Thank you as ever for your lovely reviews! Sorry things are taking a bit of a slow update but they're not quite over, I promise. This chapter features all different kinds of intensity and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I have. Forgiveness helps.

Thank you for your patience, I will be forever grateful if you'd be so kind as to leave your thoughts as always! Thanks!

They're sitting side by side on the sofa, hot drinks in their hand. Their eyes on the TV, on their wary son, on their clothes, around our house and when Carlisle heads downstairs, they rise to greet us.

It's strange but I follow his lead. Watch as he shakes Senior's hand and lets Elizabeth pull him into a hug. Greeting Senior is a little embarrassing but only because I know he knows. Elizabeth is so wound up in her concerns I doubt she even realised the scent of the two of us melting together, our obvious nudity, the dirty and playful grins.

Senior, however, knows.

I can see him say it, the kind of sentence all fathers tell their sons. We were all young once… He's itching to joke, even to his own son if not us. It's funny how daughters don't receive the same.

From my dad it was a shrill 'but she's just a child?!' followed by the grumblings of every grumpy father. He wasn't a grumpy man up until that point. Sometimes I struggle to remember if he ever looked at me the same after he found out. Probably not with every discovery sending him into fits of frustrated rage.

He was lucky in one sense. When Mom wasn't holding the honour of shitting on my liberalism, my older brothers were. His legacy lived on. The disappointment never ceases.

Which brings us to the Masen's, sitting on the sofa like it's theirs as the three of us hover awkwardly. Liz is looking slightly flushed from the lack of self-control just a second ago and I'm cruel enough still to wonder what tugged the apron strings.

It soon comes back. She's a loving mother. Seeing a child needlessly harmed has to be sickening.

'Sit down, Son. You're making me nervous.'

Carlisle looks up, smiles awkwardly, detaches his folded arms and leans off the bannister to sit instead at the table, pulling the chair around to face everyone. The four of them have this method worked out. It's like a conference, discussing what's next on the agenda.

For the look on Senior's expression, he could be discussing the problem with Neo-Nazi's.

'Would you like to-?' But the small shake of Carlisle's head is enough to take the suggestion from Senior's mouth. He nods, looks to his watery eyed wife and leans forward. 'Well, as you can tell-'

'Dinner!' I suddenly gasp, and excusing myself, I rush into the kitchen. Luckily we're okay. Nothing is burnt. The food smells good. But while I'm in here I make sure to open the windows, to plate up three dishes and offer the third and fourth. Senior tries to decline but Elizabeth nods heartily and sharing the comfort of food, we gather at the table to eat.

I suspect it to be awkwardly quiet but food somehow has this magical quality of easing even the strangest conversation from the mouths of us all. While we eat, Edward is happy to explain about a recent scandal to do with one of his teachers squandering funds meant for another department.

It's only later that I realise this is an attempt to ease Carlisle into the conversation.

'Last night then?' Liz smiles and after a small glass of wine, she's relaxed enough that she can ask this without causing offence.

'Last night.' Carlisle sighs, smiling to allow his wounds to be poked and prodded.

'How about the last month instead?' Senior says. He pushes his empty plate from him, congratulates me on my standard of food, watches Carlisle beam at the compliment and settles his blazer on the pack of his chair.

'We haven't really got a nice foot to start on so for your sake, Esme, Dear, I hope you don't easily get put off your food.'

I immediately swallow my large mouthful and let my fork fall to my plate in a closing statement. Even if I was hungry, which I was, the remark is enough to turn my appetite. Carlisle looks under his eyelashes as me and sips his water.

'To start with-'

He's interrupted by the phone ringing and looks relieved by it. The three of us look to one another until eventually Carlisle decides the ring can't be ignored. He apologises and places to his ear with a slight nervous frown playing on his features.

After a second he rolls his eyes, holding it out to me with a smirk. I'm glad he's got the receiver covered because complaining, I ask who it is.

'Alice.'

'I just got off the phone with Alice?' I say, knowing that that was at least three hours ago now. With a sigh, I take it from him, smile apologetically and ask what's going on.

'What's up?' I murmur, shying from the eyes in the room.

'Did you not get my text? I've sent you about thirty messages!'

'What about?'

'Bella and-'

'Alice.' I complain lightly. 'Now really isn't a good time. I'll call you back.'

'Only call me back if you can get a confessions from him. I can't believe it.'

'I'll call you later.'

'Text me.' She demands, excited.

'I can't. I don't know where it is.'

'Es. This is sooo important.'

'Not now, Alice.' I repeat and this time my voice has a harsh impatience that I'm ashamed to have used in front of company. 'I'll phone later.'

'You don't need to. You're phoning me now?'

'Goodbye-'

'Don't be such a bitch.' She sings, playful but I've already hung up the phone and turn to the four pairs of eyes.

Edward is looking ever so curious and I deliberately watch him back with the same amount of suspicion to see if he crumbles. He doesn't. That either means he's got no idea what's going on. Or he's fighting hard to stay innocent.

'Sorry.' I murmur, looking at my feet. 'I didn't mean to interrupt.'

I'm half expecting them to overcompensate my concern and fuss around my embarrassment. Liz at least. Instead Senior just inhales and nods to the table like I'm about to be grounded.

'To start with,' he begins again, 'we were not necessarily as in the dark as it might have looked.'

'A-hem.'

He looks, mock-irritatedly at his wife and rolls his eyes. 'Okay, I, specifically, was not as in the dark as it looked…'

'Dark?' Carlisle asks and it takes for them to look towards his voice to realise they're focused on me.

'Esme, Dear, perhaps I should start with an apology.'

It's the second time he's referred to me as Dear. It's not soothing. I can feel my palms start to sweat. I'm meaning to ask his point. I don't. I just wait for him. He turns over his shoulder at his wife, smiles shyly and leans a little towards her.

'My Love, I don't suppose you'll make a Brandy?'

She kisses his temple and excuses herself with a nod, 'I'll see what there is.'

Carlisle is already railing. 'There might only be the old bottle…'

'Three glasses, Liz.'

'Sir... With all due respect…'

Senior postpones his response to the Saint, watches his colour fade from him and simply exercises his patience. It's making me uncomfortable watching him. My hand itching to lay over his, to inhale with him and cool his thinking. I don't move either.

Three glasses are brought to the table, a few watermarks left on the rim in accordance to Edward's poor drying skills. The bottle of Brandy from our cupboard is old, the label sticky and ripped like it might have been trodden on before slapped to the bottle neck with spit. Carlisle polite shakes his head at first but Liz insists and silently, she fills three glasses.

He pushes one towards Carlisle and one towards me like a game. Edward is still standing in the middle of us, his breathing keeping me neutral. Despite declining it, the Saint's hands wrap around the glass as if it's a hot drink in winter and he stares at the liquid inside waiting for Senior to reopen the conversation.

'He's been keeping an eye on you for a while, Esme.'

