"So, Emmett. Tell me about yourself."
Emmett grins before reciting his usual introduction. "I'm from Tennessee, but I love Seattle. I'm majoring in business and minoring in Spanish. I work part-time as a coach. And last summer I completed a four-week summer intensive program in the Canary Islands where I volunteered at a marine life conservation organization."
"That sounds lovely. Are you fluent in Spanish?"
He shrugs. "Basically."
He spent most of the trip lounging by the water and playing beach volleyball while chatting up the local girls. His conversational skills picked up drastically despite his lack of studying.
Edward, on the other hand, spent most of the time complaining about sun poisoning and getting sand stuck in his laptop.
"Can you tell me a bit about the jobs you've had? It says here you were a lifeguard? And then I'm interested in learning more about the coaching," the woman says, consulting his resume.
He shifts, the metal chair he's seated in creaking loudly under his weight. "Uh, yeah. I worked at Alki for a couple summers. I kept people from drowning and gave basic first aid when needed. One time I saved a dude from choking because he tried to swallow five hotdogs at once."
The woman nods, listening as she takes notes.
"I started coaching in the offseason since I needed money and people don't swim in the ocean when it's winter. Uh...yeah. I'm an athlete and I love sports, so having active jobs helps with time management. It's like getting paid to work out," he explains. "Technically, I got paid to play football too before I got cut from the team. I had an athletic scholarship."
This causes the interviewer to raise an eyebrow. "Why were you were cut from the team?"
"It was a big misunderstanding, but it's chill now. I think I can do this whole..." He racks his brain for what the job title was on the posting. "Financial strategy intern assistant thing."
She gives him a pinched look. "Can you tell me about a time you had to solve a problem?"
Emmett mentally sifts through a variety of problems he's faced in the past year and tries to choose the one with the best anecdotal story. His first thought is Sunday Funday, but he remembers Rosalie's less-than-positive response. Does his Gatorade, protein powder, Smirnoff, and Emergen-C Brotein shake qualify as problem-solving?
The interviewer looks up at him impatiently. She reminds him of one of his elementary school counselors. The one that would always nag him to turn in his homework and stop antagonizing his teachers with his funny guy act. He's not acting funny, though. He is funny. There's a difference.
His stomach growls, and he glances at his phone to check the time. How long are interviews supposed to last?
He needs a footlong meatball sandwich stat. With extra mozzarella and pepperoncinis. And a half-dozen double-fudge cookies.
"So normally you only celebrate if you win a game, but my team now is pretty weak, and they don't win. Like, ever. So I take them out for pizza regardless of how they play...because they're kids and they get sad and cry if I don't," he answers. "Their parents like that. It's a win-win. Except it isn't."
"Mhm." She scribbles down more on her notepad. "What would you say your biggest strengths are?"
Easy question. A no brainer.
"Oh, def my quads, but I'd say biceps are a solid second." He laughs at his own joke. "And I'm also fun to work with because I'm a team player."
"Right," the woman gives a weak smile. "What excites you about finance and strategy? Why do you want this internship?"
He scratches his head. "Does that excite anyone? I graduate in three months, and this would look good on a resume."
After the interview abruptly ends with the promise of we'll let you know next week if you get the position, Emmett returns to his Jeep.
He's no psychic, but he has a feeling that Carlisle's going to have to be disappointed in him a while longer.
...
Rosalie gets out of the cab, pulling her carry-on luggage behind her as she walks up the front drive of Vera's little suburban home.
The front door opens and the puppy, now twice as big as it was the last time she saw it, comes running out to her. She steps back, putting up her hands to keep the dog at bay. She doesn't need slobber on her new high-waisted Italian wool trousers.
"Rosalie!" Vera calls out, her dimpled little baby perched on her hip. "Henry, look who came to visit us! Auntie Rosalie!"
"Wosieee!" Henry echos.
Rosalie reaches out to her friend, and Vera gives her a half-hug.
"Go ahead and take him," Vera says, passing the baby to her. "I'll take your suitcase."
"Henry, you've gotten so big!" Rosalie says in exaggerated astonishment.
