Thank you soooooo much for all your loyalty, your comments, your favourites and your follows. I cannot appreciate it enough. But here we are. One conclusion of many.
Enjoy!
With a devious smile he drags me from the hall, between several people, weaving through the tables and chairs, past the stairs and into a dark little lounge room filled with about twenty men and three women, all smoking cigars and playing some card game. He's got both of his hands holding mine now, behind his straight spine like he's shielding me from view first towing me along before stopping in front of the fireplace and introducing me. I feel like I should be popping out of a birthday cake yelling 'surprise' considering the expressions I'm greeted by.
'Gentlemen, this is Miss Esme Platt.' He beams, smiling at me so widely that all I can do is frown. Though realistically with my heart and head jumping all over the place, I should be glad I'm not looking at the ex-fiancee step-mother drama that I had been so desperately fearing.
There's a few of them, four smoking, two not, mid-thirties to forties as they return the greeting.
'Hi,' I murmur, shyly.
They shake my hand and there's so much waiting to be said as all of these men swagger to speak to me. It's like I'm being pimped out. But he sees my concern, pulls a chair for me to sit down on and squeezes beside me, interlacing my hand as if he's not concerned or embarrassed by the repercussions of such an act.
Twice now.
'Esme, this is Eleazar and his friends.'
All of them are grinning beneath their cigars but with so much smoke in the air, especially when I'm trying to re-quit, it's hard to think.
'Urm?'
The one Carlisle introduced, Eleazar, speaks up, his voice accented yet softened by a large smile.
'Both Edward and yourself were quite the hot topic since the last time we spoke...' He teases, excusing my blushing friend giving such generous expressions of awe that I kind of forget to listen to his words. 'It's nice to see that in thirteen days, that hasn't changed…'
'We met in Alaska.' Carlisle explains with a laugh, his eyes a sparkling when he grins beautifully at me.
'He was as much of a question then as he is now. Did you see him refuse a drink?'
Carlisle rolls his eyes, friendly as he turns to me. His hand still lies against mine, his smile becoming so insanely hot that it's the only thing I can look at to understand what's going on.
To clarify- I don't know what's going on.
'He was showing off your creations just now. Might I say you are quite the talent?'
'Oh?' I hear myself say, sounding a lot more abrupt than I intended. 'Urm, thank you?'
'Eleazar collects artwork.' Clarifies Carlisle, all teeth now.
'Some of my-?' I'm thirty steps behind.
'Art-work.' Says a man of the left, sniggering.
So I turn and look to my only source of translation. Bad choice. He's grinning. Its smart grin that has just been accepted into Harvard and is now qualified as a genius grin. A know-it-all grin, sultry and above me several leagues above the sea.
'I have a few photos on my phone.' He explains giving me a wink. 'They want to see more of your stuff.'
'More?' I repeat, still in a confused daze.
'Perhaps we rushed into this...' Says Eleazar, judging eyes at his friend, who frankly can be an expert in rushing. 'I'm very interested in the way you paint Miss Platt, not only interested but invested and… well, I'd like to see more.'
'You want to buy my artwork?' I hear myself guess. The blonde halo shakes.
'We want to put it on display. Big-Shot over here is bragging about your latest piece-'
'Unfortunately, I didn't take a photo.' He intervenes, eyes sweetly charming. I look across for help but it's pointless because they're so excited.
'What is this about?' I ask, leaning forward off my chair. Trying to act adult like is extremely difficult when you're also trying to appear sexy, too.
'You.' Carlisle whispers proudly. 'Your talent…'
If this is a way of him trying to persuade me to move I'm not entirely sure it's working. Especially because I'm completely lost. His face doesn't reveal much, it's a genuinely pleased expression.
'You have that much faith in me?' I scoff with half a snort. Then I remember that it's somewhat ugly and fiddle with my locks.
…Did I even wake up today? Maybe this is all a dream?! Oh my god… this isn't real at all? Tilly must have killed me with that bottle. I've been dead for weeks. No. That's ridiculous. I wouldn't have Carlisle if I'd died then… I must have died before that. Perhaps in high school? There was that time with Charles…
An encouraging hand squeezes me back into a dazed reality. Death is the only explanation for someone this brilliant to be fawning over me.
'If you're worried, we could always have a trial run and if it is not befitting, we'll negotiate from there… But I was under the impression you were looking for a job? And what better job than one to compliment your studies?'
This isn't an 'or' situation? I can have both? My eyes widen, the hand beneath mine warm and friendly and so, so…
An actual job?!
'Would I be paid commission, or a percentage of the exhibition?' I pose ever-the-professional as I try to sound sturdy. It's going better than I thought.
How the fuck am I sounding so calm? An exhibition; my work in a fucking exhibition?! Blow me down and shag a horse. The second guy shakes his head, a dark skinned man with a groomed face.
'You will be paid separately by both companies.'
Paid by two companies?! Let the horse shag me. Two companies?!
'...Right?' Carlisle's distracting me with his grin, he could be losing me a good chance here.
'Not only will you be paid for the pieces you've made but on top of that, a percentage of the exhibition.'
Don't gape at them. My heart is going crazy.
'So… It's not a stable pay?' I guess, my voice now bumbly and childlike.
They all smile to each other. Eleazar laughing as he smirks to Carlisle. Carlisle isn't looking at him; he's staring at me. A little encouragingly. The rest should be shameless guilt.
'On the contrary, we think what we're willing to offer will be stable enough.'
I'm just gaping at them. Looking confused.
'Perhaps it would be best to send over some paperwork for you to look at. Just official stuff to help you decide?'
I nod dumbly, completely blind to the words they say so they accept this as the close to any conversation. Which is fair enough when I've become mute. My neighbour has his jewelled eyes on my face, trying to read them or rather hypnotise the same amount of joy into it but it's a struggle.
Some girls just need to take their time with things. Today… for once… I am one of those girls.
'Another round, Doctor Cullen?'
They show him the cards but he politely declines and hearing my silence, helps me again to my feet till we're outside the 'billiard' room. Where he grins at me again. He needs to stop. I'm confused enough as it is, being charmed isn't helping.
'Isn't it fantastic?!'
'Sure.' I murmur quietly. His smile falls.
'Sure? You're not pleased?' It's like telling a kid that Santa died from obesity. They say honesty is the best policy…
'I'm a little too shocked if I'm honest….'
This is toning it down by a lot. I'm not just shocked, I'm a little annoyed. How on earth he managed to sell my work without me, is both infuriating and impressive. Similarly, where is this job? He can't ask me to move with him and then set me up for a job interview in the next breath. It's nuts. No matter how amazing the opportunity is…
Maybe he doesn't want me to come with him after all.
Or maybe he's proving that he wants to stay wherever I decide to go?