The words come out quietly. They take their time to surface to the pout of the Masen features yet they manage to pass me like a car doing ninety on the highway. I didn't get chance to catch the number plate.

My passenger did. He flinches, hard, shoulders tensing.

'How long?'

Manners are out the window. All that's left is the cold bitter resentment of betrayal. Senior sighs.

'Years, Carlisle…'

I wonder if the confessional tone is in response to the secret or another underlying issue we're not quite ready to grasp a hold of.

'He hasn't been here for years!' Comes the sharp reply.

'The moment you moved in together….'

'So he's got spies?' He guesses.

It's such a ludicrous statement that I don't believe he's being realistic. Then I see his face and my eyes instantly go to Edward's similar shaped ones. He's shifted closer to me. I'm not sure why, maybe to affirm some loyalty, to beg for comfort, to offer it.

'Carlisle?' Senior starts.

'He can't have known. He couldn't possibly have known. I've been so careful. The address. He doesn't even have the address. How does he know?!'

Funny how they say a change of wind can alter any situation. The breeze from the kitchen manages to tickle around my shoulders. The sniff of Edward's disgust altering his focus and a damn right furious expression quickly changes to suffocation.

His hand goes to his diaphragm and though he breathes in like he's summoning a breath, it's also like he's crushing his sore abdomen closer to him. Like he's trying to break his ribcage.

'No…'

'Son… I can't even begin-'

'You didn't. You didn't.'

'Carlisle-'

'You!' He yells, gesturing now. 'You?!'

'I know it sounds bad….'

'With all due respect, Sir, what on Earth were you thinking?!'

'Carlisle- I couldn't- I.'

He takes in a breath, a shamed one, he looks to his wife for encouragement and she nods. He's hard for him to see it at the moment. My Saint. It's just another act of pain onto his heavy shoulders but the devastation is in their eyes.

They love him.

'Son-'

'Carlisle,' I soothe, peering around Edward to look at where he's eyelevel with his bookshelf. He's looking at a leather bound copy of the bible. He's squinting at it as if the cover is unreadable. Both hands are clenched.

'This whole time?! This whole time they've been spying on you.'

'That doesn't matter-' I mutter, quickly and I think it's one of those sentences I'm just repeating out of necessity.

'It doesn't matter?! Of course it matters! I've been endangering you this whole time just from knowing you.'

'It's not like that.' I say consciously, pushing out my chair with difficulty. 'You can't think like that!'

'How can I not?! It's sickening, I'm just this spreading cancer. Everything good and healthy, I infect-'

I jump at the acid in his tongue but Edward looks worse.

'Hey! You know that's not true-!' He snaps but the bite he receives has us both backing down.

'Do I?!' He retorts. Friend to friend, brother to brother, rage distorting his gentle expression with no place to store it. 'Face it Edward, every second of your life has been endangered and if it's not by me then it's by them!' He turns now, facing the parents again though they grip hands. He stands addresses them now, or rather Senior but by attachment, Liz. He feels so much louder than he's actually being. 'You know him. You know what it's like, you have seen every last bit of information regarding this insanity. Why would you involve him this?! Or her?! Why encourage me to be a part of your lives when you knew full well of the issues.'

'We just wanted you to have a normal life….' Liz begins, and though her voice isn't shaky, there's enough emotion behind it to make him think.

'I don't get to have a normal life. None of this life is normal. Dragging people down around it to sustain that false perception of normality is ridiculous!'

'Son,' he repeats.

'Can't you see what you have done?!' He growls again.

I step towards him, behind Edward but he surprises me in moving to his left. Out of my way.

'Every person I get close to-'

'I didn't have a choice, Carlisle.' Senior murmurs, guilty.

'There's always a choice!' He responds, angrily.

'He was going to revoke your visa. He'd already had this whole claim filled out. It was waterproof. There's not one clause. Not one gap. I couldn't let him do that-'

'Why not?!'

'Why not? I won't let him isolate you, Carlisle. I'd already had restraining orders set in place. I had no consideration of the harm from him simply knowing where you lived when he was just about ready to drag you away.'

This makes him stop, even momentarily. 'He was going to do that?'

'The paperwork was done. He was in the process of sending it when I confronted him.' He explains, Brandy glass circling in his hand as he takes minute sips when our attention is focused.

'When?' Carlisle asks, voice hard.

'May 'thirteen.'

'Three years ago?! This is why he moved here…'

'…Yes.'

'He's here because of you?!'

'And you're here because of them!' I interrupt, just as loud. Both men turn to me, frowning, not expecting my little voice to break through their passion so perfectly but it does so. 'They damn well rescued you and it's in your best interest to remember that!'

'I do remember that.' He replies, quieter now. 'But at what cost? What was the point in starting this life here when it meant causing harm everywhere else?!'

'You don't cause harm.' Edward mutters. 'Fucking hell, Carlisle. What about what Maddison said last night? The fact that you're already in the process of being a surgeon. That doesn't come easily, Carlisle. That's not normal. Everybody you meet-'

'You make them better.' I finish. 'You're not the cancer. Or the infection. Or the poison. But the medicine. You make everyone better. And if that comes with the price of exposure, then so be it.'

'Esme…' He frowns again, leaning painfully against the table now, thinking. When he speaks, his voice is still hard. 'You're a private person. So are you, Edward. He is taking that from you…'

'So?' I dismiss.

'So?!' He repeats. 'Es, anyone you've ever spoken to. Any late night conversation, every drunken party, every argument on the phone. Everything…. It's been watched.'

'But-'

'We've never been alone. That's how you should think of it. Every time you think you're opening up to me, you're not. You're opening up to him.'

'I refuse to think like that!' I reply, hotly.

'Then you're ignoring the facts!'

'When are you going to get it through your head? I don't care. I don't care who knows, I don't give a shit whose keeping tabs on me and I sure as hell don't give a flying fuck about some Randomer being that paranoid they have to keep an eye on me-'

'Fine. But what about if it was Alice?'

The blue of his eyes are so piercing at this moment that I feel the breath escape me.

'Carlisle.' Edward murmurs. 'Not here.'

He doesn't back down. Maybe he wants to, the concern and the fear in his eyes pleading with him to stop but his arms are locked in the coiled spring.

'It's not Alice.' I say, quietly.

'What if Alice knew?'

'I…I… I can't answer that…' I stutter. 'I'm only… I can't…. Don't you realise that I'm protecting you? She can't know.'

'And that's exactly what I'm doing.' He replies, totally without energy, his shoulders slumped. 'I'm trying to protect you. To keep you safe and if leaving the country is the way to do it, then fine.'

'Like hell you will!'

'I won't let you live in this constant harassment-'

'And I won't live without you!' I yell.

There's a horrible silence. A disgusting one. Eyes on us, not knowing where to go. Hands fidgeting, becoming uncomfortable. My heart hammering.

'If you leave this country then okay. That's fine. But I'm coming with you…'

'Es…'

'Even Washington. I don't give a shit. I don't care Carlisle. I care about being…with you.'

