"We don't meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our path for a reason."

- Unknown -

Our Love Is Eternal

Carlisle asked me to stay the night. For some reason, it surprised me – I wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was because he had clearly hesitated, when I'd asked him to spend the previous night with me at my apartment.

We went to bed early, but not because we wanted to sleep. Our need for each other seemed to be escalating each hour. It was explosive, that need, almost primal. Neither of us complained, though, and just like the previous night, we fell asleep in a tangled heap of limbs.

Sometime during the night, I awoke, realizing I was thirsty. It was dark, and at first, I didn't know where I was – for some reason, I had this vague feeling I wasn't in my own bed. Then, I remembered the previous night and our activities, and I no longer wondered why I felt so dehydrated.

There was an illuminated clock on the bedside table; its hands showed me it was just after four in the morning. I got up quietly, trying to remember which side of the bed I had chosen and wondering if I could make it to the kitchen without turning on any lights. I considered using my cell phone as a flashlight, but I realized I had left it in the pocket of my coat. And my coat was obviously hanging in the hall closet. How else.

I tried to get up as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake Carlisle. I pushed the covers off me and sat up, still wondering how to make it to the kitchen without tripping. The light switch for the hallway was on the right wall – this I remembered. If I could make it over there...

I was just about to get up, when the light on the other side of the bed was switched on. I looked over my shoulder, surprised to see that Carlisle was awake and sitting up on the edge of the bed. He had pulled on a pair of black boxers, and he looked tired, like he always did. But he also looked alert, causing me to believe he had been awake for quite some time.

I gave a soft laugh. "How long have you been sitting there?"

He hesitated. "For a while," he answered, making me wonder if he'd had any sleep tonight. Had he woken up to a nightmare again, like the previous night?

"Everything okay?" I asked, studying his expression. The dark circles under his eyes worried me.

He nodded, smiling softly. "Of course. I was going to ask the same from you. I didn't wake you, did I? People have told me I tend to think loudly."

I chuckled. "No. I woke up because I'm thirsty. I didn't want to wake you, and I was just considering that maybe I should crawl to the kitchen to avoid stumbling in the dark."

He smiled. "I see." He got up and leaned over the bed to press a kiss on my cheek. "I'll get you some water. No crawling in the dark required."

"Thanks."

I couldn't help but gaze after him as he left the room. His butt was...incredible. With or without the boxers. I rolled my eyes at myself, wondering what the matter with me was. We'd been having sex for the better part of the evening, after all. Was I turning into Rosalie?

Or maybe I simply felt as though I couldn't get enough of him. Who could blame me?

Carlisle returned a minute later with a glass of water. I wrapped the sheet around myself, slightly self-conscious about the fact that I was naked, and he wasn't. I thanked him quietly as he gave me the glass, and he smiled as a response, before sitting on the bed on his side. I sipped the water eagerly, drinking almost all of it. Then, I placed the glass on the bedside table, giving a glance at the clock. It felt weird to be awake at this hour.

"Did I dehydrate you yesterday?" Carlisle asked quietly, sounding amused. I turned to him.

"Perhaps," I answered with a grin and lay back down. He did the same, rolling onto his side and grasping the sheets covering my body.

"You don't need this, do you?" he asked with a grin, his blue eyes glimmering teasingly, as he pulled the sheet down and pushed away the hair that had fallen over my bare chest. His forefinger began to circle the bud of my other breast. The touch was light, but even so, it sent shockwaves through my body.

"Not fair," I murmured. "You're wearing clothes, and I'm wearing nothing."

He chuckled. "Boxers don't count as clothes."

"They do if the other person is butt naked. It's all about the circumstances."

He gave a soft laugh. His hand left my breast as he pulled back. I heard the whisper of fabric against skin, and I glanced at him, noticing he had gotten rid of the boxers.

"Better?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Much better."

He crawled closer to me, his hands finding the swell of my breasts again. I was quickly forgetting I'd once had a complex about them; I'd suppose the attention Carlisle was constantly giving my chest had something to do with it. He always looked at me with deep appreciation, like I was a sculpture or some other work of art, and it made me feel beautiful and wanted and...desired. I realized no man had ever looked at me like that before. For some reason, the realization was startling.

"Where did you go?"

Carlisle's quiet voice seemed to come from somewhere far away. I looked at him, smiling softly.

"Nowhere. I'm just thinking to myself that, you seem to be a breast man," I said in a playful manner, trying to push aside the surprisingly strong feelings my earlier realization had caused. "It's good to know."

