A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 7 – Elusively More
Bella
"Where's Leah? Isn't she supposed to be setting out all these dishes we've prepared?"
"Still sleeping," I smirked.
"Still sleeping?" Emily exclaimed. She shook her head. "It was my turn to prep. You're having a great day, so you're cooking, but she was supposed to set everything out."
"Watch her stroll down all Sleeping-Beauty-like just as everything's conveniently set on the table."
"That little…teenager!" Emily chuckled.
"That's my god-sister. It's fine," I grinned. "Now she gets to share the real shit job with Emmett and the Chief."
"Clean up!" We yelled simultaneously, laughing together.
As Emily had just mentioned, it was yet another good day, the type of day when working with a hot pan felt simultaneously blasé and extraordinary – like a piece of white toast drizzled with truffle oil. On Sundays like this, I happily claimed the job of brunch cook while the rest divvied up the rest of the jobs amongst themselves.
While I got to work on the last dish, Emily lazed next to me with her arms crossed and her backside resting against the kitchen counter, her job done. Sue had gone to the front porch about a quarter of an hour ago to grab some herbs from the potted garden, but she still hadn't returned. Which was fine. On Sundays, we forced her and my godfather to take it easy. From a few rooms away, I heard the TV tuned to some game or other, and I pictured Chief Swan plopped in his lounger, enjoying his morning off and waiting for his well-deserved brunch.
"Hey, where are Emmett and Rose? They're usually here by now."
"Don't know," Emily shrugged, grinning more impishly than what I thought the reply merited. "I'm sure they'll be here soon enough."
"Hm. And do you know if Gianna's stopping by this morning?" I asked. "I want to make sure I make enough of this."
Em's grin abruptly vanished. "Why would Gianna be stopping by? She's not part of our Sunday brunch."
"Whoa," I snickered, jerking back my head. "Settle down, Regina George. I think I heard her mention something at the barbecue the other night about stopping by this afternoon. She wanted to drop off the latest draft of the tourism venture business plan before Monday."
"You mean the one that you and Sue have put together with a minuscule bit of helpful input from Gianna?"
"Hey, writing's not her strong suit. It happens. And since when are you so Gianna-averse?"
"I'm not Gianna-averse," Emily retorted. "It's just inconvenient for her to show up to today's brunch. She was a little too friendly…anyway."
"Inconvenient? Too friendly?" I snorted. "You know my godparents' policy – or at least, Sue's policy: the more, the merrier."
"Mm. Just add lots of eggs in there, I guess," she muttered. "Okay, so back to picking our afternoon hiking trail, how about the Hoh River Trail to Mineral Creek Falls? That's a pretty trail. It loops around the rainforest and along the river with spectacular views of the mountains."
I tipped the hot pan carefully from side to side, forming a whimsical spiral pattern around the hot surface.
"It's a pretty trail. I'll give you that. But it's too easy."
"Too easy?" Emily scoffed. "It's almost six miles round-trip."
"Yeah, but it's six miles of flat terrain, and every tourist within a fifty-mile radius rushes to hike the Hoh River Trail on weekends. Anyway," I sighed, "I need a challenge today, an adrenaline-inducing and wholly-engrossing challenge that'll engage all my senses."
"Didn't yesterday's surfing work to induce your adrenaline?" she teased.
"It did for a while, but then…"
Then, he'd shown up, emerged from beach's mist like a sailor returned from sea – a sailor and his sweet little first mate. But I wasn't about to say any of that.
"The point is," I said instead, "I don't want to hike something as easy as the Hoh River Trail, okay? This pan's ready. Pass me the onions."
"All right," Emily said, but her tone indicated she wasn't wholly confident in that 'all right.' Nonetheless, she reached for the small bowl of chopped onions and passed it over. "How about we head to Hole-in-the-Wall from Rialto Beach?"
"No. No beaches."
It took me a second to realize I'd turned down that suggestion way too aggressively, the way someone might turn down a dip in shark-infested waters. I pressed my lips together, then, taking a couple of long breaths through my nostrils and inhaling the smoky and savory scent swirling in the air like a First Beach morning mist, I calmly exhaled.
"I need to clear my head of beaches and lean-framed, sea-wind-tousled, wet-suit wearing tourists."
"Of what now?"
"Nothing. No beaches. Pass me the peppers."
"O-kay," Em agreed, downgrading me from 'all right.' "How about the Lovers Lane trail? That one's got great waterfalls at the end of the-" She cut herself off. "What's with the heavy sighing now? Bella, very few people know about that trail, and therefore, it doesn't get a lot of tourists, and it requires hiking over six miles of rugged terrain before you arrive at the waterfalls. And," she added, pointing at me, "you just said you wanted something with a bit more bite."
"Not Lovers Lane."
"You're acting weird today."
