A/N: Anybody else need a cold glass of water after chapter 7? The made up recipe below is one I think I'm actually going to try. I love experimenting in the kitchen when cooking, and always add the strangest ingredients to my dishes. I never follow an actual recipe. They always somehow turn out delicious though! Might just add garlic and like a hundred other spices to this one.

I know Charlie might seem very OCC in this story. However, I've decided to display him as a distant uninvolved father that was never really present in Bella's life. I know from personal experience how this can really be. In this story he has no legal rights over her and has no say over who she decides to be friends with or date. In this reality the characters (humans) that are finishing their last year are 18.

Disclaimer: I do not own this franchise or any rights associated with it.

Chapter 8

The drive to Charlie's house was silent. Neither of the two occupants of the car saying a word for the few minutes it took to get there. She was sure that she would combust if Edward had to open his mouth again. She just had to survive a few more hours and then she would be able to give into the molten hot desire that was simmering just below the surface of her skin.

The house was empty when they brought the groceries in, which was not a surprise to Isabella. Charles only finished work at five thirty, and it had just turned five o' clock. She had thirty minutes to pack away all the food and begin cooking supper. They would be eating early tonight, as she was spending the rest of the weekend at the Cullen's; a "sleepover" with Alice. Or at least that was what would be told to her father when he asked. He would just have to order take away for the remainder of the weekend. He probably would not even have a problem with that as she was certain that he had been practically living off of the stuff before she moved in.

Edward shot around the kitchen at vampire speed, putting all the items away and switching the oven on for her so that it could heat up while she began peeling and cutting the potatoes that she would later roast. She diced chicken, broccoli, carrots, and onions before tossing all of it, the potatoes, and a small splash of olive oil, into one large sunken oven dish. She then began on the sauce that she would let the contents of the dish cook in. Cream, dash of milk, mayonnaise, mustard, salt, pepper, parsley, coriander, followed finally by a spritz of curry powder. She poured it generously over the contents before sliding the dish into the oven and setting the timer for an hour.

She slid onto one of the kitchen chairs, her eyes finding Edward across from her. He had been watching her cook. Although she knew the smell of the food to be repulsive to his vampire nose, she could see the awe in his eyes as he viewed her work.

"Where did you learn to cook like that? I might not be able to physically enjoy human food anymore but I can see just by watching you that your cooking would be a delight on human taste buds."

She glowed at the compliment. She loved it when others appreciated her food. She responded as she held her hand out across the table, wanting to be touching him in some way.

"My mom knows how to cook a few of the more traditional kinds of dishes like lasagne, beef wellington, and chicken stew. She started me off on those first, followed by my grandmothers old cookbook. And when she saw how deeply my passion for cooking ran she enrolled me in a cooking class so that I could learn more. It provides me with a sense of calm that I can't get anywhere else."

She decided to not mention what she planned to do about her passion for cooking once Edward had changed her. She figured that that was a conversation best left for after they had mated. She was brought out of her thoughts by the loud crackle of tires over gravel. Charlie was home. She looked towards Edward, the words not even managing to escape from her mouth before he interrupted her.

"I'll be upstairs in your room while you eat and sort out our plans for the night"

He pressed a mind-numbing kiss to her lips before he disappeared with a small gust of wind.

She heard the door opening in the entrance hall before he called out to her. "Bells?"

She cringed at the nickname that he had insisted on calling her since she was a child. She could stand Bella, hell, even Belle. But she was not a bottle of whiskey.

"In the kitchen," she called out in response.

He stomped into the kitchen, his boots scraping against the linoleum of the floor.

"Smells good Bells. There enough there for four? Forgot to mention that I invited the Blacks over to watch the game that's on in a few minutes. Billy asked if they could stay for dinner. You remember the Blacks don't you? From the reservation near First Beach?"

She swore that she could hear the low growl that originated from within her room upstairs. She was not any happier with this than Edward seemed to be. It was just like Charlie to invite people over and not have the decency to warn her until they were only minutes from arriving. She had cooked more than enough food for everyone, but was now vexed that she had. She didn't want those mutts eating her food. They were her works of art. Egotistical dogs did not deserve culinary wonders.

"Yeah I remember the Blacks. There's more than enough food…unfortunately. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. I'm going upstairs to read." The unfortunately was said under her breath, too low for Charlies ears to pick up on. She was just on her way out of the kitchen when he responded.

"Don't you want to change into something nicer? Give our guests a good impression. They haven't seen you for years."

She stopped, her face hardening, before spinning around to face him.

"Listen here. I do not give a flying crap what the Blacks have to say about me. They are of no importance to me and never will be. While they may be friends of yours, they aren't mine. I know what you're trying to do, and I warned you beforehand. You have no say in who I decide to spend time with and I definitely do not appreciate you trying to set me up with a barely sixteen year old boy. I have been in a committed, loving relationship for years and will be for years to come; and nothing you say or try to do will change that. Just remember that I don't take well to manipulation."

She paused for a second to make sure that her tirade had sunk into his thick skull before making her way towards her room. Let him put that in his pipe and smoke it.