He frowns a little, tries to hide it which only taints his smile into a crooked one. I have to hold the urge to sigh while I explain myself.
'Can I just not think about… change for tonight?' I beg, looking up delicately because he did just square me a potentially awesome job and I don't want to sound ungrateful.
'Of course.' He replies, nodding to reaffirm himself. 'Of course, I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry.'
I smile warmly, waving the clasp of our hands with a grin and eyeing the way they fit so perfectly together.
'Good, come on then, Cullen. Show me your moves.'
I grab his hand and drag him towards the music. I can feel the blush in his hand as he starts to gently protest.
'Es, really. I'm no good at dancing.' It's a cute bullshit and completely unbelievable.
'Don't lie to me, Liz told me about all the European dances.' I retort, weaving between people as he politely asks for them to move, hanging back as much as he can while still holding onto me. Just because I said she was rambling on doesn't mean I wasn't listening. Anyway, he danced with me a little the other week.
'Damn.'
'Don't look so nervous- it's just a dance.'
He scoffs loudly; 'No it's not! I've seen you dance- you'll floor me!'
I have to remind myself not to bite my lip in case I ruin my war paint. I stop, feet on the edge of the large wooden square, safe from the other couples, batter my eyelashes and lower my voice to smooth silk.
'Only if you're lucky.'
Those shoulders shiver. 'Please be gentle?'
Shrugging out of his jacket, he folds it on a table with a smirk, thus turning my stomach to knots. He unbuttons his cuffs, safely pocketing them in my bag and folds the material up to his elbows revealing the strong forearms, the fine blonde hair trailing against it. He holds his arms strong, ready for me to step into and I'm about to when someone clasps a hand onto his shoulder, right against his neck. He flinches so violently that his soul nearly leaves his body.
It's Doctor Maddison looking very formal and very pleased. Carlisle offers me an apologetic smile and turns.
'Might I be a bother and steal your partner for just a moment?' asks the doctor, looking back towards his prodigy. 'Good news, Carlisle… very good news.'
I shake my hands away, ignoring the blank look of disbelief on such a curious expression and soon recognising the look of guilt lacing between it, too.
'Of course.' I say, retracting my hands to look poignantly and proudly at my partner. 'Of course, go right ahead.'
Damn.
'I will dance with you!' He swears, looking incredibly sincere before he turns his attention to the rather engulfing beam of his mentor. It's flattering he looks so concerned for my feelings. Lonely too.
Doctor Maddison is leading him away.
Feeling pretty dumb and completely lost as the mass of people consumes them and singles me out, I stay standing; not really knowing what to do with my hands twisted in my grip. I turn towards the table, pick up his jacket. Its still warm and smells strongly of home. Mint, a strong pine cologne that I find myself fixed upon, with our washing powder but it doesn't last long what with the flowers, perfumes, sweat, and alcohol in the room.
'Cheer up face ache.' Edward teases, grasping my hand and pulling me back to the floor again. I don't know how he has the energy. Now that Carlisle's gone, the thrill of dancing when my legs are sore seems tiresome now.
He fixes his copper fringe away, flexes out his arms and takes the stance Carlisle had with a wider distance.
'They're going to offer him a position…' He warns, face deliberately pulled away from any biasedness.
He's forcing himself to seem neutral. The music is weirdly soft, less led by the tune and more by the romantic lyrics. It should feel uncomfortable, or would usually but luckily Edward is repulsive. Or more accurately, we couldn't dance romantically if our lives depended on it. We dance well together, of course we do. Its about support. Besides, he had a sway in his hips that bothered me rather than helped me to lose focus. I rest my chin on his shoulder now, pouting though grateful that he's reliable enough to hold me up, even while sulking. We dance to a few songs, loads in total, most of them miserable before I can bring myself to answer.
'They would be foolish not to…' I reply, knowing full well he could still deny it. Gripping my hand still, he follows my step back, placing a hand at my back and fighting hard not to let my face drop away.
'Don't look like that… he has every reason to say yes, too.'
'I can't…' That's the only words I get out. With a hurt expression, I inhale through my nose. 'I can't do that to him…'
He catches my falter and works it into a spin, pulling me back and following my step, an eye cast outward looking for him.
'I didn't even take notice… not of anyone. I didn't even know Emmett's been failing…'
'A four point average is difficult, Es. Doing that while working constantly… You never had the time.'
'That makes me sound so selfish…' I complain miserably. He sighs.
'Would you like a second opinion?'
'I need it.' I tell him greedily, grateful for how easily he caved. He takes a few seconds, making me endure the wait with vomit-nducing concern.
'What does it matter, Esme? Wherever you are…'
'It matters everything.' I answer, rudely. 'Do you really expect me to stay within ten feet of anyone whose going to hurt him?!'
'And so you can see where he's coming from?'
'What-' Oh. My step falters again but he still manages to capture my arm and help me continue to dance while my brain melts with frustration.
'You've been hurt… he's been hurt… timing isn't great but it's reasonable.' He rolls his eyes. 'I don't know what it is about the two of you… you just always manage to find problems from nowhere… it's like you're both afraid to…'
'To?' I demand. He pushes his green eyes away, hopping from each person, the many people… so many people… everyone is here…. Everyone wants his attention. Everyone wants him. And Carlisle wanted to dance with me. 'Tell me…' I say suddenly. 'Tell me, why Bella?'
'What?' he asks with a laugh, urgent to cover up the call of her name with his parents in earshot.
'Why her, Edward?'
The frown of his suggests he's about to be offended by my demands, instead he waves it away with a trusting shrug.
'Because being away from her is impossible.' He murmurs, thoughtfully. He stops dancing with me, smirks knowingly and opens his hands to let me go.
'I've got to-'
I'm already pushing past people before I can think to question my rudeness. I shouldn't be looking for him. If he's being given a job offer I should let him hear it out.
Edward's right. Even if he's not explicitly said so, to let Carlisle take it… What does it matter where we are? Washington isn't that far? Several hours… and several more… Why was I hesitating when it's a decision he's so tirelessly considered?
There's too many people. The whole town is here followed by all the major people from the nearing city. They haven't left a single person out and that makes it impossible to get a breath, let alone a specific person. With a hand in my hair, mouth a wry line and eyebrows furrowed, I keep doing the rounds. I keep pushing past people, looking in the garden, the bottom floors, catching Eleazar, catching the Masen's… colliding into Eustace Cullen's shoulder. I nearly wind myself on that one, slipping close to the ground. He doesn't stoop to help me up… but other people do, taking over in his attention so that the hard glare of contempt changes into an act of concern. I'm already pushing past again. Eyes frantic.
He can't accept.
'Esme?'
Spinning on the spot in the hallway, paused at the staircase I take him in. I take him in as if I might not ever see him again. I gorge myself on Carlisle Cullen.
