"Maybe there's something you're afraid to say,

or someone you're afraid to love,

or somewhere you're afraid to go.

It's gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt because it matters."

- John Green -

Deeper Meanings

The next time I woke up, instead of sitting on the edge of the bed, Carlisle was lying next to me, looking like he had all but collapsed there. I noticed he was still fully dressed; he was wearing the same blue shirt and black pants he'd put on the previous morning. His tie was gone, though, and the upper buttons of his shirt were undone. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw it was just past six. In the morning, I assumed. I felt like my sense of time had become distorted.

I sat up slowly, still feeling strangely heavy and exhausted. No surprise there; the day after a migraine was always like this. Even though I felt like I'd been run over by a train, I dragged myself up. After gathering some clothes from the dresser, I took a long, hot shower. When I emerged from the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I felt a little better.

Meanwhile, Carlisle had woken up. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, lifting his gaze from the floor, as he heard the bathroom door open.

"How are you feeling?" He watched me closely, as I dried my hair with a towel.

I gave him a wan smile. "A little more like a human being."

He nodded slowly and rubbed a hand over his eyes, making me wonder how long he'd sat by my side the previous night before giving in to his exhaustion. I sat down on the other side of the bed and just watched him for a while. He sensed my gaze and looked up.

"Um...thanks for watching over me last night. Yesterday. Whenever," I murmured, suddenly feeling like I didn't know what to say to him. What to think when I looked at him. When he looked at me.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Bella. I'm just glad you're feeling better. Have you ever had a migraine episode this severe?"

I shrugged. "Uh...not in a couple of years, no. It probably wouldn't have gotten so bad, if I'd had my medication with me yesterday. When I was looking for the truck key yesterday morning, I dumped the things in my bag on the coffee table, and that's how I accidentally left the pills at home. Just my luck."

Carlisle nodded again, giving me a weak smile. "I found the key while you were sleeping, by the way. It was under the couch."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Of course. Under the couch. The only place I didn't check."

He gave a soft chuckle, but he sobered quickly. When he looked at me again, there was hesitation in his eyes. "Why didn't you call me and tell me you were unwell? I'd have given you a ride home."

I avoided his eyes. "I didn't know if you were still in class. And then you said...well, you said you had that appointment..." I trailed off, finally turning to meet his gaze.

"Right." He hesitated again, searching for words. "Listen, Bella...about the woman you saw me with. She's...well, she's–" He sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

Thinking about the whole thing made me feel like I wanted to throw things. I was also kind of worried about what he had to say. "Do you really owe me an explanation?" I asked when he remained silent. My voice was cooler than I'd intended. But then again, I did have the right to be upset, didn't I? I guess I just didn't want him to know how upset I really was. "I mean, we're not answerable to each other, are we now? We both have the right to do pretty much anything we want. You don't have to explain."

He just looked at me for a long moment, not saying anything. "Is that how you really feel?" he asked quietly. I couldn't interpret his tone.

I shrugged. "That's what we agreed on, isn't it? Nothing serious. That's it. I'm fine with it."

"Are you?"

I blew out a frustrated breath. "Look, what do you want me to say? What do you want from me?"

Carlisle ran a weary hand down his face, staying silent for another long moment. After a while, he got up slowly and walked around the bed. I could feel his eyes studying my face, as he sat down next to me.

"I want you to be honest with me," he answered softly. "I saw your face yesterday, Bella. You were upset. When you saw me with that woman...and when you turned away and ignored me, when I called out your name... Why didn't you stop, by the way? When I called after you?"

I gave a bleak laugh. "Because I felt like my brain was on fire. I wasn't exactly in a state where I could appreciate anything you had to say, anyway." I gave him a cool look. "And as for why I was upset...I was just very surprised to see you with someone. You've told me more than once you don't date multiple women at the same time, and...and then I see you with someone else. When you told me you had an appointment, I figured you were going to the dentist or something. What was I supposed to feel, when I saw you with her? Of course I was...shocked. And yeah, maybe a little upset."

"You're right. I shouldn't have said I had an appointment – I should've been clearer about my plans. I'm sorry about that, I really am. But Bella, when I told you all those weeks ago that I don't date multiple women at the same time, I was nothing but honest with you about that. That's what I wanted to tell you – that's what I would've liked to clear up yesterday. The woman you saw me with is an old friend of mine. A very good friend. Like I said, maybe I should've told you about my plans to meet her, but..." He sighed. "Well, to be honest...I still don't know why I didn't."

"I do," I answered, looking at him sadly. "You didn't tell me, because that's personal stuff, and you don't talk to me about personal stuff."

He didn't have anything to say to that. Some secret part of me was now glad I knew that what I'd witnessed yesterday hadn't been a date, but at the same time, I just felt oddly empty. I remembered the way Carlisle had looked at that woman yesterday, and I remembered the obvious affection and adoration in his eyes. I remembered the way he had kissed her hands and cheek, the way he had embraced her, like she was the only thing holding him to the earth.

I drew in a shaky breath. "You know, if I'm being entirely honest, it looked to me like she's more than just a friend to you."

Momentarily, it seemed as if he wanted to take my hand, but he caught himself. Pulling in a deep breath, he looked at me, holding my gaze in his own.

"I know how it must've looked to you," he murmured, "But you have to believe me when I say we're just friends now, and nothing more. I've known her for a very long time, and I can't deny we're close. One reason is that we used to…well, we used to be together. It was a long time ago. It was...it was in some different world. It was in a whole other lifetime, really." He gave a quiet, joyless laugh and shook his head sadly.

I swallowed, feeling some of my frustration melt away. He sounded sincere, and I wanted to believe he wouldn't lie to me about this. "How often do you see her?"

