couch, his brow knit in concern as he strokes his hand down the back of her head, settling at the nape of her neck - not unlike how she pets Atari, actually. It's comforting.
"Okay?" he asks.
He's fresh from the shower, a towel around his waist, and his chest bare. A drop of water clings to his skin from where it falls off his hair, rolling down planes of smooth, pale skin. But for all that others might be tempted to stare and lust, Bella simply finds her gaze drawn to his, basking in the softness of his grey-green gaze - a softness that is reserved only for her.
"I'm fine," Bella says tiredly. "It's just my mom. I don't talk to her much, you know? Mostly because when I do, she ends up writing off my life choices, or pushing me to embrace hers. But I don't want to be like Renee."
I don't want to flit from one rich man to another, always in search of another easy chapter in my life, Bella thinks. What she really wants is to leave her mark on the world of gaming and be with Masen - preferably at the same time. She thinks these are simple ambitions. She wants them more than anything.
"I see." Masen pauses, seeming to weigh his words. "Family can be...difficult."
Bella lifts her brows. Masen doesn't talk about his family much, aside from Carlisle and his parents. She knows his background, knows that he's adopted and that there is some tension between him and his adoptive grandfather, but Masen is mostly tight-lipped about it. She has the sense that he doesn't want to talk about it, not because it hurts, but because he places little importance on things that he can't change. Most of what Bella knows about his family is what she has pieced together from the little he does say and what Esme has told her directly. So, that Masen is offering up anything is, to Bella, significant. He's trying to comfort her in his own way. It's sweet.
She smiles up at him, soft and slight. "At least I don't have to see her," she says.
"Mm," he agrees. "If only we were all so lucky."
Bella blinks. "You're visiting family? I thought Carlisle was coming to our Friendsgiving?"
"He is," Masen confirms. "But the family is gathering tonight, too. It's an obligation neither of us can get out of."
This is news to Bella and she can't quite mask her surprise. "Are you inviting me?"
Masen shakes his head, pulling away and straightening the towel around his waist. "I wouldn't do that to you," he says, perfectly serious but with a curl of his lips that betray his mirth.
Bella laughs, surprised.
Masen lifts a brow.
"Everyone says you don't have a sense of humor," she teases.
Masen rolls his eyes. "Peter," he grouses, a curl to his lip.
"Peter," Bella agrees. She shifts onto her knees, draping herself over the back of the couch. Atari leaps off her lap as she moves, scuttling off to get up to do cat-things. "So, does that mean you're ducking out of our lunch-dinner thing early?" she asks, raising her voice a bit as Masen disappears into his room to rummage around his closet.
"Mm-hmm."
"Is Esme going?" she asks.
"Carlisle wouldn't do that to Esme, either," Masen tells her.
Well, then. Looks like Bella might have underestimated the tension in the Cullen family. Anne and Thomas are agreeable people, she knows, so the true culprit must be the grandfather. How unpleasant can one man be if the blood-related grandson won't even bring his fiance? That's...significant, isn't it? Significantly concerning.
"Do you really have to go?" Bella asks, fretting over it when Masen emerges from the bedroom, adjusting the supple leather belt on his crisp, dark-wash jeans.
His deep green sweater, already pushed up his forearms, brings out the green in his eyes, which study her carefully from across the room. "You're worried," he realizes. "You don't have to be. It's only a few hours."
"I can't help but worry," she tells him, solemn even as she pouts. "That's just how it is when you love someone."
Masen, soft for only her, comes closer to kiss her forehead. He doesn't say the words back, but he doesn't need to. His every movement, his every touch, his every look, is proof enough.
Bella tilts her head up, silently asking for another kiss, and Masen presses one softly against her lips, a warm lingering touch that does a lot to soothe her concerns.
If Masen isn't worried, then neither should Bella be.
