"I am homesick for a place I am not sure even exists.

One where my heart is full. My body loved. And my soul understood."

- Melissa Cox -

Like the Moon Draws the Tide

"Huh."

I had rarely seen Rosalie so confused. She stared at the wall of my small kitchen, biting her lip.

"'Those who know...'" she trailed off and frowned. "How did it go again?"

I repeated the words Carlisle had written on the bill yesterday. "'I couldn't agree more. However, those who know what they're searching for have fewer regrets.'"

"And what was it you wrote on the check under your phone number?"

"'Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint.'"

She was still frowning. "Hmm. 'I couldn't agree more.' You know, if he'd left it at that, I wouldn't be this damn confused right now."

"Tell me about it. What is it he wanted to say to me? That he has regrets? Everyone has those."

"Right." Rosalie blew out a long sigh, and then she got up from her chair and went to my fridge, pulling out a carton of juice. She got us two glasses and filled them, wordlessly placing the other one on the table in front of me. Then, she sat back down again, taking a swig from her own glass. "You know, Bella, you should have a bottle of vodka lying around for situations like this."

I chuckled, sipping my own juice. "Maybe. Would alcohol help us solve these riddles, though?"

"Vodka always helps. No matter what the situation."

"You're turning into Emmett."

"Isn't that what happens, when two people are together long enough? They begin to resemble each other, right?"

I grinned. "Well, in that case, I can't wait to see the day when Emmett begins to wear heels like you do."

She laughed brightly, but after a while, she was frowning and biting her lip again. "'Those who know what they're searching for have fewer regrets.' Ugh! What does that mean?" She began to pull at her hair in frustration.

I shrugged. "Maybe he was just trying to say he doesn't know what he's looking for. He kind of said something like that when we were talking. He also said something about...some certain time of his life being behind him. It was after he told me he and that woman we saw at the restaurant – Kate – had parted ways."

"So, maybe he feels like he's getting too old for dating. Maybe he wants to settle down."

I shrugged again. "Maybe. But if that was the case, why would he say he doesn't know what he's looking for? Why would he leave that mysterious phrase about regrets on the bill? He didn't have to, after all. He could've just walked out without leaving me any kind of message at all."

"Yes, but that would've conveyed that he's not interested in you. He wanted to respond to what you wrote on the check, so you'd know he is interested. But then...those words about regrets..." Rosalie shook her head. "You know, it's almost like he's trying to warn you or something."

I raised my brow. "Warn me? About what? That he's really a serial killer or something?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes, sighing again. "Okay. Let's see. What else did you talk about, when he came to see you? What else did he say?"

I hesitated. Carlisle had said something else that had bugged me – or several somethings, to be honest – but some of the things he had told me seemed somehow very personal. For some reason, I almost felt like I would be betraying a confidence by talking to Rosalie about it – which was weird. But then again, I wanted to understand Carlisle. Maybe Rosalie could provide me with insight.

She saw my uncertain expression. "What?" she asked. "What is it? What else did he say, Bella?"

I replayed the conversation we'd had yesterday. "Uh...he said something about how he should be content with his life as it is. He also said it's complicated...and he said that, no matter what he does, no matter how much he searches...it's impossible to regain what he's lost."

"Oh." Rosalie closed her eyes, realization dawning on her face. "I get it now. He's nursing a broken heart. How else."

"You think so?"

"Probably. Someone disappointed him in one way or another, and he hasn't been able to recover from it. Maybe the love of his life left him or something. That's why he mentioned regrets." She frowned in a pondering manner. "Or... Hey! You said he was once a doctor, but he quit? Maybe that's another clue. Maybe he had someone in his life, and he lost her because of his job or something. Doctors work insane hours, after all. Maybe he regrets being too devoted to his work. Maybe it was the reason he lost someone important to him. And maybe that's also why he quit."

It made sense. Kind of. "Maybe." I stared at my juice, not really knowing how to feel about all this. If Rosalie was right, what would it mean in the bigger picture?

She noticed my expression. "What is it?"