He chuckled softly, pressing a soft kiss on my shoulder. "I suppose I am." He eased himself closer to me, his other hand sliding down my body and caressing the curve of my butt. "I like this, too, though," he whispered, his voice pitched low and intimate. "Does that make me..."

"An ass man?" I supplied, giggling as he gave my buttock a squeeze. "Maybe you're both."

"Maybe. Or maybe..." he nibbled the line of my jaw, trailing kisses up to my ear, "Maybe I'm a Bella man."

"You mean you only date women called Bella? You're a hard man to please. Tell me, how many Bellas do you have lined up?"

He laughed softly. "Well, like I told you, I don't date multiple women at the same time. So, for now, I'm sticking to this one Bella I'm seeing."

"For now." I tried to keep my voice light. Our playful, non-serious conversation reminded me our relationship was like that, too. Playful and non-serious. The thought shouldn't have made me fell so...sad. Especially since I knew what I'd signed up for. Carlisle had made it clear committed relationships were a big no-no for him. And besides, it was me who had suggested we keep this casual. Therefore, I had no reason to complain. I just had to enjoy this while it lasted, that was all.

"Bella? Where did you go again?" Carlisle asked. I met his gaze; there was a small frown on his face.

I shook my head, giving him a brief smile. "Sometimes, my brain is on overdrive early in the morning."

He chuckled. "It seems like it." He nuzzled my nose with his. I'd noticed he did that a lot. It was endearing. "About your name," he suddenly said, "Is it short for something?"

"Yeah. Isabella."

"Isabella," he murmured in a low tone. "That's a lovely name. I like it."

"Really?"

"Mmm-hmm," he nodded.

"I used to hate it when I was growing up. I don't know why. I've gotten over it, though."

"But still, you prefer Bella?"

I shrugged. "I'm used to it. It feels more like my own name. Everyone calls me Bella. Well, except Charlie whenever he's mad at me. He always used my whole name, any time I did something stupid and reckless when I was a teenager. One time, he was like, 'Isabella Marie Swan, you're grounded until you turn forty!'"

Carlisle laughed loudly. "You must've been a handful when you were growing up. Your father sounds like a very strict man, though."

"He's the chief of police, so that might've had something to do with his discipline methods."

"Did he raise you? Or did you live with your mother when you were growing up?"

"I lived with my mom, but I spent most of my school breaks with Charlie. I practically moved to Forks every summer."

He nodded. "I see. And...do I dare to ask, what did you do to make your father so angry he wanted to ground you for several decades?"

I chuckled. "Well...I was sixteen. Rosalie was staying with me in Forks for a couple of days, and we heard this guy in town was having a party while his parents were away. We went there, of course. You know how the story goes. We were young and wild and free. You do remember what it's like to be sixteen?"

He laughed softly. "I suppose. Then what happened?"

"Well, someone had brought beer to the party. And gin. A lot of it."

Carlisle closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Of course."

"Well, you don't have to hear the rest to know what happened. Me and Rosalie practically crawled back to Charlie's house sometime after midnight, because we couldn't walk straight. Charlie was kind of...mad."

Carlisle nodded, and I was surprised to see he no longer looked amused. He sensed my gaze and looked at me. The frown on his face smoothed, and his ridged jaw relaxed, as he offered me a small smile. It was forced, though, and it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, teenagers are teenagers. But I can understand why your father was angry," he murmured quietly. "Your evening could've ended badly." He let out a slow, quiet breath. I absently thought there was a tone to his voice that made him sound like he was a parent himself. "After all, you never know how the day will end. In the morning, you wake up, and you're blissfully unaware of what's to come. And then..." he trailed off, and for a moment, it seemed as if he had forgotten I was here.

For the thousandth time, I found myself wondering what haunted him, what had happened to him. I was also wondering why the tone of our conversation had changed so fast. His smile had fallen the moment he'd realized the reason why Charlie had been mad was because Rosalie and I had gone home drunk that night.

It made me remember the way Carlisle had reacted before, when he'd seen the bottle of vodka on my kitchen counter. He had been visibly relieved, when he'd heard it wasn't for me. Could it mean he used to have issues with alcohol or something? Or had his parents been alcoholics, perhaps? Was that the reason? Or was he religious?

I was about to speak, trying to find a tactful way to ask about it, but then Carlisle shook his head at himself, as if to get rid of some unpleasant thought. He met my gaze, and a small smile began tug at his lips again. I could see it took some effort to shift his focus back to the conversation.

"Well," he murmured, his tone lighter now. "You still have many years left, I assume. If your father said you're grounded until you turn forty, you still have several years to go."

I chuckled. "Yeah, fifteen of them. I turn twenty-five soon."

"Oh? When's your birthday?"

