"Never apologize for how you feel.

No one can control how they feel.

The sun doesn't apologize for being the sun.

The rain doesn't say sorry for falling.

Feelings just are."

- Iain S. Thomas -

Ignorance Is Bliss

"Alright," Rosalie said, as she steered the car from the parking lot of the police station onto the street. I'd just reported last night's experience to the police, despite the fact that I had no description or details to give of my pursuer. I felt better, though, now that I'd talked to someone about it. "Now that you've done your part, I need to hear everything about this charming Dr. Cullen. And I mean, everything. I want every detail. Did he kiss you? Did he hold your hand? Did he hug you? Tell me."

I rolled my eyes at her enthusiasm. When I'd called her this morning and told her what had happened to me, she'd been obviously horrified and dramatically told me I wasn't allowed to go outside alone, ever again. But she'd also been pleased that the mystery man who had helped me with my truck a few days ago was no longer a mystery man. In fact, she'd nearly choked on her morning coffee, when I'd told her I had gone to his house.

"Rose, it's not like it was a date. No, he didn't kiss me. Obviously. He did hold my hand, but only because he was taking care of the cuts. There was nothing more to it than that."

"He has to like you. He invited you to his house. Who asks a complete stranger to their house?"

"A thoughtful, considerate gentleman does that. It was raining like crazy, and I'd just managed to escape some creep who probably wanted to skin me alive after doing God knows what to me. And my hand was bleeding, and he saw I was cold and upset. Like I told you, he was worried, because he's a doctor. Or was one."

Rosalie frowned. "What do you mean? He's not a doctor anymore?"

"He said he quit practicing a few years ago."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. He said it wasn't the field for him. He's a professor at the university now."

"Professor of...?"

"English Literature."

She grinned. "Nice. A professor. That's kind of hot."

I rolled my eyes.

"So..." Rosalie gave me a glance before turning to look at the street again. "What did you two talk about?"

"Nothing, really. He kept asking how I was feeling – I think he expected me to throw up or pass out any moment. Or both. Maybe my face was all green. He also wanted to know what I do, but just because he was worried whether I can work with this hand."

"Oh, come on, Bella. I need details. You must've talked about something else. Something personal."

I blew out a breath. "Okay. I found out that sometimes, he likes to take a walk at night. Apparently, he finds it soothing. I thought it sounded...well, curious."

"Moonlight walks. I see. He's a romantic. Which means he's your perfect match. You're the one burying yourself in old, classic books all the time, after all."

I gave a soft laugh. "I wouldn't go that far just yet." I hesitated. "There were moments when I got this feeling like...like he was sad about something. I mean, he kept smiling a lot and all that, but there was this strange aura of...something around him."

"Maybe he's lonely."

"I thought about that. His house was huge – anyone would feel lonely in there."

"Well, maybe his loneliness will soon be over." Rosalie gave me a wink.

I chuckled again, torn between amusement and frustration. "You know, I like it that you're so supportive, but...I just don't see anything happening. Sure, he's helped me twice when I've been in trouble, but that's only because he just happened to be there when I needed help. He didn't exactly have a choice but to interact with me. There's nothing more to it than that. He was being very polite and proper with me, and nothing else." I paused, sighing quietly. "And besides...I was right before. He's older than me. A lot older."

"How much older?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask his age." I rolled my eyes.

"What does it matter, anyway? Age? If I met Emmett now, and even if I found out that he'd just celebrated his fiftieth birthday, I'd ask him out, anyway. Love doesn't ask how old you are."

"Great. I've met the man twice, and you're already talking about love."

"Well, you're going to meet him again, aren't you? You asked for his number, right?" She turned to me and looked away from the street far longer than I would have liked. "Isabella Marie Swan. Tell me you asked for his number!"

"Watch where you're going!" I scolded her. "Do you want to go back to the police station? In handcuffs?"

She muttered something unintelligible under her breath, but she turned to look ahead of her again. She signaled and turned left, and I waited until we were safely in the parking lot of my apartment complex before I began to speak again.

"No, I didn't ask for his number," I answered. Taking a deep breath, I tried to sound as casual as I could. "He gave it to me."