I drew in a deep breath. "If you're right, and something like that did happen...well, I don't how to go on from here, to be honest. If he's really nursing a broken heart or something, if someone he cared about really left him..." I bit my lip. "Maybe you were right, when you said he wanted to warn me. Maybe he tried to say I shouldn't get involved with him. Maybe he wanted me to know he's not able to move on from something that happened to him. To be honest, maybe he was right to warn me. I don't know if I could live in someone else's shadow."

Rosalie's eyes were sympathetic. "Keep in mind that this is just speculation. We have no way of knowing what's going on with him. Besides, didn't he tell you he'd been together with that Kate for a few weeks before they broke it off? It clearly seems as though he hasn't given up on finding a relationship. Why else would he be dating? And Bella, keep in mind that he came to the café yesterday to see you."

"He said he was just driving by, and he decided to ask how my hand is healing. It sounded more like a whim."

"Oh, that's bullshit. Your hand was just an excuse. He wanted to see you."

I wanted to believe her. I really did. "Maybe," I admitted. "But after he'd told me about ending it with that woman, he said he's not looking for anything. Does it mean he's not looking for a relationship in general? Or was that a subtle way to say he's not looking for a serious relationship?" I paused, sighing. "Was it stupid of me to write those things on the check? 'Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint'? I practically admitted I'm not looking for anything serious, either. Does he now think I'm open for a casual relationship?"

"Probably. Are you, then?"

I hesitated. "Maybe. Or I don't know. I've never been good at casual. I'm always all in – I can't function any other way, it seems." I paused, momentarily lost in thought. "I was with James for almost two years, and look how that turned out. Maybe...maybe something light and casual would be a nice change. Maybe it'd take some of the pressure off, so to speak. And since it seems like Carlisle's unable to start anything serious..."

"Okay. I just don't want you to get hurt again. I can see you really like this man."

I leaned my head against the table and sighed. "I do. I like him very much." I closed my eyes and pulled in a deep breath, before straightening myself and sitting up again. "Damn. Maybe I shouldn't have given him my number, after all."

"Don't be silly. It's the only way to find out what he's up to. If he likes you back – and I don't see why he wouldn't – he'll call you soon."

"And what if he doesn't call?"

"Quit obsessing. He'll call."

Sighing, I buried my face in my hands and mumbled, "You're right. I have to start keeping a bottle of vodka around."

Carlisle didn't call.

A week passed. I felt disappointed at first. Then, I felt a little humiliated and rejected, and disappointed again after that. But mostly, I was just...sad. Utterly, heart-wrenchingly sad.

Was this how this worked? Was this how everyone sometimes felt, when they put themselves out there and found out their feelings weren't reciprocated? How did they get up time after time? Was this something they had to learn, something they had to force themselves to do? And after getting up and getting over their disappointment, did they simply take another shot with someone else? Did they risk their sanity time and time again, hoping the right person would eventually come along? Someone who didn't turn them down?

Relationships, feelings, love...I guess it was just a twisted game, where you were blindfolded, and you had to hit the target without the means to see it. Love was a pinata. How unfair.

How cruel.

Rosalie was very supportive, but I tried not to show her exactly how down I was. I'd actually started to believe Carlisle had come to see me at the café because he was interested in me – because I intrigued him as much as he intrigued me. I had kept telling Rosalie he was just worried about my hand, and now it turned out I had possibly been right about it...well, I obviously would have given anything to be proven wrong now.

Rosalie and Emmett left the city for the weekend – they went to see Emmett's family. Rosalie offered to stay behind and keep me company, but I refused to hear of it. Besides, I had picked up a longer shift than usual for Saturday. I didn't want to spend the day alone at my apartment, thinking about him...

But still... On Saturday night, when I came home from work, I went straight to bed, and when I fell asleep, I dreamed of cornflower blue eyes and golden hair.

Sunday began as any other Sunday. The morning was long and frustrating, and I decided to have coffee and chocolate for breakfast, just to convince myself to get out of bed. The good thing was it wasn't raining. It gave me the positive kick I needed, and by the time the afternoon came, I was feeling a little better about the universe again. I slowly began to believe that maybe this wasn't the end of the world, after all.