"I'm acting weird?" I asked, but the bizarre, high-pitched chuckle that followed the question may have negated the attempt to play dumb.
"Don't play dumb. First, you text me this morning and tell me you're having another good day – which is great," she grinned, offering me a pair of thumbs-up. "Then you tell me to be ready for a hike after brunch, which is also thumbs up, but now, you're turning down every trail I suggest, and for weird reasons."
Angling sideways, I quirked a brow at her. "I don't think my reasons are weird. Em, you're smart, and you run your own business, which is always a checkmark in the 'pros' column. You're cute, and you've got this adorable dimple that appears right here when you smile." I pinched her right cheek. "Plus, you've got a great ass. All in all, you're a catch, but as much as it shames me to admit it, I do tend to prefer someone with a penis."
Emily laughed, pushing away from the counter to bump her big ass against mine. "What does that have to do with Lovers Lane?"
"I have zero interest in hiking Lovers Lane hand in hand with you, gazing out at quixotic, picturesque views of the Olympic Mountains, then swimming naked beneath the gurgling waterfalls before drying out in the sunlight-dappled meadow. And finally, ending the day by making love to the sound of the birds' chirping…then falling asleep under the stars." Turning back to the pan, I resumed my sauteing. "Pass the mushrooms, please."
"Never mind weird. You're insane this morning." She handed over the bowl of mushrooms, then once again took up a study of me.
"Stop that," I snapped.
"It's just that you put quite a lot of detail into that Lovers Lane hike description," she grinned.
"Only to illustrate why you'd prefer hiking Lovers Lane with Diego rather than with me."
"To illustrate why I'd prefer hiking Lovers Lane with someone with a penis, huh?"
"Exactly! All right then. Pass me the eggs."
She passed the eggs. "If I were in the mood for the type of hike you just described, strolling hand in hand with my lover, stopping for mountain-backdrop-make-out-sessions, skinny-dipping in waterfalls before ending it all legs up to the stars – shit, that does sound good – then you'd be right. But that's not where my mind was right now. My mind was on hiking with my buddy cuz she's having another one of her great days. You, however, seem to have a mind just overflowing with thoughts of summer tourists this morning."
"My mind is on thoughts of avoiding summer tourists," I clarified, "at least, most of them. Little Tristan Cullen is the exception."
Tristan. As I recalled his adorable voice and his little cherub face, an irrepressible smile spread across my own face. Even at his young age, it was plain to see that his level of inquisitiveness and intelligence was extraordinary, his imagination unique. And despite the roundness of babyhood still imprinted in his features, it was also apparent that those features would, over the years, mature into ones that would very much resemble…well, very much resemble his father.
"He's adorable, isn't he?" I whispered.
"I don't know that I'd call him adorable, more like sizzlin'" Emily said. "I mean, yeah, he's a tiny bit stiff and a little rough around the edges, but it doesn't sound like he's gotten out much since-"
"Who the hell are you talking about?" I frowned.
"Who are you talking about?"
"Tristan!"
"Oh." Emily nodded. "We're still on Tristan. In that case, yes. Yes, adorable is the correct term to describe Tristan."
I pointed my spatula at her. "He is adorable. I saw him at the beach again yesterday."
"I heard," Emily grinned.
"Of course, you did. It's just…every time I see him, he grows on me more and more."
"Mm. Interesting how he grows on you."
"Now, the other tourists, they're everywhere so far this summer too, popping up wherever I go – pubs, barbecues…beaches. It's overwhelming."
"Overwhelming, is it? And you can blame whoever wrote that article about Forks in the Seattle Times for all our tourists this summer."
"I know. Damn anonymous writer. They probably had no clue the trouble they'd cause. But like I said," – I turned back to my sautéing – "Tristan is the exception."
Emily chuckled. When she reached into the pan, gingerly plucked out a nicely sauteed mushroom, and opened her mouth, I thanked my lucky stars she was choosing to stuff her face and end the convo.
Unfortunately, the mushroom remained poised in midair.
I sighed. "What now?"
"Tell me something…"
"I already don't like the sound of this, but tell you what?"
"This sudden aversion of yours to summer tourists-"
"Except for Tristan," I qualified.
"Except for tiny Tristan," Emily agreed, "are we talking about summer tourists in general…or would this be more related to a certain visitor to Forks who happens to be tall, good-looking, copper-haired, a single-dad, and an attorney-at-law who-"
"-who accused me of being the town lush?"
"-who hasn't been able to keep his eyes – and apparently, his mind – off you since the moment he- Hey!"
When I smacked the mushroom out of her hand, it plopped to the floor.
Emily glared at me.
"Oh, were you planning on eating that?" I asked innocently.
Sucking her teeth, she dropped to her knees and stared wistfully at the mushroom. "That was the best-looking mushroom in there."
