"Embrace uncertainty. Some of the most beautiful chapters in our lives won't have a title until much later."

- Bob Goff -

For Now

I tried to follow my mother's advice and just take it one moment at a time. Some days, it was easier than others, because in a way, I kept feeling like the time I had with Carlisle was borrowed time. I tried not to let that feeling get in the way, deciding I just had to learn to appreciate what we had. After all, I'd been the one to suggest this whole arrangement. Starting a casual relationship had been my idea, and I just had to take responsibility for my feelings.

It was not that I now regretted that proposal. Like I'd told both my mom and Rosalie, I wanted to spend time with Carlisle as long as it felt good and right. But as days passed, I did begin to wonder how wise this whole thing was. Both Rosalie and Renée had said they didn't want me to get hurt, and their warnings began to haunt me in a new way.

You're in love with him... I just want you to be realistic about this... You shouldn't try to fix something that can't be fixed... You might only end up broken yourself. You know, Bella, I don't think you should go there... I'm afraid you'll just end up getting hurt yourself... You're in love with him... You're in love with him... You're in love with him...

Their voices and words kept blending together in my head, making me restless and anxious. I began to wonder when I'd become so confused about all this. What had changed? Or had I been this confused all along, and I just hadn't realized it until now? Maybe.

Or maybe...maybe it was the necklace. If Carlisle hadn't given it to me on my birthday, and if he had given me something casual and impersonal instead, would I now be more balanced with my emotions? At least I wouldn't have to wonder if his gift had a greater meaning behind it.

I would ask Rosalie about it, when I saw her next week. She'd always been good with people, and especially men. Her ability to figure out what was going on in their heads was almost supernatural.

I had a day off on Thursday, and I went to see her at the salon in the afternoon, after making sure she wasn't with a customer.

"Rosalie," I began, as she offered me a mug of herbal tea – her mother had probably made it. She was obsessed with it, and she always served it to the customers visiting the salon. She said it did wonders for your skin.

Rosalie quirked her eyebrows at me, taking a sip from her own tea. "Everything okay? You look strange."

I gave a soft laugh. Apparently, my confusion was visible on my face. "I have a weird question for you. Emmett...well, has Emmett ever given you jewelry? Aside from that," I added and smiled, nodding at her engagement ring.

Rosalie frowned, hesitating. "Well...he doesn't shower me with diamonds every day, if that's what you're asking. But you already know that."

"But, he gave you that pretty bracelet once, didn't he?"

"Yeah. When we'd been together for a year. It was an anniversary present. Why?"

I sipped my tea again, making my way to the salon's backroom and sitting down in one of the chairs. Rosalie followed me, looking at me curiously. I placed my mug on the table close by and pulled out the sapphire necklace from under my shirt.

Rosalie's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Wow. That's pretty." She frowned confusedly. "Did your dad send it to you? Your mom said his gift would arrive in the mail later..."

I shook my head. "No, uh...Charlie sent me money and a greeting card. He always does, because he thinks shopping for gifts for women is impossible."

"Then, who gave you that necklace?"

I pulled in a slow breath. "Carlisle did."

Rosalie blinked slowly. "Okay." She took a slow sip from her tea and sat down as well. "When?"

"After you and Emmett left last Friday." I watched her closely, realizing she seemed to be as confused as I was. And if Rosalie was confused, well...that was saying something. "You know, I'm kind of relieved you're stumped as well. Carlisle and I have only known each other for a few weeks. It's way too early for these types of gifts, isn't it? Especially since what we have is nothing serious. People don't give expensive necklaces to someone they're just sleeping with. Right?"

"Right," she echoed, biting her lip.

"So, what does this mean?"

"Has he said anything about it? When was the last time you saw him?"

I shrugged. "This morning. I see him practically every day. We stay over at each other's places, and this week, he's taken up the habit of spending his lunch hour with me at the café if I'm working an earlier shift. And as for whether he's said anything about the necklace...well, when I was getting dressed this morning, he seemed pleased when he noticed I keep wearing it. I told him I liked it. A lot."

Rosalie frowned; she seemed pensive. "I wonder why he waited until I'd left with Emmett before giving it to you. Was your mom there?"

"No. She was getting ready for bed."

She hesitated. "It's almost like he didn't want anyone to see him give that to you. Like he seemed to acknowledge it himself – that it's a little too early to be giving jewelry at this point in your relationship, especially since the nature of your relationship is what it is. It's like you said. It's a little weird to give something so expensive to someone you're just sleeping with. I mean, one might expect something like gift cards or movie tickets. Something casual."

"That's what my mom said."