He babbles playfully, nestling against her shoulder. Her heart melts. "He's so sweet," she sighs.
Vera laughs. "You only say that because he's not screaming and crying now."
The inside of the house is slightly more decorated than before, furnished humbly with a mishmash of vintage furniture.
"Is Frank at work?" Rosalie asks.
Vera nods. "Yeah, he won't be back until six. We have plenty of time to chat!"
Rosalie follows her into the kitchen and sits in the breakfast nook with Henry in her lap. "Are you going to go back to work soon? It's about that time, isn't it?"
Vera grabs a pair of cups down and puts a water kettle on the stove, turning the dial on the stove to high. "Maybe. I was thinking of doing the stay-at-home mom thing a while longer, though. Until he's in school, you know? It's good for kids to have time with their parents at an early age."
"Yeah, but don't you have your house mortgage and stuff to pay off?"
"We can get by on savings for a while. It's not too bad if we budget."
Rosalie tries to imagine how she would feel about staying home with no extra money for nice things like hair appointments, manicures, new clothes, or food. It isn't like Vera's parents are able to send her money for extras like that.
Children are wonderful, sure, but so is money.
Henry grabs her hair and tugs.
"Ouch!"
His face starts to turn red and he makes a loud wailing sound.
"Oh, jeez. Here. He hasn't had his nap yet," Vera scoops him back up and bounces him soothingly. The water kettle whistles. The dog starts to bark. She turns off the stove hurriedly. "I'll be right back."
Vera takes Henry with her, heading toward the nursery down the hall. Rosalie looks around the small kitchen, observing the various knick-knacks and personal touches around the space. She can't tell if it's actually cluttered or if she's just gotten used to seeing how immaculately tidy Esme keeps her house.
She looks down at the dining table covered in water rings and scratches.
Does being in love—true love—make someone able to withstand living like this?
"How are you doing?" Vera asks when she finally returns to the kitchen. "Hanging in there? Are you staying at your parents' house?"
Rosalie shakes her head. "I'm meeting them for dinner, then taking a red-eye into the city after. I have a...meeting tomorrow morning I have to be at."
"Right, okay. That's a bummer you're leaving so soon. I miss seeing you."
Rosalie gives her what feels like a smile, remembering that she had barely seen Vera at all in the months leading up to her leaving. They'd communicated mostly through text because she was busy with the baby. Not to mention Rosalie had a full schedule between work and wedding planning.
"How have you been keeping busy?"
Watching reality TV. Rearranging her kitchen cabinets. Crying. Hanging out with Emmett. Taking long showers. Wandering the aisles of Target. Deep conditioning her hair. Jamming together seemingly identical puzzle pieces and wondering why anyone would make a puzzle out of Monet artwork when it's all just a big, stupid mass of blobs.
"The hospital in Seattle's a lot busier, so I've mostly been working," Rosalie answers. "I mean, it's not some fancy downtown Manhattan hospital like I had been planning to transfer to, but it's a lot better than here."
Vera laughs. "You're not going to turn into some West Coast hippie now, are you?"
"God, no."
"Or, wait, is Seattle the one with all the tech nerds?"
"There's both. And they're weirdly into hiking and the outdoors despite the lack of sun," Rosalie answers.
"That's okay, though, right? You burn anyway."
"Yeah. I guess you're right. I don't mind the rain."
...
Alice settles into the living room sofa and pulls up the Paris Fashion Week coverage on the TV.
The shows this year are fantastic. Some of the best she's seen in years. There are so many fresh silhouettes and color combinations. She watches the Prada runway recap with complete adoration.
What she wouldn't give to be there now.
She would be there in person, had her finals finished sooner. Unfortunately, one of her exams couldn't be rescheduled, so she was stuck in Seattle through the entirety of dead week.
She picks up her phone and it buzzes with a text message from Rosalie. Any of the shows worth watching?
Alice grins and types back. Elie Saab's looks are incredible. I want them all.
The clock on the phone reads 2 pm. Edward will be getting on a flight this time tomorrow, so she should see him by Sunday morning.
She hasn't heard otherwise, but it feels like he isn't coming back for some reason.
