A/N: It's been a long, long time.

I don't think that the past couple of years have been easy years for anyone. Just as I thought 2020, then 2021 were probably as crappy as you could get, 2022 came along and had to make a point in my life.

I'd always viewed writing as my outlet when things in RL got a bit topsy-turvy. Very often, the crazier RL has gotten, the more verbose Muse has become. I've come to learn, however, that RL can get so crazy that your Muse is not just quieted but completely silenced for a while.

Anyway. The other day I woke up, and THIS happened. Words! So, I'm hoping that Muse is waking up again even if somewhat slowly and shyly. We'll see. Thanks so much to those who've stuck around and come back.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.


Chapter 14 – Making Grown-Up Plans

Edward

On the ride home from the beach that afternoon, I kept my eyes trained on the rain-slickened roads and the droplets coating the windshield. The day's dampness had left behind a gray-white mist and a slippery sheen. It painted the landscape in pewter shades of silver-blue, wrapping itself like a blanket around the forest and washing out its natural, lush vibrancy. Remnants of the now passing storm clung like melted steel to the encroaching canopy. For a second, the scenery reminded me of the gleaming skyscrapers back home in New York City. Those mammoth structures blocked out the best of the sun's rays even on a cloudless day.

Here in Forks, I was far from that skyscraper life. Still, not even the region's typical weather could block the best rays. Because those rays were right beside me.

My son, for example, was safely buckled into his car seat in the back row of the pick-up I'd rented for the summer. It was a pick-up belonging to the remarkable woman who sat to my right, looking over her shoulder and playing with my son. And although I honestly was focused on the sleek roads, Bella was at the periphery of every sense.

Her scent, soft and natural like flowers growing wild, permeated the truck's cabin. She had her left hand laced with my right hand, and she kept squeezing it in time with the tune she and Tristan were currently belting out. It was my son's latest favorite, one he'd arrived from camp singing every day of the past week. The way he and Bella alternated lyrics made it obvious it was something they'd practiced and perfected together.

"…and there wasn't a cloud in the sky!" Bella sang, pointing at the sky.

"Are we looking at the same sky?" I interrupted, flashing incredulous eyes her way.

"Shh!" Bella chuckled and briskly angled herself sideways so that she could press two fingers to my mouth. "Your son and I have a routine!" she hissed.

"No, Dad! 'No clouds allowed in the sky!' goes next!" Tristan corrected.

"Oh. Sorry." I laughed under my breath while Bella picked up the lyrics - with her fingers still on my mouth.

"Bruno walks in with a mischievous grin-"

"Thundah!" Tristan growled.

"You telling this story, or am I?"

When Tristan's giggles rang out from the back seat, I took advantage of his distraction and flicked my tongue against Bella's fingers. She shrieked and yanked them away.

Things continued in that vein, with the two most important beings in my world reaching the refrain and melding their voices into one off-key…and perfect melody. I already knew I'd be hearing their chorus on repeat in my dreams that night, and not because of the earworm.

"Dad! Dad, sing with us!" Tristan said.

"Yeah, Dad," Bella agreed, shooting me a mischievous grin. "Sing with us!"

"Oh, I'm allowed to join in now, am I?" I smirked, feigning indignation.

Bella snickered and gave my hand another squeeze.

"Yes, but sing it right, Dad!" Tristan qualified, my tease having gone over his head. "We don't talk about…"

So, while Bella and Tristan danced in their seats and pointed at the sky and at one another, our trio of voices rang out in the car's confines, belting out a tune about a man trapped by his dark, prophesied visions.

But, in my heart, I shouted at the top of my lungs about a man and his bright, unexpected future.

OOOOO

A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of the Chief's house and Bella's converted garage apartment.

"Bella, don't go home yet!" Tristan called out.

Slowly, Bella disentangled her fingers from mine, and I hoped that, along with the somewhat downcast look she shot me, it meant she felt at least half of the disappointment I felt regarding our impending separation. It didn't matter that we had plans for later in the evening. We'd spent all morning and early afternoon with Bella, but Tristan and I still craved more.

I could only hope Bella did as well.

"Sweet pea, I'll see you again in a little while."

"You go to my playdate with me?"

