17

Bella sat on the bathroom floor, watching Charlie play in the tub. She was laughing and talking a mile a minute about how Edward had chased her around the backyard, how he had tickled her, how he had pushed her on the swing that hung from the tree in the backyard. The same swing Bella's father had pushed her on when she was Charlie's age.

"Mommy, I'm cold," Charlie whined, her teeth chattering.

"Okay, sweetheart," she said, pulling the towel off the counter and holding it open. Charlie climbed out of the tub, laughing when Bella wrapped her in the towel, kissing her cheek. "Hold on, baby girl!"

Bella stood up and swooped her into her arms, carrying her out of the bathroom and into her old bedroom. Pausing for a moment, she looked around the room, memories flooding her. Her and Alice on her bed as they gossiped and flipped through fashion magazines. Dancing in the middle of her bedroom to some stupid song. Carlisle sitting on the floor by her bed, telling her about the girl he was going to take out on a date. Her father waking her up in the early morning to take her fishing when she was ten.

"Mommy," Charlie said, placing her hand on Bella's face. "You're crying."

"I'm okay," she murmured and carried her over to the bed. She set her down and grabbed the panties and pajamas that Edward and Jasper had bought her. "Let's get you ready for bed."

"Tell me the story."

Bella inwardly sighed and bit the inside of her lip. "Charlie."

"Please, Mommy," she begged.

Unable to tell her no, Bella heard herself saying, "Daddy and I met on our first day of high school. He was new and all the girls had crushes on him. I did too . . . "

As Bella got Charlie dressed and tucked in bed, she continued to rattle on lie after lie, knowing in her heart that it was better for her to believe a lie over the truth. Hell, Bella wanted the lie over the truth.

"And he kissed me and told me I was his," she said, quietly before she brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead.

"And he loved you," Charlie whispered.

Bella nodded. "Yeah, and he loved you."

"Mommy," she whimpered as she rolled onto her side so that her back was facing Bella. "Does Edward love you?"

"Charlie," she said, placing her hand on Charlie's back.

"Does he love me?" she cried.

"Yes, sweetheart," Bella whispered.

"Then he can be my daddy now."

"Charlie. . ."

But Charlie pushed her hand off her, and Bella knew she was done talking. She stood up, turned off the lamp, and walked out of the bedroom, finding Edward leaning against the wall just outside the bedroom. Bella pulled the bedroom door closed before leaning against the wall in front of him, placing her hand on his chest.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough," he whispered, his hand coming up to caress her face. "Bella, I . . ."

"I know," she murmured, leaning against his touch. "I wish you were her father."

"I am." Edward wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her against him as his hand slid to the back of her head. "In every way that matters, I am her father. I love you."

And without giving her a chance to respond, he pressed his lips against hers for the first time in almost six years.