'But…'

'No.' I say, quietly. 'But no. End of conversation.'

I've managed to work my way to the table now. He's still hunched, hands spread on the cloth and so I carefully lay my hand over the top. My petite painters hand shrouding his Surgeon's hand. He inhales and loosens ever so slightly.

'What do they know?' This isn't to me. It's to Edward Senior who is clasping his drink nervously.

'Everything.'

'Explicitly?' He pushes.

Senior sighs again. 'Sit down, Son.'

And so he does. He breathes a few times. He thinks about something and then he pulls out a chair and sits on it. He's not touching me anymore, not really. But under the table, his foot is hooked around my chair leg, close to my foot. Together.

Edward is now sitting where I was at the head of the table. I'm opposite Senior and Liz is opposite Carlisle who is looking more and more exhausted, the harder he tries to listen.

'Perhaps it's best if just you and I speak for the moment, Esme?'

'No.' I say with a snort. 'Just go on.'

Everything I could've underestimated in the space of an hour at most, goes underestimated. There are things that I couldn't even name which he manages to speak about. He's got my family decided, he knows how many miles is on my car, there's evidence in everything and none of us have any clue on how the information was acquired.

'That's what I don't understand.' Carlisle murmurs. 'Who could possibly know us enough to grasp so much information?'

It's been another hour. He's calmer, a lot calmer and simply looks like a kid half asleep at the theatre. He's opened his posture towards me now ,though neither of us use it, and keeps both hands displayed around his chin.

Lucky for us, if it is lucky which I seriously doubt, our first year together has somehow managed to be as ignored in worth as my Saint was happy to dismiss beforehand. The spying doesn't start till moving day. Exactly from moving day.

It's difficult for Senior. He's embarrassed enough as it is but then having to repeat the information back to us from memory is somewhat worse. Especially considering he only recently discovered the information himself.

'The broken plant pot buried beneath the porch…'

'You know about that?' I say, blushing and it takes for Carlisle's curiosity to simple lighten the conversation.

It feels light-hearted at first. It could almost be a joke because that's how he starts us off, easy. He eases us into it so well that we dismiss the issues with secrecy almost immediately.

'Darts in the garden?' Carlisle repeats, frowning.

'Emmett.' I say, rolling my eyes.

'Marijuana?' Senior adds, carefully. Carlisle raises a hard eyebrow at me.

'Again…Emmett…'

'Es, I swear…'

'It was just the once, I promise. And he was high before he even came over. We were trying to calm him down before you came home and freaked.'

'We?' He asks and Edward comically excuses himself to go and make a drink.

Friends are easy to discuss. The parties, the low downs. Outfits that I've worn. Glasses that I've broke. Number of times I've cursed out Edward's parking. Then it comes to the horrible stuff.

The number of arguments I've fallen into. Either with friends or strangers or my family. The amount of times I've sworn in public. Where I've worked, who I've worked for. How long? How much money I made. How many Yoga classes I went to. The things I buy for a weekly grocery shop. The amount of times I've sat on the porch and waited for Carlisle to come home because I've lost my keys.

The conversations we've had on the porch. The awkward clumsy, show off conversations. How many times I've smoked out my window.

Then it gets to the worst bit of all.

'I really think I should stop…' Senior says, catching his wife who has been rubbing his shoulder for near on two hours now.

Edward was lounging on the chair but as the information has become creepier, he's sitting up straighter. Carlisle's resting on his elbow, his eyes never leaving my face while Senior and I talk. I'm amazed he's managed to keep so straight faced. Not judging me once. Even when I've bumped into his car…

'Is there more?' I ask, confused. Carlisle yawns a little and covers his mouth. Senior nods.

'What more could there possibly be to say?' I laugh, rubbing my eyes.

'There's also a section on… partners.'

'Partners?' I repeat and suddenly I feel sick.

'There's a number. Miniature profiles of some. More detailed on others. How long they've stayed.'

'Disgusting.' Carlisle curses, looking at me. 'This is what I mean. This it's…vile.'

'They weren't all that bad.' I joke but I see his expression and stop my giggle.

'Esme this is the depth of the information they have on you. They know these things. Whoever the fuck 'they' is.'

The casual swearing catches me again and I have to pull myself up straighter to avoid from laughing in tune with him.

'It was hardly a secret, dude.' Edward murmurs and I nod a little.

'Edward's right.'

'Doesn't make it any better.' He complains.

'Anyway. So they have a number on that. Great.'

'And how many late night pharmacies you've been too…' Senior murmurs quietly.

'What?!' This is both Carlisle and I now. Both yelling in disgust.

Firstly, I have been to one late pharmacy for my own need. The other countless times I've been to a late night pharmacy, is because Alice is terrible when it comes to avoiding pregnancy. It's ridiculous.

'The issue to do with the club?' He adds, looking at the table, embarrassed. It's only fair he be embarrassed now that Carlisle, Edward and I are seemingly unimpressed.

'The club?' I ask.

'The incident with Miss Tilly-'

'Fantastic.' I curse.

'Vile.' Carlisle repeats, voice becoming stern again. 'Unbelievably, ridiculously vile. All of them-'

'There's also…' He stops, drains his brandy and shakes his head. 'Edward leave the room.'

'What? Why me?'

'You, too, Liz. And you, Son.' He looks to the three he's announced though they don't move.

It's a little silly, it would be far easier to simply excuse ourselves but he doesn't. He dismisses them.

'It's fine.' I murmur, shaking my head. 'There's nothing I have to hide. They can stay.'

'Esme… I…'

'It's fine.' I insist, a little more sleepily. Though he agrees, he shakes his head too.

'But I insist on Edward and Liz.'

Edward rolls his eyes but follows his mother out the room. Senior watches them go, judging their curiosity with something a little harder than suspicion. Carlisle is leant towards him but I am so bored of having my failures written out in front of me that I hardly care anymore.

He can do his worse. There's nothing I have to hide. Not anymore.

'There's also the matter of work…' He whispers. 'The coffee shop.'

Carlisle's hand tightens. 'You know about that?!'

'I didn't get chance to read much on it. But that's been catalogued to…. Your history.'

'History?' I repeat, confused.

'It's not history.' Carlisle sneers and before he can go overboard I grab his hand to reign him in. 'But it's not. It's not history and it's not okay. Its assault-'

'Assault?!' Senior exclaims. 'What assault?!'

'I thought everything was written in there?' I joke, sourly, rolling my eyes but Senior lowers both voice and tone and lastly, himself.

'Esme…they have very explicit stuff documented.'

'Do they?' I ask, sarcastic and rude and a completely hostile host. My mother would be ashamed. 'How convenient.'

'I…' He pauses and looks away. 'I don't think you're understand just how much information they have on you…'

'A lot?' I guess.

'There's a detailed account of your relations with Mr King.'

'Detailed account?' I scoff when the word catches me. 'Relations? What relations? There are no relations?!'