The pop-up notification on her inbox shows one-hundred-and-two unread emails. She scrolls through some and replies to some requests for pricing on graduation dresses. She reads a message from a sophomore girl who says she loved her prom gown. Alice smiles at the attached photos of the curly-haired teen in the ruffly purple ensemble.
Her Instagram, the primary place where she posts all of her design work, has been getting a lot more traffic lately. She hardly has time to keep up with the number of orders during the school year.
She looks back up at the fashion show coverage, studying the draping and composition of the Chanel fall-winter line-up. Grabbing her notepad off the coffee table, she jots down some design concepts to keep in mind for the upcoming season, doodling important details and looks alongside the list.
So many ideas, so little time.
The show cuts away to an outside camera, where bloggers and fashionistas parade around in elaborate streetwear.
"Ugh, I wish I was there," she laments at the television screen.
Jasper, who had been napping wrapped up in a throw blanket until then, opens his eyes sleepily.
"Sorry," she whispers, petting his hair in an attempt to undo the accidental awakening.
"Those are cool shoes," he mumbles upon seeing the screen where they're doing a recap of top looks earlier in the day.
"Right? They're Alexander McQueen."
She hears the garage door open and shut, followed by the sound of Esme's keys jingling. Alice sees the wavy-haired brunette come into the living room, complete with her budding baby bump, and grins at her.
"Fashion week!" Esme gasps. "I'm missing it!"
"It's the replay stuff from this morning. It won't actually start back up again until around midnight."
"I still want to watch it with you!" Esme takes off her shoes and walks around the couch. "Oh! Hi, Jasper. I didn't see you."
He sits up. "Hi. Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you."
"You're fine. I should have known you were someplace around here. You two are so cute," she says happily. "You didn't go home to see your parents with Rosalie?"
"No. I think they have enough to deal with right now."
Esme's brows pull together sympathetically despite her smile. "I see, okay...Hey, it's finally spring break!"
"Spring break, but we're all still in Seattle for some reason," Alice says with a sigh. "It's too late for Paris fashion week, but there's still Tokyo..."
"I thought you were waiting for Edward to get back?" Esme asks.
"I am. He's ruining my vacation with his dramatics, and—oh look at that bag." Alice watches the small, fluffy purse on the television screen floof down the runway, swinging in the model's hand. "I need that."
"It's very you. It would match that dress you got over the summer."
"The blue one."
"Exactly that one!" Esme confirms. She looks to Jasper. "Has Alice taken you shopping with her yet?"
He gives Alice a curious look. "Not yet."
It's not because she doesn't want to. She does.
It's because she's been doing most of her shopping online lately. In the middle of the night when she wakes up and can't get back to sleep right away.
Sometimes she gets so many things that she forgets what she ordered until it shows up at the house with her name on it.
"We'll go soon, don't you worry," Alice says with a grin. "I'll need some new things for spring once I go through my closet and sort out all the things I need to sell and donate."
She's been putting it off, but it could be a good spring break project for her. She's out of space to hang new pieces.
"Are your roommates enjoying having the apartment to themselves more?" Esme asks Jasper.
He gives a lopsided smile. "Yeah. They say they aren't, but I can tell they're a little disappointed whenever they see me come home. It's been a weird year, so I don't blame them."
"They are not! They're always super nice and friendly when I'm over." Alice scrunches her nose at him and pokes him in the ribs. She's surprised to hear him talk like that about his friends.
She wouldn't have imagined him feeling that way, nor would she think his friends would ever find him unwelcome. They all seem so close.
"Because they like you!" He laughs. "That's different. When you're there, I'm not..."
"Moping around?" she guesses, thinking of the lethargic, depressed state she often finds him in.
"Yeah."
Esme shakes her head with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure they miss you when you're out."
Alice remembers how he was when they first met. He's in one way closer to the Jasper in her dreams—the Jasper she initially fell in love with—but in another, he's also still different.
He's real. He's living and breathing inches from her. She's lived through some of the lows that accompany his highs. He's complex and he has thoughts and emotions and struggles.