'I've been looking for you.' He explains, a wide smile on his mouth as he holds out his hand to me from the bottom of the stairs.
I keep my head to the floor, watching my heels as I slowly step closer towards him like some kind of fairytale. He stops me, pulling my chin up and presenting a single white Rose to me, the stalk has been cut to the top but the petals are still beautifully delicate.
'My apologies for not dancing with you. But I found this…?' He offers, fixing it just above my left ear and twirling a lock of hair around it to keep it in place. My knees want to cave 'Shame it's not a red rose but-'
'Thank you.'
Still watching my shoes, still trying to blink away fresh and complicated expressions of damn right confusion. Thus resulting in a severe frown of concern.
'My Love?'
Fucking hell- did he have to do that?! I turn my face away, covering my eyes as I take a huge breath, swallowing the hysteria.
'What's happened?' He asks, softly.
With such a gentle touch, he pulls on my hands so my weight comes falling into him and he catches it easily. I'm still trying not to let any water fall from my eyes, my chest heaves with the effort.
'A worthy cause?' I ask, the words shaky and so fresh with a new discovery of self-obsession. He looks a little lost before carefully nodding.
'In the sense of-' He starts to babble.
I don't give a shit if I'm in view of every single person. I wouldn't care if Alice walked in or worse…one of our parents. I capture his lips, moving into them, and the stance of his and folding myself into his arms. He's stunned of course, blushing when I pull away but with a quick glance to the door, spotting a few unentertained strangers, he rubs his smile against mine.
'What am I possibly meant to do with you?' I chuckle, gripping his jaw and breathing in his grin.
'Unbiasedly I'd suggest never to come near me... However, you may have deduced from these three weeks, I'm quite selfish…'
'I couldn't leave you if I tried.' Edward is right. Five days was unlivable.
'The feeling is mutual, Miss Platt.' He pauses, dark eyes liquidating into mine before leaning into my hands. 'I can't even put into words how much I…' He lets the words die again, or rather kills them off with another frown.
'You?' I probe but he just shakes his head, miserably. He does better than me, I just want to bury myself in his scent, in his arms and never unclasp myself again. 'May I make a suggestion?'
'Of course.' He says, watching me earnestly. A dirty smirk curses my lip.
'Considering I've stolen so many of your firsts… nothing would give me greater pleasure than reinstating your youth?'
'Reinstating my youth?' He repeats, a dumbfounded expression written into his features.
I press up on my heels to put my lips at his neck, letting the words tickle his ear from below; 'Why don't we go find some hidden spot and make-out?'
'Ugh, really?!' He asks, biting his lip knowing he should decline. I slowly nod, flattered by the bewildered look of hope straying on his face. 'We shouldn't…'
'But we will.' I say, grinning. 'If you want?'
He's hesitating. Or at least telling himself to hesitate. I already know his answer. Not from the nod of his head or the shy breather but the smile. The curiously sweet smile promising itself to me. My hand takes ahold of his and with a brief look upstairs, I wink.
'We really shouldn't be doing this…' He murmurs, lighting up again with disbelief as he moves to lead me rather than the other way round.
'We can turn around if you'd rather?' I tease. The look of devastation is hilariously gorgeous.
Here's an unexpected thing I discover about parties. Regardless of whether it's a fundraising ball, a house party or barbecue, strangers love to shack up in bedrooms. Meaning it takes four attempts to find a private space that hasn't been inhabited by a rowdy couplet.
Once alone in the hall, we take a moment to re-judge the decision. My hands are cushioning my back against the wall, my shoulders lifted slightly and the classic fabric flowers waving so fluidly along my arms as if I'm undressing. They sturdy up once they reach the dress's balcony only moving when my lungs expand which is fairly rapidly. I don't pout. I don't push out my legs or encourage my dress to ride up. I do look at him from under my lashes, earth tones into a sublime blue with the free waves of my hair slipping to curl about my collar bone.
He drops my hand to my hip, until with a deep breath, he lets the glass of wine consume him wholly. He eats up my posture, eyes on my ankles, flowing up my calves, stopping at my hips and growing greedy at the sight of my torso before pulling his gaze back to my face.
It's unexplainable how he does it, but everytime he looks at me, he manages to make me feel so unbelievably wanted… and not just attractively but supportively... emotionally… My hands are at his shoulders now and rather than pull away or shudder, he angles his neck, allowing my thumb to press against the shadow my lips left. He grins when I pull him by his shirt to press against me, now leaning over me so delightfully... My fingers itch their way into his hair, my chin angled up.
Alice might be hating on me at the moment but she was saving my ass more than she knew. I'm lucky this lipstick doesn't smudge because the moment he braces his hands on either side of my shoulders, my stomach drops to my feet.
Unfortunately, it's the fastest ten minutes of my life. So fast that we skip over ten and fly straight to twenty. His mouth finds mine, sweet and so gentle before growing brave. His mint breath, fuelled by the alcohol, floods onto my tastebuds, making my lungs gasp with the flow of dark fruits poisoning my own. My hand grips tighter, my breaths hitching when his tongue creates rhythm and just when I think I'm going to have to ask him to stop, because I'm far too invested in his mouth, when I can't possibly take anymore… he gives all his power to his hands.
With his right, he cups a hand over my arm, warm palm smooth against my skin until they find where I've buried my grip into his hair. Adding pressure very gently, he tightens my hold onto him, leaning into my body and kissing away my moans. His left is far more dangerous. He brushes a few curls away, knuckles brushing delicately past my cheek with every movement.
'You're so beautiful...' He whispers, forehead dropping to mine.
'Shh...' I murmur, a laugh escaping in time to his own.
He laughs, nuzzling his nose along mine before deepening the kiss, left hand now moving along my neck, into my hair, freeing the chaos of curls and waves before letting that same hand slide down my body. With a growl, I wrench him to me, my pelvis accidently open to all suggestions he wants to make and he makes a hefty one.
'Fantastic.' He curses, hips rolling, perhaps purposefully, into mine so that he's hard against me. I chuckle against his lips, laughing with him for a moment as he gathers a stifling breath.
'How are you feeling?' I inquire, lips at his flushed cheek.
'Would it be distasteful to say cocky?'
I kiss him lightly on the lips, lining myself against his crotch so he groans, breathlessly on my skin. My eyes look over his shoulder. We're alone. There's no point second guessing myself… Our tongues duel a little more, his breaths eager but ultimately, catching when I rub myself against him.
'Es-' He cuts himself off with another groan. He's pulsing, so hard and so thick. 'Not out here?' He pleads weakly, laughing softly.
'Sorry-' I start to say but with a sharp breath he steps away, tugging me with him.