"Had you plopped it in your mouth instead of just staring at it and bugging me with stupid questions about stupid summer tourists..."
"You're the one who brought up the summer tourists!" she snapped, clawing the counter to grab the paper towels.
"Yeah, well. I like having my adventures. I owe it to life, and I don't need summer tourists crowding town and cramping me while I go about it."
Emily muttered to herself as she cleaned up the mess on the floor. Meanwhile, the eggs bubbled and thickened around the veggies. I poked the rounded edges gently with the spatula. Emily slid out the garbage bin and chucked the nicked golden mushroom, nudging the bin shut with her knee.
"Bella, living life's adventures whenever you can because you can…and because he can't is a wonderful tribute, yeah. But there's more. You know that, right?"
"Sometimes there's more, and sometimes you miss your opportunity for that more." I shrugged.
"You don't know that you have."
With the egg and veggie mixture congealed, I slipped the spatula under the omelet and quickly flipped it over.
"I don't know that I have, but I think…maybe…that was the price."
"What does that even mean, Bella?"
"It means a negative and a negative equals a positive, so."
"Ugh, I was always horrible at calc. Break it down for me."
Switching off the stovetop burner, I once angled myself toward Emily.
"It means, Em, that I'm so lucky," I smiled. "Every morning, I thank whoever or whatever might be out there, regardless of what condition I wake up in, whether it's clear-headed or off-balance. I'm so fortunate that when my parents couldn't handle what happened, I had my version of a fairy godmother, my godfather, to be there for me. I'm fortunate I found an attorney who was able to obtain some modicum of justice, though obviously, it'll never be enough. I'm fortunate that when Rebecca couldn't stand the sight of me anymore, when she…blamed me, I found all of you guys. I'm thankful for Sue treating me like her own, for my pain-in-the-ass god sister never treating me with kid gloves, and for this rainy, nosey town in the middle of nowhere, where we're all family. On top of that, I get to have days like yesterday, and today, and if I'm super lucky, tomorrow, where I can run, jump, surf, hike, cook, and do practically everything and anything, almost as if…as if nothing ever happened."
I paused for a moment, swallowing because this wasn't about pain or guilt; I'd dealt with those. This was about moving on.
"Because Jake can't do any of it," I breathed.
For a long moment, we were both silent.
"He called me a star once," I smiled, "one that burned brightly in the Washington sky. It was as if…he knew this would be my haven."
Emily smiled as well, nodding, misty-eyed.
"And that," I grinned, swinging around to pull out the serving trays, "is how the fractured fairy tale ends. With Bella living happily ever after with her friends in Forks, Washington, working at Emily's pub, being a children's camp counselor in the summers, surfing and hiking, and bungee jumping and giving her godfather a heart attack on good days, and being grateful for those same friends on her not-so-good days. This is where those two words – The End – pop up on screen, and all in all, I'd say it's a not too shabby one." I shrugged, effectively ending the conversation.
"And what about the more?" Emily asked after a moment.
I chuckled. "Em, this is a fractured fairy-tale. By definition, the more is no more, and I'm more than fine with-"
"Never mind fairy-tales and your word games, Bella."
"Ouch," I chuckled. "Well, I was a Lit major once, you-"
Emily reached for me and gripped my forearm, halting my purposely busy, busy work and waiting for me to look at her.
"You're going to tell me you described that hike to Lovers Lane so perfectly…so longingly, and you didn't imagine yourself up there with someone?"
I opened my mouth to lie, but then he – Edward – swooped in rapidly and thoroughly. Because the truth was, he'd been on my mind all along.
As soon as Emily had mentioned Lovers Lane, my mind's eye placed Edward smack in the middle of that hiking trail, looking much the way he looked the day before at First Beach, that tall, lean frame walking toward me, cheeks ruddy from his stroll on rocky terrain with his son on his shoulders – a feat that couldn't have been easy; that full head of hair wonderfully windblown.
The Cullen men's arrival had both shattered and ushered in the morning's peace. The younger Cullen's presence was like a sweet balm to my soul, one I'd never even known I needed. While his father…well, his presence had a way of rousing all my senses into a frenzy. There was no denying he was so easy on the eyes that it bordered on fictional. I mean, how was a man born with that jawline?
But it was more than that. He awoke my sense of touch too. Every time I saw him, my fingers tingled. Did the stubble on his face feel as deliciously prickly as it looked? How about the hair on his head? Was it as soft as his son's, or was it thicker, like a blanket I could wrap myself in or bury my hands through?
More than all that, he awoke my mind. As he carried on conversation with Ty, the deep timbre of his voice quickened my pulse. While Ty hung loose and took everything Edward said with an air of nonchalance, there were so many questions I would've asked, points I would've volunteered into the conversation – had he not fucking embarrassed me so profoundly the day before. Still, his scent swirled around me in tandem with the Pacific's morning breeze. His gaze had a fascinating way of alternating between tenderness aimed at his son, then changing…deepening when they swept toward me.