Carlisle
You could stay home
I can just go
It won't be a big deal
Masen
You need my support
Carlisle
I'm the older brother here
You don't have to protect me
Masen
Not protecting
Supporting
Carlisle
Our parents will be there
Masen
To keep the peace
Not to support you
Carlisle
I hate that it's true
Okay fine
But I'm driving
Masen
(read at 2:11 PM)
Midnight Sun is the largest gathering place anyone can think of to host a so-called Friendsgiving, a practice Masen can scarcely believe he's participating in. Bella's friend Alice had come over earlier than anyone else, rousing Bella from well-deserved slumber so she and Bella could shuffle around the office to make room for three card tables all pushed together and covered with thematically-appropriate linens. Masen, who spent most of the morning in his office trying to finalize other pieces of the demo to prepare for the next day's work, had been a witness to watching Bella talk her friend down from actually cooking anything. Bella, who is clearly tired and equally as unlikely to let it show, had advocated for microwaving anything that got cold from the delivery, which her friend agreed to after realizing that, in fact, none of their friends can actually cook - except for Garrett, who has been barred from his food truck by both Bella and Peter because he needs a break, too.
Masen had, of course, been the unfortunate witness to Peter's wheedling. Peter had called Garrett Chef in a way that Masen is uncomfortably aware was meant to be sexual. It's fortunate that Garrett isn't cooking today for that reason alone, because if he was, then he (and Peter) would be in a kitchen and not within hearing distance of anyone else.
As it is, by the time everyone has gathered at Midnight Sun around four in the afternoon, the room is too chaotic and loud to hear much of anything at all, inappropriate or not. Masen stands apart from the room, observing the cacophony of laughter and noise permeating the space just as richly as the food Rose and Emmett are unpacking from the half-dozen restaurants they have been to. While Rose and Alice bicker over food placement, Leah swings by to push the food into the center of the table, calling for people to eat as she plucks a chicken drumstick from a plate and hands it to Alistair, who sighs in resignation. Meanwhile, Bella is directing Carlisle and Esme into seats and then comes back for Masen, tucking her hands around his elbow to pull him into a chair. Once everyone is seated, an assortment of food is passed around, and the variety is unlike anything that Masen has ever seen on a single table at one time.
Bella must catch the incredulity of his stare because she giggles and leans into his space. "We couldn't decide what to get because we're all used to eating different traditional meals," she explains. "Like, while Alice, Jasper, and Emmett all usually have turkey, Leah and I typically have Sue's baked salmon, and Rose's family does Cornish hens. Peter demanded ham, but I'm not sure if it was for him or Garrett. Alistair, obviously, doesn't have a tradition, but we did manage to hunt down a bakery that makes treacle tart."
Considering the explanation, the amount of food makes sense. "Thoughtful," he surmises.
Bella smiles and spoons three different potato dishes onto his plate, her brows lifted almost in challenge. He returns the favor with two of the nearest dishes, dishing them conservatively beside her fish, and then tucks into his own food, narrowly dodging the sweet bread roll Peter is tossing onto plates from his perch in Garrett's lap.
It's certainly not a traditional Thanksgiving, but it is, he thinks, warmer than any Thanksgiving in his memory. By the somewhat dazed expression on Carlisle's face, Masen has the sense that he agrees.
Friendsgiving, indeed.
When the dinner portion ends, it's a race between Alice and Peter as to who can bring the pies to the table the quickest, even as Bella, Alistair, and Esme sensibly work to tuck food into containers. Emmett hefts himself up to dig out the hard cider he's been hoarding for the last week, nudging Garrett into helping him pass glasses around.
Both Carlisle and Masen decline. Both of them need to be sober for any family dinner; this has been a well-established fact since Carlisle could legally drink, and Masen had followed in his footsteps.
Masen is once again astounded by the sheer amount of food Bella can pack away. Even though she's one of the slightest people in the room, she easily matches Emmett plate-for-plate - but it's still disarming to witness.
"Which pie do you want?" she asks from his elbow, looking at him expectantly.
Masen is very full. He couldn't possibly eat another bite comfortably. "Apple," he answers anyway. It's not like he expects to eat much, if anything, at the Cullen Thanksgiving. He can make room.
Fortunately, Bella passes him a modest slice. This does not, however, do anything to detract from the muted sense of horror-stricken awe he sees when she finishes carving a slice from each of the pies on the table - pumpkin, pecan, apple, cherry, strawberry rhubarb, berry, and treacle tart. Granted, they are slivers of each and together would make three traditionally-sized pieces, but all the same. It is. Quite a lot.
"I see you looking, Masen, and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but this isn't even a true measure of how much Bella can eat," Leah says from across the table.
"Oohh, it's true," Alice giggles. "I remember last year, she ate that entire Dutch apple in one sitting."
"Be fair," Bella rebukes them, without an ounce of shame. "It was a miniature pie."
"Yeah, but a miniature pie is still a whole pie," Rose points out.