He turns with purpose back towards the bedroom door, leading with his hand caressing my grip. His smile is perfectly innocent but his look so devilish that it stirs butterflies. He stops outside the door of the room I got changed in. An eyebrow raised, slowing for just a second.
While the coast is clear, I kiss him hard, pushing him into the doorway and laughing when he quickly unlatches the door. He shuts it quietly behind us, unloosening his tie, eyes on my stance. I've lifted my ankle upwards, clasping the sparkling heel when he gently shakes his head.
'Leave them on?' He begs, smirk darkening with each second. I grin, lower my foot back to the floor again and let my hands swing at my side.
'Where do you want me?' I ask, breathlessly, heart pounding as thick as in my underwear.
'Everywhere.' He groans closing the gap between us in two quick strides and securing my lips.
It couldn't be possible but somehow he managed to taste even more sincere from a room compared to the hallway. I feel his warmth everywhere, taste it, make love to it, worship it. All of it and I wanted it as badly as he did. I let us fall to the bed, enjoying how he cushions us with his arms before leaning back over me again; his tongue, hot and wet against my lips. When he moves into me again, his pants straining, I kick up my leg to hang on his hip and with a gasp he lowers his waist.
While still sucking and loving my mouth, he drops his pelvis to grind gloriously hard under my own, locking my leg higher around his hip and fingertips sliding up my thigh so that I can't help but giggle.
'Are you sure we should be making love here?' I murmur, breaking away briefly with a grin. It goes silent for a second. Then time stops and I'm grateful for it.
'What?' He questions, amazed, steading himself before ever so slowly pulling away.
His hair is trying to fall out of place like a curtain of privacy as it falls over his eyes. Slowing, yet his breath still rapid, he sits up to look at me dead in the eyes, confused almost as he struggles to believe my words.
'What?' I return, unable to shield my smile even though his look of hunger has gradually reduced to something entirely different.
'You want to make love?'
The words are barely above a whisper as if they don't trust themselves either. My beating heart is becoming uncomfortable while it expands to monstrous sizes.
'Isn't that what we were about to do?' I tease, fingering a blonde lock and draping it away.
Here's how I know I've changed a lot in these past few weeks. I say the words with a grin, feeling no particular offence at what could very well be a lost moment. His look of awe is far too flattering.
'In all honesty, I was just following the rhythm... I wasn't sure where we were going to end up...'
He pulls away to sit his backside on his heels, his eyebrows still rather furrowed with his face angled to the side as if listening to the music downstairs. My ankle has slipped from his hip and now sits, toe facing inward on his thigh. When he looks up at me, the look of confusion has been erased.
'You want to make love?' He asks. I can't detect any ounce of tone. Neutral perhaps.
My first concern is that I've disgusted him.
'I... did say I wanted to make love the other day?'
'You had a lot to drink...' he defends, quietly.
I stop speaking momentarily to shift my posture, sitting more formally with my hair over my cleavage. 'If you'd rather not, Carlisle...?'
'Not here.' Is all he says.
I wait a little longer, poking at my hands, embarrassed when suddenly he's holding my gaze, hand held gently in my hair and eyes so swimmingly earnest. His smile is wry, reserved and a little nervous.
'You want to make love to me?'
'More than anything...' I chuckle, kissing him firmly on the mouth and frowning when he pulls away.
'Are you... are you being serious?'
'Why do you doubt me?'
He shrugs his shoulders, looking down at his lap. 'I feel like I've pressured you into this...'
'Since when?!' I demand, holding his hand still as I lean into him. 'Hon look at your neck, look at where we are, look at how close we're sitting...'
Pressure and Carlisle Cullen were opposing states. Even when handing me a key to his home...even when getting me a job... none of it felt like pressure. It was support. Encouragement. Motivation.
'But your ex..' he murmurs. I scoff, more confused than ever.
'What about him?'
'You said... you called him charming.' The flicker on his face may be jealousy though similarly it could be something far more pure like concern… or even irritation. For someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, he's very difficult to read…
'He was.' I say nodding, 'Dangerously so.'
'Do you… love him?'
The comment strikes me as particularly harsh. Not intentionally but only because it seemed so obvious to me. If he had to ask then he clearly didn't understand. I'd been too subtle.
'I don't love very easily...' I confess, sitting up properly now with only my hand pressing into the bed. He stays close-by and although he tenses at this comment he doesn't explain why.
'What about Edward?'
This is another comment which is beyond me. Or should be but I somehow manage to gather understanding rather quickly.
'I guess it didn't take me long to fall for him, did it?' I realise, shyly. His smile is crooked as if embarrassed. 'I guess with Edward... he's just so rational. But witty, too. He grounds my thinking. And the way he acts, all self-involved and promoting it...' I stop to take a breath. 'He reinstates the idealism of family. That's why falling for Edward is so easy.'
He nods in agreement.
'I can't lose him either, Carlisle..' I whisper. 'I know he's his own person with his own goals and loves and fascinations...'
'It was very selfish of me to ask...' he says, ashamed in himself. I rub a thumb along the marks of his knuckles and shake my head.
'It's reasonable of you to ask... but for as long as he'll accept us... I'd like to stay with him, too...' I admit, breathing in. He nods, thoughtfully. 'It's not moving that's scary for me. It's this whole change... I know it's good and I know it's what I want… but I'm…'
He lets out a breathy laugh of relief, look up at me shyly with his smile pushed to the side. 'Can I be honest?'
'Please do.'
'I'm terrified, too.' He confesses, exhaling through his nose.
I smile a little, then laugh throwing my other leg to the opposite side of his knee and dragging him to lie back on the bed. He sighs, watching my expression when I wrap my arm around his side, my hand playing with his spine.
'So what about Alice?' He prompts, as if elictling the answer. I smirk.
'Alice is hard not to love…' and I'm glad he agrees with this. 'She's critical and determined but she's always got my best interests at heart. She always manages to teach me more about myself. She's invaluable...' I stop short and grimace. 'I don't want to be disappointing her. Or even endangering anyone as she fears...'
'You don't disappoint her.'
'Alice has a way of being my mother by making me my own mother. Does that make sense?'
'No.' He concedes, softly.
'She's so... forward thinking. She's always about thirty steps ahead of me but I guess it's kinda useful.'
He slides up closer, watching my expression, listening intently. I continue, as pleases him; 'Emmett is always making everyone happy. Always doing his utmost to support everyone and Jasper puts everyone at ease because he's so non-judgemental... We've managed to find good people.'
'And you still don't think you love easily?' He questions, suspiciously.
I snort and shake my head. 'I don't. They're the highlight.'
'How about the Walderman's?' He asks, an eyebrow lifted.
'That's not fair Carlisle, children are always lovable.'