The question was, deepening into what? What was it that happened when our eyes met? What did it mean when his gaze could take me in with suspicious horror one day…then entrust me with his son the next day?
"Don't even try to tell me you're not thinking of him and picturing him right now," Emily grinned smugly.
I blinked out of my wayward thoughts. "A couple of nights ago, we were in this kitchen, talking and…and yes, for a moment, for a fleeting second, I surprised myself by entertaining the very first inklings of that elusive more. All the while, he was entertaining thoughts of conducting an intervention. It was mortifying." I smiled thinly, and Emily's smug grin disappeared, a much more sympathetic smile taking its place.
"That was messed up, yes, and I can't imagine how it must've hurt. But I hear you gave him the cold shoulder yesterday at the beach, and I hear he looked pretty miserable."
I shook my head. "Jesus, this town is like one giant eyeball."
"Hey, you were on an open beach in the summer," she chuckled. "And yeah, he made an asshole assumption, but are you going to die on that hill?"
"Maybe I will die on that hill," I grinned defiantly. "Maybe it'll give me a thrill to die on that hill."
"I don't think it will," Emily smirked. "Honey, I say this with all my love and respect, but while I won't deny that your stubborn streak has served its purpose…maybe give it a rest for a bit?"
I rolled my eyes and sighed.
"Bella, I've never seen you look so happily dazed as I did at that barbecue, when you were stargazing with a little boy…and his dad. Now, the question is-"
Emily's next question was interrupted by a throat clearing. Someone cleared their throat. "Smell's good in here. You girls need any help?"
"That's my godfather's way of saying we're taking way too long in here." Grinning at Emily, I turned back to the task at hand. "Impatient much, Godpop? When you and Emmett cook, we wait for hours."
"Well…" Charlie mumbled. "I am offering to help."
"Sorry, Chief," Emily smiled. "Bella and I were talking hiking and boys."
"Hiking and boys, huh?" the Chief muttered now. "Both topics sound like trouble. Bells, you planning another outing today?"
"Yes, Chief Swan, I am," I answered clearly and concisely while I loaded up his arms with dishes and utensils. "Here. Why don't you go set the table?"
"Mm." Turning, he stomped toward the dining room while I spooned breakfast potatoes into a serving bowl and chuckled under my breath.
Sue popped in next. "And you and the rest of the men are still in charge of cleanup!" she yelled after him.
"The rest of the men?" I wondered. "Who, besides Emmett-"
"Bella! Bella! Bella!"
A pair of tiny arms wrapped around my legs. Startled, I looked down and found the most adorable little boy in existence, with a handknit blanket tied around his neck, like a cape, grinning a toothy grin up at me.
"Tristan!"
Setting down the serving spoon, I instead picked up Tristan, as taken aback by his sudden appearance as I'd been for the past few days. More than that, when his big green eyes met mine, an overwhelming rush of warmth coursed through me.
"Tristan, you're here!"
It was as if I'd known Tristan for years and cared about him just as long. Equally bewildering was his reaction to me. When he wrapped his arms around my neck and rested his head on my shoulders, he released a series of broken sighs as if an eternity had passed since we'd last been together.
"Bella, I misseded you."
Was it possible for a heart to burst from a sensation somewhere between the joy of an immediate connection and the pain of impending separation? I swallowed the lump in my throat because, God, there could be no more awe-inspiring yet daunting feeling in the world than being missed by this little boy. All thoughts, concerns, worries, doubts, and all five senses took a back seat to the fierce protectiveness that eclipsed everything else.
Or rather, my senses weren't eclipsed. One's senses are, in many ways, the electric power lines that bind us to our world, that connect us to our personal grid. It was my grid that seemed to shift more and more with every moment I spent with Tristan.
I raked a hand through his soft, copper hair. "I missed you too, sweet pea. I'm so glad you're here."
He raised his head and met my eyes again, grinning that grin I was beginning to equate with impending impishness.
"I tole Esme!" he said triumphantly. "I tole her you would carry me 'gain today like you did yesterday at the beach! But she din't believe me!" He looked shocked at having been doubted. "She said, 'No, no, Tristan. Not if it's a bad day like at the bar-q! But I tole her it would be a good day like the beach!"
"Oh, baby." I tapped his tiny nose, vaguely aware of Sue and Emily going about their business with uncharacteristic silence. "Yes, Tristan. Yes, it's a good day. And it's an even better day now that you're here."
"Yay! I like good days!"
"I like them too," I chuckled. "But Trist, how are you here?"
"That would be with his Aunt Rosie's help."
Rose stepped into the kitchen with Esme. Esme, seeing Tristan in my arms, quickly ran over and wrapped her arms around my waist.