Rosalie let out a long breath. She stayed silent for a long time; I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. "So, maybe he gave a gift like that, because he's trying to tell you something. Maybe he's trying to say he's open to the thought of having something more with you. Maybe this is his way of saying it. Men can be really weird about these things sometimes."

I shook my head. "You know, as nice as that sounds, I'm not sure if that's the case here. I mean, when he told me all those weeks ago that serious relationships aren't his thing..." I shook my head, still remembering the bleak look in Carlisle's blue eyes. "You didn't see his face. How he looked. And besides, I got the distinct impression he's been this way for years. Why would he suddenly change his mind? And even if he did, why not just bring it up with me? I mean, expensive jewelry is one way to make a statement, I admit, but..."

"Maybe he's uncertain," she suggested. "About how you feel about it, that is. I believe it was you who talked him into starting this thing in the first place. You told him you're not looking for anything. He's probably still under that impression. Maybe he's worried you're not interested. Maybe he's testing the water, so to speak. He wanted to see how you'd react by giving you that necklace."

I let out a sigh. "Well, if he was waiting for me to respond somehow, I've kind of blown it, haven't I? I mean, I thanked him for the necklace and made sure he knows how much I appreciate that he gave it to me, but...well, other than that, I've been too confused to say much else."

"I don't think you've blown anything. But I suggest you do some water testing yourself. Talk to him about this and see how he responds. If you get the impression he gave you that necklace for no apparent reason, then..."

"Then, it means I'm reading too much into this, that's all," I finished for her. "You know, now when I think about it, he said he wanted to give me the necklace because sapphire is my birthstone. Maybe it was just a whim, that's all. Or maybe he's just that type of man – maybe it's a habit of his to give expensive gifts to the women he's seeing. Maybe he doesn't think it strange. Money doesn't seem to be an issue for him, after all." I thought about his large, tastefully decorated house and the first time I had set my foot in there. Already then, I'd suspected he must wealthy.

"Maybe," Rosalie admitted. She began to play with her hair pensively, twirling a golden strand around her finger. "I don't think you should make any assumptions, though. If this bothers you that much, then I suggest you open your mouth and ask him, straightforward."

I nodded, staring at my hands. "It's just…a part of me worries that, if I ask him about it, he'll reach the conclusion that I want this to be more than a fling. That I'm not able to keep this casual. And if it turns out that getting me that necklace was just a whim and nothing else..." I paused and pulled in a deep breath, trying to make sense of my thoughts.

"Before we started this...this thing, whatever this is...that Sunday, when I ran into him, and after he'd kissed me...he kept telling me that whatever we were doing wasn't wise. He was concerned about hurting me or disappointing me. From day one, he made it known he's not cut out for commitment, that I shouldn't expect anything more from him. He said I deserve someone who's able to start something real with me. If he finds out I'm starting to have feelings for him, I'm afraid he'll pull away and disappear, if for no other reason than to protect me. And I don't..." A weary sigh left my lips. "I don't want that."

Rosalie was silent so long it caught my attention. I looked up from my hands and met her gaze. I couldn't read the look in her eyes; it was something like concern.

"You have feelings for him," she stated slowly. It was only then I comprehended what I'd said just now. What I'd admitted.

I swallowed thickly. "I don't know. Maybe. My mom seems to think I do."

"What do you think?"

I shook my head, looking at my hands again. "I don't know," I murmured again. "I've never felt like this before." I suddenly realized hot tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision.

"Bella..."

I heard Rosalie shifting closer, and then, her arms wrapped around me tightly. I bit my lip and tried to blink the tears away, but they poured down my cheeks and spilled on the shoulder of her blouse.

"I'm sorry," I heard myself say. "I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm just..."

Rosalie drew away. She tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "You're confused," she finished for me, her voice gentle, "And maybe a little frustrated as well. God knows I'd be." She shook her head, giving me a small smile, before brushing a tear from my cheek. She just watched me for a while, not saying anything, and then she sighed.

"Listen, Bella..." she hesitated. "Don't take this the wrong way. This isn't me telling you 'I told you so.' But when you told me about your...arrangement with Carlisle, I was kind of worried it'd lead to this. I was worried, because I know you better than anyone. I know that, whenever you get into something, you're never halfway in or halfway out. You're an all-or-nothing kind of person, and I admire that. And I can see you really like Carlisle – I saw it from the very beginning, when you first told me about him." She paused. "I obviously can't say I know him, but I want to believe he's a good man, despite his occasional strange behaviour. And from what I saw at your birthday party, I think he likes you, too. A lot. I saw the way he was with you. The way he looked at you."