'The…' He stops, ignores Carlisle and covers his mouth. 'Please forgive me, but you need to know… There's detailed accounts of the oral sex performed in the back office.'

Just like that, the floor of which I balanced the last of my dignity, slips through my fingertips. It cracks beneath the floor. The lava comes boiling through to it. Through my skin and back again.

Accounts.

'That's a lie!' Carlisle roars, chair crashing to the floor beneath him but I'm gripping the table. The oral sex?!

'There wasn't any oral sex!' I snap.

'They were very explicit-' Senior poses awkwardly.

'Well they're also full of shit. They're making it up-' Carlisle rants.

'There's two accounts-'

'I'm telling you, its bullshit!' Carlisle yells.

'It didn't.' I gasp now, sucking the air into my lungs because I know it's trying to escape me. 'He tried but…

'Tried?' Carlisle repeats, and his hand comes to his mouth. 'He didn't-?'

'Tilly walked in.' I respond monotously. 'And it gave me the escape I needed… Carlisle…I'm so…-'

'Escape?' Senior repeats. 'It wasn't consensual?!'

'Of course it wasn't consensual!' Carlisle growls. 'The bastards. The absolute-'

'Stop!' I insist, scrubbing at my head. 'We've already had this argument. I don't want it again.'

'I can't… I can't accept him doing this….'

'You said assault?' Senior says, leaning away before turning to look at me in horror. 'How many of these relations with Mr. King consensual?'

'None of them!' I say, bitterly. 'Obviously none of them! Why would any of them be consensual?!'

He puts his hand to his mouth, too. Then he stands up, he walks away from the table, stands by the mirror on the other side of the room, close to the television and stares hard at himself.

'That's who it is.' I murmur to Carlisle, fingers curling around his hand. 'Now we know. It's them.'

'How can he possibly know about the parties we've had? The jobs before him? How can he know the exact number of times you've stayed over at the Waldermans? How can he know?!'

'Carlisle?-'

'Oh my God…'

'What?' I ask, irritably, irritated and just in need to curl up and sleep.

'What about the beach?'

'The beach?' I ask.

'Officer Swan was called. It must have been him.'

'So much for out the country…' I mutter, rubbing my forehead.

'This is just sick!' He yells, hands curling in his hair. 'This isn't right.'

I've spent so log arguing against him that now I can't disagree. Sure, I didn't give a damn when I thought people were simply concerned with what I bought for dinner. Things were a different manner when it's my boss. More importantly…. When things are being rewritten.

'It wasn't consensual.' Senior repeats, disgusted. 'Fuckers.'

'The Coffee shop? If that's what it is then this whole time-'

'What?' I ask impatiently.

'He's grooming you to this response. All of it. It's deliberate. It's planned. He's had it planned. He's been preying on you-'

And just as the onslaught of horror takes over him, I grab both his fists.

'If you leave through that door, I'll be gone-'

'Esme! Be reasonable!' He demands, furious, snarling almost.

'I am being reasonable!' I yell back. 'If you so much as wish his death, I'm out. I can't. I can't do it, Carlisle and I refuse to let it make you into something you're not.'

The words come out in an awkward rush mainly because I have no idea if I believe them or not. I just know if he leaves… I'll be alone. And that's not something I can think about right now. Even if I happened to be in a jail cell.

'There must be something we can do?!'

'No.' I mutter. Both of them give me a look of utter disgrace. Different in every way, in every colour except those expressions. 'No. I don't care. It's done, it's over.'

'It's not over.' Carlisle mutters but it takes for Senior's correction to make the lava rise to my neck.

'It's far from over…'

'What?'

'That's what I came to tell you as well. After you left, he sent everyone home. Didn't get a chance to speak to any of your business partners but he didn't need to.'

'What?' Carlisle asks, stealing my words from me.

'He's been embezzling money Carlisle. It's in your name. All of it. And The application... There was a huge argument. Massive. He's done a lot of damage to the property-'

'Sir?!' Carlisle interrupts, impatiently. 'What application?!'

'Your visa…'

I tilt my head up, eyes up to the ceiling, watching the cracks start to appear before my eyes.

'That's all I got before knocking him out. If it wasn't for Elizabeth… well…' He opens up his right hand and for the first time since he walked through the door I realise the knuckles look a little tender. Nothing in comparison to Carlisle, of course. But still pretty foul.

'We think he's got technical proof of the money being yours. He's got explanations written that he's ready to send to the police. He's got it worked out-'

Senior does't clarify who we are so I'm left to presume a team of lawyers and his Wife.

'Embezzlement is prison, though.' I correct, frowning. 'If he's got you for something like that then you're going to be imprisoned-'

'He's already had conversations with Aro. They're going to bail you out-'

'I don't have to accept the bail-' He fights, pathetically.

'You haven't got an option, Son.' Mr Masen adds miserably. 'It's out of our hands. It's all been set up. I only just managed to catch a glimpse of it all.'

'So after all that… I've got no hope anyway?'

'There's always hope.' Liz says from the doorway. Carlisle turns, sighs and offers an exhausted smile before opening his arm out to her to concede into a hug. Perhaps it's exhaustion. Maybe he's giving up but I am repulsed with him. I see the look on her face, the emotion flood through her when she rushes towards him and scoops him in her arms. 'Whatever it takes, you're not going anywhere.'

'Consider it a holiday.' He jokes, a smart side smile appearing out of nowhere. It's maddening. Maddening how willingly he accepts it. Maddening that I can't bear to add one word of support.

'We're doing our best.' Senior responds, turning towards us. 'I've spent all day eyeing the paper work. But he's got the majority of it all.'

'Why has he got it?' I ask. The sound of my voice is bitter, creepy. Like diamonds scraping down glass.

'He has my birth certificate.' Carlisle responds, guiltily.

The fact we're speaking hard at each other is more telling than when we were arguing.

'How can he possibly have your birth certificate? You have a job? And a car? And a passport?!'

But the expressions between them all move my stomach to nausea again.

'It's fake.' I realise, hysterically. 'It's forged.'

'Yeah…'

'Of course.' I say, laughing. 'Just our luck, right?'

'Es?'

'I'm going to bed.'

'Esme-?' He repeats, stepping towards me but I step away a little and turn my focus on the three Masen's in turn. Edward is looking the most alarmed. Very pale as he tries to understand where to start.

My goodnights are hollow. I hug them all, ignore their apologies, thank their concerns. I let Elizabeth crush me to her. I let Senior make more false promises. I let Edward mock and call me rude. I let Carlisle watch me go.

And I lay on my bed.

In my room.

For the first time in four years, I'm overcome with the sudden hysterical feeling of loneliness and I don't respond well to it.

At four in the morning, when the darkness is edging into light from the open window, their car rolls from the driveway. There's two lots of steps. The first veering off followed by the slam of a door. The second pair hesitates.