"Tristan, you were right! It is a good day for Bella!"
"Yay!" they both cheered.
"You brought him, Rose?" I asked.
"Mhm."
My eyes narrowed. "What's going on here?"
"Is Leah still in bed?" Sue asked, obviously deflecting as she put the finishing touches on the trays.
"Sue?"
"That girl's gonna do all the clean-up," Sue said.
"Sue?" I repeated.
Sue took me in over her shoulder, dark eyes dancing. "Bella, honey, what happened was I asked Emmett to text Edward last night to invite him to our Sunday brunch. I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do, what with them being just a couple of blocks down and all."
"Did you now?"
"Anyway, the kids spotted me outside as they walked down from Edward's place, and they wanted their turns at picking herbs and watering plants. It turned into quite an event."
"So, what did we miss in here?" Rose asked.
"Talk of hiking and men," Emily called out while carrying the pitchers of mimosa and orange juice into the dining room.
"Ooh! Hiking on men. I used to love hiking on men in my day," Rose volunteered while carrying one of the food trays, "especially the tall ones. That's how I met Emmett."
"Hiking and men," I hissed, then added a sharp "And shhh!" jerking my chin toward the kids.
"Mommy, what does hiking on men mean?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, but Rose didn't miss a beat.
"Esme, honey, not hiking on men, hiking and men. And women, of course, and it all just means that we should all go on a hiking trip together one of these days!"
Esme gasped with the wonder of it, clapping her tiny hands in approval. Tristan followed suit.
"Ooh, yes, Mommy!"
"Yay! I wanna go hiking with Bella and Dad and play pirates!"
"Tristan, I think that is a great idea!" Rose agreed. And while Esme and Tristan planned for a summer adventure, Rose grinned at me.
"See?"
"I'll admit I'm impressed at the ease with which you defused that."
"You'll get the hang of it."
"I'm not a mom."
She held my gaze for a moment before sauntering toward the dining room with a couple of dishes in hand. And for a few minutes, I allowed a little boy's retelling of plant-watering and herb-picking to carry me off into a fantasy regarding an elusive more.
OOOOO
With no spare high chair around, we propped Tristan on a few pillows so he could reach the table, a solution he found wildly entertaining based on his bouncing and laughing.
"Careful, honey. We don't want you falling off," I said.
"Okay, Bella, but can you sit next to me?"
"Of course." I took the chair next to him and sat. "And how about we untie your cape so it doesn't get dirty, and we set it aside for a little bit?"
Tristan raised no verbal objection, but he stared longingly and warily at his blanket slash cape as I draped it across the back of his chair.
"No one takes Blanket?"
Ahh. So it had a name. "No one will take Blanket," I assured him, making a mental note to use the word as a proper noun. "Blanket will be right here, waiting for you to finish your meal. Now," I clapped my hands once, "what looks good to you from this spread on the table, Trist?"
Here, Tristan scrunched up his cherub face, turned up his button nose, crossed his tiny arms, and shaking his sweet head, he proclaimed,
"Don't want nothing."
"Did you have breakfast?"
He shook his head.
"Then maybe we should eat something. Go ahead, pick anything," I encouraged.
Again, he shook his head.
A few quiet snickers arose from around the table.
"I'm a camp counselor. I can handle this," I said.
"'Course you can," Rose said.
"Sure," Em agreed, giving me one of her famous thumbs-up.
Determined to find something to his liking, I highlighted each option, one by one. Tristan shook his head at every suggestion.
"How about a tiny piece of the omelet, sweet pea?" I said. "See, it's got colorful and tasty veggies."
He glared suspiciously at the omelet. "I don't like colors in my food. Colors make my tummy sad. When Dad makes me omette, he don't put colors."
I scrunched my brow. "Do you have food allergies? Is that why your tummy hurts?"
"Uh-huh," Tristan nodded vigorously.
My frown deepened. "Hm. I looked over all the camp forms, and I don't remember allergies listed for you. Rose, did Tristan's dad mention any allergies this morning?"
"Nope. Do you want me to text Emmett and have him confirm with Edward?"
"No." I waved away her offer. "I have the camp forms saved. I can double-check." Pulling out my cell phone, I searched for the forms.
"I got allergies! I got so much allergies!" Tristan insisted, spreading his arms wide. "Big, big, big allergies! They swallow my tummy!"
"Tristan, you have no allergies, buddy."
Tristan looked over his shoulder. "Dad!"
My breath caught in my throat. And as he greeted everyone, and they responded – Sue, Rose, and Emily with an enthusiasm that made Charlie frown in confusion – I remained stock still, phone in hand. My spine tingled with an awareness that intensified with each successive step that brought him closer to his son, and in turn, to me. Slowly, I set down my phone, feeling suddenly off-kilter, but not due to my injury. And although I trained my eyes on Tristan, out of the corner of one eye, I saw Edward appear behind Tristan's chair. He reached out and wrapped his large hands around his son's head, ruffling Tristan's hair.