'But... your younger siblings?' He reminds me, still trying to stay polite though he's very much in a state of hesitation.
'Serena is young and Johnathan I've seen grow right from a fetus. I challenge anyone to watch the miracle of life and not fall in love. The twins I love because they're family…It's like obligation… but that doesn't stop them being evil.'
'And JD?'
'He was tiny... he was so delicate and vulnerable and sweet and he took to you like air... How could I not love him?' Carlisle doesn't say much else. Just falls into the rhythm of my hand along his spine, thinking. 'I tried to love him...' I explain after a few moments of his wordless puzzlement. 'More for my mother's approval. I really tried...'
'Tried?' He repeats.
'I couldn't love him if he managed to find a way to resurrect the dead.'
'But...' He asks, frown softening…
'I said he had a temper… a pretty explosive one, too. Worse than mine. And when he wasn't charming my family or trying to uphold a classic kind of persona... he was trying to install those nineteen-forty ideals... and usually with a firm hand.'
He sucks in a breath, a harsh one, realisation flooding his face in time to flickers of angered disgust. I do my best to stop his rush of overthinking by kissing the bridge of his nose. It's a surprise it works.
'No.' I confirm again. 'I didn't love him.'
'Es... I... I'm so sorry… I didn't...' I tuck myself a little further into his warmth, caressing his skin, his eyes, loving them all. So, so easy. 'All that I've done... rushing you into things.' He starts to claim, his hand kneading his chest.
'Every mistake you think you make always comes from a good place. I trust you implicitly because... you're so inhumanely good, Carlisle...'
'I'm really not...' he blushes.
'Making love with you would be a priviledge...'
'You think I'm better than I am.' He complains, face turning down.
'On the contrary, I see you for what you are.'
'And I don't see you that way?' He replies, still seeming stunted. 'Everyday all I want to do is tell you how impossibly infatuated... I... I am.'
'Oh hush!' I dismiss with a call of laughter. But he frowns. 'Stop trying to out-do me.'
'I'm not trying to out-do you. Dammit Esme, I'm trying I tell you that I'm... oh for fuck sake.'
'What?' I ask, shaking my head in confusion.
'My phone is going off...' with a sigh, he pulls himself out of my arms, hesitates and then grabs his phone off the counter. 'My father is looking for me.' He murmurs, dismally.
'I guess we'd better retreat, then?'
'I'm sorry...' he says, rubbing his forehead. 'I've really messed up everything about tonight, haven't I?'
'Of course not.' I chastise. 'When are you going to get it through your skull that asking for forgiveness is pointless? You don't need to ask for it, it would already be yours when needed. Which, by the way, it never is.'
He lets himself smile, head tilted affectionately.
'Now get over here and kiss me before I really do have to marry you.'
He smirks again, letting it eat its way into a chuckle. 'I'd better book time off...' he says once he's stood opposite me, pulling me up gently on the bed so that I tower over him. When I wrap my arms around his neck he grins, his arms looping tightly at the waist before spinning me carefully to the floor.
I kiss him with every ounce of affection I have ever felt and feel their return dear into my whole body.
'I wish I could take every bad memory from you… any moment of misery and loneliness…'
'My dad used to say that bad times made character.' I murmur, hand fiddling with the back of his hair. He enjoys the feeling, head bent close to me.
'Tell me about him?'
'You're meant to be meeting your father…' I remind him with a smile, he shrugs it off unconcerned. 'Not the brightest but an exceptionally hard worker. Loving, generous, protective...'
'You must miss him…'
'I reckon wherever he ended up, he probably misses us more…'
He weaves a hand through my locks, brushing the waves down my back and dropping his lips to the hidden mark at my throat. 'Missing you is an inevitability.'
'It's a shame you didn't meet him. He was a bit of a hypochondriac… he would've loved you.'
'As ever, it wouldve been shared…'
'Carlisle?'
'Mmm.' He sighs, tensing in preparation for my next sentence. I put my hands to his neck and angle his face to kiss him again.
'You're my worthy cause, too.'
That mouth loops into an unrestrained smile, eyes gloriously sweet, thinking deeply, lips parted to say something… Instead our hands fall together, by my hip, entwined with the wrists bent and the fingers interlocked.
He fixes his tie, eyes the door and with a tense sigh, walks to it with me poised at his back, hidden almost as he checks to ensure the coast is clear. I giggle a little, close to his ear bent towards him so that I can see his grin taking up the side of his face.
Edward is right. We're too involved with the other for our own good and when Eustace Cullen catches our inevitable leave from the bedroom, his dark eyes, his look of disgust and horror evolves into rage. Ear splitting rage and flying to us, towering over our guilty faces, he addresses only me. Carlisle curls an arm to push me behind his posture, his jaw suddenly rigid.
'We weren't-' He starts to say. It's pointless. The excuses drop to silence.
'I might have known it would be you.' It's said in a snarl, blaming both my initiating of the rebellion and, from the panning of his eyes, my outfit.
'I know what it looks like...' Carlisle starts to stammer, guiltily. 'Honestly but we were simply... we were...'
'Corrupting my son like the harlot you are.' He continues, barely raising milky eye of contempt to 'his' son. Within seconds, like sugar crystalising, the sloppy excuses spewing forth from his pink lips turn into silent and sharp crystals.
'Apologise to her.' He warns, perfectly still as if he's afraid his hands might start to shake. I don't do anything. Nothing.
'Provoking speech as ever, Carlisle. You've always had a flair for the dramatics. I wonder if you might have acted as so if your childhood sweetheart had attended?' It's very obviously a game, one that I hoped Carlisle would detangle himself from but he's falling for the bait hard. Even if neither of us are sure what the bait is yet.
'Apologise to her.' He repeats, biting back the temptation to correct him. 'Now.'
'Haven't grown out of that temper, have you?' He says with a snort.
'Please, Carlisle. Leave it?' I plead, tugging on his arm. He's turned to marble, colder and harder than our counters at home.
'Are you really going to take your commands from a whore?' Carlisle braces towards him, letting me pull him back as his fists curl by his side, his jaw hard. 'You disappoint me.'
'I always disappoint you.' He spits.
'You disappoint Him.' Eustace says, his voice eerily calm as he kicks a book from the floor out of his way so that it hits Carlisle in the foot. He doesn't look at it but that doesn't mean he hasn't seen it. I feel the shiver run through him.
'Leave the Lord out of it, you sick fool.'
'He is always watching. He sees what you're doing. He sees your sin and your immorality and He is disgusted with you.'
'My sin?' Carlisle scoffs, shaking his head.
'Forgiveness is beyond His capabilities for scum like you and your… plaything.'
He's pressing all the right buttons to drive Carlisle into outrage. I keep trying to gently pull him away, to beg him to ignore the taunts but he's stuck to the spot.