"I'm not going to tell you that."

"And I'm not going to take that for an answer, Bella."

"If I tell you, do you promise to forget it right away? I don't like a fuss."

"I make no such promises. Now, tell me."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. It's September 13th."

He smiled. "Thank you. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

I mock-glared at him. He only chuckled, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

"Do you have a morning shift at the café?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I can drive you there. Do you need to stop by at your apartment first?"

"Yeah. I have to change and grab a few things."

"It's still early. Go back to sleep." Carlisle leaned closer to press a brief kiss on my cheek, and then he drew back, turning out the light. I felt the bed jostle slightly, as he sat up instead of lying down beside me.

"You're not going to join me?" I asked, once again wondering if he'd slept at all during night.

"In a moment."

I couldn't read his tone, so I had no way to know if he just said that for my benefit. I had a feeling, though, that it wasn't his intention to get more sleep tonight. If he had gotten any sleep at all, that is.

I bit my lip, turning my head towards him, even though I couldn't see him. "Did you have a nightmare again?" I asked quietly.

Carlisle didn't answer right away. There was a quiet sound I couldn't place at first, but then, I realized he must have been running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm a restless sleeper," he murmured after a while. "I'm used to it. You don't have to worry about it, Bella. Go back to sleep."

I closed my eyes, trying to do as he said. I tried to go back to sleep, and I tried not to worry, but the truth was, I did worry. I turned onto my side, pulling the covers over me and listening to Carlisle's quiet, steady breathing.

A moment before I drifted off to sleep, I thought I heard a quiet, weary sigh in the darkness.

The next time I woke up, it was to the feel of soft lips pressing against my cheek.

"Five more minutes," I mumbled, earning a chuckle as a response.

"You're going to be late," Carlisle murmured, and then he did the only thing that had the power to wake me up. Just like the previous morning, he kissed me. On the lips.

"Fine," I grumbled against his mouth. "I'm up."

He chuckled again and pulled back. I heard him place something on the bedside table. "Here. This should help."

Opening my eyes, I saw it was mug of coffee. I blinked. No one had ever brought me coffee to bed – well, no one except Rosalie.

"Thanks." I sat up and took the mug, moaning in delight, as I took a long sip. Carlisle smiled and went to the chest on the other side of the bedroom, taking out a towel.

"I'll take a quick shower," he told me. "You're free to join me, when you've finished your coffee."

I chuckled, glancing at the clock. "You know, if I do that, it's safe to say we'll both be late for work."

He gave a soft laugh as a response. "Do you have a morning shift tomorrow as well?"

I shook my head. "Nope, but I do have an evening shift. Which reminds me..." Tomorrow was Friday, and I had that appointment at the salon. I'd almost forgotten the whole thing. I knew Rosalie would be pissed if I didn't turn up tomorrow. "Do you have paper and a pen?" I asked Carlisle, just as he was about to leave the room. "I have plans tomorrow with Rosalie before my shift, and I'm worried I'll forget it. I should write myself a note, unless I want to end up on her kill list. I'd set myself a reminder, but I forgot my phone in the pocket of my coat..."

He gave me a smile. "There should be a writing pad and a pen in the bedside drawer."

"Thanks." I gulped down the rest of my coffee and put the mug aside. Carlisle disappeared into the bathroom down the hall.

"Wait, which drawer?" I asked, realizing there was a table on each side of the bed. Carlisle didn't hear my question; he had closed the door and turned on the shower. I shrugged inwardly, getting up and pulling on my t-shirt and panties. Then, I pulled open the drawer on my side of the bed.

The drawer was practically empty. There was only one object in there; at first, I thought it was a large book, but then, I took another glance and realized it was a photo album. I reached out to touch the brown leather cover, wondering why it was in the bedside drawer instead of the bookshelf or something. I was kind of tempted to pull it out and open it, but I felt like I would be intruding on Carlisle's privacy by doing so. I slid my fingers under the album and lifted it to see if the writing pad and the pen he had been talking about were underneath, but no.

However, there was something else under the album. When I realized what it was, I swallowed, and before I could stop myself, I reached out for it.

The simple silver ring felt cool against my skin as I held it on my palm. I stared at it, realizing one question about Carlisle had just received an answer. I knew I probably shouldn't have done what I did next, but I felt like I had no control over myself. I took the ring and held it between my thumb and forefinger, trying to see what was engraved on the inner surface. I had to swallow again.

Suddenly, the ring felt extremely heavy.

July 15, 1995

C.C. & E.A.P.