"But…?"

"But...my point is...my point is, I don't want you to settle for second best." Her eyes were kind. "I want to see you with someone who cares about you, who loves you instead of just liking you. If it turns out Carlisle isn't that man, I want you to realize that sooner rather than later."

I forced myself to nod. More tears escaped, and I dashed a hand across my face. "You know..." I cleared my throat, sniffling. "There's a part of me that just wants things to stay the way they are. I mean, I'm not hurting anyone else but myself, right?" I gave a bleak laugh. "But on the other hand, I don't know. I also feel kind of dishonest, if I keep going like this. If I don't tell him what's going on with me."

Rosalie nodded. "You have to do what feels best for you. And I understand why the thought of bringing this up with him is hard."

"He'd want to know. He wouldn't want me to stay with him, if he knew I wanted more from him. That I want something he can't give."

"I know. It frustrates me a bit that he won't tell you what his problem is, but I have to admit, at least he's been honest with you about the few things he's told you. At least he hasn't been leading you on."

I nodded. "That's why I feel like I do. I feel like I'm the one leading him on if I keep this up. Allowing him to be under the impression that a casual relationship is okay with me..."

Rosalie's eyes were gentle. "Are you going to talk to him, then?"

I drew in a deep, trembling breath. "He's coming over tonight. We were supposed to go out tomorrow evening. Maybe...maybe I should bring this up then, over dinner."

"That's a good idea. Maybe it's wrong of me to say this...I mean, I don't want you to get your hopes up, but don't give up just yet. I still think there might a reason why he gave you that necklace. I suggest that, when you see him tonight, look for clues. Look for anything. Think about the things you want to tell him, and then sleep on it. When you meet him for dinner tomorrow night, you'll be more prepared, and you'll know what to say."

"Right." I brushed a hand across my cheek again. I gave her a weak smile. "Thanks. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you."

She smiled. "You'd have to pay for a therapist. Just kidding," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Actually, it's kind of funny how our positions have reversed. It used to be me coming to you every time I had problems or heartaches. And you always talked sense to me and put me back together." She wrapped her arms around me again, holding me tightly. "That's what you do, Bella – what you've always done. You mend broken hearts. That's why I'd like to see your heart stay intact."

When I left the salon a few minutes later, I felt a little lighter. Rosalie was right; it was a good idea to gather my thoughts and wait until tomorrow before bringing this up with Carlisle.

I got into my truck, and like many other times during that week, I pulled out the necklace from under my collar to study it. The sapphires shimmered subtly in the grey afternoon light. My thoughts began to drift, and for a moment, I allowed myself to wonder what it would mean if Rosalie's cautious suspicions turned out to be correct. What if there was a reason why Carlisle had given me this necklace? What if it was his way of trying to say he wanted something more? And if it was so, what kind of future could I have with a man who was twenty years older than me?

Despite our age difference, we had things in common. Our love for books and reading was just one of those things. During the past couple of weeks, I'd noticed we fit well together. And it wasn't just the sex. That was amazing, of course, but there were other things I enjoyed as well. We both liked quiet evenings together at home, whether we stayed at my place or his. I liked Carlisle's quiet and calm manner, his gentle and compassionate nature. I'd come to learn those were his defining traits. I'd also noticed we could drift into deep and meaningful discussions by accident, and then spend hours talking about everything and nothing at all, and not even notice the passing of time.

We rarely talked about personal stuff – that was the only thing that was missing. I'd occasionally shared bits and pieces of my childhood and teenage years with him, but I found it kind of pointless in the end, since I knew he was unwilling to talk about his own past. Would that change, if it turned out he wanted to start something real with me?

And what about other things? Since he was so much older than me, would he be in a hurry to start a family? If so, was I ready for stuff like that? I had never given much thought to having children. I'd always thought those things either happened or they didn't. That they'd come along if or when the time was right.

I remembered asking Carlisle about that soon after we'd met. He'd told me he and Kate had parted ways, because she'd wanted to settle down and have a large family, and when I'd asked if he ever wanted those things, his answer had been more or less cryptic. No surprise there.

"In a way, I feel like I have settled down. But maybe it's more about me being set in my ways and knowing I'll never change. And as for having a family..." he paused, staring at the table between us again. "Well, most of the time, I feel like...like I've got my hands full with myself. Starting a family with someone...it's something I haven't been able to even consider for years."

Would he someday feel differently about that? And if not, would I be able to accept it? If he wanted to start a serious relationship with me, would I be willing to sacrifice having children, if that was something he wasn't ready for? Would I have to choose between him and having a family?