"At most, it was basically half a pie," Bella tries to downplay. "And it wasn't like anyone was going to miss it."
Leah snorts into her drink. "Except for the dining hall staff, who were very, very confused."
"Wait, that was you guys?" Peter interjects with glee. And now that Peter says it, Masen does vaguely recall some hiccup among the staff of the dining hall near Robel Hall last year, something that had spread across the campus quietly but that had caused enough confusion Peter had spent days reading the campus discussion board conspiracy theories about it.
Masen casts his Bella a side-long glance, wondering at her mischief.
"Don't blame me for that," Bella chides, rapping her fork against the plate. "You're the one who stole -"
"I smuggled it, don't make it sound illegal -"
"-the pie for me and dared me to eat it," Bella continues blithely. "I was just proving you wrong."
Alice laughs. "You did win that bet! That's right!"
Rose rolls her eyes. "For anyone confused, Leah made a bet that Bella couldn't possibly eat that little pie in under five minutes. Bella obviously won, because she's clearly missed her calling as a competitive food eater."
"What was on the line?" Carlisle asks curiously, eating his own pie much more sedately than everyone else at the table, Masen included.
Rose sighs. "I don't even know. Was it bragging rights?"
"No," Bella answers, turning a gimlet eye to her sister. "It was a bet about the truth."
"Here we go," Leah mutters.
"If I won, Leah would finally tell me what happened to my Nintendo DS, and if I lost, I would have to let it go," Bella tells them all, with the air of someone who has been very wronged. "But even though I won, Leah still insists she has no idea what happened to it."
"It's been fifteen years!" Leah says with exasperation. "Let it go!"
"I just want to know what happened to it," Bella argues.
"I told you before," Leah says. "I didn't touch the damn thing."
Bella squints at her, clearly disbelieving. "Uh-huh. Just like you don't know who keeps nominating me for that ridiculous contest."
"Oh, my God," Leah mutters. "The level of mistrust is amazing!"
Down the table, Esme laughs. "I wish all of my family fights were so lighthearted."
Masen and Carlisle exchange a glance, one full of silent agreement.
"Someday," Rose says, taking a swig of hard cider after she pushes her plate toward Emmett. She looks up at the ceiling, greatly put-upon. "Someday, I will be able to have a Thanksgiving dinner with you two without hearing about this dumb Nintendo thing."
"I'm never going to let it go," Bella vows, sounding very serious. Masen is greatly amused to see her holding onto something this much, particularly because he has seen her brush off actual slights against her reputation with very little concern. He has never pegged her for someone to hold a grudge, and he thinks mostly she is just teasing because there's a twinkle in her eyes that belies her mirth.
"I will throw something at you," Leah threatens across the table.
Bella sticks her tongue out.
The rest of the gathering passes in a similar vein, with funny stories being shared around the table. The only unfortunate thing is that Masen and Carlisle have to leave while the merrymaking is still happening - but there's no putting off the family Thanksgiving, no matter how much they each want to avoid it, albeit for different reasons. If not for Carlisle's intended announcement and the support he'll surely need on the way home, Masen wouldn't be going at all. But his brother needs him and Carlisle has never let him stand alone, so Masen will not let him stand alone either.
Masen parts from the Friendsgiving after a lingering kiss from Bella and a promise that she'll be waiting for him to come home. He holds that thrilling feeling that she calls his place home deep inside as Carlisle drives them up to San Francisco.
Traffic is a bit thicker than they anticipate, so they arrive just shy of 7:30, which both is and isn't ideal. They've missed the pre-dinner drinks, but that means they'll also have to sit down immediately without any time to make Carlisle's announcement before dinner, and that means Carlisle will have to wait until after dinner is finished, for the sake of manners and politeness.
"It's going to be fine," Carlisle says, straightening the collar of his shirt beneath his sweater as they stand in front of the door. He breathes out heavily twice, psyching himself up, and then rings the doorbell.
Masen follows him inside.
The dinner starts out fine, or as fine as it ever would be in the face of Grandfather Cullen and his snide remarks made under his breath. Thomas and Anne chat politely, keeping the topics light and neutral - no politics, no religion, no details about personal future plans. It doesn't leave much to talk about, so dinner is quiet and as dry as the turkey that is served by the maids. Masen picks at the food on his plate and keeps his head down, determined to make it through this dinner with no trouble.
