18

Even though Carlisle insisted that it was okay that I accompany him to his interview, I still felt out of place. Especially, since we didn't have time to change into something nicer. He'd already lost one job because of our relationship, even though he had been the one to quit. I didn't want to be the reason for him to miss out on what could be a great opportunity for him and his career.

"You need to stop worrying," Carlisle said as he pulled into the parking lot in front of the large, brick building. Three stories high, the building was very modern, with a lot of large windows and a feeling of ease and calm.

I smiled. "I'm trying."

"I know you are," he replied, parking in one of the visitor's spaces and turning the car off. He shifted in his seat so that he was facing me. "I'm not going to hide you here anymore than I did in Forks, Isabella. You are going to be my wife, my lover, and I will not start a life here with you hiding in the shadows just because people can't get over the fact that I'm a few years older than you."

"I'm sorry. It's just after the last few weeks, I feel very defensive about us," I murmured. "Like I have to convince people that we're really in love."

"I do, too, but San Francisco is not Forks. The people here aren't going to care that we're together," he said, and I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more: me or himself. He'd already admitted that his family was a part of high society, that the press would be watching us. "Please, just trust me."

"I do trust you, lover," I told him, reaching over and taking hold of his hand. "It's the rest of the assholes that I don't trust."

"Touché, Isabella," he laughed. "But you're forgetting something."

"What's that?" I asked.

He smirked as he leaned over so that his lips were barely touching mine. "I'm a greedy bastard, and I don't give up on what, or who, I want. And, baby, you're mine."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I acknowledged the truth in them. I was his, I had been since the first night I babysat the boys. But like I was his, he was mine, and I wouldn't give him up, not now that I've finally gotten him.

"Now, are you ready?" he asked.

I took a deep breath and nodded, knowing that I'd never be ready.

Carlisle smiled as he climbed out of the car and came around to my side, offering me his hand and helping me out. As we headed into the building, my legs felt like lead weights had been wrapped around my ankles. It was ridiculous, of course, for me to be worried. Carlisle loved me. He'd proven that fact to me twenty times over since we'd finally admitted how we felt about each other.

It was hard to believe that only a few weeks had passed since the night I'd been called in to babysit the boy, the night he insisted that I stay at his house, and told me that he wanted me, that he needed to touch me, to make love to me. Felt like a lifetime had passed, like he'd always been mine. Maybe he had, maybe God — if there was a God — meant for us to be together, meant for his boys to become mine.

The lobby of the building was breathtaking. Wide open and completely made of glass, the area felt comfortable and easy, like a summer morning or an afternoon spent in a hammock. In the middle of the lobby, behind a large, three-sided desk covered with magazines, clipboards, and stacks of charts, sat a woman with dark black hair and dark eyes. She looked over at us, a smile spreading over her lips.

"May I help you?" she asked, standing up.

"Yes, I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. I was asked to come in and talk to a Dr. Dwyer," Carlisle explained, his voice calm and even, like he wasn't getting ready to interview for the biggest chance of his short career.

"Of course. I'm Dr. Charlotte Sinclair, obstetrics and gynecology. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Cullen. I've heard so much about you."

"Oh, um, thanks," he mumbled, and I wondered just how far his name went in the city.

"You're welcome," she said cheerfully before looking over at me. "And who's this?"

"Oh, um, sorry," Carlisle grumbled, sounding embarrassed, and for a moment, I wondered if he was embarrassed by me. But then again, he'd insisted that I come with him, telling more over and over that he valued my opinion. "This is my fiancé, Isabella."

"It's Bella," I intersected and when Carlisle cocked an eyebrow at me, I added, "You're the only one I allow to call me Isabella."

He smiled and the tips of his ears turned bright red.

"Congratulations!" she cheered, reaching across the desk and grabbing my hand. "It's lovely to meet you, as well."

"Yeah, you too," I murmured.

Charlotte smiled before she turned back to Carlisle. "Forgive me. I'd show you up to Dr. Dwyer's office, but our receptionist is out sick today, so I'm covering the front desk." She laughed. "Anyway, take the elevator up to the third floor. Turn left and his office is the fifth door on the right."

"Thanks," Carlisle told her before leading me to the elevator. Once the doors were shut, he blew out a heavy breath. "She was friendly."

"Hmm," I hummed. "That she was."

The doors opened on the third floor and the two of us stepped out, headed down the hallway to the left, and stopped in front of the fifth door on the right, just as Charlotte instructed us, too. A black and white name-plate was on the door and the name "Dr. Phillip Dwyer" was etched into it. Before Carlisle could knock, however, the door was pulled open and we found ourselves face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered man with thick, black hair and deep, almost charcoal-black eyes. Unlike most doctors that I'd seen, he wasn't wearing a suit, or a pair of scrubs. Instead, he was wearing a pair of warn blue jeans and a black T-shirt with the crossing bones and skull that symbolized poison. An odd choice for a doctor, I though, and certainly nothing that Dr. Gerandy would accepting of, not that he was accepting of anything.