"Are you telling Pinocchio tales here?" he growled.
Tristan fell into one of those contagious bouts of belly-shaking laughter, and the rest of the table, including me, followed suit.
"I say allergies eat my tummy!" Tristan giggled, tipping his head up to meet his father's gaze. "What's allergies, Dad?"
Edward shook his head, and I chuckled.
"Allergies make you feel sick. And no lying to Bella again," Edward reprimanded his son with that firm yet tender tone that…that melted my heart. "Are we clear, little man?"
Tristan nodded.
"Now apologize to her, please."
"I sorry, Bella," Tristan grinned at me.
I couldn't stop chuckling; therefore, I'm not sure what lesson Tristan learned.
"It's okay. I kind of got suspicious when you said allergies ate your tummy." When I poked his stomach, he giggled, and Edward snorted.
Finally, I turned to him. Watching the left side of his face, I fell into a sort of enchanted fascination because damn, that angular jaw formed an almost perfect square. He'd shaved it recently, probably early this morning while Tristan still slept, or maybe while he played in the background. Maybe Edward propped his son up on the closed toilet seat, and Tristan stood on his tiptoes while Edward imparted to his son the skills necessary for a close, smooth shave. Now, there was just the slightest hint of a shadow to indicate where stubble would grow. Once again, my fingers tingled, electrically charged with this latest curiosity. I only vaguely noticed Emmett's customarily boisterous arrival into the room as Edward swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing before he slowly turned toward me.
"Hi, Bella."
"Hi."
"Dad! Dad! Bella untied Blanket, so Blanket won't get dirty. Look! Blanket's right here! Bella said Blanket's safe there."
"Bella is right," Edward agreed, his eyes still on me. "Blanket is perfectly safe."
"And she put so much pillows under my butt! She say, 'So you can reach the table, Trist.' And then she…"
Tristan shared some more while Edward held me locked in his gaze.
"Bella, thanks for watching him…again."
"No problem…again."
Still, he refused to release me, that is until the Chief spoke up.
"Ed, why don't you go grab a chair from the kitchen and take a seat. You're not going to grow any taller," he instructed, sounding confused as to why Edward just stood there. When his statement elicited choked-back snickers from around the table, my godfather's bewilderment seemed to grow.
"Oh. Yeah. Will do. Thanks, Chief. And thanks, Sue, for having us over."
"No problem, Edward," Sue smiled. "No problem at all."
"Oh! Hi, everyone!"
Gianna abruptly stood by the dining room entrance, manila folder in hand.
"Sorry, but the door was open. I don't mean to interrupt. Sue, I've got the latest draft of the business plan here. I'll just drop it off?"
"Thanks, Gianna! And you're not interrupting anything. Why don't you pull up a chair and sit with us?"
"Ooh, thanks! I'd love to!"
"I'll grab two chairs," Edward offered.
"Perfect! Everything's ready! I'm starving!" Leah said, bounding into the dining room in her ratty sleep shirt and sweats.
"Leah, you're cleaning up," I announced with a grin.
"No, I'm not. Why?" she growled.
"You heard Bella," Sue said. "You missed prep, you share in the clean-up."
"That's not fair!" she whined.
"Leah," the Chief said.
"I'll grab three chairs," Edward chuckled, then turned to me. "Do you mind keeping an eye on him for just a minute more?"
"Not at all."
OOOOO
Conversation and food flowed around the dining room table as it did every Sunday – well, except for the fact that we had three more guests, and I studiously avoided conversation with one.
Not because I was angry with him. I wasn't anymore; not really. But there was too much to say, or rather, things to be said that couldn't be said around a packed dining room table. Oh, we exchanged words:
"Bella, can you please pass the eggs? Thank you."
"Edward, is it okay for Tristan to have orange juice? Water it down? Okay."
And so on.
Anyway, for the past half-hour or so, Edward's attention had been monopolized by others, and when I say others, I mean mainly by Gianna, who'd somehow ended up seated to his left, with Tristan to his right, and with me next to Tristan. So, perhaps, there wasn't as much to say as I thought. Either way, he and Tristan were the center of attention and conversation.
"Look at Tristan's eyes shining so brightly as he looks around the table," Sue said with more than a slight note of tenderness.
"He's not used to this," Edward said. "His family on both sides, my side and his mom's side," he clarified, "are rather small. His maternal grandmother is a widow, and Kate, my…" he cleared his throat, "my wife only had one sister. As for my side, we have my parents, and my younger sister, Alice, and while she can be…boisterous," he grinned, "our get-togethers tend to be smaller than this."
"And then he gets introduced to this rowdy bunch, huh?" Emmett laughed. "You having fun in Forks, Trist?"