When I saw a small crack in the grey clouds and noticed the sun was about to come out, I grabbed my coat and rushed outside, deciding to enjoy the rare sight and take a walk. But by the time I closed the door of my apartment behind me, the sun was gone again. I felt a sting of disappointment, but I decided to take a walk, anyway. I'd had enough of hiding indoors – I refused to stop living because of some man I barely knew.

There was a good walking park not far away from my apartment, and I made my way there, idly thinking to myself that I'd have to bring my mom here next time she visited. We always did something fun together whenever she came to see me, and since she could never stay longer than just a couple of days, we always made every hour count – in other words, we came to my apartment only to sleep, shower and change.

It was very different, whenever Charlie came for a visit. But then again, he was living closer than Renée, and I saw him more often because of that. And then there was the fact that he was far more reserved than my mom. It was harder to be open – as in openly emotional – with Charlie, because stuff like that made him uncomfortable. I wondered if that was one of the reasons why his and my mom's marriage had failed all those years ago. Maybe they were just too different. Apparently, the saying "opposites attract" didn't always apply.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I walked farther than I had intended. I suddenly noticed I'd left the park behind me a long time ago. I gave an inward shrug – I was in no hurry to return to my empty apartment. The August afternoon was pleasantly warm, and after a while, I took off the light coat I'd put on in case there was a sudden change in the weather, folding it over my arm. Idly kicking a pebble along as I walked, I noticed my route had led me past a cemetery.

I idly scanned the conifer trees, green lawns and old headstones, and I thought to myself that I should turn around soon. It had taken me almost a half an hour to walk here, and it would obviously take just as much to walk back. Even longer if I happened stop to get a coffee or an ice cream...or both. The thought of this simple luxury cheered me up more than I expected, and I was pleased that my day was looking up.

I'd barely finished the thought when I turned to look ahead of me again. Movement among the conifer trees that grew close to the sidewalk caught my attention. A man dressed in a grey button-down shirt and black pants was walking out of the cemetery.

A tall, blond man.

Fuck.

I rarely used that word, even in my thoughts. Now, I kind of wanted to scream it. Did the universe hate me this much? Why was he here? Why was I here? Why did I have to walk this way, when I could have taken a different route? Any different route?

Why had I left my apartment at all?

I only had a second or two to react. There was nothing I could hide behind, except for the trees that stood a few paces away from me, but he was too close, and he'd definitely see me if I tried to dash behind them. I saw him give a glance over his shoulder at the same time as he stepped onto the sidewalk. I only had once option.

I whirled around, desperately hoping he couldn't recognize me from the back of my head.

No such luck.

"Bella?"

I squeezed my eyes closed in frustration and walked faster. If I ignored him, maybe he might think I was someone else.

Or...maybe not.

"Bella!"

I walked even faster.

I heard hurried footsteps. Then, I heard jogging footsteps. I wondered idly if I could begin to run as well and still pretend I was someone else, and all the while maintain my credibility.

"Bella! Bella, stop!"

A hand touched my shoulder. A warm hand. His hand. I squeezed my eyes closed again and did as he asked, torn between relief and agony, as his touch left my shoulder. I turned around slowly, keeping my eyes on the ground, because I didn't want to see his. I didn't want to see how the grey clouds reflected from their blue depths. I didn't want to see any of that. I didn't want to look.

But of course I did; I was helpless.

I couldn't read the expression on Carlisle's face. It was something like nervous and relieved and sorry. Why?

And why had he run after me? He could have just pretended he hadn't seen me and continued on his way. That was what I'd tried to do. I had done my part to make this situation easier and less uncomfortable for both of us.

Why did he seem to want to make it harder, then?

"What do you want?" I asked. I realized how rude that probably sounded, but my soft, quiet voice probably took some of the edge off my words. Still, he was taken aback by my reaction. It took a moment before he recovered.

And then, it was my turn to recover. His next words managed to surprise me.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, and he really looked like he was sorry. And tired.

He always looked so tired.

I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing my light summer coat in my other fist. I was suddenly glad I had something to focus on. Something physical to hold onto. I squeezed the coat even tighter.

