Tissue warning: if you know me, you know to take these serious.
11
I felt like I was on autopilot. Three days had passed since my mother had died and I still couldn't believe that she was gone. I'd made all the arrangements. Picked out her casket, wrote her obituary, sat down with the minister. He'd glared at Carlisle as he held me, as he supported me. I wasn't surprised, of course. Reverend Brandon, Alice's father, hadn't hidden his displeasure with my relationship with Carlisle, or of me in general, but I needed him too much to care what the good ole' reverend, or anyone else, thought about us. For all I cared, they could go to hell. Carlisle had been the one to hold me every night, soothing away my tears, and doing everything he could to just be there for me. And he would never know how much that meant to me.
"What time is it?" Carlisle groaned, sliding his hand across my abdomen and wrapping his fingers around my hip.
I looked at the clock. "Just after six."
Carlisle leaned up on his elbow. "Why are you awake?"
"Never really went to sleep," I murmured, rolling so that I was on my side and placing my hand on his chest. "I'm not ready for today."
"Nobody ever is," he whispered. "I know the last couple weeks with her had been difficult, but focus on the years of good times you had."
I scoffed. "I don't remember the good times with her. After my dad . . . she gave up on life, on me."
"She did," he admitted. "I wish I could take the pain away."
"Me too," I cried. "I loved her, Carlisle. Even though she hurt me, hurt you and the boys, I loved her."
"She was your mom," he said, wiping the tears from my face. "Of course you loved her."
Carlisle pulled me into his arms, nestling me against his chest. As he had done numerous times over the last three days, hell the last two weeks, he held me, loved me, took care of me. Nobody else saw this side of him, nobody but the small group of friends that we both had. They alone had been here to support me. Alice, Rose, and Emmett had brought my school work, not wanting me to risk missing graduation due to the bumps in the road that kept trying to take me down. First my mother's assault, which landed me in the hospital, and now her untimely death.
Edward and Jasper had been here, too, trying to keep the boys entertained. Of course, it didn't help. Michael and Tyler refused to leave my side, and honestly, I hadn't wanted them to. Those little boys had accepted me into their lives, welcomed me into their home, and let me love them. I may not have been their mother, but they were my boys, too.
Carlisle held me until we heard the boys moving around inside their room. Groaning, he climbed out of the bed and went to check on them, wanting to make sure they weren't doing something silly, like trying to make me breakfast in bed again. The morning before Carlisle had found them in the kitchen with a bowl, the carton of eggs, and a whisk. Michael had broken all the eggs into the bowl, along with most of the shells, and attempted to whisk them. Though he had gotten most of the egg mixture on the front of his shirt. Thankfully, neither of them had attempted to turn on the stove, and after an intense lecture from Carlisle, the three of them cleaned up the mess. And I stood in the doorway watching them.
Slipping out of bed, I wrapped my arms around my torso and padded downstairs. I could hear the three of them in the kitchen. Michael was trying to convince his father that a bowl of ice cream was perfectly acceptable at seven in the morning, while Tyler was screaming about wanting chocolate milk, not that disgusting white milk.
"Enough!" Carlisle exclaimed. Both Michael and Tyler quieted, knowing that when he used that tone, the one that was firm without yelling, he was serious. "No ice cream, and no chocolate milk. Sit at the table. Now."
"Yes, Dad," they muttered together, and when I walked into the room, they had just sat down at the table.
Of course, Tyler was on his feet in an instant and across the kitchen, throwing himself in my arms. Carlisle muttered something about him being too big to be held, but I ignored him and snuggled the boy further into my embrace.
"Are you hungry?" Carlisle asked, looking over at me.
"Not really," I admitted.
He nodded and turned to the fridge, pulling out the milk, a package of frozen waffles, the butter, and setting them all on the counter.
"Um, frozen waffles?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. "You don't make real ones?"
"No," he scoffed, shaking his head. "First, I don't have a waffle maker. Second, who does that?"
