"And suddenly, we were strangers again."

- Six Word Story -

Playing with Fire

"You're not supposed to fall asleep, Bella. We're in the middle of girl talk."

I kept my eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying myself, as Rosalie kept rubbing my face with something soft. I found myself wondering why I didn't get a facial more often – whatever she was doing to my skin right now...it felt heavenly. I'd always thought facials weren't my thing, but this...I could get used to this.

"Isn't relaxation part of the experience?" I asked, my voice lazy. "Besides, I'm paying you. I can sleep through this whole thing if I want. Just wake me up when you're done, and my skin is glowing like diamonds."

She chuckled. "You know, you can come back for another facial next week, and I promise you it's on the house. But now," she pinched my cheeks, causing me to shriek, "now I'm due for girl talk. How was yesterday? Did you stay over at Carlisle's house?"

"I did."

"What's the place like? Did he give you a tour?"

I blushed scarlet, as I remembered what our tour had been like. "Yeah, kind of," I mumbled, deciding not to get into details. "It's a beautiful house. A friend of his decorated it, apparently. A female friend."

"Oh. Do I sense a hint of jealousy?"

"Don't be silly. He's allowed to have female friends."

"I guess." My skin began to tingle, as Rosalie spread something cool on my face. "This is a clay mask. It cleans your pores and brightens up your complexion."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Bella, if you fall asleep, I'm going to uncork that vodka you brought me and start the weekend right now."

I chuckled. "Emmett would be mad. It's for both of your, after all. You're supposed to share it."

She continued to spread the mask over my face, focusing on my forehead now. "So, did you ask him if he's ever been married?"

"Nope."

"Why not? Did you chicken out?"

"Of course not. The thing is, I didn't exactly need to ask him if he's ever been married." I told her how I'd accidentally found the album and the wedding ring, when I'd been looking for a pen and paper.

"Okay. Well, that answers one question," Rosalie murmured, her tone reflective. "What was in the album?"

"I don't know. I didn't look."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to intrude on his privacy any more than I had. I shouldn't have even looked at the ring more closely. I'm sure it'd upset him if he knew I'd peeked into the wrong drawer. And what if it was their wedding album or something? Things like that are private, especially if someone keeps them in their nightstand drawer."

"I guess. Well, I wonder what happened – and how long ago it happened. Maybe they got a divorce."

"Maybe. I know I've said this before, but I have a feeling there's something more to it than that. I keep thinking about that day when Carlisle came from the cemetery."

"You still believe she died?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It's just that...he doesn't seem like he's just trying to get over a relationship. It goes deeper than that. Something haunts him. When I woke up yesterday morning, Carlisle was already awake, and he looked like he hadn't slept a single minute the whole night."

Rosalie was silent for a long moment. "It troubles you," she murmured softly, "Whatever it is that's going on with him." I couldn't read her tone. It was reflective, but there was something else about it as well.

"I guess," I answered, suddenly glad she was giving me a facial, and I had a good reason to keep my eyes closed. "I don't know why. I guess I feel bad for him. He seems like a good man, and he's so gentle and considerate and polite and..." I trailed off, letting out a sigh. "Whatever happened to him – and whatever happened to his wife – he seems to be imprisoned by those things. On Wednesday morning, after I'd woken him up from his nightmare, he said he's been suffering from them for years. Whatever happened to him...he clearly can't get over it. It must've been bad. I admit I've known him only for a very short time, but I just know he didn't deserve any of that. I guess I just hope..."

"That you can fix him?" Rosalie supplied. She was silent for a while, and when she spoke, her tone was gentle. "You know, Bella, I don't think you should go there. I'm afraid you'll just end up getting hurt yourself. And you told me you're just messing around, right?"

"Right. We agreed on casual, and nothing more. He made it very clear that long-term relationships aren't his thing."

I heard Rosalie sigh. "Look, Bella, don't take this the wrong way, but you've really only known him for a few days, and you seem like you're already attached to him. I'm just worried you have expectations he can't meet. And then what happens? If he said committed relationships aren't for him, he probably meant it. Men are pretty honest and straightforward about these things."