"About what?" I asked, forcing myself to meet his gaze. Again, my voice was quiet and soft, the complete opposite of the churning chaos inside me.

He blew out another sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "I believe you know."

"No, actually, I don't."

"Then, why did you turn around when you saw me? Why did you pretend you didn't hear me calling your name?"

I shrugged. My eyes drank in his face, even though my brain screamed at me to close my eyes.

"Listen, Bella – "

"Look, you don't have to do this," I interrupted him, uncrossing my arms and holding up my other palm, as if to physically keep him away.

A frown crinkled his brow. "Do what?" he asked. His confusion was so genuine it almost made me lose my train of thought.

"I believe you know," I retorted quietly, throwing his earlier words back at him.

A small smile tugged at his mouth, as he repeated my own words to me in return. "No, actually, I don't."

I sighed, trying to look anywhere but into his eyes. "Look...I know what you're trying to do, and I just want to stop you right there. There's no need to explain or feel guilty. Really. These things happen all the time. You don't have to try to smooth it over. It's fine." I was glad I managed to keep my voice smooth and light, almost formal.

Carlisle waited patiently until I fell silent. When I stopped talking and heaved out a breath, he just watched me for a moment, staying quiet.

"I can only assume," he began, "that you're referring to me not calling you?"

I did my best to give him a small, easy smile. "Exactly. And really, you don't have to explain why you didn't call. You don't owe me an explanation. Maybe I was out of line, giving you my number in the first place. I mean, I get it. You must've thought that I'm...silly."

The look in his eyes was veiled as he regarded me. "Do you regret it?" he asked quietly. "That you gave me your number?"

I thought about that. I searched myself, wanting to give him an honest answer, partly because I wanted to know it myself. Of course, it had hurt me that he hadn't called, but...did I regret trying?

"No. It was worth the shot, I guess."

"Why?" The look in his eyes was now strange. Intense.

I searched for words, not really knowing how to explain. "You just seemed very nice," I answered eventually, deciding honesty was the best policy now. "And I'm sure you don't just seem nice. I'm sure you are. But I get it. I'm sure we have a lot of differences, and age must be just one of them."

Carlisle was watching me closely. "Would it bother you, Bella? Our age difference?"

"No. Of course not. How old are you, anyway?" I asked, knowing I might not get another chance to ask that, and also deciding that at least one question would receive an answer today. It was only fair. The man was full of mysteries, but maybe this was the one thing I could learn about him.

He gave me a small smile. "I turned forty-five in February."

Oh. So, I'd guessed his age somewhat correctly. Although, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd turned out to be even older than that. It was not that he looked that old. It was that strange aura of time and melancholy around him that made him appear older than he was. It was like he was stuck in some endless time loop of torture the rest of the world knew nothing about.

"Well?" he asked, when I'd remained quiet a lot longer than I'd intended to.

"Well what?"

He gave a soft laugh. "Does it bother you now that you know?"

I shook my head. "No. Of course not. But I can't blame you if it bothers you. I mean, I turn twenty-five in a couple of weeks. There are twenty years between us. Think about it. Twenty years ago, you were my age. Twenty years ago, I was five years old."

He nodded patiently, that small smile on his lips now amused. "Yes, Bella. I can count myself."

"I just don't understand what a nice man your age would want from someone like me."

"Why would you undervalue yourself because of something like that? Do you honestly think your younger age makes you inferior?"

I shook my head. "No. That's not what I'm saying at all. You misunderstood. What I tried to say was that our age difference alone might cause us to see things differently. And it can also mean we want different things. Age is a factor in these matters."

"Sometimes," he admitted.

"So." I uncrossed my arms and bunched my coat in my fists. "I'm sure you've thought about all these things. It's only right that you did. And I understand why you chose not to call me. I do. If you don't see me that way...then, it's fine. You don't owe me anything."

"I think I owe you an explanation," he disagreed lightly, "And an apology, too. I believe I already attempted to say I'm sorry, but there seemed to be some confusion as to why I'm apologizing. Now that there no longer is, I'd like to take this opportunity to say that I am sorry, Bella. I'm sorry I didn't call."