Rose McCarty had decided to have a small sleepover for her daughter, Esme, and a few of her friends. And since, ever since our arrival in Forks, little Esme and Tristan had become inseparable, Tristan was invited. While I didn't think my three-year-old son was ready for sleepovers, thanks to Bella and the fantastic job she did as a summer camp counselor, he was learning to spend time away from me and with kids his age. He was excited to spend a few hours tonight watching movies and playing preschool games.

And with any luck, Bella and I would be playing games of our own.

Well, no, not games. What I wanted from Bella…what I felt for her, was already light years past mere games. It was strange. The more time I spent with her, the more I looked forward to minor things: a heated look, a slight touch. At this point, plans for a quiet dinner and conversation had taken on the significance of major plans – like a getaway to a five-star resort where we could move beyond talk of summer camp and toddlers.

Not that I didn't love how easily Bella and I discussed topics related to Tristan, but I wanted…more. It wasn't wrong to want more, was-

Bella cleared her throat and broke me out of my internal musings. I pulled my gaze away from the windshield and met her amused expression.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought. What were you saying?"

The playful smile she gave me made me wonder if she had an inkling of where my thoughts wandered.

"I was telling Tristan that tonight's playdate is special because it's just for kids five and under – and Esme's mommy, Rose, of course."

"I got special playdate, Dad!" Tristan said, clapping his hands.

"Yeah, buddy," I breathed, grinning at Bella, "so do I."

Bella chuckled under her breath. "So, I'll meet you guys back at your place in a couple of hours?"

"Sure you don't want me to come pick you up?" I asked.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Edward, don't be silly. You've got to bathe and feed Tristan before he goes to Rose's. And he should probably have a nap too."

"Yeah, you're right," I conceded.

"You're going to be busy. Meanwhile, I've just got to take care of myself. So, I'll meet you back at you guys' place at, let's say, quarter to six?"

"Sounds good." I cupped her soft cheek. "I'll make us reservations somewhere?"

"Sounds good," she echoed.

My thumb brushed the outer edge of her mouth. "Any suggestions?"

Bella chuckled. "Surprise me, City Boy."

"Hmm. Okay. I'll try my best, Lumberella."

"Okay," she snorted.

My eyes fell to her mouth. "Any requirements?"

"Just make sure it's someplace where we can…talk."

"Okay. Privacy. Got it."

I moved in slowly. She moved in too, and our mouths met with a series of soft, back and forth brushes before a loud voice rang out and startled us apart.

"Kisses! Kisses!"

I pulled back and growled. "That loses its cuteness factor real quick."

Bella burst out laughing. "I still think it's cute." She then kissed the palm of her hand fast and hard before pressing the hand to Tristan's leg, making him giggle yet again.

"Kisses! Kisses!" she said.

"Kisses! Kisses!" Tristan replied.

My eyes flashed up to the dark, threatening skies.

"Bella, what if it rains? I don't want you walking in the-"

"Then, I'll grab an umbrella, Edward," she said as she opened the door. "See you guys in a few!"

She was out the door in a second, almost as if she knew that lingering would mean we'd never let her leave. I watched her walk up the driveway, humming the song she'd spent the car ride singing with Tristan. When she stepped into her apartment, I sighed and drove away.

OOOOO

Back at our place, Tristan and I showered all the sand and surf off of us. Afterward, he sat at the foot of his bed, kicking his legs against the mattress while he waited for me to pull a clean set of his clothes from the drawers.

"You want a nap, Trist?" I asked as I pulled a tee-shirt over his head.

"No. I not tired."

"Mm," I grunted skeptically. "You had a long day."

He shook his head with more vigor. "I not tired! Dad, how come I gotta get dressed, and you stay in your undies?"

"I'm going to get dressed too, bud. I've just got to give my clothes more thought than usual tonight."

"Why?"

"Well, because I've got to make sure everything fits just right and…you know, plays up what it's supposed to play up without looking ridiculous."

Tristan blinked up at me as if he, in fact, did not know what the hell I meant.

"For example, my arms," I said. I took in my reflection in the dresser mirror, instinctively flexing just to illustrate. "I mean, I work them but don't overwork them, so I have to make sure whatever shirt I wear showcases that," I mused. "Just a bit, mind you, not so much that I look like some muscle-brained posturer with…"

Through the mirror, my gaze strayed to my son. He looked blankly, blinking at me, and I winced, face flaming.