'You have one more chance to apologise to her. I advise you take it.' Everyword he puncuates, thickly. The final warning. My heart beats furiously, my palms sweaty, the dress tight and squeezing the air from my lungs.
'You think I don't know?!' He roars. 'You think I'm that stupid?!'
He seizes Carlisle by the side of his neck, hand cupping where the pink flesh grows darker and drags him through a room opposite. I can see the humiliation biting his face, the poison on my tongue but he follows him left of the stairs. Eustace kicks the door open, tightening a hand before throwing him into the room with such force that as he stumbles, I run to his aid. The light turns on, the empty room barely containing enough light to shine on a painting.
My painting.
My stomach drops, as does Carlisle's face.
'You stupid child. You think I wouldn't discover this?!' He screams gesturing to my brush work.
'Where did you find it?' Carlisle gasps, too shocked to remind himself of his anger. Slowly letting me pull him, he stands close to the frame, eyes reading over all my hard work and the fury melting into mistrusting disgust.
'Does it matter? What are you; low-class scum? You think I wouldn't recognise-'
The painting... It looks like his father. The animalistic glare, the scowl, the snarl are all things that currently take up the face of Eustace. I feel even more abhorred with it than I did a week ago.
'How did you recognise it?' Carlisle asks, voice still hard as his careful finger drapes over my name in the corner of the painting.
'What do you mean? It's obviously you-'
'No!' Carlisle yells, turning over his shoulder to let himself be loud. 'No it's not. It's not obviously me. None of it's obvious. Tell me the truth!'
'You think I don't know what's going on between the two of you?'
I think he's going to be furious at this comment but his angry face lightens up slightly, his mouth sloping into something so vulnerable, so genuinely heart-breaking in its naivety. 'You know?' Carlisle asks, his voice childlike in it's plea for acception.
It's sudden weakness makes me flinch.
'Of course I know. He will punish you for your acts. He will shame you eternally.'
'You know?' He questions again, eyes flicking briefly to me before retaining importance in supporting a look of unwarranted compassion. 'You know that I'm in love with her?' Carlisle says, hand slipping from the painting as he looks to his father, begging, pleading for the support he's been desperate for.
In love?
He's in love?
He's in love with me?
Eustace rears his attention to his son, almost lost for words when he looks at me too but I can't say anything. What can I possibly say? I'm speechless. He seems surprised, pleased almost as he steps closer to his son who is bent, breaths heavily, exhaustion stuck on his face, the relief flooding through him.
Who thought a line such as that would repair the years' worth of damage. He puts a hand on Carlisle's shoulder, ignores how violently he shudders and leans towards him.
'In that case, it's disappointing you had to throw yourself at such a common cunt.'
The expression changes, the glare breaking through when he pulls away and slaps Carlisle so forcefully against the cheek that he staggers to the floor again. Eustace takes one look at Carlisle on the floor, ignores my cries and while my attention is taken… breaks apart the canvas, ripping through it with a punch, the fabric colours splitting under the poise of his knuckles as my work… my whole inspiration… the epitome of three weeks… is destroyed in front of my eyes.
'Do you realise what you've just done?!' Carlisle bellows and though I clasp a hand on his shoulder, he launches himself at his father, knocking him to the ground and connecting his hand with the side of Eustace's face.
'Carlisle!' I scream, trying to pull him off but revenge is clear on his father's face as he spits close to Carlisle's shoe.
The act has so many more meanings than just the simple disgust I can see. It's juvenile, foul, pathetic and yet my Saint looks more hurt than he did when he was being slapped. His cheek quickly pulses up in a burning red, ignoring me and continuously pushing me a few steps from him though I'm trying to beg him to leave.
'You think I hadn't guessed? I know what this slut has been doing and see how she taints your purity!'
Carlisle growls again, raging against the sudden upper hand of his father as a hand is pressed to his throat, rubbing off the make-up fiercely and exposing the marks I'd left days before. Despite Carlisle's goodness and his gentleness and thoughtfulness, the words ignite the kind of anger I wish I'd never have to see. I keep trying to pull them off each other but it's useless and eventually, with a groan, Carlisle hunches up his knee and brings it up into the gut of Eustace, throwing him off temporarily as I pull and drag him to his feet. He stumbles again, wiping blood off of his lip and pushing me towards the door.
'Tell Edward to take you home'
'I'm not going anywhere-'
'Now, Esme! Leave.' He shouts, glaring hard at the door as his father waits for my leave. He gets impatient, steps towards his son and though he cowers just slightly, he doesn't move away. I'm about to shout at him, to drag him out of there by his freaking hair when he cups my hand on my arm and, as gently as possible, shoves me out the room.
'I don't want you to see this…'
The slam of the door has more finality than the harsh sound of Carlisle's grunt of pain and though I throw myself at the door, they've locked it.
'You're better than this. You know you're better than this?!'
In conjunction to another agonising groan, comes further cries and screams from my throat and launching myself at the door, I realise it's not going to open. They ignore it, they ignore it not matter how hard I plead and thrash against the wood.
'For fuck sake. Please. Be rational!'
Rational.
Edward.
I throw myself into the mass of people, sprinting through and grasping people out the way, the concern and the fear tidalwaving through my nervous system. People part with angry mutterings and frustrations, glaring as I use my hands to shove them out the way.
'Esme?'
'Edward!' I gasp with a cry, holding onto Elizabeth's arms to stop me from caving. 'I need Edward.'
'Good heavens! What's the matter, Dear?'
'Now! Where is he?!' The words stumble out without context or sense and her eyebrows furrow like my flatmate's would.
'Esme... calm down.' She tries to soothe, a hand on my shoulder as I gasp harder, the breaths escaping and not returning. 'Slowly... now tell me what's wrong.'
'Where's Edward?!'
'Slowly, dear. Where's Carlisle? He'll know…'
'He's upstairs!' I scream, desperate as the words try to choke me. The music stops. People suddenly turning to my hysteria when two cold hands stop at my shoulders.
'Come, Miss Platt… deep breaths.'
I'm on the floor, balancing on my knees, gasping for breaths and words and the more I try and force them out, the more I can see blow after blow being planted onto his body…
I try to take Doctor Maddison's advice but suddenly the people have swarmed for the drama. I hear Liz happen upon realisation with a gasp, urging her husband to find Edward immediately while she goes upstairs. The breaths aren't coming. People aren't helping and begging for the icy daggers of breath, I try to inhale. The cold hands drop mine, replaced by bigger hands that are hoisting me, with a rather forceful grip, first to my feet and then away from the crowd completely.