"Me," I laughed, leaning against the counter. "And they're good, too. But you won't know because you don't have a waffle maker."
"Hmm, well, maybe if I'm a good boy, someone will buy me one," he said, leaning around Tyler and kissing me.
"Daddy, stop!" Tyler whined, putting his hand on Carlisle's cheek and trying to push him away.
"And why should I?" he asked.
"Because she's my Bella. Not yours," he said, as if it was a fact.
Carlisle gasped. "What! She's yours?"
Tyler laughed and nodded. "Yep. All mine!"
"Nah-uh," Michael said, causing us to look over at him. "She's mine, too."
"But I don't want to share her," Tyler whined, ducking his head into the side of my neck.
"Sorry, Ty, but it's not fair for me to be just yours," I whispered, rubbing his back. "But you know what?"
"What?" he mumbled.
"You're one of my three favorite boys in the whole world."
He leaned back and looked at me. "Who are the other ones?"
"Michael, of course," I said, smiling. "I mean, big brothers are hard to come by, you know? And you have a pretty amazing big brother."
"That's true," Tyler admitted.
"And you can't tell him I said this, but your dad is one of them, too," I whispered, knowing full well that Carlisle could hear me. Especially when he winked at me.
"Is that why you kiss him all the time?" Tyler asked. "Because you like him?"
"Because I love him. And I love you, and I love Michael, too."
"We love you, too, Bella," Tyler giggled, laying his head on my shoulder. "More than Daddy."
"Not," Carlisle scoffed. "Nobody loves Isabella more than me, little man."
"Uh huh," he exclaimed, nodding his head enthusiastically. "Me and Michael do."
Narrowing his eyes at his son, Carlisle reached out and snatched the boy from my arms, covering his face in kissed, causing Tyler to squirm out of his arms and run over to the table in his quest to get away. Smirking, Carlisle wrapped his arms around me, dipped me backward, and placed a big kiss on my lips.
"Ew!" Michael and Tyler exclaimed, covering their eyes, but both of them were smiling.
"She's my woman, boys. Don't you forget that," he growled, playfully.
"Whatever," Michael scoffed, sounding eerily like their father.
Since Carlisle had claimed me as his, he returned his attention back to toasting them some waffles. I made Carlisle a pot of coffee, poured the boys some milk, and sat at the table next to Michael. Tyler was immediately in my lap, which I knew irritated Carlisle, but I loved. And right now, I needed all three of them close to me. It was selfish, this I knew, but they were the only family I had left.
Once the boys had eaten, Carlisle took them upstairs to take a bath and get ready for the funeral, and all at once reality slapped me in the face. I was burying my mother today, just two years after saying goodbye to my father. Eighteen years old and an orphan. They'd never see me graduate high school next week, go to college, get married, have babies.
With a sigh, I pushed away from the table and headed upstairs to the bedroom. My dress, the one Alice had bought me, was hanging on the back of the door. She'd brought it over the day before saying that I had enough on my mind without having to worry about what I was wearing to the funeral. Alice was good like that, though. She knew what I needed, and didn't need at the moment. Other than with Carlisle, Alice is the only person I'd been able to cry around. She'd been my person since I was born.
"Okay, the boys are getting dressed," Carlisle said, walking into our room. "Do you want to shower first?"
I looked over at him. "No, go ahead."
He frowned and wrapped his arms around me, placing a kiss on my lips. "It's okay to be sad. You know that, right?"
"I do," I murmured.
"Do you want to shower with me?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"I do," I admitted, "but the boys . . ."
"Yeah, I know," he grumbled. "We need to plan a date night soon. You graduate in a week. Maybe we should think about going away for the weekend."
"Who would keep the boys?" I asked.
"Jasper and Edward," he said. "I can see what Edward's schedule is for next weekend. If he has to work, then we could plan it for a weekend when he's off."