I've been staring at the same spot for several hours now. My wardrobe. We picked out the slats of wood. I designed it on the back of his oven manual. Measured it with a tape measure that caught his chin when I wasn't focusing. I used his fountain pen to draw out the angles. The screwdriver was one we borrowed from the Walderman's. Carlisle had insisted on helping. And I'd nearly lost my temper at him four times. Little did I know it was the first wardrobe he'd ever built. The first time he'd let his guard down enough to trust someone else's creativity.

To the day one of the screws is bent where he lost focus for half a second.

Plenty of wardrobes to build in Italy. Or in France. Or Canada.

Like a fugitive on the run. For no real reason.

The tentative rap of his knuckles could equally be his resistance to enter or the pain of his stiff hand. I have no idea which. I can't find my voice though. So I just lay here, staring, knees against my chest and my hands under my cheek.

All my bedding is in his room.

'Esme?'

I can only hum.

The door creaks when he uses it. Groans and whines and pleads.

'May I come in?'

'Sure.' I reply, silently, not meaning to be as unwelcoming as I sound.

His steps are slow, edging closer to the bed patiently. He's standing on the edge of the bed, fingers intertwined, feet fidgeting.

'I don't want to go…' he says softly. I move my chin in his direction. He takes a risk, and an unsteady breath, and gently sits on the corner by my feet. He's focused on his hands. 'We'll work something out. Just you see. I'll be back before you know it.'

He tries to smile but it's weak and vulnerable and breaks easily under my staring.

'Being without you for any length of time…' He starts. His right hand hovers about my ankle, he's about to drop it when he pulls it back again and shakes his blonde hair. 'I'll fix this…'

'Carlisle?'

He looks up in the dark. The darkness shrouding us entirely, his lips, his eyes, his nose. I lean up a little, reach out to touch his sore cheek and feel my stomach collapse when he leans into my warmth. It allows me to hold his chin up, to press my lips against his and then do it again with more fervour.

Then the addiction of having him, of nearly losing him, it's too much to handle and I bury myself so much in his scent in preparation of losing it.

For the third time that day we make love. But I guess, it's not as new as it is to the other times. There's something else about it, the desperation, the need to be together, the inability to loosen my hold from his skin. The refusal to let go.

To ever let go.

It's the slowest we've ever gone.

When we wake in the morning, warmed only by the pressure of each other's nudity, the sun shining through my window, I find we've barely moved since last night.

I can't even tell if we showered, it's a bit of a blur. A warm one, wrapped in his arms, ignoring yesterday evening. Because I can't bear to think on it. Once he's out the country, how would he ever get back? There's always the work visa but without his birth certificate…

I don't bother texting Alice. Mainly because I still can't find my phone. I just lay against him for as long as possible, absorbing his warmth. The downstairs phone rings but I miss it. In fact, I don't even bother running for it.

I just lay with his sunshine on my body and contemplate what it really means when he has to go.

It's not something I want to contemplate. Not ever.

So for the next three days, we are the blissfully sickeningly couple that everybody hates. He doesn't have work till Wednesday and I refuse to do anything that might take my mind away from him till I have to.

We do everything. We make out in the theatre. In the back of a car. Nearly get caught by Edward in the middle of sofa sex. We eat together, we study together and we basically try to absorb the other into our daily life.

Monday evening however, our much time guest makes a visit.

The phone has been ringing all day. I keep missing it. A few times we were in the garden or the kitchen. We've been fixing his window, too which has been a pointless pain in the ass and the more time we spend together, the harder we ignore the previous evening.

'Is that the phone again?' He asks, turning towards the ring, duster in hand as he continues to buff the glass.

'Sure.' I murmur, finishing painting the edges.

'That's the sixth time today. See who it is, will you?'

'Do it yourself. It's your house.' I retort, wrinkling my nose.

'Es. Please?'

'No.'

'Babe?'

'Fine!' I sing, kissing his temple.

I manage to miss it, of course. Something I yell about from up the stairs but he's too focused.

'It can't be that important.' I try to say, shrugging nonchalantly.

It's been a good day so far. I mean we're not naked yet. But we don't necessarily have to be, I'm having just as much fun watching him work.

'If there's been six missed phone calls today then I actually-' He's interrupted by several fierce taps on the front door. Followed by another ring of the phone. 'You were saying?' He responds smartly.

'You get the door, I'll get the phone.'

'I'm fixing the window-'

'It's already fixed!' I retort back.

We're still jokingly bickering when we get downstairs. He's grinning, the smart smile warm with his split lip healing, his hand is on the door, he's murmuring words at the moment I pick up the phone.

'Esme speaking-'

And the door opens.

For a moment I think this must one of those awful hallucinations you have when you're overtired. That's what it feels like. It feels like the breath is out of my chest, the floor caving in again and just when I think to answer, he's yelling at me.

'What is your problem with answering the freaking phone?!' He yells, crushing the button off with a thumb and glaring hard at me.

Carlisle stumbles a little, and then opens the door wider to welcome him in but I'm not moving for the second just in case I'm right and this isn't real.

He's shorter than I always picture him. Straighter, too. He doesn't stoop. The suit he's wearing is an attempt at casual I think but it's still an easy suit which suggests he's just walked from some office in the city. The older he gets the more I see my mom.

But I have no idea if that's because of the glare or the awkward dark eyebrows sitting low on his face.

'Rich?' I ask shakily.

'Come here and hug me will you?!'

I don't move but he scoops me in my arms so I'm little again. I'm tiny and I'm being torn away from the mean guys on the playground. It takes me a few seconds to relax. But when I do, I'm overcome with the familiar smell of aftershave, dirt and starch.

'Why didn't you phone?' I ask shakily but the response is such a hard glare that I shut up pretty soon.

'Is that a joke?'

'Ha?' I worm out, looking uncomfortably at the floor. 'What… What are you doing here?'

'You wanna get to that now?' He asks and even from here I can tell it's rhetorical. Carlisle seems fascinated in the interchange, smiling warmly and offering to go make a drink when my brother stops him. 'No don't move. Let's have this conversation here.'

'Conversation?' I ask. 'You only just got here? Let me make you a drink-'

I'm about to spin away from him from he grabs me by the wrist and tugs me back into the room. Carlisle suddenly looks pale.

'Stop being a lil' bitch and let me get this over with. Because of your damn impoliteness, I can't stay very long.'

'You're not stopping?' I ask in disbelief.

'If I am, I'll be leaving early next morning. I'm meant to be in Tokyo by Thursday morning.'

'Thursday?' I repeat. 'That's hardly anytime… What about Jennifer?'

'She's with Mom. Like you should be…'

'And there it is.' I groan, my hands coming into my hair.

'Maybe I should-' Carlisle begins gently, directing himself to the kitchen.

'Don't move an inch, you sack of shit.' My brother commands, pointing sharply enough that it's like he yelled. 'You're lucky I'm in a good mood.'

I think Carlisle must take this as a joke because he laughs, nervously and then frowns. My eyes are rolling which is lucky. Because I'm mad enough I could punch him.