"I know. And I don't have any expectations. I know what I signed up for when I told him we can keep this casual. As long as it feels right, I want to spend time with him."

"And when it no longer feels right?"

I let out a long, quiet breath. "I don't know. We just part ways, I guess. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"You know, Bella, I'm all about living in the moment and not worrying about tomorrow. I'm not telling you what to do here. I want you to know that. Of course, you should do whatever feels right, and of course, you can do what you feel like doing, but...just try not to get hurt, okay?" She brought a bottle of essential oil under my nose, and the relaxing smell of lavender filled my nostrils. Rosalie and her therapeutic facials. "Inhale deeply, please."

I did as she said, breathing in deeply and searching for words to answer her, but she saved me from that trouble.

"You're right, though," she stated. "He seems like a good man. That's why it'd be unfortunate if he happened to hurt you, and I'd have to send Emmett after him."

"Carlisle can take him."

"Wanna bet?" she chuckled.

"No." I drew in another deep breath and let the scent of lavender soothe my soul. "Or...at least I hope it won't come to that."

I spent the whole Saturday with Rosalie. It was probably a good thing – I realized I was thinking about Carlisle almost constantly, which was obviously way too much. Maybe Rosalie was right. I was becoming too attached to him. I'd only known the man for a few days, after all. It would be wise to slow down a bit, especially since it was clear we had no future together.

I kept asking myself what I was doing. It had never been in my nature to do casual flings, just like Rosalie had pointed out. Why had I made an exception for Carlisle? What was it about him that had caused me to make a choice I normally wouldn't make?

I didn't know. It wasn't just about sex – this I knew. Even though he was incomparable when it came to that area, I knew my attraction to him wasn't just physical. Something about him fascinated me, as simple as that. It kind of frightened me that I was so drawn to him. Which was...unfortunate. I was pretty sure this fascination was only one-sided.

That caused me to wonder how long our thing would last. Carlisle had been very open about this – he'd said his relationships were always short, that he was incapable of starting anything long and lasting with anyone. Would it be him who broke things off eventually? Or would I leave him, when I realized I was just wasting my time, since our relationship wasn't going anywhere?

I didn't know.

I tried to keep my own words in mind, telling myself what I'd told Rosalie. I just had to take it one moment at a time and not worry about what was to come. As long as it felt good and right, I wanted to spend time with Carlisle. And when the day came when it would no longer feel right...well, just like I'd told Rosalie, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

I tried to call Carlisle on Sunday afternoon to ask how his weekend was going, secretly hoping he'd suggest I come over or vice versa. He didn't pick up, and I assumed he was out. Maybe he was taking a walk, just like last Sunday. I wondered idly if he had gone to the cemetery again.

I had considered telling him I'd found the wedding ring from his nightstand drawer, but then, I had decided against it. For some reason, I felt pretty bad about the whole thing. But then again, finding the ring had been an accident. Why was I feeling so guilty, then? I'd suppose I felt like I'd intruded on his privacy.

I remembered our conversation a week ago, when we'd been sitting on the sidewalk bench. I'd asked him if he'd ever had a long-term, serious relationship. I now realized he had never answered that question. I'd given him the opportunity to tell me about his marriage, and he had chosen not to take it. There had to be a good reason for that. An obvious explanation was that talking about his marriage was too painful for him, and that was why he hadn't brought it up with me. And if my suspicions were correct, and if he really was a widower...

Therefore, I decided that if he didn't feel like bringing it up, I wouldn't mention anything about it, either. It was a simple decision, but at the same time, I wondered if it was the right one. The things that troubled Carlisle...it was obvious they had a huge impact on his everyday life. I wondered if he had ever talked about his problems with anyone, and I was kind of worried about him. Maybe there was a part of me that hoped he'd open up about his problems with me.

"You know, Bella, I don't think you should go there." The memory of Rosalie's words brought me back down to earth. She was right. I shouldn't try to fix him. I might only end up getting hurt myself.