"It's fine," I repeated, drawing in a deep breath and hoping he'd let me walk away, now that he'd gotten that off his chest. It seemed to be important to him. He had been worried about hurting my feelings and probably felt bad for it. And now, he had apologized. I'd been right; he was a true gentleman.

Somehow, learning that made this even harder.

"It's not fine, Bella," he disagreed, shaking his head. "It's definitely not fine."

"It is." I took a few steps backwards, unwilling to prolong this much longer. "Don't worry. Like I said, you don't owe anything. I mean it."

"Bella – "

I turned around and began to walk away. I suddenly realized hot tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. I didn't even know why. It was just that it seemed as if it had taken me a forever to get here, to get over the disappointment, to accept that he didn't see me that way. I'd already begun to feel better, and I'd actually started to feel like maybe this wasn't the end of the world, and now I had to run into him again.

Why, why had this happened? I felt like my process of getting over his rejection began all over again, and I wondered how many chocolate and coffee breakfasts it would take this time to make my mood at least tolerable.

"Bella. Bella!"

There were hasty footsteps behind me again. I knew that maybe I shouldn't have walked away before I'd known for certain he had nothing more to say. But I'd just felt like standing there was the same thing as standing too close to an open fire that was out of control. It would only cause unnecessary hurt, and I'd get burns and blisters I'd have to nurse for weeks.

The hurried footsteps were closer now; he had to run again to catch up with me. Blinking furiously to banish the tears, I prepared to listen to what he had to say, but I would not stop this time. He would just have to keep up with me, if there was something else he needed to get off his chest.

It turned out I was wrong about all those things. It wasn't his intention to just catch up with me. He also had nothing to say this time. And against my earlier decision, I had to stop; he forced me to.

He didn't just touch my shoulder this time. He practically grabbed it, giving me no choice but to turn around. As soon as I did, I caught a glimpse of his blue, stormy eyes before his hot, demanding lips claimed mine.

It was like silence had suddenly turned into full volume. Like the world had changed from endless black and white into an explosion of colors. Like everything that had once been bland and temperate was suddenly violent and uncontrolled and brilliant. I heard myself gasp against his mouth as he molded his lips to mine, felt my fingers grab the front of his shirt. His hands slipped from my shoulders to my waist, and he pulled me against him almost roughly. I heard myself let out a ridiculous moan as I felt his body press up against mine.

He had a strong, solid frame, muscular but not too bulky. My hands wrapped around his shoulders on their own accord, and I could literally feel the tensing and flexing of his muscles as he held me to him. As his tongue darted out to meet mine, I thought I felt him tremble. Intense heat flooded through me, making me want to take in more air than I could possibly breathe. I wanted, needed, to get even closer to him. Because this wasn't close enough. I wanted his skin against mine, I wanted it to be just me and him, no barriers, no clothes, no nothing. I knew he wanted it too; I could literally feel how his body responded to my closeness, and as I felt him stir against my stomach, another moan welled up in my chest.

I heard him let out a quiet groan, like he was in physical pain, and then, his lips abandoned my own. I felt myself reel, and he had to take hold of my arms to keep me upright. Or maybe to keep himself upright. His eyes were closed as he pulled back, trying to put some distance between our bodies. My knees were shaking, and I felt limp and nerveless, like I'd just tried to run farther than my feet could ever take me.

Maybe he was feeling the same; it was a moment before he could bring himself to open his eyes, and another before his heavy, labored breathing turned close to normal.

Only one thought fit into my mind in that moment.

No one had ever kissed me like that before. No one.

"Bella..."

As he said my name, I also realized no one had spoken my name like that ever before. His lips formed it like it was the only name, the only word, that could fit into his mind. He spoke it like his lips had invented it. Like they wanted to own it.

God...no words could describe how much I wanted them to own it.

Still breathing heavily, still trembling from head to toe, still doing all I could to stay on my wobbly feet, I looked at him. I was thrilled and confused and shocked and millions of other things, and it seemed like it was the feelings of shock that wanted to run my lips the most right now.

