Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong solely to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended
Chapter 7
Unable to sleep, I call my pops to get his opinion about purchasing a present for Bella's dad.
"Hello," he answers. His voice is scratchy and rough.
"Hey, Dad."
"Edward. …what the fuck? It's three in the morning."
I play dumb. "Oh, I didn't realize it."
"No shit," he grumbles. "What's the matter?"
"I couldn't sleep. Jasper said something that has me thinking."
"Jasper? Are you talking about that kid who gave you crabs?"
"Not crabs, Dad. Bed bugs."
"Same difference."
"No, it really isn't," I say with a shudder. "Anyway, he didn't give them to me; the entire dorm had an outbreak."
He yawns before saying, "Yeah, whatever. Hold on a second. I don't want to wake your mother. Let me go into the other room."
A few moments later, I hear the cat screech, and my dad says, "Scram, Sajak."
I chuckle. "Did you sit on the cat again?"
"Shut it, Edward. You know how he blends in with the damn sofa."
Unlike most people who pick out an animal based on personality, my mom chose Cat Sajak specifically because he matched our living room furniture. And yeah, she also named him after some lame game show host.
"So, please enlighten me. What the fuck has you up all night in a panic?"
"Jasper said I should buy Chief Swan a gift. What do you think?"
"Why are you asking me? Am I Martha Fucking Stewart?"
"Supposedly, it's the polite thing to do when visiting someone's home. And you told me I had to be nice."
"Huh. Well, no one brings me jack shit when they come over here, but it certainly couldn't hurt. Truth be told, you're gonna need all the help you can get."
"Thanks for the love, Dad. I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy inside."
He snorts before saying, "Are we done? I'd like to go back to bed before I have to get up for work in two hours."
"Yeah. …No. . .wait."
"What now?"
"What should I get him?"
"Edward, how in hell should I know? The only person I buy gifts for is your mother, and I always give her the same thing—a card stuffed with a few hundred-dollar bills."
"Wow, Pops. Way to keep the romance alive," I deadpan.
Ignoring my jab, he replies, "Why don't you just ask Bella?"
Hmm. What do you know? The old man is useful every now and again.
"That could work."
"Well, thank the fuck for small miracles. Goodnight, Edward."
"It's actually morning," I say to irritate him. And I guess it works; because the next thing I know, he hangs up on me.