"Never mind, buddy. Strike that. Forget everything your old man just said, and let's never mention it again."

"What, Dad?"

"Never mind, Trist."

While I towel-dried his hair, Tristan thankfully moved on to reciting his entire day back for me as if I hadn't been there.

"Then, Bella and me built a sandcastle with a moe!"

"A moat," I corrected, raking my fingers through his waves. If I left his hair to air dry, it tended to do so in clumps. Mine did the same. Cullen hair was a process. Few people knew that there was a price for the thick volume. Usually, I tended to leave Tristan's and my hair alone. For whatever reason, people seemed to think the tousled look it dried in was entirely on purpose.

Tonight, however, I wanted Tristan's and my hair to look neatly groomed. And as I said, it was a process and one which must've made Tristan drowsy. A long yawn escaped him.

"Trist, I'm thinking you should nap."

"No. It just cuz you brushing my hair, Dad."

I snorted. "Feels good to have your hair brushed back, doesn't it, bud?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah, I know," I smiled.

"Who brush your hair back, Dad?"

"No one but me in a long time, Trist," I sighed.

"Then how you know how it feels?"

"Never mind. Hey, last call for a nap before dinner."

"No nap. I want Bella to come."

"Me too," I murmured more to myself, then added louder for his benefit, "She'll come after dinner."

"Why she not come now?"

"Because she needs to shower and change and do her hair too. Wash all the sand and surf off, like we did."

"Why come she can't do that here? You can help her like you helped me!"

"Jesus, kid," I breathed, shoving back all the thoughts and images those few innocent words conjured. Then I fisted his hair, tugging it playfully and undoing all the grooming I'd just done.

"You little…you just had to plant those…"

Tristan giggled, and I swear, sometimes I seriously wondered who the bigger smartass was between us.

"What I plant, Dad?"

"Nothing. Never mind, Trist. Come on; you can play downstairs for a bit while I get your dinner ready."

"I want chicken for dinner."

"Chicken, please."

"Please, chicken. And you eat dinner too, Dad?"

Kneeling in front of my son, I waited for him to meet my gaze so that I could explain the evening's logistics once again.

"Trist, Bella and I are going out to dinner together. Remember?"

"But how 'bout me, Dad?" Tristan frowned, crossing his minuscule arms against his chest and pouting.

"You're going to Miss- to Aunt Rosie's house," I corrected myself, recalling Rose's request, "to play and watch movies with Esme and Quil and a couple more of your friends."

"I love Esme and Quil! They's my best friends!"

I reached out and ruffled his already messy hair, amazed at how…easily…unencumbered…with no concern for complications or repercussions, a three-year-old could utter that age-old, four-letter word – a word the rest of us tended to struggle with.

"I'm glad you're making good friends. We're good with the plans for tonight, right buddy?"

"Uh-huh! We's good, Dad. But, Dad…next time, can I's have dinner with Bella and you? The three of us?" He held up three fingers.

"Sure, bud. Next time, the three of us can have dinner together."

"I like spending all day with Bella."

"Me too, Trist. Me too."

OOOOO

While Tristan ate his grilled chicken, veggies, and mashed potatoes, I sat next to him and texted Emmett.

Emmett, what's the best restaurant in the area?

The reply came quick – especially considering I knew he was on duty.

Why? You inviting me out to dinner? While I'm flattered, I'm afraid I can't make it. Working tonight.

I rolled my eyes, but he sent another text before I could type out a reply.

Lol. Jk. I know the 411 thanks to my Rosie. You and Bella managed to score a few grown-up hours alone for tonight! Good for you two!

WTH? Does the entire town know?

Basically. Well, wait. Our office manager, Mrs. Cope, didn't know. But I just told her for you. She says have fun. :)

I smirked. Tell her I said thanks. Now, THE BEST RESTAURANT IN THE AREA, PLEASE!

DON'T SHOUT! Downriggers on the Water, in Port Angeles.

Port Angeles was the nearby town where the Chief picked Tristan and me up in Bella's pick-up truck a couple of weeks ago. It was about an hour away. Setting the phone down over the table while keeping an eye on Trist to make sure he ate, I mumbled to myself, performing some mental math:

"Let's see, an hour there," I stuck up my thumb, "plus ninety minutes or so to eat and talk," I lifted two more fingers, "plus an hour back equals four to five hours."