'If you could refrain from insulting my flatmates-'

'If you could refrain from being a damn slut-'

'Woah!' Carlisle intervenes, face flushed as the confusion turns into something else. I dismiss his faffing, and Richard's for that matter and repeat myself.

'What are you on about?'

He drops his shoulder and grasps his bag strap in the last second, rifling through the insides before slapping some sort of newspaper to my chest. The force is a little more than he'd intended and when I stumble, I see Carlisle's jaw go hard.

'And what the fuck is this?!'

Obviously it's a newspaper. Less obviously its local tripe revealing the worst ball I think I've ever been too. When I don't answer, he, like my mother, feels the need to fill the noiseless space with biased observations.

'Do you know how mad Mom is right now?'

'Why?' I ask, feigning disinterest though the excitement of seeing him has now bubbled over into nausea.

'Get to page three where your tits are on display!'

Again, the jaw in my eyeline is hard and when he opens his mouth I shake my head curtly.

'They're not on display.' I correct.

'Oh yeah? Try explaining that to Mom. She's furious. She was seconds away from jumping in the car and driving herself. You're lucky I was in the area.'

'This is lucky?' Carlisle mutters under his breath and that slight murmur of a voice is enough for Richard's arm to come out, nearly winding him but for his quick movement out the way.

'You wanna be careful opening your mouth around me, Kid. I've read the damn thing and I don't give a shit how much of a daddy's billionaire you've worked your way into. If I find out you've so much as thought about her naked, your teeth are decorating my car. Got it?!'

'Richard! What the fuck?! Lay off of him!'

Though he's far too confused right now to understand the implications of the suggestion, Carlisle still raises his hands in surrender.

'What is wrong with you?!'

'What is wrong with me?! You're in the paper! We don't hear from you for years almost and this is the first bit of news we get on you?!'

'That's not fair!' I argue. 'You know exactly why I haven't contacted you. Besides, it's a two way street. This is the first time you've been down here since I moved-'

'I shouldn't have to be down here, Esme! You should be at home!'

'I am at home!' I yell.

'Should I step-' Carlisle starts to say but he gets an angry 'No!' from the two of us.

'You know how ridiculous this is?!' He snorts back, trying to seem taller. 'It's gone on for far too long. It's over, it's finished, we see your point. Now come back before you send her into Bedlam!'

'Oh yeah?' I mock back. 'Then what's my point? Why am I down here?'

'For your art thing. I said we get it.'

'What art thing?' I push, my nose shifting.

'Your programme-' he says quickly, trying to skip over it.

'No. Tell me exactly what programme I'm doing. What programme am I studying?'

'The art one!' He yells. 'It's not important, Esme. The point is-'

'Not important?! Architecture. I studied architecture. I completed my studies for architecture and now I'm looking into interior design and portraits.'

'Look, I don't give a shit if you're painting by numbers. You know we're proud of you-.'

'You don't even know what course I'm doing.'

'You need to come home!' He insists, a hand on my arm.

'Why?!' I repeat, louder.

'She's sick.'

'Sick in the head.' I mutter.

'Mom. She's sick.'

'What?' The breath seems to come out of me quicker than I would've liked and though Carlisle moves towards me, the obstruction of Rich's posture stops him.

'Yeah.'

'What's wrong with her?' I ask, heart hammering, mouth drying. The nausea rising. He shrugs.

'She's just sick... Cancer.'

'That's a lie isn't it?' I realise, shaking my head.

'The point is-' He doesn't get a point, I'm already punching him as hard as I can a few times.

'You asshole! Why would you say that?!'

'Why?!' He asks. 'Obviously because I'm trying to get your attention-'

'If I might be so bold…' Carlisle interrupts and though he enters the conversation without warning, his tone is firm enough for me to focus on the sound.

'Look, Kid-'

'Carlisle.'

'Carlisle, then.' My brother corrects, rolling his eyes when a hand is offered to him.

'Richard. Dude.' He wants to roll his eyes again but he settles for shaking the Saint's hand and dropping it a mere seconds after like its diseased. I think the discomfort in Carlisle's eyes is worse than I wanted to experience but he's trying very hard to appear neutral.

'Carlisle. That's it right? Let me guess. You've got a house, you're a doctor, you've got a driveway with three cars on it. Your name reeks of royalty and you're wearing slacks in this weather-'

'Stop it.' I groan, nudging him.

'Point being?' My Saint asks, skirting around the line of the bait.

'Point being we're not like you. Not even slightly. To be in the paper is a pretty huge thing for someone like my sister.' The sharp jaw bears down harder and he keeps his focus on ignoring me. My brother continues to ramble on. 'Massive really. Now you look at those articles and tell me what my family has to be proud of.'

'Don't look at it.' I say, holding my hand on Richard's, albeit, overly large wrist.

I should be angrier, perhaps it's just disbelief. But Richard and I always worked in opposites. We were close when we were younger but only because he wasn't trying to iron me out exactly how he irons out his recruits. Things were simpler without the army.

He wavers, blue scanning the offering at hand and listening to my words.

'Go on.' Rich says, handing the paper over.

'Please don't.' I repeat. 'I don't want you to see this.'

Richard snorts. 'Always take your orders from a girl. Just read the damn paper.'

Carlisle sighs, looks guiltily my way and reads the front page. The front. The very front. It's telling the reader to skip ahead a few pages and he does so. Opening to a double page spread, mouth opening in protest.

The words hit him at once.

'Escort.' Richard says for us all. 'Escort?! They're calling my sister an escort?! Can you see why Mom is hysterical?!'

'It wasn't like that-' I insist, snapping at him.

'I know, Esme.' He groans again, and shakes his head, hand coming to rest on his buzz cut before slipping down to the sofa. 'You're just a kid.'

'I am twenty-three years old!' I correct.

'And you still can't see the extent of your actions! I'm pleading with you. Come home. For her sake.'

'She doesn't want me home.' I growl. 'And I don't want to go. I am here, this is where I am. Like it or not, I'm not going anywhere.'

'I can't do it, Esme.' He groans. 'I've got my own life too and for you to abandon your responsibilities- well, it's selfish.'

'I'm being selfish?!'

'Responsibilities?' Carlisle asks, quietly.

'There's schools in Ohio. If you're that keen to build a bastard building then fine. I'll even give you the money-'

'It's not about that-' I say, louder.

Carlisle folds the newspaper, holds it by his hip and tilts his head before repeating himself. 'You said responsibilities. What responsibilities?'

'What?'

'It's just that right now, and excuse my rudeness, Es. Right now you have tonnes of responsibilities. You've got lessons to go to. You've got payments to make. Graduate schemes and job opportunities. You've got friends to support and appointment's to make. You have a responsibility to take care of yourself… how are you meant to do that in Ohio?'

It's a strange argument considering yesterday. I'm starting to wonder if it's reverse psychology. I don't want to hear about lil my responsibilities. It's sickening.

'She's not the only one suffering, Kid.'

'Carlisle.' He repeats, standing tall and despite the tone there's a flicker of respect on my brother's face.