The man looked from Carlisle to me, his smile widening, before he turned his attention back to Carlisle, thrusting his hand toward him. "Dr. Cullen?"

He nodded and gripped his hand firmly. "Dr. Dwyer, I presume?"

"Call me Phil," he laughed, like full-out guffawed as he took a step backward. "Please, come in."

Carlisle tightened his arm around my waist as he led me into the large office. I was expecting something different, stuffier, but the room, like much of the building rom what I could tell, was very modern. A large metal and glass desk was placed in the middle of the room, a state-of-the-art laptop and a stack of files were on top, but there was nothing thing else. No phone, no pens, no photographs of his family. The walls were covered in modern art, paintings of nearly nude women wrapped in the arms of nearly nude men. On the far side of the large office was a long, red suede sofa. A metal and glass coffee table separated it from to arm chairs, both of which were red and white plaid.

"I can't tell you how thankful I was to hear that you were looking for a new job, and that you were in the city this weekend," Phil added, gesturing for us to sit on the sofa while he settled on the one of the chairs. Once we were seated, he crossed his legs and shifted his attention to me. "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it," I told him, causing him to smile wider.

"Which is why I didn't get it," he snickered.

"I'm Bella, Carlisle's fiancé," I said.

His eyes brightened as he turned from me to Carlisle. "I hadn't heard that you were engaged! Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Carlisle replied. "How'd you hear I was looking for a job? I've only sent my resume out to a few hospitals."

Phil gave us a sheepish smile, almost like he was ashamed. "I'll admit that I bribe the secretary at Mercy General to alert me when a promising candidate submits their application. It's the only way I can stay ahead of the curve, try to snag a few doctors for my little clinic."

"This is hardly a little clinic," Carlisle scoffed.

"It's coming along," he replied. "Slowly, but it's starting to shape up. And you'd be a great addition to my staff."

"What makes you think I'm interested?" Carlisle asked.

"Because you're sitting across from me, Dr. Cullen," Phil said with a bit of a smirk. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, placing an elbow on each knee and clasping his hands together. "I'm going to be completely honest here: I need you. The co-op is fairly new, and it's hard to compete with larger hospitals and clinics, but there is a real need for a place like this. We offer full medical services for the entire family. Pediatrics, family medicine, emergent care, psychiatric, and women's health, but we're unable to handle the traffic that we're seeing. I'm looking for help, for doctors who are committed to providing quality healthcare. And from what I'm hearing, you're exactly the type of doctor that we're looking for."

"What makes you think so?" Carlisle asked.

Phil leaned back in his chair. "In your four years in Forks, you've had a low morality percent, numerous positive evaluations from your patients, who speak highly of your bedside manner and considerate nature while treating them."

"Excuse me for being blunt, Dr. Dwyer, but you seem to know a lot about me and my practice," Carlisle stated.

"It's Phil, Dr. Cullen, and I did my homework. To be honest, everyone in the medical business knows about the Cullens. Your father and brother have made quite the name for themselves."

Beside me, I felt Carlisle tense at the mention of his family. "So you want me to come work for you because I'm a Cullen, and not because I'm a good doctor."

"No, no, please don't misunderstand me." Phil was quick to backtrack, putting his hands up. "I want you to come work with me because you're an astounding physician, not because of who you are. I simply meant that your family is known in the business, so I had heard a lot about you. But when I talked to some of your co-workers in Washington, I realized that you're more than just a Cullen, which is why I called."

"And who did you speak to?" Carlisle asked, and I knew he was thinking the same at me. If Dr. Gerandy had been the person on the other end of the phone call, we could have a lot of explaining to do.

"Dr. Mead, Dr. Johanseen, Dr. Hendricks, and Dr. Mason," Phil rattled off.

"I see." Carlisle inhaled a sharp breath. "Can't say I'm happy to hear that you've been calling around about me, especially without my knowledge."

"I apologize if I've overstepped my bounds, but I'm desperate here. We're having to turn patients away because we simply do not have the staff to take them, and I hate it because these people are looking for affordable health care for their entire families." Phil shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I was wrong for calling you, but from everything I've heard about you, I thought you were the type of doctor who looked past the bureaucracy and looked at the people we're treating."

"You weren't wrong," Carlisle admitted, smiling when Phil shifted his eyes back to him. "To be honest, I'm intrigued, but Isabella and I have two boys to think about, so I need to know that if I come work here, I'll be able to support my family."

"Fair enough." Phil nodded and stood up, walking over to his desk and picking up a small folder. He took his seat and handed Carlisle the folder. "This is what I'm prepared to offer. We'd make you a partner, giving you a percentage of our profits on top of providing full medical, dental, and a substantial life insurance policy. Well, I'll let you go through it yourself, but I'd really like you to consider my offer."

Carlisle shifted his eyes to me. "I'll read over everything and let you know."

"Thank you," Phil said. "And thank you for coming in during your vacation."