"Why did you...why did you do that?" I heard myself ask. I realized the earlier tears that had burned my eyes had escaped – I couldn't even tell when. I quickly dashed a hand across my eyes.

Carlisle heaved out a quick breath. He released his hold on my arms and took a small step back. I saw the words his mouth was about to form before he even spoke them.

"I'm sor–"

"Don't say you're sorry," I interrupted him. I realized I was whispering; it felt somehow wrong to speak at a normal volume after what had happened. "Just...just answer my question. Please."

Carlisle dragged a hand through his hair, and I thought I saw a hint of a tremble in his fingers. "Because I had to. Because I wanted to," he simply said, blowing out a breath, as if to force himself to calm down.

"Oh." I didn't know what to answer. No words were good enough. My mind was just a whirl of pieces of thoughts, and I couldn't put those pieces together. I'd suppose you weren't expected to be able to do that, after a kiss like that.

Something on the ground between us caught Carlisle's attention, and he reached down to pick it up. It was my coat – I must have dropped it at some point, when my hands were too busy to hold it. He gave it back to me, and I took it, still staring at his face, his stormy blue eyes.

Carlisle drew in a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair again. He did that a lot – maybe that was why his hair was always swept back.

"Bella," he said, my name coming out as a quiet sigh this time. "Would you take a walk with me?"

A walk. The activity felt too normal after that earth-shattering kiss. I somehow managed to nod, pleased that feeling began to return to my legs. I tried to remember how to speak. "Sure. I mean, that's what I was doing before. Taking a walk. And then..." I gestured towards the cemetery, wondering what he had been doing there.

He glanced toward the cemetery, nodding in a pensive manner. "Well, may I tempt you to finish your walk with me? I'd very much like to talk to you. And please, don't walk away from me this time." A small smile pulled at his lips.

Nodding, I took a shaky step forward. He fell into step beside me and kept a small distance between us; I wondered about that. After all, a moment ago, it had seemed as if he couldn't get close enough. He suddenly seemed to be deep in thought.

I drew in a slow breath, unable to stand the silence any longer. "I thought it was night walks you enjoyed," I stated in a dry manner. "Maybe that's why I didn't expect to run into you during the day. And besides, it's not raining, either."

He gave a soft laugh. "Well, I never said I enjoy night walks," he corrected, his eyes reflective. "I said that's when I usually find myself wanting to go for a walk. Also, rain is not a prerequisite, either." His eyes were amused now. "It's simply a condition you sometimes have to live with."

"Especially in Seattle."

"Right." There was a wooden bench close to the sidewalk. I saw Carlisle look at it, and then he inclined his head towards it, wordlessly suggesting we sit down. As he took a seat next to me, once again, he left some distance between our bodies. It felt somehow wrong, considering the intimate embrace we'd shared just a moment ago.

I waited patiently as he gathered his thoughts and searched for words. After a while, he let out a long breath, leaning his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.

"Like I earlier said, Bella, I'm sorry I didn't call you. It's not because I didn't want to. Because, believe me, I did want to." He sounded sincere.

"You did?" I asked, maybe just to get him talking again. I hadn't realized before how much I actually enjoyed the sound of his soft voice.

"Yes." He met my eyes, locking his gaze with mine. "Every night of this past week, I've been sitting with my phone in my hand, and time and time again, I've had to talk myself out of calling you."

"But..." I frowned, not knowing if I should feel hurt or confused. Or both. "But you just said you wanted to call..."

"I did. I really, really wanted to. But I didn't, because I knew...because I knew I shouldn't. That it'd be for the best if I didn't."

I tried to gather my thoughts, completely thrown by his words. "So, something about this is bothering you. Is it your age, my age, something else? I mean, what is it? Just tell me."

He looked down at the ground in a pondering manner. "It's not the age difference that bothers me. If you say you'd be fine with it..." he sighed, "Then, so would I. But...I'm just concerned."

"About what?"

He met my eyes again. Something shifted in his face; it was as if he expected his next words to change everything. Like he was afraid they would change everything. That he might lose something important the next time he spoke.

"I'm pretty sure," he answered slowly, "that we're not looking for the same things. Our circumstances...they're very different. They always will be."