I sighed and shook my head, starting my truck. I was getting ahead of myself, and that was mildly put. And all because of one necklace. I had to keep in mind that it was possible I was just reading too much into this, and the same might go for Rosalie. Nothing said there was a greater meaning behind Carlisle's gift. It was more than possible that buying it for me had been just a whim.

As I made my way back to my apartment, I decided the best course of action was to do as Rosalie had suggested. I'd sleep on it and talk about these things with him tomorrow. Although, there was a part of me that just wanted to play this safe and keep things the way they were. If bringing this up with him meant I'd possibly have to say goodbye to him tomorrow...

As much as the thought hurt, I realized I'd have to start preparing myself mentally for just that.

When I got to the parking lot of my apartment building, I was so lost in thought, I didn't notice the black SUV pulling up next to me a moment later. When there was a soft tap on the driver's side window, I blinked and pulled myself out of my thoughts. Giving Carlisle a distracted smile, I cut the engine and got out of my truck. Not meeting his eyes, I rose to my tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his cheek. I noticed he was carrying a heavy-looking grocery bag.

"How was your day?" he asked me as I pulled back. He always asked me that, I'd noticed. Every day. I knew it wasn't just a formality; he really seemed to care about my answers.

"Fine," I answered. "I just got back from visiting Rosalie at the salon."

"Oh? Are you two busy planning her wedding yet?" he asked, his tone teasing; I'd told him about Rosalie and Emmett's engagement a few days ago.

Chuckling softly, I shook my head. "I think Rosalie has her hands full with trying to make Emmett sit still long enough, so they can start negotiating the date. So, no wedding planning yet."

Carlisle gave a soft laugh. I nodded toward the full grocery bag in his hand. "That looks heavy. Did you leave any food for the rest of Seattle?"

He chuckled. "Maybe, maybe not. Since we're eating out tomorrow, I thought I could cook something for us tonight. It's my turn."

"Your turn? You cooked yesterday as well. In fact, I think it's me who owes you more than one home-cooked dinner."

He grinned. "What can I say? I enjoy cooking. And since you spend most of your time on your feet, running around and serving other people, I think it's only fair you get to take it easy at home." He seemed to look at me more closely, then, and his smile fell. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Have you been crying?"

Crap. I guess my eyes were still a little red, after that small meltdown I'd had at the salon. Normally, I wasn't much of a crier, and that was why my sudden breakdown had confused me – and probably Rosalie as well. I looked down at the ground to avoid Carlisle's blue eyes, painfully aware I wasn't a very good liar.

"No, of course I haven't. Everything's fine."

His warm fingers lifted my chin gently, forcing me to look at him. He was frowning now, his eyes darkening with worry. I realized I'd seen him that concerned only once before, just after I'd run into him on the street that one rainy night weeks ago.

"Has something happened?" he asked gently.

"No. Everything's fine," I said again, this time more convincingly. I even managed to give him a small smile.

He wasn't buying it. "Are you sure? Bella, if something's happened–"

"Nothing's happened," I interrupted and began to walk past him toward my apartment door. "Everything's as it should be."

A strong hand enclosed around my wrist, effectively stopping me. I turned around to face him again. His blue eyes seemed to penetrate my mind, making me feel like all my secrets had been laid bare.

"If everything's fine, then why have you been crying?" he asked quietly. "And don't say you haven't. I'm not blind, Bella. What's upset you? Just...just tell me. Please."

I sighed, wetting my lips nervously and wondering what to say to make him drop it. I wasn't ready to talk about this. Not yet. "Look, it's nothing, okay? I'm not upset, not anymore. I was just visiting Rosalie, like I said. We were talking about...stuff. Women's stuff. You know how it goes. Women cry over everything. We're sentimental, unpredictable creatures."

He just looked at me for a long moment and didn't say anything. I held his gaze, refusing to look away.

He hesitated. "Are you trying to make me feel confused by talking about women's stuff?" A smile tugged at his lips now. "And by doing so, are you hoping I'll get so embarrassed and confused that I'll just leave it be?"

I returned his small smile. "Okay. So, you think I'm bluffing. But are you willing to take the risk in case I'm not?" I stepped closer to him, whispering dramatically, "I have a secret for you, Dr. Cullen. We're a strange, dangerous species. The sooner you accept it, the better. We don't have to be hormonal – or upset – in order to get emotional. The tissue paper industry is based on women's mood swings, after all."