My hair is stuck to my face, my eyes closed as I focus on my heels. My lungs, once full of sweet enormity, cripple under the depravation of need, burning and stabbing blades through my chest. I'm hyperventilating, time is slowing and the more I try to calm, to scream, to explain, the more mute I become. I assume it must be Mr Masen who leads me to my feet because his whole body shrouds over mine and while my head is bent low, my hands over my face, he drags me away into silence of a back room.
'Breathe.' He tells me and because I really am desperate for air, I try to listen. My body refuses. My hands are still shaking.
I need Edward.
'Breathe.' He commands again. Louder, fiercer, unrecognisable almost.
His voice doesn't sound right. The cheery laughter doesn't have the Chicago twang that I was joking around with earlier. It's sickly. Forced. A different voice entirely. His hands continue to rub my arms, close to the dress's neck line when suddenly… he pushes his stance against mine.
'Breathe, my little Brown eyes.'
My eyes finally look behind me, the last of my salvation falling out of my already empty lungs. My legs try to cave beneath me. They get close, too and while I'm still in disbelief, the hand comes down my shoulder.
With the last bout of energy, I leap to the otherside of the room, running towards the door-
'Esme?!' Edward cries, concerned when he grasps ahold of me. I fall into him, without words when he looks up. I feel his jaw drop in horror.
'Carlisle…' I try to explain. 'He's upstairs…' The sobs try to take over. 'He's hurting him, Edward. He's…'
'Get out.' He's not looking at me, his speaking to the man in front. The grotesque form of my boss. Tanned, exhausted but highly amused. 'Get the fuck out before I call the Police.'
'Come now, hardly a polite way to treat guests?'
'You're not a fucking guest-'
'Son?' Mr Masen calls from behind, hard eyes watching the exchange of the three of us when we back closer to him.
'Get him out of here.' Edward says. 'Get this fucker off the property-'
'Edward! Do you know who you're speaking to?'
My gut lunges uncomfortably. 'You know him?!' He demands, the disgust taking over from my voiceless throat when he looks at his mirror image. Senior frowns.
'Edward, this is Mr King… He's been a city counsellor for-'
'I know who he is!' He yells, face contorted into a look of defiance. My head is spinning, my hands losing grip on the world around us. 'You know him?!'
'Of course I know him.' Senior growls, clearly embarrassed. I've backed my feet away, sliding my hands to my diaphragm. 'He's worked with Eustace for years…'
'No…'
My mouth forms the shape but the word isn't mine. It isn't either of the Masen's and it isn't my boss's… It's Carlisle's. It comes out in disbelief… and I turn to him, my expression broken…
Excusing the slap on his cheek, his swelling lip and the utter disgusted rage eating him up, he seems okay. For one, he's standing, not very straightly but his feet work at least. I put my hands out towards him, to grasp onto him, but he pushes straight past me. Past the three of us…
Edward loosely grabs a hold of his arm in the last second, momentarily stopping him while I grasp his other hand as tight as my hands will allow. He's not warm with his usual affection. He's hot. The exposed skin on his arms prickles with heat, head cocked warningly as the fires of wrath cascade through him.
'Please?' I utter, trying to hold onto him though it hurts every cell of my body. He's so unlike himself... so eager... He's slipping through my grasp.
'He did this…' He has no volume but I know what he's said and then it comes out in a desperate cry. 'He did this!'
'What is going on?!' Mr Masen yells, looking between us and lastly at my boss, the distrust suddenly eating up his features as he almost tries to huddle us away from the large man.
My boss smiles wickedly, the smile swallowed by his absorbant face, doubting the very essence of the two men in front of him. My gut lunges.
'My confusion is with you, Old friend. I couldn't possibly know.' He says this smugly, watching Carlisle like taunt.
It's one too many and though I desperately try to seal my lock onto him… Edward lets go and with a force similar to that of the art studio, Carlisle pounces forward and pushes the large man to the wall, his forearm tight against his throat.
Three people scream and for once, I'm not one of them.
'Carlisle!' Senior roars but his voice is lost against the menacing whisper of my …saint. My hands tremble but I pull him, grasp his shoulder and drag him towards me. My boss doesn't fight it, not as much as he could, he's without strength in comparison. Carlisle isn't moving.
'Drop him?' I plead, my chin dropping as tears spill over my cheeks. His expression cracks, his blue eyes on me…
'He hurt you…' he retorts, ignoring the sudden gasp of Elizabeth as she jumps into the scene. Edward senior pushes her back, he blocks his arm against the door as a crowd appears, looking between us all. Our Edward is a few steps behind Carlisle, eyes on me with the same trust you'd give to an officer talking him down from a ledge.
This time, the ledge is a metaphor for his morality.
When Carlisle repeats himself, his voice is on the verge of cracking; 'He hurt you, Esme…'
'Please?' I repeat. I come closer towards him, though everyone fears his crouch like an animal in captivity. My shaking hand goes over his, loosening the grip as my other holds onto his bicep.
'How can you expect me…?' He's on the verge of tears but with a tense inhale loosens his arm. He doesn't let go just yet.
'Take me home, Carlisle?'
I can see his chest rise in gasps, breaths and heavy heart poundings. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply before doing as I ask and stepping away. My boss slips to the floor, snorting the air while he looks away, disgusted with himself already. I tighten a hand on his arm, drop it to his wrist and then his hand, grasping his tightly to keep me from screaming.
Edward comes close to his left shoulder, head bent low and without words, nods.
Carlisle is silent in the passenger's seat. He's already let Elizabeth emotively fuss over him and, as clear with us two as well… needs to be at home. They don't say much when packing up the car. They haven't said much in the fifteen minutes it's taken to get into the car.
Mr Masen simply dropped his car keys into Carlisle's palm, discouraged his wife from asking questions and, despite the flinch, hugged him. He hugged me too, a weak smile on his mouth when Elizabeth takes over. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. Which makes me feel so much better about my over emotion. While Edward and Senior are pushing our cases into the boot, she kisses Carlisle on his good cheek, ignores the downcast sight of his eyes and embraces me, wiping away any escaped tears.
'I'm really –' Just as I'm about to apologise she shakes her head, holding me close, her sad melody of concern in my ear.
'We hope to see you soon?'
He forces a smile followed by a quiet nod. Edward doesn't say much apart from that he'll speak to them tomorrow but when Elizabeth raises an eyebrow he can't help but roll his eyes and eventually nod, looking towards Carlisle… and nodding again.
She squeezes my hand as we leave, tells us to drive safe and waves as Edward rolls across the drive to the main road.
We're very silent, waiting patiently until he's past the traffic lights and then we all jump into it like everything has happened is nothing more than a dream.
'So now that we're all in the car…' Edwards starts, seeming almost as if he barely gives a shit while I stay in the back seat. He pauses, turns to Carlisle and shakes his head. 'What the heck happened to your face?'