Rosalie hit the brakes so hard that I was thrown forward in my seat. I would have probably gone right through the windshield if I hadn't had my seatbelt on.

"And you're just now telling me? He gave you his number, and you just sit there and keep insisting nothing happened!"

"Calm down. Yes, he gave me his number, but it was clearly an afterthought. I could literally feel how uncertain he felt about it – it was like he was worried about giving me the wrong impression. And he only gave me his number in case I have something to ask about my hand. It was only his sense of responsibility that made him think about it – I got the feeling it would've bothered him, if he hadn't given me a way to reach him."

Rosalie had a knowing smile on her face. "Mmm-hmm. Just like it bothered you, when you didn't ask his name when you saw him for the first time."

I sighed. "You know, sometimes, I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall."

"I know the feeling very well," she retorted. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to call him, silly? You're going to call him, right?"

"Rosalie," I moaned. "I swear, one of these days, I'm going to replace you with a golden retriever. A male golden retriever. He'll have the same shiny hair as you do, but do you know what the difference will be? He'll be better company, and he'll actually understand what I'm saying." I paused. "Oh, and he can also get my book whenever I ask him to."

Rosalie chuckled. "But he won't be able to talk back."

"Believe me, that's only a good thing."

She laughed, but then she sobered. "Seriously, though." She touched my arm, making me turn to her. Her expression was no longer teasing. "Bella, do you like this man? Just be honest, please."

I hesitated, searching for words. "I don't know, I mean, I've met him only twice. I don't even know him."

"Of course you don't. What I'm asking is...how do you feel when you think about him?"

Again, I hesitated. Cornflower blue eyes kept invading my thoughts. "I don't know," I said again. "I feel all warm and...fluttery. Like there's an electrical charge on my skin. Or something."

"So, you're attracted to him. Why don't you allow yourself to admit that?"

"Because." I blew out a sigh. "Okay. Maybe I am attracted to him. But it doesn't change anything. Look, I didn't downplay anything I told you just now. I honestly don't believe he sees me that way. He was charming, yes, and very polite and considerate. And he was so kind to me. So gentle. But the point is, I'm sure he would've behaved like that in anyone's company. He just happened to be there when I needed help – there's nothing more to it than that. Really. And besides, what would a distinguished man of his age want from a young girl like me? We have nothing in common."

"You don't know that," Rosalie disagreed gently. "And you're not a young girl, Bella. You're a grown woman. You turn twenty-five next month."

"And he'll probably turn forty-seven or something."

"You know, Emmett is almost ten years older than me. I've never been hung up on that. Why would you be? Or does the age thing really bother you that much? Does it gross you out or something? If this Dr. Cullen were ten or twenty years younger, would you consider calling him, then?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not that. Of course, his age doesn't bother me. I don't care how much older he is. What I'm trying to say is that, his older age makes him more...unattainable. He's out of my league, as simple as that."

"Maybe he feels the same about you."

I stared at her, incredulous.

"Oh, come on, Bella. Have you seen yourself? You're beautiful, you're smart – slightly inclined to pessimism, perhaps – but still, any guy would be thrilled to go out with you. I know what I'm talking about – I've seen you naked, you know."

I closed my eyes. "Don't remind me."

"Oh, come on. You have a body like a goddess. Have you seen how some of the customers look at you at the café? You look so innocent and sweet in that little red apron. It's easy to see what some men think, when you go to pour them more coffee."

"So, I should be happy that some men undress me in their minds? That's not nice. That's disturbing, actually. No one should have to be worried about things like that."

Rosalie rolled her eyes and let out a strangled screech. "You don't get it." She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. "Okay. Imagine that this Dr. Cullen comes to the café one day. Imagine yourself taking his order. Imagine yourself walking away from his table. He's sitting there and looking after you as you walk away. Now, imagine it's him undressing you in his mind."

"Oh." I stared ahead of me. "Oh."

"Well? How does that sound?"

I gave a soft chuckle. "Well, a girl can always dream, I guess."

"Yes, you can dream. But you can also pick up the effing phone and call him."

I raised my eyebrows. "Wow. You didn't say the f-word."

She sighed. "I'm trying to quit. My mom doesn't like it when I use bad words. She actually set up a swear jar. I'm always this close to cussing at the salon when there are customers around, so..." She turned to look at me again. "Okay. Well? Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you here?"