But he deserves better than this. I pictured him lying in bed, fully awake at night, and I imagined him getting up, opening the bedside drawer and taking out the silver ring. He wouldn't put it on his finger – he'd just stare at it and read the engraving on the inner surface time and time again, even though the letters and numbers were probably carved in his mind and soul. Our Love Is Eternal.

I wondered what his wife had looked like. I wondered how they had met – and when they'd met. Had they known each other since childhood? Had they studied together in college? Had she once been a doctor, too? And if she had passed away, was it because she'd been ill, or had there been an accident? Was that why Carlisle had left medicine?

Stop. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. Thinking about these things wouldn't lead anywhere. And the truth remained that I didn't even have the slightest idea of what had happened, because Carlisle had chosen not to talk about these things with me. It was likely he never would. Therefore, obsessing about these things was a waste of time.

When Carlisle didn't call me back on Sunday, I began to wonder what he was up to. I considered sending him a text before going to bed that night, but then, I decided against it. He was more than free to spend his weekend any way he liked. We weren't answerable to each other, after all, considering the nature of our relationship. He'd call me back when he felt like it.

But as Monday and Tuesday passed, and I heard nothing from him, I began to feel a little hurt and disappointed. I knew it was unreasonable and foolish, and I also knew the only reason why I felt like I did was because I had expected to hear something from him by now.

I knew I had to stop having those. Expectations, that is. That way, I wouldn't end up so disappointed.

"I just realized that...I'll miss you. I hope I can see you soon."

Those things he had said to me, when he'd dropped me off at the café on Friday...I now wondered if he had even meant those words. Who knew? Maybe I wasn't the first woman to hear that line.

When Wednesday passed and there was no sign of Carlisle, I began to prepare myself for the possibility I wouldn't see him again. Maybe he'd reached the same conclusion as I had and realized that, since our relationship would go nowhere, it would be better if he just cut off all communication. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor. Maybe this was his idea of ripping off the band-aid.

I was working a late shift on Thursday night, when my decision not to have any expectations paid off. It was late in the afternoon. I was offering a refill to a group of men who were all dressed in black suits and looked like they were having a late conference, and then I heard the door of the café open.

I could have sworn I felt him before I saw him. My skin began to tingle all over – it was like my whole body recognized his presence. I finished pouring coffee into the men's cups before I straightened myself, trying to ignore the way my whole body flooded with heat. Drawing in a deep breath, I turned around and began to make my way to the counter. I only managed a couple of steps before I had to look up and glance towards the door.

A certain blond man was standing close to the entrance, watching me. When I saw him, when my eyes met his, I stopped short. There was something different about him. He looked almost...unwell. The dark circles under his eyes seemed even more prominent, and his cheeks were slightly gaunt, like he had lost some weight. Maybe I'd memorized the curves and angles of his face a little too well, since I was able to tell the difference.

I walked the rest of the way to the counter, setting the coffee pot back into the machine. Meanwhile, Carlisle walked closer, and he gave me a tentative smile as I turned around. He was gauging my expression, apparently trying figure out how I felt about seeing him. To be honest, I no longer knew myself.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, and there was an apologetic note to it.

I tried to respond to his small smile, but I didn't know if I succeeded. "Hi. What's up?" I rolled my eyes at myself, then. I hadn't seen him in a week, and the first thing I could think of asking him was "what's up?"

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair; it was slightly wet. It was raining outside.

"Bella..." He drew in a deep breath and seemed to have decided to skip the pleasantries. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back on Sunday. I meant to, but–"

"It's fine," I answered, cutting him off softly. "You don't have to explain. And you don't owe me an apology – or an explanation, for that matter. We're not answerable to each other, after all. It's the best part about casual relationships, isn't it? No responsibility to anyone." I was pleased that my tone was light and even.

Carlisle was still gauging my expression; I wondered if he was trying to determine if my words were sincere. "Well, even if I didn't owe you an explanation, I want to give you one, nonetheless. I've been working later than normal, and then, a friend of mine turned up on Monday afternoon unannounced, and they ended up spending the night at my house."