It is, as always, too much to hope for.
"Carlisle. I've heard from the board members that you haven't been to the company very much recently," Grandfather Cullen says as the second course is being served.
Carlisle tenses. "I have been present as much as I can be, Grandfather," he says quietly.
Grandfather Cullen harrumphs. "It's that hospital nonsense that has you distracted, isn't it? Boy, when will you grow tired of playing doctor and take up your responsibilities as the heir of this business?"
"Father," Thomas tries, clearly seeing the discomfort spreading across Carlisle's face. "Maybe now isn't the time."
"Well, if not now, then when?" Grandfather Cullen demands. "This is a matter of the Cullen legacy. It was fine if he wanted to play doctor when he was younger, but the boy is almost thirty. It's time to stop playing around, Carlisle."
Carlisle clears his throat and glances at Masen.
Masen blinks at him, placid. If not now, then when, indeed?
"I have been meaning to talk to you all about this, actually," Carlisle starts cautiously. "I know this will probably come as a disappointment, but I have accepted a permanent residency post at my hospital, and I'm afraid I won't be able to -"
"Absolutely not," Grandfather Cullen says harshly. "You are not giving up the family business to fix sniffles and scraped knees."
"Father-"
"Being a physician has been my dream since I was young," Carlisle says, talking over Thomas with a frown. "I don't have a head for business. I would run the company into the ground."
"Nonsense. Thomas just has to teach you better," Grandfather Cullen insists. "You are the heir. You will take over the family business. I won't hear another word about it."
Grandfather Cullen speaks as he always does, which is to say he speaks as if nobody would ever dare disagree with him. And maybe on another day or about a different issue, this would be true. But today, for Carlisle, there is no option to meekly accept Grandfather Cullen's decree.
For the first time in Masen's entire life, he watches his brother's cool composure crumble to pieces.
"If you want someone to take over the family business," Carlisle begins tersely, snapping his butter knife down onto the table with a sharp clack. "Then you're looking at the wrong grandson. I have no interest in running the company. I'm going to be a doctor - a surgeon! If the business has to stay in the family, then it will be fine in Masen's hands."
"Absurd," Grandfather Cullen shouts, throwing his napkin down. "Absolutely absurd! That cretin isn't fit to lick my shoes, let alone sit at the head of the board-"
"He's more fit than you are!" Carlisle says loudly. "Have you seen how successful he is? He's built his company into an overnight success from the ground up, without any help from the family, and he's done it all in spite of you!"
Grandfather Cullen laughs meanly and goes on to say something else, but Carlisle hasn't finished.
"And it's more than anyone can say for you!" he adds, standing from his seat. "You were handed the company from your father, just like Dad! A silver spoon has been in your mouth since birth! You've never worked for anything because it's all been handed to you - but you sit here, holier-than-thou, and look down on the only person in this family who found greatness from the scraps you deigned to let him have!"
"You-!" Grandfather Cullen blusters, red in the face.
"Me!" Carlisle agrees, holding his arms out. "Me, one of your grandsons! That's right! I am Carlisle Cullen, the heir you chose, and I reject your so-called gift. I'm going to be Carlisle Cullen, trauma surgeon, husband of Esme, and proud brother. In fact," Carlisle tacks on, looking upon the way Grandfather Cullen chokes on his outrage with a smug air. "I'm going to give my shares of the company to Masen!"
Masen's grip on his fork slackens and his eyes widen, even as Grandfather Cullen sputters and Thomas chides at the both of them for making a scene. Masen, very abruptly, feels young - like he first did when the Cullens took him in and Carlisle was his only shepherd. He looks at his big brother with the same wide eyes as yesteryear, back when Carlisle had all the answers and the confidence to make them work. Before years of Grandfather Cullen's erosive abuse put the thought into Masen's head that he had to rely on only himself.
"Carlisle?"
Carlisle's arms drop to his sides, his shoulders loose and relaxed. He looks - free - as he smiles, the gold of his hair limned by the crystal chandelier. "Masen," Carlisle returns.
Masen studies his brother carefully and comes to the conclusion that he's been thinking about the company shares for a while. "What have you done?" he demands, low and shocked.