"Okay. A mini-vacation would be nice," I murmured. "Maybe . . ."
"Maybe what?" he asked.
"Well, we're moving to California, right?"
"Yes," he said.
"Don't you think we might need to find a place to live?" I pressed.
Carlisle grimaced. "I'd kind of forgotten about that."
"You forgot that we're going to need shelter?" I laughed when he nodded. "You're adorable, Carlisle. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"That doesn't sound like a compliment," he groused.
"Oh, but it was one," I snickered, leaning up on my toes and kissing him.
Carlisle grumbled something under his breath about me being a tease as he walked into the bathroom, leaving the door half-way open. A moment later, I heard the shower turn on. I sat on the side of the bed, trying once again to keep some sense of control over the tears that threatened to spill when I was alone. A few minutes had pasted when Tyler pushed open the door to our room. He was wearing a tiny black suit, which looked adorable on him.
He walked over and climbed onto my lap, laying his head against my chest. "Bella," he whispered.
"What, sweetie?"
"Why do mommies leave?" he asked.
Inhaling a deep breath, I considered my answer carefully. "Honestly? I don't know. Sometimes, like with my mommy, they get hurt and they can't stay."
"Did my mommy get hurt?" he whispered.
"Um," I stammered.
"No." At the sound of Carlisle's voice, we looked over to the bathroom. He stood in the doorway with just a towel wrapped around his waist. "She didn't get hurt. Not like Isabella's mommy."
"Did she stop loving me?" he asked, and I saw the anger in Carlisle's eyes. Because the truth was, Tanya hadn't loved her boys. Not enough to stay, anyway.
"No, she didn't stop love you, Ty. She . . . she just couldn't stay with me anymore."
"Oh," he said, reaching up and playing with my hair. "I'm glad."
"Why?" I asked, confused.
"Because if she hadn't left, you wouldn't be here, Bella," he whispered, his voice thick with unfallen tears.
"Oh, sweetie," I whimpered, unsure of what to say.
"Ty, go find Michael," Carlisle said, quietly.
Tyler nodded and climbed off my lap and walked out of the room. Carlisle shut the door behind him and looked over at me. "Does he ever ask anything that is easy to answer?"
"No," I scoffed.
"I agree with him, though."
I shifted my eyes to Carlisle.
"I'm glad Tanya left. I hate that she hurt my boys, but she wasn't supposed to be their mother, Isabella. You were."
My mouth opened and closed. "I'm not sure what to say to that."
"Too intense?" he asked, cringing.
"A little," I admitted. "I love you, Carlisle, and I love the boys. And they are mine, but she is their mother."
"I know. I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't be." I walked over to him, placing my hands on his hips and leaning up to kiss him. "I'm going to shower."
He hummed and kissed me again.
Half an hour later, I'd showered, dried my hair, and pulled it up in a ponytail, and slipped on the simple black dress Alice had gotten me. Once I had on the black flats, she'd left, I took a deep breath and made my way downstairs. Carlisle and the boys were in the living room with Edward and Jasper, who had the boys on their laps. Alice, Rose, and Emmett were standing by the bay window with Esme Platt.
Tall and thin with gorgeous auburn hair and large brown eyes, Esme was only a year older than me, Alice, Rose, and Emmett. I hadn't known her very well until she and Alice started dating, which was a shock to everyone. Nobody at school knew that Esme Platt, head cheerleader, homecoming queen, and valedictorian of her class, was a lesbian, until the day she walked up to Alice, pushed her against the lockers and kissed her. Apparently, they'd been secretly dating for a few weeks and Alice was getting frustrated that Esme was hiding her away, like she was a dirty little secret. While everyone knew that Alice was into chicks, Esme had kept her sexuality quiet. Things hadn't been easy for them. Much like when they found out about me and Carlisle, Alice and Esme endured a lot of staring and whispering.