Our Love Is Eternal

So, Carlisle had been married. I tried to tell myself this shouldn't come as a shock – I'd expected this, after all. But still, my fingers trembled slightly, as I put the ring back under the album, now beginning to wonder if it was a wedding album or something. Why did Carlisle keep these things in his bedside drawer? Did he like to look at the photos before going to sleep?

And the ring? How many times had he woken to a nightmare and opened that drawer to take out the wedding ring? How many times a week did his mind fill with memories of his wife he'd once lost in one way or another? I was now pretty sure this was the thing that haunted him. Rosalie had been right. He really was suffering from a broken heart.

"Well, it's complicated. The thing is that, no matter what I do, no matter how much I search... Sometimes, it's impossible to regain what you've lost."

I remembered what he'd said to me the first time he'd come to see me at the café. Again, I wondered what had happened to his wife. If she had left him, it made me wonder if he ever had been able to move on from it. I knew people dealt with these things differently. Charlie had never remarried after Renée had left him, but it was partly because he was rather fond of his own company. I knew his failed marriage had given him sleepless nights, especially in the beginning, but it wasn't like that anymore. Maybe it would have been different if something more tragic had occurred.

Maybe that was the case with Carlisle. I remembered how I'd seen him coming from the cemetery last Sunday, and I was almost sure his wife hadn't left him willingly, by choice. Which could mean that, maybe he was equally unwilling to leave her behind, in a way.

It was obvious I didn't know any details about the situation, but one thing I knew for certain. Carlisle had loved her, and he wasn't over what had happened. Why else would he be unable to move on? Why else was he unwilling to start a serious relationship with anyone? Why else would those nightmares keep him awake at night?"

I heard the shower turn off, and I pushed the drawer closed, suddenly feeling as though I'd seen something that wasn't meant for my eyes. I went to the drawer on the other side of the bed and opened it, finding the writing pad and the pen I'd been looking for. I wondered why Carlisle hadn't said they were in this drawer and not in the other. I had a feeling he wouldn't be pleased if he found out what I'd discovered in the other drawer.

I hastily scribbled down a note for myself and tore the page off the pad. I folded the note in half and began to get dressed, my mind teeming with hundreds of thoughts and questions.

When Carlisle dropped me off at the café about an hour later, for the first time ever, I was a little relieved we had to part. I would miss him, of course, but I realized I needed time to think about things. I didn't know why finding that ring had affected me so much – I'd known all along it was likely that, whatever issues he had, they had something to do with a woman. I'd suppose getting a confirmation about it was just slightly unsettling.

"Thanks for dropping me off," I told him with an absent smile and reached for the door handle.

"Hey," Carlisle touched my arm. He was watching me closely. "Is everything alright? You seem...preoccupied."

I nodded a little too quickly. "Yeah. Of course. Everything's fine."

"Listen, Bella..." he hesitated, "I'd like to see you later today, but I have some catching up to do with work. I have to plan a few lectures and–"

I nodded before he managed to finish. "Yeah, okay. It's fine. I'll see you some other day."

He touched my bandaged hand briefly. "Remember to change the dressing today. I'll try to come by the café tomorrow if I can. How does your weekend look?"

I shrugged. "I have nothing special planned. I'll know more tomorrow, after I've seen Rosalie – she might want us to get together. We've kind of been neglecting each other. She's been tied up at her mom's salon, and I've been busy myself."

Carlisle nodded. "I see. Well, you have my number. Keep me posted."

"Will do."

He leaned in to kiss my cheek, smiling. A strange expression crossed his face, then, and it caught my attention.

"What is it?" I asked.

He shook his head, smiling softly. He reached over the console to take my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Nothing. I just realized that...I'll miss you. I hope I can see you soon."

An innocent comment like that shouldn't have had such a huge effect on me. But to be honest, it had. His words filled me with warmth, and I had to tell myself that maybe it wasn't me he'd miss, but our activities in the bedroom. However, I couldn't ignore the tender sparkle in his eyes as he looked at me.

I leaned over the console to press a brief but passionate kiss on his lips. I said nothing, just gave him a small smile and a wink, deciding it was my turn to be mysterious and leave him full of questions. It was only fair.

As I got out of the car and closed the door behind me, I saw Carlisle watching me with a confused smile on his lips. I gave him a wave before I turned around and headed towards the door of the café, my long hair billowing behind me in the wind.

Let him wonder what my silence could mean, I thought to myself. Maybe he might catch a glimpse of what I was going through, whenever he said something mysterious.

A/N:I've been meaning to mention that there's a song I used to listen to while writing this story, and it just fits the mood perfectly. It's The Scientist by Coldplay, performed by Boyce Avenue & Hannah Trigwell. Please listen to their version. It's awesome.