"Talked to a lawyer," Carlisle answers calmly. Ignoring the incensed glare Grandfather Cullen drills into the side of his head, Carlisle sits back down at the table, straightens the napkin on his lap, and picks his butterknife back up. He continues to relay his news with the same peaceable tone as he butters his roll, as if he isn't dropping the equivalent of a nuclear bomb on the entire family. "Actually, Esme's roommate Kebi has a boyfriend, Amun, who happens to specialize in corporate law. I talked to him, oh, about a month ago -"
"A month!" Grandfather Cullen thunders.
"-and showed him the contract stating my shares of Cullen Enterprises. According to the contract, I'm free to write my claim of their control over to anyone I choose, particularly the ones that were gifted to me after I graduated, which are not part of my family shares," Carlisle informs the room, now smearing fresh cranberry sauce onto the roll. "Amun has already written up an agreement, Masen, that would give you power over my shares. By our count, that would be, oh, 23% of the company, and given the number of people on the board and the number of shares Dad and Grandfather have, that would make you an official ruling member of the board. In other words, you would become a de facto owner through me, for as long as I choose to give you power over those shares. And make no mistake," he says, even more seriously as he stares at Masen with unflinching blue eyes. "I don't intend to ever revoke this gift. I was saving it for Christmas, though. Sorry you found out this way."
Masen is speechless. He had never - not even once - entertained the idea that Carlisle would give up the shares of the company to him - or even the control of those shares. It had never occurred to him as an option. He had always assumed that Carlisle would eventually choose medicine over the family business, but he never thought Carlisle would do it in such a radical way. At most, he thought his brother would simply insist on taking a silent role and not be part of day-to-day operations.
But Carlisle has done this. He has been radical.
"You ungrateful swine!" Grandfather Cullen spits. He slams his hand down on the table, hard enough all of the ceramic and glass shakes. "And you!" he shouts, stabbing a finger at Masen. "You loathsome leech! How dare you orchestrate this farce! I will never - never - accept you, you gutter rat! You are a stain on this family! A stain! And now you are a thief-!"
Grandfather Cullen's hand closes around the crystal glass of his favorite Scotch - and just like when Masen was young, Grandfather Cullen lifts the glass as if to throw it - and Masen is braced for it, the scar on his cheek throbbing in a phantom reminder - but it never comes.
"That is enough," Anne Cullen says coldly, removing the glass from Grandfather Cullen's hand and tossing it aside carelessly. When she got up and moved to the other side of the table is anyone's guess. She stands in front of Grandfather Cullen, managing to look down her nose at him even though he stands so much taller. "I have heard enough from you for a lifetime," she tells him, shaking her head. "Naturally, you must be disappointed that Carlisle has chosen another path, but to blame his brother for his choices?"
"That worm is not his brother!" Grandfather Cullen bristles.
"They are brothers!" Anne says hotly. "They have been brothers for ten years, they will be brothers for ten more, and they will be brothers for ten more after that. They are brothers and I have had enough of you trying to tear my children apart!"
"Thomas," Grandfather Cullen barks, turning away. "Get your woman under control! I won't hear this nonsense in my house!"
Thomas Cullen, however, is staring at his family, still sitting at his place in the dining room. He looks a little lost, looking between his wife and his children, and Masen thinks he might just sit there forever, trying to reconcile how the night had gone so off-kilter so quickly, but then Thomas frowns. He looks very much like Carlisle when he stands, placing his napkin over his food, something in the steadiness of his gaze as he turns, shoulders strong, to face Grandfather Cullen's seething expression.
"I'm sorry, Father," Thomas says sedately.
Grandfather Cullen scoffs under his breath. "You should be," he hisses. "This family of yours - so shameful! So disrespectful-"
"I'm sorry that I've let you go on this long," Thomas cuts in, shaking his head slowly. "This is my fault. As your son, I should have stepped in a long time ago and helped you adjust your way of thinking. I'm sorry to have failed you so badly that you believe you can get away with shouting abuse at both of my sons and my wife on what should be a peaceful family holiday. I have failed you, as a son, for not correcting your behavior toward my youngest boy. I have been...shamefully reticent to say anything, because of Mother's passing, but enough is enough. This can't go on any longer."
For the third time in a single night, Masen finds himself staring at a member of his own family with surprise. He never thought Thomas would stand up to Grandfather Cullen - not this way, not so boldly, not when his usual method was to redirect the conversation and hope that Grandfather Cullen would be less of a bastard if he was suitably distracted. But this - this is a red line, isn't it?
Masen swallows back the feelings trying to crawl over him.