Esme's mother had always suspected that her daughter was attracted to women and supported her, but Alice's parents threw an outright temper tantrum and tried to demand that Alice stop seeing Esme, saying that she was too young to be in such a serious relationship. But of course, Alice refused and eventually, they just resigned to the fact that their daughter was a lesbian and in love with Esme. They didn't call her names, hit her, almost kill her. No, my mother reacted like that, yet I was the bitch according to everyone.
"Hey, Bella," Esme said, pulling away from Alice and walked over to me. She reached out and grabbed my hands. "I am so sorry."
"Thanks," I murmured. "When you'd get in?"
"Last night," she replied. "As soon as Ali called, I packed up and left."
"You didn't have to do that," I grumbled.
"No, I didn't, but honestly, all I needed was an excuse. I missed her," Esme giggled, looking over her shoulder and winking at Alice, who was blushing.
"Stop that!" Alice snickered, shaking her head.
"Never," she laughed as she walked back over to Alice, sliding her arm around her waist and placing a kiss on her lips. "It's my favorite color on you."
"Ugh." Emmett pretended to gag. "Public displays of affection are gross!"
"Why?" Michael asked, drawing attention to the fact that he and Tyler were still in the room. "They like each other, right?"
"Um," Emmett paused and looked at me, clearly unsure on how he should proceed. "Yeah."
"Then why can't they show it?" he pressed, folding his arms in front of him. Carlisle, Edward, and Jasper were watching Emmett with amusement. Hell, so was I.
"I guess there isn't any reason why they can't," he stammered, once again looking to me for help.
I rolled my eyes. "Michael, will you and Tyler go get us a couple of umbrellas? It looks like it might rain."
They grumbled and whined, but climbed off Edward and Jasper's laps and walked into the kitchen to the garage. Once they were out of ear shot, I laughed and looked at Emmett. "Dude, you were letting a six year old stump you."
"He's a really smart six year old," he groused, causing everyone to laugh.
However, before anyone else could say anything, someone rang the doorbell. Seeing as not one person in Forks had come by in the last three days, other than Reverend Brandon, to offer me their condolences, I had no clue who was here. Carlisle stood up and walked over to the door, pulling it open. Standing there in the doorway were Garrett, Kate, and a tall man who looked eerily similar to Carlisle. The only difference was the color of his eyes and the fact that he was older.
"Hey," Carlisle said, hugging each one as they shuffled into the house. "Thanks for coming."
"Of course," Garrett whispered before looking over at me. "Bella, we're so sorry."
"Why are you here?" I asked.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean just what I said. You just moved to L.A. Why are you here?"
Garrett looked at Carlisle before turning back to me. "Because you're family."
As I stood there and stared at him, at Kate, and the man behind them, I felt my eyes fill with tears. "Family?" I whispered.
"Well, yeah," he said, sounding uncomfortable.
"Oh," I cried, wrapping my arms around myself and turning away from them, not wanting them to see me cry. Less than a heartbeat later, or so it felt, Carlisle had me in his arms, nestling me against his chest. I couldn't explain why them referring to me as family meant so much. They didn't know me. They'd only met me once and that was after Carlisle had quit his job for me.
"Shh, it's okay," Carlisle whispered, leading me into the kitchen, away from prying eyes.
"They came here for me," I cried. "For us."
"They did," he said. "They know you're important to me."
I tilted my head back and looked up at him. "But they didn't have to come back here for me. They could have sent flowers, a card. Hell, just a phone call. But they didn't. They came here."
"Are you upset that they came for the funeral?" he asked.
I shook my head, feeling my tears sprinkle down my cheeks. "Other than Alice, Rose, Emmett, and now you and them, nobody has ever called me their family before. I'm not used to so many people caring."
"Well, get used to it, Isabella," he whispered, sliding his fingers across my cheeks and wiping away my tears. "I love you, in case you'd forgotten."
I smiled. "I hadn't, but it's nice to hear. I love you, too."