"How can you know that?" I asked, giving a confused laugh. "And how can you know we're not looking for the same things? We've barely had a handful of conversations with each other. You don't know anything about my life circumstances, just like I know nothing about yours."

"Exactly." He was staring at the ground again. "You know nothing about me. I... While it has nothing to do with my current thoughts or... feelings... about you, the truth is, you're very young. You have a whole life ahead you. But me...it's very different when it comes to me. And you're right – I know nothing about your circumstances. But my point is, it doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because I know enough about my own life, my own circumstances. I know more than enough about myself to say I'm not cut out for serious relationships. That's how it's been for several years. I've tried to change that, numerous times, actually, but..." He shook his head and raked a hand along his scalp. "What I'm trying to say is that, you seem like a very sweet girl, Bella. I knew it from the moment I met you, before you'd even spoken a single word to me. You deserve someone who's able to start something real with you. Someone who's all in." He paused, holding my gaze. "That's why I couldn't bring myself to call you. Because I know I'm not able to give you those things. No matter how much I like you."

I drew in a deep breath, trying to take it all in. So, I had been right. The things he had written on the bill last week...he had tried to say he was not looking for anything serious.

"When you say you're not cut out for serious relationships...and you've tried to change that...what do you mean by that, exactly? Does it mean you've never had a long-term, serious relationship? What kind of relationships do you have, then? Casual and non-exclusive? Flings?"

He swallowed. "Sometimes."

"But these things...they never last?"

He shook his head. "No, Bella. They never last."

"So..." I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to clear my head, "What is it, then? Are you a serial killer or something? Do you have problems with commitment? Do you have issues with alcohol, what?" I didn't know what made me so blunt. Since he seemed to be able to admit those few things so openly, I just assumed I was allowed to ask more questions. He'd brought this up, after all. "Why is it you're not cut out for anything serious? And why have you failed when you've tried?"

He hesitated. A pained look came over his face, and he looked away from my eyes, maybe to hide his expression. He straightened himself, leaning back against the bench.

"Do you have...an illness or something?" I asked gently, when he didn't say anything. I just assumed whatever it was, it must have been a sensitive matter. "Is it why you always look so tired?"

A familiar, sad smile began to curve his lips. "No. I don't have an illness. But I am tired."

"Of what?"

He leaned forward, momentarily resting his face in his palms. Again, I got the feeling he didn't want me to see his expression.

"It's..." When he spoke, his voice nearly startled me; I hadn't expected him to answer. "It's...complicated. I know how frustrating that must sound to you. But..." He struggled for words, his eyes on the ground again. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm not ready to talk about it. I might never be. And that's the problem. That's the biggest mountain in my life, and it always will be." He fell silent, leaning back in order to look at me again.

"And...you can't climb that mountain?" I asked softly.

He shook his head. "No. I can't. And that's exactly why it'd be better if I just got up and left this instant. You're only wasting your time with me."

I swallowed. Something about his voice and eyes told me he might do just that. That he was being honest, sincere. Rosalie had been right – he had tried to warn me about something when he had written those words about regrets on the bill. The question was, what were those regrets? And should I listen to him? Should I just heed his words and let him walk away from me? There clearly was something that bothered him so much that he couldn't fathom the idea of starting a relationship with me. There was something that would come between us sooner or later, and only he knew what that something was. It wasn't exactly a fair situation. He knew that.

That was why he had said those things. He was trying to protect me from heartache. He didn't even know me, and yet, he felt the need to shield me from...something. Whatever that something was.

I pulled in a steadying breath. Carlisle was watching me carefully. His eyes were anxious as he waited for me to say something.

"Why did you come to the café to see me, then?" I asked, trying not to get upset. "And why did you run after me just now? You could've just pretended you didn't see me. I get it that you wanted to explain yourself, but..." I shook my head and looked down at my hands, idly realizing I was fisting my coat in my hands again. "Why did you have to kiss me, if you'd already decided to walk away? Why?"

He swallowed thickly, not meeting my eyes. "I know I shouldn't have done any of that. I shouldn't have come to the café last week, and I shouldn't have kissed you."