"You!" Grandfather Cullen says angrily.
And like Carlisle earlier, Thomas just nods. "Me," he agrees.
"Get out! Get out, all of you!" Grandfather Cullen shouts.
Thomas Cullen sighs as his father storms out of the dining room. They all listen to a door slam across the house - Grandfather Cullen's den, most likely - and then they exchange weighted stares. Thomas is the first one to speak. "I should apologize to you all, as well," he says with a frown. "Especially to you, Masen. As your father, I have done you a disservice all these years. I...suppose I was hoping he would grow out of his baseless anger, but I was wrong. I should have fought for you the way Carlisle has. And Carlisle - I'm so sorry that you have been put in this position, and that you have been forced to make a choice at all. And Anne…"
"You can tell me I was right later," Anne says softly, coming around behind Masen and Carlisle to squeeze her arms around their shoulders. "For now, why don't we have a family dinner elsewhere?"
"But where?" Carlisle says. "It's Thanksgiving day. Surely there are no restaurants open…?"
Anne pats the top of his head. "Silly boy. I know my sons very well, and my husband, too. I've had reservations placed for two months, just in case. We're a little late, of course, but we can still make it."
Thomas laughs, startles, and Carlisle appears frankly gobsmacked. Masen's lips twitch, a not-so-private smile that lasts throughout their hastily revised dinner at one of San Francisco's lauded fusion restaurants. Like Carlisle, Masen has a sense of being free, somehow. The hurts of childhood are all still there, of course, but now they have dulled to something manageable, now they have a balm he can live with.
This lightweight feeling persists all through the drive home and beyond, even as he walks past the office space in Midnight Sun that will be consumed by their marathon work in the morning. It isn't until he's in the loft and sees Bella waiting for him, that cat perched in her lap, that it all truly comes crashing down - the shock of it all settling and reverberating and restoring his entire world order.
Bella stands and asks him how the dinner goes, but all Masen can do is shake his head and wrap his arms around her, pulling her close for the comfort of it and breathing in the scent of her shampoo. Between them, a shuttered breath escapes him and her small hands slip between his shoulders, rubbing comfortingly down the length of his spine.
"It's okay," she says, again and again.
Masen hadn't even realized he was shaking, or that a traitorous tear or two had escaped him. He lets himself hide away in the comfort of Bella's arms as the rest of his world realigns itself and settles into a new shape.
It's going to be okay. Masen actually believes it this time.
A/N: Update 3 of 3! You made it to the end! Writing the last half of this chapter was cathartic, but I still lowkey wanted to give Grandfather Cullen a stroke. He's such an asshole! Anyway, I don't think I have any relevant chapter notes for this one, since everything is pretty self-explanatory. Google Friendsgiving if you don't know what it is!
In other news, it looks like we might be seeing vaccines sooner than anyone thought - or at least, we might be seeing vaccines sooner for priority people. Now, who are priority people? There are two categories that we need, as a society, to make sure receive these safe vaccines first; healthcare workers at every level, including janitorial staff at hospitals, and farmers and food industry workers, specifically those who harvest food and work in factories (especially since these workers are already underpaid and underappreciated and are at higher risk more than most). After these two categories of people are taken care of, then we can rest assured that our collective society can continue to survive. From them, the next are high-risk people, such as those with disabilities, cancer, and chronic illness, regardless of age, and the family members who live with them (as well as the family members who live with healthcare workers and food industry workers). Then average healthy people are next in line. In other words, politicians and celebrities should not come first. Right now, our celebrities are the essential front-line workers that have kept us going, and they fully deserve the vaccines first and foremost. The rest of us will get by until late summer/early fall in 2021, which is probably when distribution will reach most everyone else. I encourage everyone to keep up on the news about the Moderna and Pfizer vaccines in particular since they seem the most promising, and to remember that even if this vaccine requires two shots, then there is already precedent for that (shingles vaccines, for example, require two doses).
We're nearing the end, folks. So stay safe, keep making smart choices, and don't let up the vigilance. We're all tired of the shutdowns and the lockdowns and the quarantines - but we all need to be strong. To get through it, look from the big picture to the small one - instead of dreading the next X amount of months, just make your goal bite-size to get through the next hour or the next day or the next week. We've already gotten this far. Now is not the time for a collective fuck up that will kill millions, rather than thousands.
The next update should be December 12, 2020.
~Rae