"Alright. I get it. You want me to believe he's not out of my league, just because he's older than me. Maybe it's so, but still, it doesn't mean anything."

"You know, there's one way to find out if he actually likes you, or if he was just trying to be nice to you."

"Let me guess. I'll have to call him?"

"Exactly." She flashed me a brilliant smile and tossed her long curls over her shoulder. "I'm not saying you should dial his number and ask him out right away. You can be subtler than that. Just call him and ask him something about your hand. Ask him when it's okay to go swimming, for example. Or tell him the cuts are itching really badly, and you wanted to ask if it's normal. Maybe he'll ask you to come over, so he can see your hand for himself, or maybe he offers to come to you instead. He brought you home yesterday, right? He already knows where you live. That's perfect."

"I'll think ab–"

"And then," she cut me off, her blue-green eyes gleaming in a strange way.

"Oh, it wasn't over yet," I murmured to myself.

"…You'll have to try to start a more personal conversation. Talk about this and that at first, be casual, and at some point, ask him where he grew up, for instance. The important thing is that you talk about something personal. That won't be enough, though. Since he's older than you, it's likely he won't be the one to take the initiative. You said he was polite and considerate – as in a gentleman – so, he might be worried you'll think he's a creep or something, if he makes a move on you. Which means you'll have to be the bold one and take the first step. When he's about to leave – or when you're about to leave – touch his arm or hand or something – "

"Or something?" I asked, giving a hysterical giggle.

"–and look him deep in the eyes, and don't say anything for a while. Just be quiet and stare at him until your eyes begin to water and you see right into his soul, damn it! Make sure you have his full attention. And then, tell him quietly that it was really nice to see him again."

"And then?" I asked.

"And then...let him walk out. Or walk out yourself, depending on where you meet."

"That's it?" I frowned.

"I told you that you can be subtle about it. Subtle works the best. Sometimes, even with men. The important thing is that you say something that makes him think about you and see you in a different light. After that, the ball is in his court. He'll either ignore your words and not react, or if he's interested in you, he either contacts you or comes to see you at the café. He'll try to be all casual, and he'll probably say he was just passing by and suddenly had a craving for coffee. And then, you two live happily ever after."

"Wow. You've got it all worked out, don't you?"

"Bella. I've done this a lot, as you know. It took me a while until I found Emmett, after all. I know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I guess you do," I admitted, leaning my head against the headrest. "What I don't get is why you're suddenly so obsessed with this whole thing."

"Because I know you, Bella."

Her words made me give her a surprised glance.

"You've been all gloomy and blue ever since what happened with James. But I know that even though he hurt you very badly, he didn't manage to destroy your trust in other people. I also know you'll be fine if you have to spend the rest of your life all by yourself. I know you don't need anyone. You've always looked after yourself, and not just yourself, but you've also taken care of those around you. Like your mom, for instance. You have the ability to love with all your heart. Look at us. I drive you crazy sometimes, but still, you put up with me. You're always all in, no matter what the situation. You're so fearless. You always have been. Sometimes, I envy you for that."

I listened to her outburst without a word, at first not knowing what to say. "I've never seen myself that way before," I admitted. "Thank you, I guess? But I'd never say I 'put up with you.' You're my best friend."

She took my hand. "And you're mine. That's why I ask you to think about what I said. I know you're fine on your own, but if you really like this man, I suggest you do something about it. If you don't, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. You're right – you've only met him twice, and you don't know a thing about him. But despite that, you already seem so..." She shook her head, searching for words, "Well, taken with him. I can't describe it any other way. He clearly intrigues you."

"He does, but I don't know why, exactly."

"You don't have to know why. Just do something. Call him. Please, Bella. Don't kill the romantic in me."

I chuckled softly, unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the passenger door.

"Alright," I sighed as I got out. "I promise to think about it. Scout's honor."

I got my truck back on Monday. The mechanic gave me a weird look when I pressed a soft kiss on its rusty surface and told the truck I'd missed it. Maybe the guy had underestimated my love for the ancient vehicle. Or maybe he agreed with my mom and thought it belonged in a museum.

