On Thanksgiving he called Bella, listening to her prattle about her life, school, friends. When she said Renée had started seeing someone new, it struck Charlie how little he'd thought of his ex lately. Her absence no longer hurt, his house no longer carried memories like scars. He slept in a heated waterbed now, Renée would have hated it.

Maybe Renée had known, when she'd left, that Charlie would one day fall in love with a man. Maybe that was why she'd insisted he check in with his feelings, that he didn't love her, that he was stuck in his small town like a child holding to his mother's skirt.

"I've met someone too," Charlie heard himself saying. "I could introduce you next summer, but only if you're comfortable with it."

"Oh," Bella said.

Charlie leaned and peeked into the kitchen, at Harry in his bikini-print apron. "Yeah," Charlie said. "I know you worry about me, but I'm happy Bells. Really happy."

"I definitely want to meet her," Bella said, laughing into the phone. "Maybe I should come visit you."

Charlie wondered if she'd recognize the house, what with Alice's gently insistent renovations. One day Charlie had even came home to a sunroom where the south-facing porch had been. He'd wanted to put his foot down, but Harry seemed so pleased setting up pots of thyme and lavender.

Charlie didn't know how to tell his daughter, 'His name is Harry,' so he wished her a happy Thanksgiving and hung up.

~.~.~

December flew by, with Harry working extra shifts at the bakery while Charlie had extra shifts at the station. Billy came by a few times to complain about the Cullens, but when he saw Charlie's necklace he'd smiled. He even asked if Harry could make more, though the carved corks were pretty bulky. Charlie brushed it off as Billy being polite, while Harry enjoyed his new task.

They chopped down a silver fir for Christmas, which Harry decorated with pebbles from La Push and garlands of dried tomatoes. "Dirigible plums would have been better," he explained, and Charlie leaned in to kiss him.

~.~.~

Then Bella called, voice firm and argument neatly drafted. Charlie smiled and waited for her to finish her self-assigned script. "Of course you can come live with us," he said, phone tucked against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around himself. "Forks grows on you, you'll see. What colour do you want your walls?"

He helped Harry re-paper Bella's bedroom. After buying Billy's old truck they used it to pick up a new bed for her.

They agreed that Harry would stay with the Cullens for a day, just while Bella settled in. The whole way to the airport, Charlie's heart sat in his throat.

"I'm so happy you're here," he said honestly, wrapping her in a hug. Bella only had a single bag of clothes, none that would suit Forks' weather. His daughter was wearing the same yellow raincoat Renée had worn when she'd left, and it fit. "You've grown so much."

"Thanks, Ch—dad." They drove home talking about the mist, the truck, and the possibility of a shopping trip, before Bella finally forced the topic. "Tell me about your girlfriend?"

Charlie swallowed. "His name is Harry," he said, staring straight ahead.

"Oh. Oh wow. Really, Charlie? You're gay?"

He glanced over, relaxing a little with her grin. "That's what people in town will tell you." Charlie was proud of Harry, they could gossip all they liked.

"I had no idea. Mum did say…but I always thought…Really? I'm so, so happy for you!"

Relief wasn't a strong enough word for how he felt. Charlie smiled at his daughter and turned onto the familiar road home.

~.~.~

"The place looks amazing, Charlie and his boyfriend are really living up to the stereotype," he heard Bella say. Charlie ducked back into the living room to give her privacy. It was strange how he missed Harry already, how cold he felt thinking of sleeping alone.

After dinner Bella watched the game with him, then Charlie reached for the phone himself.

"Hey, you," he said. "Are things alright?"

"Alice has decided this is a sleepover. She's painted my nails, and put mud on my face. The bathroom here is lovely, though. The hot water lasts forever."

"That's nice, dear," Charlie said. Harry's laugh was beautiful. "Bella said she likes the wallpaper you chose, but we did raise her to be polite." He sighed. "See you tomorrow, yeah? Love you."

He was yawning as he turned, just to see Bella standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Was that him?" she asked. "You're really serious."

"I don't do things by half, kid." He reached out to ruffle her hair, but she dodged, almost falling. He'd forgotten how clumsy she was. With a pang, he realised that he barely knew his own daughter anymore. "Did you need something, Bella?"

"I just wanted to say good night."

They hugged for a second, not quite knowing how their bodies fit together, and went to bed.

.oOo.

Harry was worried about making the right impression. He knew he was different, that normal people didn't struggle with blurting out the wrong things at the wrong times, that normal people didn't need to be told to put coffee in the machine before turning it on.

Charlie said that he was proud, but on grey days Harry felt awkward and broken. There was a cracked mirror in the laundry room and sometimes he watched it, waited for a bright blue eye that never came. It just reflected Harry back at himself, all his separate pieces that didn't fit together right.

At least he didn't make things levitate accidentally anymore.

Harry waited for Esme to help him with his seatbelt before stumbling towards the door. For a second he wasn't sure if he was welcome, if it was still his home. "Go on," she said, handing him his key. "You're wonderful. It'll be just fine."

Sundays were for pancakes. Harry breathed, letting his hands follow familiar steps. Charlie came in and kissed his cheek, just like always, before setting the table. The pancakes were heart-shaped, as always.

"You two are adorable."

Harry turned. She looked like an ordinary girl, with a nose and hair and a smile.

"Hello, I'm Harry. It's nice to meet you."

"Hi." Bella waved. "How old are you? Are you from England? What do you do for a living?"

He smiled, relieved to know the answers. "I am in my twenties. I grew up near London. I work half-days at the bakery in town. I fill the pastries, Rudi works at the counter. They tell me I'm not good with people."

He bit his lip before he could say that Alice had decided to be Bella's best friend, how it had been the last of his Galleons that paid for her truck, how she should touch the trees more so that the magic here could claim her.

Bella giggled and helped herself to a pancake. Like Esme had promised, things were just fine.

.oOo.

"I could drive you." Charlie wished he could think of something better to say. Renée used to tell him he had bad instincts, but she'd only done that to be hurtful.

"Dad, that's embarrassing."

"Better than getting lost and being late."

He watched Bella think. She'd always had a terrible sense of direction.

"No," Harry said, adjusting the Velcro on his shoes, "Alice will drive you."

The Cullens thought their daughters would get along, but Charlie wasn't sure. Bella hated shopping, and Alice could talk your ear off.

"Who's that?"

"I could drive you." Charlie checked the time and got to his feet. He pressed a kiss to Harry's hair, then to Bella's even as she shook her head no. Alice was a safe driver, he trusted her. "Have a good day."