"Oh. Okay." Maybe I was getting paranoid, but I wondered if he phrased it like that on purpose – it was like he didn't want to reveal if this friend of his was a man or a woman.

Yep. I was definitely getting paranoid.

I had to remind myself again that it didn't matter – it was none of my business. I turned around to take the coffee pot again, suddenly feeling like I needed something to do with my hands.

"Coffee?" I asked, lifting the pot.

Carlisle nodded. "Please."

"Cream, no sugar?"

"That's right." He chuckled softly, smiling. "You have a good memory."

"Sometimes. I always forget my dentist appointments, but I do remember how people take their coffee."

He gave a soft, amused laugh; it made him look less tired. He went to sit down at a table close by while I prepared his coffee, and as I took it to him, I noticed he was staring at the table in a pensive manner.

"Here you go."

My voice seemed to almost startle him, like he had been deep in thought just now. He gave me an absent smile and thanked me quietly.

"Are you alright?" I asked carefully, wondering if he was getting ill or something. Now that I saw him up close, I was even more sure he looked unwell.

He took a sip of his coffee. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

I shrugged, staring at him uncertainly. "Well...you kind of look like you have a hangover. Which can't be the case, since you said you don't drink. And besides, it's Thursday, not the weekend, so..." I gave a soft, nervous chuckle, wondering if I sounded offending.

"Oh." He gave me a reassuring smile. "It's nothing to worry about. I just have some work-related stress, that's all."

For some reason, I was sure he wasn't being honest, and it wasn't work that troubled him.

Carlisle asked me how my hand was healing, and I showed it to him.

"I don't have to use those dressings anymore. That ointment you gave me worked miracles."

He smiled, taking my hand to inspect it more closely. "I'm glad it helped. The burn has healed well. It looks good."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

He chuckled and smiled. Before releasing my hand, he pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. I hadn't expected that – maybe that was the reason why my heart began to hammer in my chest like a bird yearning to be free.

"You shouldn't do that, you know," I murmured. "Those guys over there," I nodded toward the table where the suit-wearing men were sitting, "will think customers are allowed to show open affection to the waitress."

Carlisle smiled. "You're right. I should be more careful." He reached out to touch the edge of my red apron, lightly brushing it with the tips of his fingers. "We wouldn't want to give them any ideas, would we?"

I suddenly remembered what he'd once said about me and my apron. That seeing me wear it had made him want to bend me over the table and...

Heat flooded into my cheeks. A small smile tugged at Carlisle's lips, his cornflower blue eyes darkening slightly. He was clearly thinking about the same thing I was.

"Uh...I'll leave you to enjoy your coffee," I managed to say, my voice ridiculously frail. It made him chuckle softly, and also look a little smug. I turned around, trying to take even, deep breaths to calm down my racing heart, quietly berating myself for reacting to his words that way. Was it normal that even his most innocent words could send my blood rushing and my heart running?

"Bella?"

I stopped, turning around slowly, determined not to make eye contact with him. There was a good chance he'd get me fired – when he looked at me like that, all I wanted to do was just go to him and kiss him senseless. And I was working. Working, working, working. I had to remember that.

"Yes?" I asked. "Would you like something with that coffee?"

Carlisle shook his head. "No, thank you. I wanted to ask how your week is looking. Are you free tomorrow?"

"I have a late shift."

"Can I see you after you get off? Or will you be too tired?"

His question pleased me more than it should have. It was irrational, really, to be this glad, just because he wanted to see me. "No, of course not. Would you like to come over?"

"I'd love to." He smiled, and my heart went all crazy again. A new customer came in right then, and I was suddenly grateful I had something else to focus on.

"Enjoy your coffee," I told him, giving him a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

After I'd served the customer who'd come in, I began to circle around the café to offer refills. My eyes kept going back to Carlisle's table; I noticed he seemed pensive again. He kept staring at the table, as he slowly nursed his coffee, rubbing a weary hand over his eyes now and then. As I began to collect empty cups from vacated tables, I decided to go and talk to him when I was done and ask if something was wrong. Maybe something had happened earlier this week. Why else would he be so...subdued?