"Why did you, then?"

He closed his eyes and dropped his head. "I don't know. I just couldn't...I just couldn't help myself. That's all. I like you, Bella. I really like you. It's as simple as that." He swallowed, the look in his eyes so intense my heart tightened. "I know nothing about you except that you love your old truck, and your father's name is Charlie, and you're too clumsy for your own good, and your best friend's name is Rosalie, and you're a hopeless romantic, and you hate needles and blood and hospitals, and you're a trouble magnet. Which is probably why I'm still sitting here. Bella, you just..." He sighed heavily. "You draw me in like the moon draws the tide." He yanked at his hair, frustration in every bone of his body. He got up from the bench so quickly I actually jumped at his sudden movement.

He paced a couple of steps away, running a hand down his face. I got up from the bench as well, walking to him. Because he drew me in, too. I couldn't help it. I couldn't change it.

The truth was...I didn't even want to.

I touched his arm gently. He turned to look at me. Drawing in a trembling breath, I slid my hand down his arm and took his hand.

"What I wrote on the check last week..." I began quietly, "What if...what if I meant it? What if the words I wrote are true? What if those who don't search for anything don't end up disappointed?" I held his gaze. His cornflower blue eyes took on a slightly darker shade.

"Do you mean...?" he trailed off, almost as if he was afraid to speak his thoughts aloud. As if he was afraid he had misunderstood me.

"I mean, maybe we don't have to make this into something difficult and...complicated," I explained. "Last week, when I said I don't know what I'm searching for, I was being honest. Sometimes, I feel like I'm a little lost myself. But that's alright. It doesn't bother me, because I know there'll be a day when I don't feel like that anymore."

He nodded, and something flashed in his eyes again. Something like sadness. "I must say, I envy you for being able to think like that." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and then he turned to look at me again. His eyes were desperate now, almost tormented. His fingers squeezed mine. "What are you trying to say to me, Bella? What did you mean when you said we don't have to make this something difficult and complicated?"

The naked despair, the need in his eyes made something inside me ache. "I'm trying to say I like you, too. That I'm intrigued by you. It's as simple as that," I murmured, repeating the words he had said to me a moment ago. "I know nothing about you except you take your coffee with cream, and you always look tired, and you have a good heater in your car." He smiled at that one. "All I know is you like to go for walks at night, even if it's raining like crazy, and for some reason, you find it soothing. And I know you were once a very good doctor – I saw it from the way you took care of my hand – and I also know that, no matter what you do, no matter how much you search, you've lost something you can't regain." He looked away from my eyes then. I tightened my hold around his hand. "I don't know what that something is," I murmured quietly. "Maybe I'll never know. But maybe I don't have to. I want to, of course, but if that's something you're not able to share..."

That made him look at me again. He raised his other hand, as if to touch my face, but then, he drew it away. He squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Bella. This isn't a good idea. Somewhere down the road, I'll disappoint you. Believe me, you wouldn't be the first person I've let down."

"Remember what I said," I reminded him softly. "Remember what I wrote on the check. Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint. We don't have to start anything serious, if you don't want to. I'm open to anything." I stepped closer to him, so that my hip brushed his thigh. "I mean it, Carlisle. I like you. You intrigue me. If you want, we can just be friends, or we can try to be something more and see how it works. And if it doesn't feel right..."

"Then what?" his voice was a mere whisper.

"Then...we'll go back to the way we were," I smiled softly. "I keep ending up in trouble, and you keep appearing in the right place at the right time, and then you fix me up with band-aids, if needed. And then, we do it all over again. I wouldn't mind that, either. Just as long as I get to see you sometimes."

The look in his eyes was torn between hope and uncertainty. He tightened his hold around my fingers, as if to draw strength from the contact.

I pressed closer to him again, understanding that he wasn't ready to decide. His arms wrapped around me almost reflexively as I rose to my tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss on the angle of his jaw. As I nuzzled his neck with my nose, I felt him tremble against me.

"Think about it," I whispered. Then, I pulled back. As I stepped away from him, he seemed reluctant to let me go.

As I turned around and walked away, I could feel his eyes following my every movement.