Though she knows him better than ever, and she's by no means oblivious or unobservant, she wonders how many things she still has yet to find out.
Whatever the future has in store, she knows it'll be fantastic as long as he's by her side.
...
"So what have you been doing in Seattle all this time?" Rosalie's mother asks her.
They're at one of the nicer dinner places in downtown Rochester. A seafood and steak house with white table cloths and waiters in all-black uniforms. Her parent's favorite spot to go out on Friday nights.
Some diners laugh from one table over, their conversation vivacious like a group of old friends. The soft orange glow of the restaurant makes everything look like it's cast in a shadowy warmth.
"Working." Rosalie picks up her water glass, the ice cubes clinking as she brings it to her mouth. "I feel like I'm starting to get settled in. My apartment's finally how I like it."
"You mean you'll be staying there? Won't you get lonely?"
"I made some new friends. I'm not worried about it," she replies. She isn't one to keep very many close friends normally, so between Emmett, Esme, and now Alice, she feels like her social schedule's pretty packed.
Her father sighs as he stabs his steak with his fork, sawing a piece off with his knife.
"It's very far from home, Rosalie," her mother bemoans. "I'd rather you stay close by. I worry so much. I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you."
Rosalie takes a sip of her drink and rolls her eyes. "It's a bit too late for that."
Her mother makes a hysterical whimpering sound into her napkin. Her father drops his silverware and exhales loudly.
"I'm sorry, Rosalie, I had no idea! He seemed like such a nice man, and he has money, and...ohhh..." her mother blubbers. "You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress, too!"
Her stomach twists, making her lose her appetite instantaneously. This is what she didn't want. The added guilt of letting her parents down when they were so excited for what was supposed to be a beautiful marriage with amazing opportunities and connections for the whole family.
Her mother had been her biggest supporter through the engagement. They'd gone to dress fittings, florists, cake tastings, wine tastings...everything involved in the planning was put in Rosalie's capable hands. Royce gave her a credit card and told her to buy whatever she wanted, so she did.
The gown—a custom Vera Wang—was much pricier than any dress she ever dreamed of wearing. It fit her like a glove. The silk organza and lace were beautiful, and she was stunningly beautiful in it.
Now the dress is crumped up in a dust bag at the back of her closet, intentionally hidden out of sight behind some packing boxes.
"Did you give back the ring?" her mother asks.
"No." Rosalie rubs the spot on her finger where it used to rest. The spot that was a tan line over the summer, then a deep purple bruise, and now nothing.
She wasn't wearing it when she got to the hospital that night, and she doesn't remember packing it. She wonders if she even still has it.
"You should sell it if you're not returning it. You could get yourself a nice townhouse in Rochester. A gated community with better security, of course! You could adopt a puppy. I know a lady with the cutest little Yorkies. It could keep you company."
"No, I'm not moving back—"
"Oh, or you could move back home with Daddy and me, of course! We can fix up your room and get all new furniture. One of my friend's sons just flew in from Los Angeles, you know. He's a UX designer. I know it's a bit soon, but maybe you could just stop by for dinner with us sometime to meet him."
They're trying to set her up again. Incredible.
"I don't need a dog or a new apartment or a blind date!" Rosalie snaps. "I'm fine. I'm staying in Seattle."
Her father decides to take a shot at speaking now. "Rosalie, your mother is trying to do something nice for you. Must you be so difficult?"
"I'm not being difficult," she grumbles.
She feels like she's a child again. Are they going to try grounding her too?
She doesn't dare mention Emmett now. It would only cause a whole new slew of questions that she doesn't feel like answering.
"Rosalie, Darling, you're a pretty girl, but you won't be young forever," her mother reminds her. "At twenty-two, you realistically only have twelve years left to have children if you want to ensure their health. It sounds like a long time, but—"
Not this talk again.
"I know. I know." Rosalie struggles to keep her voice down, sighing irritably at the stress rising in her body. "I'll figure it out."
A/N: Happy New Year! I've started a project of slowly editing older chapters so they're not so typo-y and gramatically messy (especially the first few because it's kind of hard to read). Next chapter will have some excitement for Bella. Thank you for reading.