'You have no idea the extent of the issues and ignoring them doesn't make them go away-'

'Exactly!' I say, whining.

'It isn't just about you, Esme. You know Henry and Molly are verging on divorce?'

'What?!'

'The kids have been staying with Mom since January. She's got the paperwork filed, she won't listen and Daniel… you need to speak to him Esme.'

'What's wrong with Daniel?' I ask and I can feel my chest tighten the moment his name comes from my tongue. 'What's happened?'

'Nothing….yet…' He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose as though the air is toxic. 'He's just not right…'

'So Mom?'

'You don't even want to hear about the twins?' He says, rubbing the salt harder until my skin erodes.

'Of course I do-'

'Both into private schools. Both of them are using every opportunity they can to act as spoilt as they like and she is…crumbling. She can't do it anymore Esme. She needs you.'

'She hasn't even contacted me.' I retort.

'You said some hurtful stuff, what did you expect?'

'She called me a whore. She called me a whore, she trashed my home and used Dad's death to shit on me. I'll admit, I wasn't the nicest that day, either.'

His eyes briefly flash to Carlisle whose thinking deeply on the comment with a frown. A horrible frown. He can't quite believe what he's hearing.

'Maybe you should go?' He murmurs, realising his initial attempt was fuck off pathetic. Now his desperation is ridiculous.

'What?!' I shout in disbelief. Richard looks round too, confused.

'Forgiveness is-'

'It's overrated.' I snap.

'If you go, even for a week. It'll give us time. You won't be followed, you won't be spied on or attacked-'

'Wait, what?!' Rich's arms come out, holding us at bay. 'You've been hurt?'

'Did you read the article or just look at the pictures?' I sneer, before turning with disgust to Carlisle. 'No. I don't give a shit. I'm not being frightened away. Not by them and not by my brother.'

'If you've been hurt then there's no way you can stay-'

'It isn't your choice, Richard! It's mine and for you to wait till you need me to find where I am… It's disgusting. I'm not a babysitter-'

'She needs you, Esme! I need you! I need you to come home and do what you do best. Look after her.'

'You want me to return home and be the punch bag and I won't do it. You've heard Carlisle. I've got responsibilities here.'

'So this is what you're saying?' He spits, glaring at me. 'You're really choosing this over your own flesh and blood?!'

'There is no choice, Richard!'

'You know what… maybe Mom's right. Maybe you are just a selfish whore-'

'You need to leave.' Carlisle murmurs and then louder. 'You need to leave this house, you need to calm down and maybe when you've learnt a bit of respect…'

'You're kicking me out?!'

'We've had plenty of practice in the last few days.' Carlisle says, eyes flicking to me for just under a second.

'Fine! But that doesn't change anything-'

'Out!' Carlisle snarls.

So he does. He wavers in his suit shoes. He looks hard at me and within seconds the maddening disgust takes over and hanging his head, he leaves silently out the front door. My chest hurts when I watch him leave through the front door. The thought that it might be a few years until I see him and that's if he survives. If he lives. It's never a guarantee. I feel a headache brewing

The silence is as eerie as the chattering of yesterday's voices.

'I'm sorry.' Carlisle murmurs and then a hand appears on my shoulder. 'Oh my love, I'm so sorry.'

'He has a temper.'

'It's not an excuse.' He answers.

'I know.' I sigh. 'I know it's not but he's always had a temper. He's closer to Mom out of the four of us. She digs her claws in and he acts…'

'Should I have not said anything?'

'That's not what I'm saying…'

'You knew about the paper…' He thinks about it for a second, his cologne teasing my neck, along my nose like a scarf. 'How did you know?'

'I didn't want you to read it.'

'Because I would be angry?' He guesses, sounding calm.

'Because it's humiliating and yes, I didn't want you to be angry.'

'There's nothing to be angry about.'

'Nothing?' I ask. 'Carlisle, you're preparing to be out of the country. You're actually thinking about leaving-'

'There's no other way- there's no choice.'

'There's always a choice.' I disagree.

It hits me then. There's always a choice.

We try to spend the rest of the evening being semi productive but the harrowing events of our weekend and the people disturbing it is becoming extreme and in the end, we end up asleep on the sofa, eyes unable to open, huddled in each other's arms. Mostly on account of another raucous joining of bodies.

But now, clean, exhausted, I'm refusing to move before I have to. Even if everything is telling me to leave.

'Es?' Edward whispers, shaking my shoulder gently. I whine, stretch and try not to disturb Carlisle who happens to be already awake.

'What's up?' I ask, keeping my voice low.

'There's someone outside for you. Been sitting on the porch for a few hours.'

'Tell him to fuck off.' I say, burying my face in Carlisle's jumper. His chest expands, a warm hand stroking my arm.

'You don't mean that.' He says under his breath.

'Maybe I do.'

'Es, he brought flowers.' Edward says, eyebrows raising. 'I really think you should speak to him.'

'Fine! Fine, but when I start balling my eyes out- you both owe me ice cream.' I warn, hands coming up. 'Tonnes of ice cream.'

Edward is right. He's sitting on the porch steps, head in his hands, hunched over like he has stomach ache. Though he's several years older than me, he looks so juvenile, so miserable that I feel my anger ease out of my pores.

'You can't stay out here all night, Richard.'

'I know.' He murmurs and when he turns to face me I get the faintest suggestion he's been crying. 'You know I love you, Maple.'

'I know.' I respond, bristling a little at the term of affection. Maple. Like the tree in our garden.

'You being away… it's not easy.' He sighs. 'It's easy when it was just me who abandoned you all. But knowing she…pushed you out. Seeing my baby sister slandered. Can't you see how hard that is on us?'

'I understand.'

'It doesn't matter how mad she is, Esme. She loves you. She's worried and we can barely know if you're safe all because she refuses to pick up the phone.'

'Why don't you come inside?' I say, softly now. 'I don't want you getting cold the night before your flight.'

As he stands, I realise Edward's right. He's carrying a small bunch of half-dead flowers. They're the cheap ones you expect from a garage but I take them from him gratefully.

'He's not the worst guy…'

'You might actually like him if you stopped judging him.' I reply. 'And stop calling him Kid, it's not funny.'

'You are Kids.' He responds, biting back his unshaven smile.

'I don't care. It's gross.'

Considering he is both an older brother and a taller one, there's something genuinely ego boosting how he lowers his gaze when apologising to Carlisle. And I love the fact that he doesn't forgive him too easily. Carlisle's reserved and makes him earn the forgiveness the way someone should.

'I haven't slept in four days.' He excuses, brushing the thought away.

'I know how you feel.' My Saint responds and he excuses himself to make the drinks he tried to make earlier.

Rich is much better behaved the second time round. I don't know if that's because he really is sorry or he's embarrassed but he goes above and beyond trying to keep me updated on everyone back home and welcoming Carlisle into the conversation. Edward's right, too. He even buys dinner.

