Glossary terms: zija - aunt in Maltese

ħal - uncle (maternal) in Maltese

Emmett

A day spent at sea without having to worry about donning a wetsuit to dive or worrying about research is an unexpected surprise. I find that I love being on the open water. I'm sure the luxury sailing yacht doesn't hurt, but I'm trying not to get too used to that.

Rose spent a good portion of the afternoon sunning herself on the deck while Esme and I spoke very candidly about Carlisle and his … interests. Carlisle Cullen has always been a bit of a wild card, a black sheep in the world of academia. But what he lacks in what most people would call tact, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

And I've never been able to fault him for that.

"I just got off the phone with Car, and he's just tickled to see you. How long has it been?" Esme approaches me on the bow. I've been taking in the marina in Malta as we glide through the water.

"Oh, let me think, I guess close to ten years now." She sidles up next to me as the boat glides across the glass-like surface as the crew navigates us to Cullen's dock.

"You weren't at the wedding." It isn't an accusation, simply an observation.

"I was under the impression that the McCarty family was being represented. I didn't want to detract from your day in any way." I swing my eyes over to look at this woman who has been nothing but kind and accommodating this entire journey.

"Carlisle was … disappointed." We both turn when we hear Rosalie appear on the upper deck, talking to one of the crew. "Does she know?"

Leaning back on the railing, watching Rose charm everyone in her path, I smile. "No, she doesn't know."

"He'll tell her. Not out of malice but because he's proud."

"I know."

Esme focuses on me. "Do you? Your pictures are everywhere. Framed newspaper articles about you. You sent things to him, not your parents. He kept them all. He—"

"I know." I sigh deeply as Rose makes her way over. "I'll tell her."

Esme pats my cheek. "He always said you were a good boy, a good man."

"Zija." I smile as her eyes water for a brief moment. When Rose approaches, she looks between us.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Of course not. Welcome to Malta." Esme disappears, giving me the opportunity to confide in Rose. If we're doing this for real, she needs to know who supported me all those years after I ran away from home.

"I need to tell you something about Carlisle Cullen. There's a reason he's always been willing to help me and why he jumped to help us now." I drag her over to a couple of deck chairs, pulling her down with me, telling her everything.

He's the eccentric uncle that my mother tried to hide. The uncle who encouraged me to explore, to get dirty, to learn all I could about anything that struck my fancy. Carlisle is actually the one who took me in and supported me when I left home.

"He's the one who was there when I walked across the stage to accept my high school diploma and when I received my doctorate. He's the one who I sent artifacts to and wrestling trophies. He's been more of a father to me than mine ever tried to be, but I never let him." Rose is just staring at me, forehead creased, deep in thought. "Say something, Jones. You're killing me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Pulling me into her arms, she hugs me close. "If you were ever worried about DNA or who your family is"—she pulls away and jerks a thumb over her shoulder—"it's here."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner or ever, at any time before."

"You told me now. That matters more than me never finding out from you. And it explains why he was always so weirdly into you." She laughs, making me groan.

"Come meet my ħal. You know how much he adores you." We walk hand in hand off the boat, down the dock, and into the backseat of a restored 1966 Alfa Romeo Giulia in a hideous teal.

"Come, Carlisle is dying to see you. The crew will bring your belongings behind us." Esme climbs into the front seat and begins chattering to the driver in rapid-fire Maltese as he winds through the streets.

As the driver pulls up to an outlandish villa, I hear Rose gasp beside me. "Calm down, Indy. Crazy Carlisle, remember?"

"I heard that." Esme quips from the front but shoots us both a smile as we all climb out of the car. We're both staring at our surroundings in awe. The stonework is breathtaking. I can tell that during the day, it has views of the sea and the countryside, and while it's certainly ostentatious, it's obviously been refurbished with love and care.

I seem to be mesmerized by a large fountain even though I just spent almost a full day at sea when I hear boisterous laughter behind me.

"Emmett McCarty, as I live and breathe." Rose and I turn to see Carlisle Cullen descending the front steps. Decked in linen pants without a single crease, his usual Cubavera, loafers, and enough scarves to make Jack Sparrow jealous. "Welcome to Palazzo Lemuria."