"I wanna stay! Dad, can we stay here? Huh?"
Everyone chuckled.
"We can stay for a bit, buddy."
"How long are you here for, Edward?" Gianna wondered, batting her eyelashes unnecessarily with the question, if one asked me, unless she had something stuck in her eyes.
"Uhm, I have the house rented through Labor Day."
"Oh, that's wonderful!" she said dreamily. "It'll give us plenty of time – I mean, to go over the business plan we were just discussing!"
Edward smiled. "Of course."
"Oh, Gianna, honey, don't bother Edward with that nonsense while he's on vacation," Sue said.
"Yeah, Gianna," Emily interjected. "Don't bother him with that nonsense."
I pressed my lips together but made no additional effort to hide my amusement.
"I assure you, it's no bother at all. I'd be happy to help."
"See? He's happy to help." Gianna offered him a brilliant smile, also giving his arm a friendly tap – to emphasize her gratitude, I surmised.
"Of course he's happy to help," Leah said. "He's Edward Cullen, Esquire, Attorney at Law. You've got to be happy with what you do to have that title."
"Esq-eye! That's my dad!"
Here, I couldn't even stifle my chuckle, instead performing a purposely shabby job of covering it up by clearing my throat. I saw Edward side-eye me. He was an intelligent man. I knew that by now, he must've surmised we used the term as a form of playful teasing; although I wasn't feeling quite so lively at the moment – nowhere near as naughty as Gianna, that was for sure.
"Leah, stop teasing, or you'll be doing brunch clean-up for the next month," Sue warned.
Now, I burst out laughing. Again, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward's eyes turn toward me.
"I was just playing," Leah chuckled. "Man, tough crowd this morning."
"Maybe because you slept through the morning, and it's already afternoon," the Chief pointed out.
Leah rolled her eyes. "I'm a teenager! We're supposed to sleep all morning! Anyway, Edward, you know I'm just teasing, right?
"Yeah, Leah," Edward offered graciously. "It is a mouthful of a title and somewhat amusing. I'll admit it."
"That it is," I volunteered, picking up my glass of water to hide my smirk. "Where'd you come up with that bit of…flamboyance, City Boy?"
Rose hissed sharply. "Ouch, Bella."
For what felt like an eternity but was merely seconds, Edward held my gaze. Yet, at no point did I think he'd retort, that he'd throw a 'Lumberella' my way, though I deserved it. I recognized how ridiculously I'd just behaved. Leah was seventeen, outspoken, and pissed off at having to wash dishes for the next hour. Tristan was three. I was twenty-five, still smarting at being thought the town drunk due to a condition I couldn't help. And maybe slightly jealous.
"My wife also had a habit of teasing me about my being somewhat…arrogant," he smiled, "but when I began practicing, she assured me it was okay because a good lawyer needs some arrogance."
Everyone around the table chuckled.
"You're just a tiny bit arrogant," Emmett grinned. "I've noticed."
Edward shot him a feigned scowl across the table. "So, when I was coming up with an automatic signature for my emails, she – tongue-in-cheek, of course – suggested-"
"Edward Cullen, Esquire, Attorney-at-Law," I breathed, my stomach churning.
Edward nodded. "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have taken her suggestion, but…she was sick at the time…"
I swallowed back bile.
"Anyway, I've meant to change it. Just haven't gotten around to it."
An oppressive silence engulfed me. My face flamed, much hotter than it had at being temporarily believed the town lush. I felt as if I were dwindling in my seat, slumping into the background, shrinking into something smaller than a three-year-old. At least, a three-year-old was innocent in his curiosity. Mine had been resentful.
"Bella, please don't-" Edward began.
"Dad, potty, potty, potty!"
Edward clenched his jaw. For a moment, he appeared to hesitate.
"Dad, potty, potty, potty!" Tristan repeated, bouncing over his pillows and cupping himself.
"Okay, Tristan. Let's go, buddy." Exhaling hard, Edward turned away from me, and in one motion, stood and picked up his son. "Excuse us. We'll be right back."
Charlie cleared his throat. "Shame about Edward's wife. Life sure is something. Leah, let's start this cleanup here."
"Why do women always have to do both the cooking and the cleanup?"
Sue quirked a brow. "Leah, don't even bring feminism into it. You, young lady, did none of it today. Let's go. Pick up!"
Emmett leaned over me as he cleaned up. "Bella, you didn't know, babe. I'm sure he's not-"
I smiled weakly. "I'm going to get going before it gets too late and before I stick my foot further down my mouth. Em, are you ready?"
OOOOO
"So, the Hoh River Trail?" Emily asked as we made our way to her jeep.
"Sure," I shrugged, sighing, "The Hoh River Trail-"
"Bella."