Carlisle leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, one, twice, and then a third time before leaning away and wrapping his arm around my waist and leading me back into the living room, where everyone was sitting around awkwardly.
Garrett was immediately on his feet. "Bella, we're sorry if our presence here upset you. We just thought you'd need the support."
"I do," I said. "And you have no reason to be sorry. It's been an overwhelming few days. I apologize for reacting like I did."
"Don't be sorry," the man sitting next to Kate said. "You lost your mother. It's understandable."
I nodded, and looked at Carlisle, waiting for him to introduce us, but he didn't, so I turned back to him. "I'm assuming you're Marcus."
He laughed and stood up, walking over to me and offering me his hand. "Indeed I am. It's nice to meet you, Bella. I've heard a lot about you."
"It's nice to meet you, too," I murmured, shaking his hand. "And I hope some of it was good."
"All of it," he said, winking at me before looking over at Carlisle. "You were right."
"I know," Carlisle replied, but didn't elaborate. "Have you meet everyone?"
Marcus nodded and looked around the room, his eyes landing on my friends but he didn't say anything. He didn't need to. I knew he was wondering about the age gap in the room. Carlisle was ten years older than me, Marcus was thirty-two from what Carlisle told me. Edward and Jasper were thirty, while Garrett and Kate were twenty-five. And then there were my friends, eighteen and nineteen years old. But they were my family, too. Each and every one of them had been here for me, for Carlisle, and for the boys.
"Well, we should get going," Jasper said, standing up as Michael and Tyler came back in, their arms full of umbrellas.
I almost laughed when they passed one out to everyone and Emmett ended up with a child's umbrella with dinosaurs on it. They liked him, and that meant the world to me. Jasper and Edward offered to take the boys with them, in case they got upset during the service, but when they started fussing about wanting to stay with me, I insisted that they'd be fine. They were scared and needed some consistency, and I was willing to provide it. Besides, I needed them, too.
The ride to the church was awkward and tense. Carlisle held my hand tightly in his, only releasing it when he pulled into a parking space in front of the Methodist church. Once he had the boys out of their seats, the four of us made our way up the small path to the entrance of the church, where Reverend Brandon was waiting. His eyes flittered from Carlisle, who had his arm around my waist, to the boys, who were holding my hands, to his daughter, who was holding Esme's hand, and he scowled.
"Mary Alice," he gritted out, reaching for her. His fingers wrapped around the top of her arm and he pulled her to him. "Don't embarrass me."
"I'm not," she argued, ripping her arm out of his grip. Behind them, Marcus, Garrett, and Kate were looking from her to him. "We've had this discussion, Dad."
Reverend Brandon huffed, but didn't say anything as he led us inside. The church was packed, which I thought was ironic. Most of these people hadn't as much as spoken to my mother in the last year. As we made our way down to the front of the sanctuary, with Carlisle's arm still wrapped firmly around my waist, I heard people muttering about how ungrateful I was, how I was flaunting my sins in my mother's face.
Dr. Gerandy and his wife sat on the fourth row, glaring at Carlisle as we walked by. I resisted the urge to lash out at him. He'd done nothing but make our lives hell, and he had the nerve to show up to my mother's funeral. However, I'd wasted enough time on him, on letting my anger fester, so I ignored him, choose to take the higher road.
Mr. Varner was sitting next to Mr. Owens, who was next to Senora Goff, James Greene, Riley and Victoria Biers, and Dr. Banner. Mr. Varner's eyes bored into me, following me as we walked back. Like with Dr. Gerandy, I resisted the urge to scream at him to stop leering at me. He made me uncomfortable and uneasy.
As we took our seats, Reverend Brandon stepped up behind the podium, placing his hands on both side and started talking about how amazing my mother was. And once upon a time, she was. She was kind and gentle, loving and sweet. But she changed. I changed, and with that change, our relationship suffered. She turned to alcohol, letting her grief get the better of her, and in the end, that's what killed her.