Just as I was about to take away the tray laden with empty cups, I noticed his phone rang. He dug it out from his pocket and answered, listening intently for a moment, before nodding to himself. He got up, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder while he fished out his wallet, responding something to whoever was calling him. He threw a few bills on the table next to his cup, and when he noticed I was watching him, he gave me a soft smile. I gave him a wave as he turned to leave. My heart fluttered as he mouthed the word "tomorrow", before heading to the door and leaving the café, still holding the phone to his ear.

Sighing quietly, I went to his table to collect his empty cup. As I took the money from the table, I suddenly noticed there was something between the bills that didn't belong there. I put the money into the pocket of my apron, after slipping a wallet-sized photo from between the bills. I realized Carlisle must have dropped it in his hurry, or else it had somehow gotten stuck among the bills by accident.

I inspected the photo carefully. A small girl was staring back at me. Raven-black, unruly curls framed her pale, cherub-like face. She was so pretty she looked like a porcelain doll. I estimated the girl couldn't have been more than three or four when the photo had been taken. Her face was round and child-like, but also...kind of sculptural. She had high, elegant cheekbones, and her tiny, perfect mouth was turned up in an impish grin. She was...beautiful.

It wasn't just her obvious beauty that caught my attention. Her eyes...they were mesmerizing. They were a startling shade of blue. Not pale blue, like the springtime sky or forget-me-nots. They were the deepest of blue, like an ocean at its intense best. The deepest of blue, like fields full of cornflowers.

I knew those eyes; I'd recognize them anywhere. They were Carlisle's eyes.

I absently thought that the girl had to be a relative of his. Or maybe it was a picture of his sister when she'd been little? I realized I knew nothing about his family. He'd never mentioned his parents or if he had any siblings. I'd have to ask him about it.

I studied the photo for a moment more, noticing it was creased and dog-eared, as if it had been held and examined many times. Putting it into my pocket, I thought to myself that I'd have to remember to give it back to Carlisle when I'd see him tomorrow.

I was beat when I got home that night. After taking a quick shower, I practically fell into bed, not even bothering to dry my hair. I knew I'd probably regret that in the morning.

When sleep took me, I dreamed of a little girl with black, unruly hair and blue eyes.

When Carlisle came over the next evening, he seemed to look slightly better than the day before. I wondered what had been going on with him for these past couple of days. I certainly hadn't expected him to keep quiet for a full week, especially since he had said he hoped he could see me again soon, and even asked me to call him. Again, I found myself wondering if he had been at the cemetery on Sunday, when I'd tried to reach him. That didn't explain, though, why he hadn't called me back.

Maybe he'd just been busy with work, like he had said. Maybe there truly had been no good opportunity to call me back.

But then, there was that friend of his who had come for a visit unannounced, and apparently, had even stayed the night... A small voice in the back of my mind whispered to me that it was pretty uncommon for grown-ups to have impromptu sleepovers, but I silenced the voice by reminding myself he was allowed to have guests. Even if they were female guests.

Not that I knew if his guest had been a woman. It certainly wasn't my intention to ask about it.

Carlisle smiled warmly at me as I let him in, and the first thing he did was to place a soft, tender kiss on my cheek. And then, it was like he had never been gone at all. Suddenly, the week we'd spent apart didn't matter to me anymore, nor did it matter why he'd been gone. Now that he was here with me again, I began to feel very...warm.

He held up a bag of Chinese food. "Are you hungry? Or is it too late to eat?"

"It's never too late eat. I'm starving – I just got home. Thank you."

"How was your day?" He placed the bag on the kitchen table and proceeded to take off his coat. I took it from him and hung it on the rack by the door.