'You're a sweet little home giver.' He mutters when I'm making up my bed for him to sleep in. He's spent a while talking about Carlisle's latest surgery and blushing hard when his quick insults from earlier have shown him up in every department.

'Is that an insult?' I ask, unamused.

'You really know how to look after people.'

'I've had practice, Richard.'

'I am really proud of you, Sis.' He says, folding his arms over his chest. 'You know that, right?'

'I'm proud of you, too.' I say. 'Now be careful when you sleep on the right side, the bedside table is closer than you think.'

'Esme?'

'What?' I say half chuckling. 'Dude, go to sleep. We're tired.'

'I haven't seen you. Why are you so quick to leave?'

'You need to sleep. I need sleep. I feel like a troll.'

He snorts. 'You look like one, too.'

'Ha.' I mutter before kissing his cheek. 'Sleep well-'

'Esme?'

'What?!' I whine, stamping my feet a little like I'm a four year old. He laughs loudly and shakes his head.

'Do you love him?'

'Goodnight, Richard!'

That's how I slam the door. On his roll of laughter. Carlisle is sat up in bed waiting for me. He's got his knees up, a blanket draping over his waist as he reads from a book, his eyes closing slightly.

'Are you okay?' He murmurs, kissing me perfectly on the lips, holding me close and combing through the side of my hair.

'Tired.' I murmur.

'Same.'

'Thank you for being really patient today. I know he can an asshole.-'

'Not at all.' He says, shaking his head. 'It was lovely evening.'

'Eventually.' I mutter, curling into his open arms. 'If it's not one problem, it's a thousand, huh?'

'Yes.' He agrees, hauling me closer. 'Es… we should really discuss…'

'You're not leaving the country, Carlisle. End of.' I try to soften my anger by holding him closer but it only makes him pinch his eyes in that Masen manner that I hate. There's distaste on my tongue. My arms are uncomfortable. My back hurts. And so does my pride.

'If I slip away now then there's less fuss. You know how much worse the situation is going to be if we wait for me to get deported?'

'And where do you expect to go?'

'I'll think of somewhere.' He mutters. 'Don't look like that, we don't have a choice.'

'Stop saying that!' I reply, shrilly.

'Stop getting mad. I'll sort it.' He puts his lips to my forehead again and nuzzles my hair line. 'Have a bit of faith in me, please?'

Rather annoyingly, Richard doesn't wake me as promised. He slips out in the middle of the morning, leaving only a note written in his poor handwriting. Carlisle tries to soften my worries and to some extent it works. He doesn't have work till Wednesday and so we fill our time with each other. Devoted to ignoring the threat of a temporary loss.

It doesn't take long for my plan to come into place over night. The moment he said about leaving the country, I'd already decided against it. Convincing myself into the details was, and remains to be, the problem.

By Wednesday, I have it decided. I have to have it decided because I'm getting to the point where I can't be alone without freaking out. I know exactly what I'm going to do. I haven't uttered a word to Carlisle but I've gone far enough to second guess myself with everyone else. Surprisingly enough, it's Jasper who is the most helpful. It's Bella which tells me what I need to look out for. It's Rose who tells me to be careful and it's Emmett who reckons the idea is too far-fetched.

But they help. More than they know.

Wednesday is a good day for my Saint. He's thrown himself into work. So much so that he's happy to explain a new procedure he was able to witness that evening. We eat together, we make sweet passionate love, we shower together and we go to bed, arms around each other, and conversation barely above whispers.

Thursday is the day.

He wakes up after me, arms curled around my waist when the alarm goes off. I can feel how awake he is this morning and I back myself into it.

'Morning.' He murmurs, smile on my ear.

Courage works and while we're still naked, I make sure to wrap my right leg back around his so that he's pressed close to me. The gasp from his lips is luscious.

'Es…'

But I reach beneath my legs and let his tip gather the moisture around me. He gasps again and it makes me wetter, the heat dissolving my skin when he shifts his hips up.

'Urgh fuck.'

'This early in the morning?' He snickers, groaning when I slide further to him.

It's so easy to lose myself to the moment. To feel him pulse inside me and let his cock have me shuddering.

He shifts his hips again and we both moan louder.

'Carlisle, I don't want to wait…'

'What you mean is, you don't want to earn it.' He crows in my ear, sliding in and out of me a hand guiding my hip. 'You don't want to earn the right to come…'

'Urgh, please.'

'Please what? What is it you want?' He whispers, hands roaming along my hip, up along my chest, feeling my boobs, pinching my sore nipples.

'Make me cum.'

'My Love, it hasn't been three minutes. Are you sure you want this to be over, this quickly?' He's playing around, making me wait because I hate being patient when I don't need to be.

'No?' I guess, biting my lip.

He slides out, makes me whine, sucks on my neck and flips me onto my back, hands roaming my thighs.

'Is this how you want me to make you cum?'

'Carlisle!' I groan, half laughing when he gives me that sexy as hell smirk. His hair is dishevelled, his face wrought with stubble and his eyebrows flirting.

'Is that a yes?'

'Of course it is.' I demand, pulling his face to mine and moving my tongue in the rhythm I need him to move.

He gets the hint. He shifts his hands under my ass, squeezes my skin so that I gasp and uses his hips to spread my legs wider. He's watching me watch his erection press against his sore stomach. He's watching me lift my hips for him. How my tongue salivates against his.

Smirking, he slides in two fingers cheering on my curses when I grip his hair.

'Feels good huh?'

'Please.' I call, especially when his thumb slides against my clit and I tense around his hand.

'More?' He asks.

'Babe, please.'

He laughs, shifts his legs to me, rubs his member against my slit so that I beg for him and then slides very carefully into me, hands on either side of my hips to give him some balance. My stomach knots inside itself, every time he thrusts into me, I can feel the intensity of my body tense, the high building, the wave coming up over me.

'You wanna cum?'

'I want you to make me cum, Carlisle.'

'Now?' He asks.

'Don't want to make you late for work…' I pant, body rocking when he thrusts his hard cock into me. 'Ugh, you feel so good.'

He snogs the desperation off my lips, kisses me thoughtfully, moving only in a way that will make me come.

His hands hold me everywhere, his kisses driving me wild, my legs open, my body shaking and when I reach my peak, I come around him so hard that he follows with an orgasm straight after, spilling into me and collapsing forward as we pant together.

It's a wonder he isn't late for work considering how long we lay there. We lay there so long that Edward has a go at us for waking him up with our laughter.

I hate this bit. I hate watching him get ready without me and I hate when Carlisle has to leave but I adore the grin on his lips, the shy blush, proudly displayed on his person.

'Have a great day.' He tells me, kissing me with his minty breath, coffee in one hand, briefcase in the other, toast balancing in his grip.

'You too love.' I say, smoothing back his hair. He gives me the sloppy grin again, looking away, shyly. He's just closing the door when he steps back in and smiles, combing his hair back.

'I love you, Esme.'

It's that kind of sentence that never leaves me prepared.