He gave an uncertain laugh, and I saw he still seemed unconvinced. I tugged at his arm playfully, deciding the best way to distract him was to get him inside. "Now, I'm starving. You know, I read this article about how some people get really cranky when they're hungry. It's a general belief that men get grumpier than women, but according to the article I read, it's actually the other way around. So, proceed with caution."

I began to walk towards my front door as I talked, and I was relieved when he followed me and began to explain about blood-glucose levels and how your brain perceived it as a life-threatening situation if those levels dropped too low. His expression changed, and his voice took on a professional tone; he was in doctor mode again. I wondered if he even noticed it himself how easily he could shift into that role. He was probably completely unaware he carried that piece of his past with him, whether he wanted it or not. I thought to myself that maybe he'd never really stopped being a doctor.

When it came to cooking dinner, I managed to negotiate a deal with him; I was in charge of preparing the salad and setting the table, while Carlisle busied himself with making spinach lasagna. I was so adamant about helping, partly because I didn't know how to be idle; because of my job, staying constantly on the move and bustling about was my second nature. But the other reason was, I wanted to have a proper reason to be there while he cooked. Carlisle's presence in my home was very...comforting. I liked to watch him, and as forbidden as the thought was, I realized I could get used to seeing him there with me, in my small kitchen.

I'd also noticed that whenever he was immersed in cooking, he was more relaxed and open. I didn't know why that was. Not that he was normally very tense or overwrought, but truth was, most of the time, he was very reserved, so in possession of himself. All that almost seemed to go away whenever he was handling a spatula or a cutting board. I liked that.

As I watched him wordlessly, I was suddenly very certain he'd done this a lot before. That he'd cared for someone.

That I wasn't the first person he was cooking for.

As he began to chop the spinach, I observed him carefully, my eyes lingering on his long, tapered fingers. I imagined him in another kitchen, in another life, and wondered about the person who had stood somewhere close to him and watched him work like I was watching him now. I wondered if that other person had enjoyed it as much as I did.

"Who taught you to cook?" I asked quietly. I couldn't help myself; suddenly, I just had to learn something more about him. Even if it was just a small thing like this. "Your mom?"

He gave me a familiar, sad smile. "I mostly taught myself," he answered. "When I was young, I remember my mother tried to teach me these things on more than one occasion, but...well, you know what young boys are like. They believe they're immortal, and they also very foolishly think meals just magically appear from somewhere."

I chuckled, amused. "Right. And then the time comes when they have to go to college and survive on their own, and their mothers tell them that life is a cruel but good teacher when it comes to cooking – and everything else."

He gave a soft laugh. "That's right. Hmm. Interesting. That actually sounds a lot like something my mother once told me."

"Where is she now? Does she live far away?"

He gave me another sad smile. "Oh, uh...she passed away...a long time ago. Just after I'd turned twenty."

I closed my eyes, kind of wanting to bite off my tongue. "I'm sorry."

He brushed it off. "Don't worry. It was a long time ago."

I was surprised he was talking so openly about this. This was personal stuff, after all, and he didn't talk about personal stuff. Maybe it was the fact that he was cooking.

"Still, I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it'd be like to lose a parent at such a young age. I think twenty-year-olds still need their mothers."

"You're right about that," he agreed, smiling softly.

"What about your dad?" I asked carefully. I felt kind of bad about it immediately – I didn't want to bring up more painful topics. But he talked about stuff like this so rarely...

"I never really...knew...my father," he answered slowly. "I don't remember much about him. He left when I was very young, you see. But on more than one occasion, my mother told me it was better that way. My father...well, he wasn't a very tolerant man. That I do remember. That's why I had no reason to question it, when my mother told me we were better off without him. I remember...I remember he was very angry all the time. After he left...well, let's just say it was a lot easier to breathe after he was gone."

I nodded slowly, not really knowing what to say. I just felt very bad for him, and I was suddenly thankful for my close relationship with Charlie. Even though he and my mom hadn't seen eye to eye, I was grateful they were both in my life, regardless of the fact that they hadn't stayed together. I was grateful they'd given me a safe and intact childhood, despite the problems they'd had.

"You're thinking about her. Your mother." Carlisle's voice was very soft.

I raised my gaze from the tomatoes I'd been chopping, surprised. "Yeah. I was thinking about Charlie as well, and...well, how lucky I am. One shouldn't take their parents for granted." I shot him a curious look. "How did you know what I was thinking about?"

He chuckled and smiled. "Your eyes. I watched you with your mother on your birthday. You had a certain look in your eyes whenever you were talking to her. You had that same look just now."

I felt very warm, then. If he kept an eye on things like that and even cared enough to remember them days later... What could it mean?