"Busy," I answered. "And kind of frustrating. There was this customer who wanted to have a pastry with his tea – a pastry that had to be fat-free, gluten-free, sugar-free and basically everything-free. Our selection at the café is good, and we have a lot of gluten-free pastries, of course, and we even have pies, cakes and cookies that are low in sugar, but the guy began to rant at me nonetheless about the dangers of white flour and sugar. I don't get it. I kind of wanted to tell him this is a café, not the vegetable aisle."

Carlisle laughed. "Sounds like a challenging customer. No, Bella – you sit down."

I was just about to take out plates and glasses for us, but Carlisle put an arm over my shoulders and led me away from the cupboards, pulling out a chair for me.

I sat down and pursed my lips. "You're spoiling me."

He just smiled as a response, and I tried to ignore the way my heart fluttered at the sight. Man, I had missed him. Maybe more than I was willing to admit.

As we ate, Carlisle asked about my week, and he also wanted to know how last weekend had gone. When I told him I'd spent the entire day Saturday with Rosalie, he smiled softly, a twinkle in his eye.

"Lucky Rosalie," he murmured.

"And you?" I asked in turn. "Has your workload eased at all?"

He nodded, but he didn't say anything. He just gave me a reassuring smile and leaned across the table to pour me more water. I wondered what it was like to be a college professor. I was sure it was both rewarding and taxing.

When Carlisle took one of the cartons to offer me more noodles, I shook my head and declined.

"No, thanks. It was delicious, but I'm full. And besides, if I eat too much before going to bed, I sleep restlessly and have really strange dreams. And I've also been told I talk in my sleep. Like, a lot. I'm sure a heavy meal might make that even worse."

He gave a soft laugh. "Yes. I noticed last week."

Heat flooded into my cheeks. "Oh. What did I say? Or never mind, I don't want to know."

Carlisle smiled and got up, beginning to gather the dishes. I helped him, piling the empty food cartons and putting them in the trash.

"You said something about your mother, I believe," he answered after a while, as he rinsed our dishes in the sink. "And after a moment, you said something like, 'Emmett will protect me.'" He turned to look my way, arching a playful eyebrow at me. "Should I be jealous?"

I gave a soft laugh. "I told you about Emmett. He's Rosalie's boyfriend, so no jealousy required."

He smiled, reaching for the kitchen towel and drying his hands. "That's too bad. I'd have been more than ready to show you what it's like when my possessive side comes out."

I pretended to consider. "You know," I backpedaled, rubbing my chin in a thoughtful manner, "Emmett did open a door for me once, and he also winked at me. And then, one time, when I was going out together with him and Rosalie, he said I looked sexy in my tight jeans. So...go ahead. Possess away."

Carlisle chuckled, sauntering closer in a graceful flow of motion. Man, even the way he moved was always so...seductive. He stopped in front of me, putting his hands on my waist and leaning in to brush his mouth lightly over mine.

"You know, it is troubling to hear some other man has looked at you and told you that you look sexy," he murmured in a low tone. "I find it very...inappropriate."

"Why?" I asked innocently, batting my eyelashes at him. "You don't think I look sexy?"

He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my back. "That's not what I said. Actually, I think..." he paused and dropped another soft kiss on my lips, before bending down and picking me up into his arms, "I think you look too damn alluring for your own good."

"Sorry. I can't help it. I was born this way."

He chuckled softly before claiming my lips again. I felt the motions of his body as he began to walk, and after a while, I heard the door of my bedroom creak as he pushed it open with his foot.

As Carlisle laid me down on the bed and began to assault my neck with his warm lips, his hands tugging at my clothes almost desperately, I idly thought to myself that I had missed this. That I had missed him. Maybe it was a bad thing – maybe I wasn't allowed to miss him. He wasn't mine to miss, after all.

The thought made me feel suddenly very empty, but as Carlisle claimed my lips in a torrid kiss, and as his arms held me even more tightly, all those thoughts were driven from my mind. The flush of heat inside me began to spread all over my body, and I let the sensation take me.

Maybe I was playing with fire. Maybe I'd get burned to ashes. But in that moment, I didn't care. There was only Carlisle's demanding lips against mine, his weight pressing me down into the bed, and our mutual flames no waters could quench.