Michael and Tyler leaned their heads against my chest while we prayed, read scripture from the bible, sang hymns that meant nothing, not today anyway. The rest of the funeral was a blur. Carlisle kept his arm around me, the boys sat on my lap, trying to soothe me, while letting their own tears fall. Not because they were grieving the death of my mother, but because I was.
Before I realized it, we were standing in the cemetery, in front of a large, empty grave. A pile of dirt covered by a green tarp mocked me, taunting me about how it would cover my mother, taking her away from me forever. But she had left me two years ago. Yet, I cried for her. Grieved for her. Missed her. Loved her.
"Isabella, are you ready to go home?" Carlisle whispered, and I tore my attention away from the hole and looked over at him. "If not, that's okay. I'll wait as long as you need."
"Um," I whimpered. "I'm ready."
"Are you sure?" he asked, bringing his hand up to my face.
I nodded. "Take me home."
Carlisle pressed his lips against mine before motioning for the boys, who were standing off to the side with Garrett and Marcus. However, before he could say anything, I heard Dr. Gerandy's voice. "Can't believe that little bitch has the nerve to bring him to her mother's funeral. Such disrespect."
A collective silence filled the air as everyone who was still at the cemetery, including Reverend Brandon, looked over at him. My eyes closed for a moment before I turned and walked over to him, ignoring the way Carlisle was grabbing at my arm to stop me. When I was within arm's length, I threw my arm back and punched him.
"Fuck you!" I screamed, trying to hit him again, but unable to as Carlisle pulled me away. "You're an asshole. Who gives you the right to judge me? To judge us? You're just a spiteful old man. I hope you rot in hell with my mother!"
Another gasp resounded around us, and I took a deep breath, realizing what I'd said. Pulling myself out of Carlisle's arms, I ran to the car and climbed in. I'd just wished him into hell, blurted out that I thought my mother was in hell. Tears rocketed through me, but I was unable to stop them. The door to the car opened and Carlisle slid in behind the wheel, started the car, and drove away without a word.
Before I realized it, we were parked outside of his cabin. I scrambled out of the car and rushed inside, gasping for air and struggling to stop my tears from falling. Carlisle followed me inside, standing next to the door and just watching me, letting me cry. I wrapped my arms around my torso and looked back at him.
"She's dead," I whispered.
"I know," he murmured.
"I'm never going to see her again," I cried. "Ever."
He sighed and nodded. "I know."
Dragging my hands over my face, I pulled the rubber band from my hair. "I hate wearing my hair up. Gives me a headache. Crying makes my head hurt. Getting thrown to the ground, hutting my head on cement steps hurts. Having my mother call me a whore hurts, Carlisle."
"I know," he said again, pushing away from the door and walking over to me. His hands came up to my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" I asked. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Neither did you," he told me.
My eyes closed and I leaned into his touch. "Love me."
"I do," he murmured.
"Make love to me," I whimpered.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "You've had a long day."
"Which is why I need you to touch me."
Before he could protest any longer, I leaned up on my toes and kissed him, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. Carlisle moaned, his hands sliding from my face, down my arms to my back. He unzipped my dress, sliding it down my arms and letting it pool at my feet. I quickly unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it down his arms along with his jacket. While Carlisle unhooked my bra, I ridded him with of his belt, unbuckling his pants and pushing them down to his feet.
In a frenzy, Carlisle kicked the rest of his clothes off, ripping my panties up, and grabbing my ass, effectively lifting me off the ground. He pressed me against the wall, leaning his forehead against mine.
"I love you," he whispered. "I love you so fucking much."
"I love you, too," I whimpered, sliding my hands into his hair.
And as he thrust his upward, filling me with his cock, his lips found mine. In that brief moment, I just let him love me.
Thank you for all the reviews. We have 13 more chapters left, and then onto the sequel. What's the title to the sequel you ask? Well, I'm ain't telling because it will give too much away!