My hand was healing well. After a few days, I no longer had to wrap gauze around it, but I covered the biggest cuts with band-aids. If I had to get my hands wet at the café, I took Dr. Cullen's – or Carlisle's – advice and used a glove on my injured hand.

I found myself thinking about him often. I'd promised to consider Rosalie's suggestion to call him, and by the end of the week, I'd made up my mind. I would talk to her about it when I saw her on Saturday. Emmett would be gone for the weekend; Rosalie said he and his friends would be gone for their annual "man-trip" to Las Vegas. They did it every year. Therefore, Rosalie had decided it was only appropriate that we had a proper girls' night out. She had made reservations at our favorite restaurant.

On Saturday, I drove to her and Emmett's apartment late in the afternoon to spend some quality time with her before we'd go out.

"Okay," I sighed as we were getting dressed. "I'll call Carlisle. Tomorrow. But only if you'll be there, talking me out of my panic attack."

Rosalie laughed. "I'm more than pleased about your decision, obviously. But you should be alone when you call him – that way, you'll be able to be yourself. Trust me, you don't want me there. While you're talking to him, you don't want to keep analyzing my facial expressions and wondering if you said something right or wrong. It'll only confuse you more."

"Yeah, maybe you're right." I drew in a deep breath. "Fine. I'll call him. Tomorrow. Alone."

"Fantastic."

I began to feel better after my decision. Nervous, but better. Excited, even. Rosalie was right – I liked this man. I wanted to know more about him. If I didn't at least try to do something about it, I'd regret it.

"By the way, aren't you ever worried Emmett's going to get too drunk and do something stupid while he's gone?" I asked Rosalie. She was just zipping up my dress, and I held my hair out of the way, deciding to leave it as it was. I'd blow-dried it this morning, and it was nice and straight. It would have been nice to curl it, but curls never stayed in my hair.

"I know he's going to get drunk," Rosalie answered in a dry manner. "And I know he's going to do something that'll count as stupid in one way or another. It's Emmett. I've kind of accepted it." She took a step back and scrutinized me.

"Do I pass?" I asked, glancing down at myself. I was wearing a knee-length halter neck dress – it was the prettiest thing I owned. I didn't wear it often. Dressing up wasn't my thing.

"Of course you pass. Black suits you." She turned to the mirror and continued to curl her golden hair, and when she was done with that, she added some mascara and lipstick – not that she needed those. She was stunning, even without makeup. I let her dab some lip gloss on my lips, but when she approached me with a tube of mascara and an eyeshadow palette, I held up my hand.

"Some other time. I promise."

She rolled her eyes in disappointment but accepted my words– she knew I didn't like using makeup. One reason was that I was always too lazy to wash it off – she'd lectured me about it more times than I could count, and she had also given me a thorough facial after every lecture. Rosalie brought work home.

Returning to the original topic, I gave her a curious glance. "Aren't you ever worried Emmett is going to get so drunk and so stupid that he wakes up in someone else's bed?"

"Nope," she grinned. "He's a worse liar than you are. He knows I can just smell it if he has bad news to tell me. And besides, I trust him. Oh, and this might have some impact on matters as well." She walked to her closet and pulled out a garment that...well, didn't even count as a garment. I saw a flash of black silk and lace – see-through lace – and all I could do was stare. "I showed him this right before his friends picked him up. Believe me, he's not going to even glance at another woman this weekend. His brain is filled with mental images of me wearing nothing but this."

"What is that?" I asked, both awed and horrified. "Where do you get those things?"

"Do you want one? We can go shopping next week if you want. I'll help you pick something."

"I…" I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. "I…I don't know. Let me get over this sight first. Or at least give me time to get used to the thought of wearing something like that." I blinked and turned away from the piece of lingerie, like it was brighter than the sun. Rosalie chuckled at my reaction.

We took her car – my truck's clutch pedal was a nightmare, even without heels. Rosalie was driving, and again, it was because of heels. She had somehow managed to convince me to wear these black, two-inch pumps, and even those were too high for me. Even ballerina flats made me stumble, after all. Rosalie, on the other hand, could do anything in heels. She could run in them and drive in them... hell, she could probably go rock climbing in them.