Maybe it meant something, maybe it meant nothing. Maybe I was seeing things that weren't even there. Maybe I was looking too hard. And maybe I was over-analyzing everything; I'd been told I did that sometimes. But on the other hand, Rosalie had told me to look for clues like this, hadn't she?

I didn't want to ruin the evening, though, by trying to interpret his every word and action and then wonder if they were signals for something. So, I did what I'd done so far; I tried to take every moment as it came. I tried to enjoy every minute I had with him. That was the whole reason why I'd started this whole thing with him, right? Because I wanted to spend time with him, because I wanted to be with him.

And because every inch of my skin seemed to remember his touch whenever he was near me.

"Thank you for dinner," I told him later that night, after we'd done the dishes and settled in the living room. We were sitting on my small couch, my legs thrown over his.

"No reason to thank me. And besides, we made it together," Carlisle murmured. His lips brushed against my temple.

I rolled my eyes. "Right. I tore the lettuce and sliced a few tomatoes – without losing any fingers, so I guess that's an accomplishment – but you did the rest."

He chuckled softly. "It's not about who does the most. That's never the point, Bella."

I smiled at his words, wondering how it was possible he had turned out so...well, kind and good and...balanced. Someone who had grown up without a father and had lost a mother unreasonably early, he was very fair and generous. Or maybe he was like that because of those things that had happened to him.

His arm tightened around me. I pressed closer to him, resting my head in the crook of his shoulder. That was when I realized how much I would miss this. If – or when – I had to give this up one day, I would miss this. I took his hand that was drawing idle circles on my thigh and held it tightly.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" he asked me quietly. Apparently, I hadn't managed to convince him earlier.

I nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. "Yeah. Everything's fine. At least...for now."

He was silent for a moment. "What do you mean by that?"

I shook my head and shifted. "Nothing." Turning to face him, I moved my legs from his lap and straddled him instead. His hands went to my lower back to support me. As I busied myself with loosening his tie and undoing the upper buttons of his shirt, I noticed Carlisle was watching me closely. Very closely.

He drew in a breath to say something, hesitating. "I keep getting this feeling like...like something's going on with you. Like something's changed."

I leaned closer to brush his lips with mine, slowly and lightly. His mouth opened immediately, but I drew back teasingly, keeping my lips out of his reach.

"And what has changed?" I asked, whispering. His arms came around me, pulling me closer again. I pressed my mouth to his, giving him an urgent kiss. A shiver rippled through me as he moaned.

"I don't know," he answered quietly, as I broke away. "Something. I can't put my finger on it. You...you look at me differently."

I kissed him again, torn between wanting to hear more, and at the same time, fearing what he might say next. "I look at you differently? In a good way, or in a bad way?" I murmured against his lips, trying to sound playful instead of worried.

"I'm not...I'm not sure about that, either." His hands crept under the hem of my sweater, and then, he was pulling the garment off and over my head. He tossed the sweater aside and pulled me against him again, peppering my neck and collarbones with his lips. "You look at me like...like you're sad about something. I don't want that. I never wanted that, Bella."

I pulled the tie off his neck and swiftly unfastened the rest of the buttons to get rid of his shirt. "I'm not sad," I told him, before seeking his lips with mine again. He moaned quietly, and then his arms wrapped around me tightly. I felt him shift, and for a moment, I felt dizzy; he had taken me in his arms, standing up in one fluid motion.

"I'm not sad," I said again, as he carried me to the bedroom and placed me on the bed, my voice sounding ridiculously breathless. I reached up, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. "I don't want to be sad. I just want you."

"You have me."

For now. The quiet thought made me ache, and I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sensation of Carlisle's lips on my neck, wanting to push everything else aside. I shivered as he ran his fingers down my sides and pulled down the straps of my bra with his teeth. I sat up, giving him room to undo the clasp, and a moment later, his lips closed around my left nipple. I threw my head back, heaving out a loud breath. My heart was slamming in my chest like a jackhammer, and by the time his mouth moved to my other breast, giving it the same, careful attention, I was practically gasping.

"Carlisle...yes..." I didn't know when I'd closed my eyes, but I opened them again, when his lips suddenly left my skin. My vision was blurry with the onslaught of sensation, and it took me a while to understand why he had stopped.

Carlisle's eyes were on the sapphire pendant resting against my bare chest. He took it between his fingers, brushing a thumb over the blue jewels, and then he looked up at me. I couldn't read the look in his eyes, but it was partly because he didn't give me a chance to do that. A second passed, and he released the pendant, letting it drop down to rest against my bare skin. And then, his lips were on my body again, kissing a hot trail down my chest and over my stomach, and I forgot about everything else.