"It's fine," he told him, standing up and pulling me to my feet. "But if you don't mind, we'd like to enjoy the rest of our day."

"Of course." Phil stood up and walked us over to the door to his office, opening it for us. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Carlisle didn't say anything as we made our way back to the car, bypassing Charlotte who bid us a good day with a smile on her face. As we sat in the front seat of the mustang convertible he'd rented, I wasn't sure what to say to him, how to proceed, because all of this was way above my pay grade. I knew nothing about medicine, the way clinics like these worked, or what was a good deal or not. So instead of putting my two cents in, I simply sat there and waited while he processed everything.

"It would crazy to join him, wouldn't it?" Carlisle finally asked, shifting his eyes from the stack of papers propped up against the stirring wheel.

"No," I said. "You said it yourself: this could be a chance for you to have normal hours. Home for dinner and weekends."

He nodded and looked back at the papers. "How do I know he doesn't want me just because my last name is Cullen?"

"You don't," I replied, sliding my hand over his forearm. "What's your gut telling you, Carlisle?"

He smiled and turned toward me. "That I should take the job."

"Then there you go," I laughed.

"That easy, huh?" he scoffed.

I smirked. "Yep."

"Oh, okay." He shook his head, shoved the papers back into the folder, and handed it to me before starting the car and pulling on his seatbelt. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Me, too," I said. "Can we stop by the hotel first, though? I need to put more sunblock on. Not used to this much sun."

"Sure, no problem," Carlisle chuckled.

When we arrived back at the hotel, I was surprised to see a crowd of photographers huddling next to the front door, much to the chagrin if the doorman, who had a steely glare pointed in their direction as he opened my car door and helped me out. As the photographers began snapping pictures, calling out for us to look at them, Carlisle rushed to my side, wrapped his arm around my waist, and ushered me inside, yelling at the doorman to keep them out of the hotel.

"Fucking sharks," Carlisle muttered as he began to lead me to the elevator.

"Oh, Dr. Cullen." The sound of his name being called had his attention being pulled to the concierge's desk, where the woman from the day before when we checked in stood with a smile on her face. "I have a message for you."

"From?" Carlisle asked, leading me over to her and taking the piece of paper from her, opening it at the fold. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath before he said, "Thank you," wrapped his arm around my waist, and led me to the elevator.

"Are the boys okay?" I asked.

"What?" He looked confused so I tilted my head toward the note clutched in his hand. "Oh, no, I'm sure the boys are fine. It's . . ." He huffed. "It's from my father." Carlisle eyed me carefully as he spoke again. "He's insisting that we meet him for dinner, and he won't take no for an answer."

"Oh," I said, because I wasn't sure what else to say. I mean, everything that I'd heard about the man hadn't left a good impression, and I could only imagine what he'd think about Carlisle's much younger fiancé.

Three hours later, I once again found myself sitting in the passenger seat of the mustang with Carlisle behind the wheel. I could tell he was nervous about our dinner with his father. Hell, so was I. I hadn't been prepared to meet his father, to meet the man who refused to meet his first born grandson, yet here I was in a dress that cost more than I'd never seen. Carlisle had called down to the front desk and asked them to arrange for a dress for me and a suit for him, and an hour later they were laid across our bed.

The black and white satin, floral, strapless, bubble cocktail dress was beautiful, but it wasn't me. It was something Alice would wear to the homecoming dance, yet here I say wearing it because I had to make a good impression on Carlisle's father. Not only was I wearing a dress I wasn't comfortable in, but I was sporting a pair of four inch heels, too. The things I did for love, at least that was what I told myself.

"Did you call the boys?" I asked, looking over at him as he stopped at a red light.

"While you were in the shower," he replied, smiling. "Alice and Esme took them to the park, then to the Dairy Shack, and they were going to camp out in the living room, eat popcorn, and watch scary movies, which is code for Scooby Doo."

I laughed. "Sounds like they're having a blast."

"I miss them, though," he said. "This is the longest I've ever been away from them."

"I know. I miss them, too." I reached over and placed my hand on his knee. "I think we should buy the house."

His eyes widened. "Yeah? You're not freaked out by the price tag still?"

"Hell, yeah, I am," I scoffed. "It's a ridiculous amount to spend on a house, but I love it. Felt like home, you know?"

He smiled. "I do. I'll call Celia in the morning and put in an official offer."

"I love you. You know that, right?"

Carlisle pulled up in front of an expensive, five-star restaurant. "I do. And I love you, too. Now, are you ready?"

I released a shaky breath as I looked at the restaurant. "I don't know."

And I didn't. Meeting Carlisle's father scared me more than I wanted to admit, and I couldn't shake the feeling that if he didn't like me, the world as I knew it would change, and I wasn't sure that change would be for the better, either.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! You're all flipping awesome! So, how do you think Daddy Cullen is going to take Carlisle's relationship with the young and beautiful Isabella? Leave me a few words and let me know!