'Let's not talk about it.' Carlisle murmurs, humourless as he wipes his face with a groan. Edward scoffs, waiting for the reply more befitting for his curiosity.
'Don't give me that crap just tell me what went down and how many punches you threw?'
I'm surprised by a call of laughter slipping from his split lip, maybe it's madness but I'm relieved to hear it after sobbing for fear of death…
'It's really not funny, I shouldn't be laughing at all.'
'Father Cullen didn't like my painting.' I explain with a rather sarcastic smile. Edward catches my eye in the rear-view mirror and then his mouth turns down and he shakes his head.
'No?' He guesses, repulsed…
'Yep.' I say, confirming his fears. 'All wrecked.'
'Oh, Esme. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?'
I catch Carlisle looking at me, waiting rather worriedly when I smile at him and nod. 'I'm surprisingly okay.' I confirm, meaning it completely.
'What does this mean... for your scholarship?'
It's a matter that I don't want to think about for a really long time. 'Well I'm not sure. I think I got a job in the same night so I don't really know what to think.'
'You did?'
'Ask Carlisle.' I dismiss, playfully. He looks exhaustively pleased again, rubbing the back of his neck when he realises Edward's looking at him.
'It's a long story.'
'Alright. We'll skip to something shorter... So you punched him?' He guesses, rolling his eyes when Carlisle turns on his indicator for him with a frown.
'Kinda.'
'Yes.' I confirm from the back seat. 'Straight upper cut right into the jaw.'
Edward laughs. 'That's brilliant, I can't believe I missed it. So what did he do?'
'He pissed me off.' Carlisle says simply. Edward scoffs again.
'He must have had to do more than that for you to punch him-'
'My name became synomous with 'slut'.'
'No it didn't.' Carlisle amends, shaking his head. 'Nothing out of that bastard's mouth was worth any kind of argument. So there were a few punches and here we are…'
'Carlisle?'
'What, Edward?'
But he looks weirdly proud. 'Dude, did you actually punch your father?'
'I…' He catches my (unnecessarily proud) grin and rolls his eyes again, smiling. 'Yeah, I guess I did.'
'Seriously?!'
'Yes!' He confirms impatiently, chuckling still.
'… Shit… You really are a bad influence, aren't you Es?' He sees Carlisle flinch and winces himself out of guilt. 'Anyway, now we have that disaster out the way…' He says, eyeing both of us as he drives out onto the road.
'Go on?'
'The fuck was with that whole evening?!' Edward demands, laughing. Carlisle surprisingly matches him.
'Worst dinner in the history-'
'Did you see his face when you left the table?!'
'I was about to say the same thing!' Carlisle adds, grinning, clapping his hand on Edward's shoulder. They're both laughing loudly, grinning as they continue to openly criticise the antics of the sad priest.
Without the disgust of guilt or regret or sickness. I think I should be terrified considering the sudden change of emotion but infact I'm rather pleased by it. Relieved.
'What about when you drank the wine?' I add, leaning on the back of Edward's chair to look at him.
Edward throws his jacket and tie over the bannister the moment we pass the welcome matt, dropping earlier's bags with less than a care. Carlisle puts his blazer on the coat rack, loosening his top button and tie but staying suited before slipping off his shoes.
I didn't have a coat, but I do discard of the shoes. When I look up, my beloved Saint, slow walking but pleading ignorance of any injuries, places three mugs and a bottle of champagne on the table. Edward catches my eye but with a smile, shrugs.
'What's all this?' I ask warily. Fucking hell he's gone mad.
'My gratitude is unwordable but nevertheless, consider it a thank-you for being with me tonight. And a celebration that it's over.'
A beautiful bottle of champagne- See this would be unbearable sweet and perfect, if I didn't turn into a total wreck when pissed.
'You know if you wanted alcohol- you could've just stolen it. I doubt your father would've noticed?' I tell him.
'Two wrongs, My Love. Two wrongs.'
The sound of his breathing is thick from his mouth, concerning me enough that with a stern look of warning, I lead him from the living-room back down into the kitchen. He's quiet now, a little embarrassed and expectedly so as he squints towards the floor.
'Up.' I say, slapping the counter with a flat hand while I run a cloth under the tap.
He jumps up, watching me as I close the door momentarily. Edward is hardly bothered, he's sat at the piano, eyes on his phone as he hesitates with ringing. All parties are grateful for the brief privacy. Carlisle's looking at his hands, eyeing his knuckles thoughtfully. I squeeze the water from the cloth, pull his face up to me and gently lay the cloth against the side of his lip. He flinches initially, eyes wincing shut begore opening himself up to the sting.
'Es?'
'Who'd ever thought we'd be here, huh?' I tease, softly, gentle against his swollen cheek as he tries his best not to move. He licks blood of the side of his lip, touches the cut with a thumb and rolls his eyes.
'Es?'
'I'm not saying it was clever… and despite the relief, I will be pissed soon enough. You shouldn't have endangered yourself like that. Especially not twice.'
'Es?' He pleads, his hands coming up to lay against mine on his face. 'I'm so sorry…'
'How long have you known?' I whisper, standing close to his face with my hands dropping to his thighs. He sighs, the sound more vulnerable than expected as he avoids catching my eye.
'A while…'
'Please?'
He closes his eyes, taking steady breaths as he tries to stay as honest as he always wishes to be. 'I've suspected it for two weeks or so. I think Wednesday confirmed it.'
'You think?' I question him, hating the reminder of dinner.
'I've been doing my best to ignore it. I didn't want you to find out. Especially like that…'
'You didn't want me to know?' I repeat, hands tightening on his legs. He hesitates, failing to answer as he hangs his head in shame. 'What didn't you want me to know?'
'Es...' He says, frowning.
'Tell me, Carlisle.' I demand of him, a little more toughly than I meant. He sighs, finally wrenching a hand through his thick hair and lifting a set of deep blue eyes to my forest.
'I'm in love with you.'
'Are you sure?'
He nods, gasping in shock when I pull him to me, clutching his face to mine desperately. I can taste desperation and frustration and the slight hint of blood on his lip but I just need him. My hands lose themselves in his hair, his tongue light against my own until I encourage wider access. He slips to the marble top, pulling me carefully with him as an arm snakes around my waist, keeping me safe against the sweet cry of his lips.
My hand tightens in his hair but I use the other to guide his hand up the back of my thigh. He inhales sharply. He's so gentle, so hurt himself…
He's in love with me.
He's in love with me.
His hands are trembling on my skin, his tongue working against mine to tie the nervous energy into desire, hot headed, blooded desire.
I squeeze his hand tighter on my thigh, relishing his yelp when he wraps a clasp around my hip. It's in his kisses, it's in his words, it's on his tongue, in his hands as they lower down my arms;
He's in love with me.