There was a good reason why the restaurant we went to was our favorite. It was peaceful and atmospheric, and the service was always great and the food delicious. It didn't disappoint us this time, either. Like always, we had a great time, but just as we were about to begin our dessert, the night took an unexpected turn.

I wished I had seen it coming – if I had, I would have chosen not to live those moments. Sometimes, ignorance truly was bliss. Sometimes, it was just better not to know some things. It helped to keep some dreams alive, after all.

Rosalie was just talking about the plans she and her mom had for the salon – they were considering expanding it and hiring two more people to work there. I was about to say something about my mom's friend who had expanded her own similar business a couple of years ago, and that was when I happened to give an idle glance around the full restaurant.

And that was when I saw him. Golden, swept-back hair. Eyes like the stormy sea, like fields full of cornflowers. A smile that was always slightly sad. Dr. Cullen. Carlisle.

And he wasn't alone.

I saw him pull out a chair for a beautiful, tall woman with long, blonde hair. She smiled brightly at him as he helped her into her seat. The woman was about mid-thirties, and her eyes were a light shade of hazel. They were like two suns – I could see that, even though they were a few tables away. She was...stunning. I saw Carlisle press a soft kiss on her hand, before taking a seat himself. He wasn't facing this way, but I knew it would only take an accidental sideways glance for him to see me.

"Shit," I hissed, suddenly hoping I could fold down like a telescope. I didn't cuss that often, but when I did, I had a good reason for it.

Rosalie knew this as well. "What is it?" she asked, obviously wondering why I was suddenly trying to hide. She probably saw I was doing everything I could to keep myself from crawling under the table.

I leaned sideways to look over her left shoulder, relieved when I noticed Carlisle was still focused on the woman. Or well, I wasn't relieved, perhaps. More like pissed off at the universe.

"He's here," I whispered to Rosalie. I didn't need to explain who I was talking about.

"Really? What are the chances?" She began to peer around her. "Where is he?"

I gave a nod towards the direction of their table. Rosalie spotted him instantly.

"Oh. Oh...Oh. Oh, wow. Well, now I know why you're so interested in him. He's...hot. Man, his face is like a damn sculpture. No, scratch that. The whole damn man is like a sculpture!"

"Shh! Don't stare at him," I begged. "He'll notice us. Did you, on the other hand, notice he's not alone?"

Rosalie was still staring at him. "Maybe she's his sister."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't think so. And you almost made me call him. I can't believe this. Do you now see what would've happened if I'd called him?"

"The world would've exploded?" she suggested sardonically. "Come on, Bella. You don't even know who she is. Maybe they're colleagues or something. Do you always have to think about the worst-case scenario?"

"Yes. Look at them now. They're not colleagues!"

The woman was leaning over the table to kiss him. On the mouth. It wasn't a short kiss, either. I closed my eyes and leaned my face into my palms. I knew my reaction to seeing him with someone else was unreasonably strong. I didn't even know the man. I'd barely had two conversations with him.

Why was I feeling so disappointed, then? Like someone had poured ice water on me?

"Is there any way we can leave without him noticing us?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. We'd have to walk past their table in order to get out – and we'd have to ask for the check first, of course. Great. More attention our way.

"So he's dating someone," Rosalie brushed it off, her tone appeasing. "I wouldn't worry about it. They might not be exclusive."

"So what?" I asked. "I don't date men who date other women. That's just...sad."

"No, that's an inevitable part of the dating culture nowadays. Sorry. Women do it, too. I've double booked myself in the past. You can't always put all your eggs in one basket. I know you're a romantic, Bella, but this is how dating sometimes works."

I kept my eyes closed. "He must have a thing for blondes."

"You don't know that."

"Are they still kissing?"

"No. And you know, you probably think I'm just trying to make you feel better by saying this, but I think it was her who kissed him – he didn't initiate it."

"Well, he wasn't exactly resisting, either."

Rosalie couldn't say anything to that. A moment passed as I tried to get a hold of my emotions and kept repeating to myself that I had no reason to get jealous over a man I didn't even know. He had the right to kiss anyone he liked.

But I was allowed to feel disappointed, right? I'd suppose my decision to call him tomorrow made this definitely even harder to handle, especially because it had taken so long for me to pluck up the courage to actually come to that decision.