My name burst from him the way a diver taking his first breath after a plunge might come up for air – with a sharp, deliberate, and relieved exhalation. He'd followed me out; hands still wet from helping Tristan wash up, I assumed. He'd followed me as if he just couldn't help himself, couldn't hold it in any longer, whatever this it between us was.
In turn, even before I spun around, his voice and the concurrent realization that he'd followed me sent my heart into surrender, the drums of defeat beating, waving the white flag in the hopes of finding that elusive more within my fractured fairy tale.
As he approached, he shook the water off his hands, agitated, breathing hard. A part of me saw Emily keep going, but most of me remained focused on him.
"Where's Tristan?" I asked.
"Tristan," he repeated the name as if momentarily forgetting where it came from. "Oh. Sue's doing me the favor of watching him for a sec." He swallowed. "You…you're going hiking, Sue said?"
"Yeah. Just a short hike. Something to get the blood pumping," I smiled, "but we didn't want it to get too late. Can you just tell Tristan I'll see him tomorrow for our first day of camp?"
He nodded. "Sure."
I nodded too, sweeping my gaze behind him, toward the lush, mountainous landscape in the distance and hoping my own agitation wasn't visible.
"So, I'll see you tomorrow at drop-off."
"Bella, I'm so sorry-"
"Edward, I'm sorry. I didn't know your wife came up with that title, and it was childish of me-"
"No," he said, stepping closer and dropping his head to my eye level, though I kept my gaze diverted. "No way. Don't apologize."
"But I-"
"That was nothing." He took another step. "Seriously, Bella, look at me. Please look at me."
With a deep breath, I swept my gaze to his.
"That was nothing," he repeated vehemently, then chuckled. "It is a ridiculous title, and yes, once I held on to it for sentimental reasons. But it's just a title that goes out on emails, and I have been planning to update it."
He took another step, and now, he was so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face.
"I. am. sorry," he breathed, infusing each word with undeniable regret. "I jumped to conclusions and made a stupid assumption. Ugh," he groaned, raking a hand through that thick head of hair, "and even now, I'm tagging on defenses to that apology when someone told me very recently that you're not supposed to tag on defenses to a genuine apology."
"Well, you're not," I smirked.
He snorted. "It is a genuine apology. I swear to you."
For a moment, I held his gaze, his remorse evident in his eyes, palpable in the meager space between us.
"In that case, I accept it."
He exhaled, offering me a brilliantly thrilling smile that threatened to weaken my knees on a day when my knees shouldn't have felt weak.
"Thank you."
"No problem." My fingers nervously played with a frayed string on my backpack. "So, I'll see you and Tristan tomorrow?"
He nodded, and I began to turn.
"Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"I know you have plans this afternoon, but if you have any free time this coming week, Tristan and I were wondering if you'd like to join us at the beach after camp, and then maybe…dinner?"
My heart stuttered painfully. Images of that elusive more bombarded me – a summer of days and nights spent with this man and his son, hanging out at the beach, dinners together where Tristan told his tales and made us laugh. I didn't even try to disguise the series of uneven sighs that escaped me. But those were whimsical images, as abstract as…well, as a fairy tale.
Edward must've noted my hesitation.
"Or just some stargazing? Maybe another lesson on the constellations?"
"Edward, what you saw the other nights, those aren't flukes. Those weren't even as bad as it can get. My days are a series of ups and downs, of great, amazing days that I fill the way I've been filling these past couple of days, days where I can't do quite as much," I smiled, "or ones where I lie back on a couch and just…listen to my family and friends in the background."
He nodded and slowly reached for my fidgeting hand, eyes on mine as he weaved our fingers together and swallowed at the rush of heat between us.
Edward squeezed my hand. "I can't say I know exactly what you mean by all that, but I have been giving it some thought."
"What?" I snorted. "You have?"
"Mm. I do realize they're not all good days. And I would still love to hang out at the beach with you this week. Or anywhere else. And I'd love to have dinner with you. And if it turns out that you're having one of those lying-back-on-a-couch sort of days, Tristan and I would be honored to be at your service in any way we can. And I promise to try my best to keep him from jumping on you," he grinned.
My heart wanted to soar at that elusive offer, but I tamped it down.
"If that's ever the case, don't keep him from jumping on me. He's the sweetest thing I've ever known."
"Hm. Since I'm trying to convince you to say yes to any one of my offers at the moment, I won't contradict you on that one."
I laughed, and he took my other hand. The early afternoon sun settled in the space between us like a glowing beacon.
"I like the sound of your laughter," he whispered. "So, what do you say?"
"What do I say to which one of all those plans you mentioned before?" I grinned.
"How about…to all of them," he grinned in return. "You pick the order."
Perhaps…maybe, I'd be allowed that elusive more, for a summer.
"Okay, Edward." I sighed. "Okay."
A/N: Thoughts?
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