"What is you counting, Dad?"

"Hours, Trist."

We'd agreed I'd drop Tristan off at Rose's at six. If we headed to Port Angeles, that would put pick-up at somewhere between ten and eleven.

"And four to five might be pushing it," I murmured. Especially considering we'd spent the day at the beach.

While these thoughts ran through my mind, Emmett texted again.

But they close at 8 p.m.

"Fucker," I mouthed as I typed. What kind of restaurant closes at 8 p.m.?

Most restaurants in Small Town USA, Counselor. You're not in NYC anymore, dude. Outside of Seattle, your choices are limited.

I sighed. Perhaps, in another life, I would've been able to whisk Bella off to Seattle for the night – or even for the weekend. We could've dined at the best restaurant. From there, moved on to a show or a club or…or spent the night in bed at the best hotel before waking up with tangled limbs and sore muscles.

In this life, I had a responsibility to my son.

At the moment, said son had his elbow on the table, supporting his head in one hand while sluggishly pushing his peas around his plate with the blunt-tonged, child-appropriate fork. Tristan looked up and caught me staring.

"What, Dad?"

"You okay, bud? Need that nap?"

"No nap! Just don't want my peas!"

"You've got to eat your peas, little man. And elbows off the table, please."

I stifled a chuckle when he sucked his teeth and made a dramatic show of sliding his elbow off the table.

Ok, Emmett. What's my best option in the area?

My sis - Emily's Pub. Best food in town. My mom's recipes. Plus, it's open til midnight. :)

"Are you freaking…the pub?" I muttered to myself.

I mean, yeah, the food was good. In fact, Emily's Pub had become my favorite place to eat with Tristan or order to go since we arrived in Forks.

But I wanted something better for Bella's and my first date. Plus, she wanted privacy. And I wanted to impress her and spend some time with her away from the friendly but prying eyes of the Forks townsfolk. After a couple of minutes of pondering my meager alternatives, an idea vaguely formed. Still thinking it through, I began composing another text.

"No, we sure as hell aren't in New York City anymore, little man, are we?" I snickered, looking up at Tristan as I typed. "And that's just…"

Tristan's eyes were shut. His head tilted at a precarious angle, appearing about half a second from toppling onto his plate.

"Whoa, bud!"

I shot up from my seat. Catching his head in one hand before he could face plant into his mashed potatoes, I hefted his sleeping form into my arms. A glance at his plate confirmed he'd gotten through most of it. Raking a hand through his hair, I pressed my lips against his forehead.

"Come on, let's get you down for that nap."

OOOOO

While Tristan napped in his room, I dressed in my room across the hall. Running a nervous hand through my hair, I inspected my reflection again. Turning from side to side, I ensured the white button-down neither hid nor overhyped what lay underneath. I checked that the blue slacks I'd opted for had no wayward creases…and that they looked okay from behind. I ran a hand down one and then the other freshly-shaved cheek, hoping that if Bella did the same with her soft hands, she wouldn't come across any rough stubble.

Then, I laughed at myself. Hard. Typically, I wasn't the type to primp and preen. But tonight…tonight would not only be my first actual date since Kate, but it was also my first actual date with Bella.

Out of nowhere, a disturbing image – a recollection – invaded my mind:

A pair of lips on mine, their shape familiar yet everything else about them…massively wrong. And the weight of my error grew exponentially as I became aware of my shameful lapse in judgment.

"Ugh." I squeezed my eyes shut and winced. Luckily, the doorbell startled me out of that unpleasant memory.

A quick check of my watch confirmed that it was already a quarter to six, the time that Bella and I had agreed on. I exhaled a long, cleansing breath through narrowed lips, clearing my mind of dark thoughts. Then, allowing myself one final half-second of self-inspection, I rushed out of the room and sprinted down the staircase.

When I yanked the front door open, my breath gave an audible, unsteady hitch at the gorgeous, perfect… soul-soothing sight before me.


A/N: Thoughts?

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So, if "Words" continue to happen, I'd like to update 'The Ghost of Christmas Past' soon too. :)

"See" you soon.