Suddenly, there was impatience and urgency in his touches, in his movements, in his very skin, as he undid my jeans and tugged them off, my panties following suit. After kissing me hungrily once more, he gently pushed me down against the mattress, before kissing his way down my body again.

"Carlisle..." I heard myself sigh, even though I hadn't made a conscious decision to speak.

"Yes, Bella?" My voice had been frail and uneven, but his was pitched low and steady; he almost sounded amused. No, not amused. Pleased. He seemed to enjoy having me in a state like this. "Was there something you wanted?"

I was about to answer something cheeky, but then, he ran his fingers up my inner thigh. After peppering my lower stomach with soft, featherlight kisses, he shifted and sat back, nudging my legs open with his knees. My whole body jolted in surprise, as he suddenly leaned down and dragged his teeth over my other hipbone.

"If you don't quit teasing me," I managed to pant out, "I'll...I'll..."

He chuckled. "You'll what?" he asked, his voice playfully taunting. "I don't think you're in any position to make threats, sweetheart." His hands grasped my wrists, and I felt his warm breaths on my lower stomach. A second passed, a second full of feeling and tension, and then, I felt the stroke of Carlisle's tongue on the heated, tender flesh at the apex of my thighs.

I began to see rainbows and bright lights. It was too much, too good, too everything, and I couldn't silence the wanton moans leaving my lips. My body wanted to arch off the bed, like it was trying to escape the intense sensations, but at the same time, I felt like I might die if I didn't get more. If he decided to stop.

He didn't stop. Carlisle's response was to release my wrists, and then his hands were on my hips, holding me still. His mouth continued its clever exploration, his tongue dipping lower, before his lips suddenly closed around the bundle of nerves at my center. I didn't recognize the sound that left my mouth, as he began to suck, firmly but gently. Even my eyebrows began to tingle, for god's sake. Was that possible? Eyebrows didn't have nerve endings, did they?

"Carlisle! Carlisle...yes!" I was vaguely aware that I was digging my fingers into his scalp. "Please...Carlisle...right there...right...there..."

A soft hum left his mouth, inducing yet another bewildering sensation. My whole body was like a wire that was strung too tight, stretched to its limit, and just as I was about to snap and let go, his mouth left my tender flesh. I was torn between relief and frustration. Relief, because it was too much, and frustration, because even though it was too much, I still felt like I couldn't get enough.

I was breathing so loudly, I almost didn't hear the soft jingle of his belt buckle and the shuffle of his pants, as he got rid of them. And then, he was back, covering my body with his. His mouth sought mine, the contact both rough and soft. Those two things always seemed to battle for dominance when he was touching me. There was despair and urgency in him, as he hooked an arm under my knee, tilting my hips up to him and sliding forward. But there was tenderness in him as well, softness, and he pulled back to gaze into my eyes a moment before he pushed himself inside me. It was like he wanted – needed – to see me in that moment when our bodies became one; like it was something he didn't want to miss.

I had barely enough focus to keep my eyes open as he began to move, and he pressed his forehead against mine, cradling my head with his free hand. I didn't know where my hands were. All I knew was every inch of me was touching him, that my nails and fingers were leaving marks and bruises somewhere on his body, in his flesh. I wanted to apologize for it, wanting to leave some part of him undamaged; this man had enough scars. But at the same time, it stirred some deep part of me to know they were my hands grappling at his trembling muscles, they were my fingers digging into his arms and chest and shoulders and back, that if my touches caused him pain, at least I knew where that pain came from. At least I knew how to stop it. I could deal with this pain, because I could make it go away.

It took me a moment to realize tears mingled with the sweat running down my face, and I hid myself in the crook of his neck. Carlisle's response was to pull me even closer and thrust even harder, and if his voice had been composed and steady just moments ago, it was now shaky and uneven.

"Good God, Bella..." His lips were searing hot on my neck, his breaths were coming heavily. "What you do to me...I can't even begin to...I don't know how I'll ever be able to let you go..."

I wanted to tell him he didn't have to. That I wouldn't go anywhere. That I didn't want to go anywhere. But I couldn't get a word out of my mouth. There was just the constant onslaught of pleasure and sensation, and there was just Carlisle's body moving against mine, his warm breaths brushing against my neck. And just as his movements became uneven and desperate, the coiling heat in my belly grew impossibly tighter, before finally unraveling. My peak brought on his own, and he arched into me, a strangled cry escaping his lips. I wrapped my arms around him, and he all but collapsed against me, his muscles trembling and his breathing shaky.