"She's getting up," Rosalie whispered, causing me to drag my eyes open. "Probably going to the ladies' room."

I raised my gaze just in time to see the blonde beauty heading towards the direction of the restrooms. Man, she had long legs. And a short dress.

"He's not looking at her," Rosalie murmured.

"So what?" I stared at my untouched chocolate mousse.

"Men usually watch as their date walks away – if they like their date, that is."

"Maybe he's just lost in his thoughts. It happens."

"Not when they're on a date with a woman they really like. Oh."

"What?"

"He's looking around him. He's...wait. He's..." she paused. "Yeah. He saw you."

I closed my eyes again, wishing the floor would swallow me up. "Don't look at him," I begged her. "I'll just pretend I haven't noticed him."

"Good luck with that. He's coming over."

"What?" I tore my eyes open and tried to put a normal expression on my face. There was no need to let him know about the burning disappointment inside me. Taking a deep breath, I raised my gaze from the table and tried to prepare myself for what was to come.

He was wearing a suit. Why, why, why did he have to wear a suit and look like that? His hair was just as golden, his eyes just as blue as I remembered. So blue. Like cornflowers. Like ocean's waters.

Damn.

Without a reason, I felt suddenly exhausted. Even my heart seemed tired. I watched him as he approached us, and I didn't even bother to act surprised. He gave me a polite smile as he reached our table, hesitating before starting to speak. I saw him give Rosalie a brief glance, but then, his focus was on me again.

"It's a small world," he said conversationally. His voice was just as deep and smooth as I remembered.

I nodded, forcing a smile on my lips. "Yeah, it seems like it."

"I'm sorry to disturb your evening, but I saw you over here and...and I wanted to come and ask how you were. Is your hand better?"

I nodded again, trying to find my voice. "Yeah. Much better." I showed him my palm quickly; I still covered some of the cuts with band-aids.

"No signs of infection?"

I shook my head. "No. Thank you again for helping me." I drew in a shallow breath and looked from him to Rosalie. "Uh...Rosalie, this is Dr. Cullen. Dr. Cullen, this is my friend, Rosalie Hale."

Rosalie reached out to shake his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Cullen. I've heard much about you."

What was she doing? I gave her leg a small kick under the table.

Carlisle gave a soft laugh at her words, giving me a look I couldn't quite read. "Really?"

"Really," Rosalie answered, smiling brightly. "Among other things, I've heard you've saved Bella from trouble twice now."

"Well, I'm glad I was able to help," Carlisle answered amiably. His eyes found mine again. "Did you get your truck back?"

I nodded. "They replaced the battery. It's been running great ever since."

"I'm pleased to hear that. I noticed you're very fond of it."

I nodded and managed to give him something like a smile, but all that fit into my head right now was the blonde deity who had disappeared into the ladies' room a moment ago.

Who was on her way back to the table now.

Carlisle saw her come back as well. Before he left, he turned to me and Rosalie once more. "Well, I hope you have a pleasant evening."

I nodded. "You, too." I actually managed to sound like I meant it.

"Bella..." I gave him a surprised look, as he suddenly reached out to touch my shoulder. The touch of his warm fingers on my bare skin sent shivers down my spine. "It was nice to see you again."

I was so caught off guard by his words and his warm touch that it was a while before I could make myself react. It took a moment too long for me to gather myself, though, because by the time I began to feel like I was back in my body, he had already turned to leave and was on his way back to his table.

Rosalie's gaze was like a physical touch. I looked at her, not knowing what to say. What to feel.

It seemed like at least Rosalie knew what to feel. For some reason, she was grinning like an idiot.

"I saw that," she whispered. "Don't tell me he doesn't like you."

"He was just being friendly." My voice was quiet and faint; I felt like all my energy was drained out of me. "Can we go home?"

Maybe Rosalie saw how confused I was. For once, she didn't argue or try to change my mind. Nodding, she asked for the check.

A few moments later, when we prepared to leave, I refused to look at their table. I refused to think about his blue eyes and his golden, swept-back hair, refused to hope that his gaze was following me as I left the restaurant with Rosalie.

But no matter how much I tried to deny it...I did hope.