As the waves of pleasure slowly dissipated, I began to feel boneless and heavy, like there was lead in my veins instead of blood. I closed my eyes, listening to the fierce pounding of my heart. Or maybe it wasn't my heart; Carlisle's chest was still pressed against mine, and I thought I could feel the beats of his heart as clearly as I could feel my own.

I felt him shift, causing me to tighten my hold around him; I didn't want any distance between our bodies. He placed a soft, quick kiss on my lips.

"I'm too heavy. I'm crushing you," he protested quietly, his voice a mere whisper.

"You're not," I murmured back.

He gave a breathless chuckle and wrapped an arm around my waist. I felt empty, as our bodies parted, but then, Carlisle tightened his hold around me and turned us onto our sides. He pulled me against his chest, tucking my head under his chin. I could feel his accelerated pulse against my temple; it was comforting.

Even though it was still early, I felt like drifting off to sleep, especially when Carlisle reached out to grab a blanket from the foot of the bed. He spread it over us, cocooning us in warmth. But my mind refused to shut down, and I began to count Carlisle's quiet inhales and exhales. Despite the calm rise and fall of his chest, I somehow knew he wasn't feeling sleepy.

"I understand now," I murmured, closing my eyes.

There was a moment of confused silence. "Understand what?"

"You once said you've been told that you tend to think loudly. I see what they were talking about."

He chuckled softly. "I'm terribly sorry. I'll try to be quieter from now on."

"Don't. Maybe I'll learn something by listening to this silence that's full of your thoughts."

Another chuckle left his lips, and he drew back slightly to look at me. I opened my eyes, pulling back to see his face.

"Seriously, though," I said, reaching out to trace the angle of his jaw with my finger. "What's on your mind?"

He didn't answer right away. He just stared into my eyes for a long moment, and then he breathed in slowly, before exhaling a quiet sigh. "I'm just still wondering...what could've upset you earlier this afternoon."

"It bothers you that much?"

He nodded. "Yes. Of course. I'd just like to know what troubled you so much it made you cry."

I held his gaze for a while, giving him a soft smile. "That's not exactly fair," I pointed out gently, keeping my voice light. "You never tell me about the things that trouble you, after all. About things that upset you."

That gave him pause. His eyes left mine, and then a small frown appeared between his eyebrows. It was a moment before he spoke again.

"You're right, I suppose," he admitted. "It's not fair. It's...it's wrong of me to demand answers from you, given how unwilling I am to give you any. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry."

I stroked a finger over his cheek. "Don't worry about it. I didn't say that to bully you into telling me anything you don't want to share," I explained softly. "I hope you know that. Of course, I'm curious, and concerned. I mean, how could I not want to know more about you? To learn about the things that made you the person you are now? But I'm not forcing you to tell me anything. Like I said that one time, I'm just worried about you sometimes. And if you someday find you want to talk about it, I'm listening. I want you to know that."

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thank you, Bella. I'll...I'll remember that." He swallowed, his hand continuing to stroke my hair. He drew in a steadying breath, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, he stared blankly at a spot somewhere over my shoulder. The shadows under his eyes seemed more prominent now; they almost looked like bruises. "I suppose, one reason why I don't talk about my issues is simply because...because I've learned talking doesn't help. Talking doesn't change things. It doesn't bring...anything back."

I wanted to ask him what it was he wanted to change, what he wanted to get back, but I didn't want to pressure him. "I assume, in order to be so certain about that, you've tried to talk about things with someone in the past?"

He nodded. "I have."

"Have you ever been to...therapy or anything? I mean, sometimes it's different, when it's someone professional–"

He nodded again before I managed to finish. "I've done it all, Bella. Trust me."

"Okay." I waited until he met my eyes, and then I reached out to trace the line of his lips with my finger. "I just needed to ask. To make sure."

A familiar, sad smile tugged at his mouth, and he took my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. "Don't worry about me," he murmured, like so many other times before. "I've survived this far, haven't I?" He gave a small, joyless laugh, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he tried to convince me.

But how long can you survive if you keep going like this?

I didn't say that out loud, even though I wanted to. Instead, I inched closer to him, adjusting the blanket, so it was covering us completely.

"Alright. Since you keep asking, and since it genuinely seems to bother you...I just had a tiny meltdown when I was visiting Rosalie. But it's all better now. I'm...working on it."

Carlisle nodded. I could see from his eyes he had hoped for a more detailed answer, but he accepted my words, anyway. He pulled me closer to his body, and as I snuggled against him, I could feel the outlines of the sapphire necklace where it pressed against our chests. I closed my eyes and sighed.

Yeah. I'm working on it.