"Sometimes, once a month, sometimes, once a week. It depends. She's a busy woman."

"Is she the architect you once mentioned? The one who worked on your house?"

He nodded slowly, observing my reaction. "Yes."

"The one who stayed the night at your place a couple of weeks back?"

"Bella, it's not what you're thinking."

"And what do you think I'm thinking?"

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair in a weary gesture, his blue eyes gauging me. "Well, it's obvious what you're implying, isn't it? You seem to believe she's still something more than just a friend to me. She used to be something more, yes, but things are a little different now. Things are very different. We're just good friends, that's all. I see her every now and then, because she's been a very integral part of my life for a very long time. That'll never change, despite the fact that we're no longer together. I don't know if this convinces you, but she's happily married. I know her husband."

I swallowed, something like relief washing over me. If she was married, there was no way Carlisle would be involved with her – he wasn't that sort of man. I knew that.

But there was a part of me that was still incredibly jealous of this woman. How could I not be? She obviously knew Carlisle very well, and from what I'd seen yesterday, he seemed to be able to talk about things with her. I remembered the bleak look on his face, when he had spoken to her yesterday, and I remembered the warmth and sympathy in the woman's eyes, when she had gently stroked his arm. And then there had been that gentle embrace...

A sigh left my lips. Yes, maybe I was a little jealous of what they had, but if I was being entirely honest, the less selfish part of me was also kind of relieved that he had someone important in his life, someone who understood him. Someone he could talk to about the troubling things he never shared with me. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I didn't have Rosalie, if I couldn't go to her when I needed to talk, and I found that even the thought was too horrible to consider.

I wondered idly what Carlisle and that woman had been talking about yesterday. Their discussion had seemed pretty serious.

I'd been staring at my hands for the past moments, and I lifted my gaze now, noticing Carlisle was observing me closely. Probably expecting me to respond to his words somehow.

"So, why...why aren't you with her anymore?" I asked slowly, not sure if I had the right to ask something like that. But it wasn't as if I had anything to lose at this point. "I mean, I saw how you looked at each other yesterday. You obviously care about each other. Even the blind could see that. Why didn't you stay together?"

He gave me a familiar, sad smile. "It was one of those things," he murmured. "People grow apart for...for some reasons. Let's just say...something happened, and neither of us dealt with it very well. Or no, that's not true. I didn't deal with it very well," he sighed. "And you know what they say. Life happens when you're busy making other plans." He gave a bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair again, swallowing hard. He flicked me a look, apparently trying to read my expression and determine how I felt about all this. "I guess I...understand...if the thought of me having a good female friend is hard to accept, especially since we have a history together. If you're uncomfortable with it..."

"I'm not...uncomfortable," I said carefully, searching myself and trying to determine if I was sincere or not. "And even if I was, it wouldn't be right of me to make you feel as though you can't see her. I wouldn't ask you to give up a friend. Even if I did...well, if you have any integrity at all, you'd refuse to even consider the thought of turning your back on her, just because someone you're sleeping with demands it. I know there are people who stubbornly insist a man and a woman can't have a purely platonic relationship, and I don't want to be one of those people. I really don't."

He chuckled softly. "I know you'd never ask me to give up a friend. I know you'd never be so small-minded." He paused, reaching out to touch my hand briefly. He didn't take it, though; something made him unsure. "But Bella...feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but I have this feeling something about this still bothers you. Whether you're willing to admit it or not."

I bit my lip, considering his words carefully and wondering when he'd learned to read me so well. Or was I just that obvious? Maybe. I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"It's...it's not the fact that you have a close female friend. In fact, I don't think it's any particular thing. You just...you just confuse me sometimes, I guess. A lot of times." Unconsciously, my hand sought the sapphire pendant around my neck. Carlisle's eyes shifted from my face, catching the small movement. I let my hand drop back into my lap. "You always keep me guessing," I continued quietly. "You just...you keep me on my toes. It can be a good thing, sometimes," I admitted, drawing a small smile from him. "But, it's also kind of...I don't know, nerve-wracking. It drives me crazy sometimes."

Carlisle nodded slowly, his eyes studying the rug on the floor.

"I, uh...I understand," he answered after a while, avoiding my gaze. His voice was forcibly calm, like something about my words had upset him, and he was doing his best to hide it. "That's why...well, that's why relationships aren't my thing. That's why I hesitated in starting this thing with you. I was worried this might happen. That I might make you feel this way."

"Is that a nice way to say, 'I told you so?' That we shouldn't have even started?"

"No. God, no," he shook his head, and now, he took my hand and held it tightly. I squeezed his hand and held his gaze as he turned to look at me, hoping his eyes would tell me the truth, that they would reveal the things his lips refused to speak.

"So, you don't regret this?" I asked. "That we started this...well, whatever this is?"

I could see he wanted to shake his head, to say no, but again, there was uncertainty in him. Like he was doubting whether he could be honest with me or not.

"I could never regret meeting you," he answered carefully, searching for words. "You're a wonderful person, Bella. I haven't known you for long, but already, I can tell you're a lovely woman. You're everything a person is supposed to be. Everything. And because of that, you...you help me forget things that are better not to think about. You just have a way about you. Like I told you all those weeks ago, I'm drawn to your presence. You pull me into you like the moon to the tide." He paused, swallowing. "You asked if I regretted this...this thing we have. My answer is, I'll only regret it if I end up hurting you. Disappointing you."

I frowned. "You say it like...like you're almost certain it'll happen. Like it's not in your hands, whether you end up disappointing me or not." I shook my head, confused. "Or maybe...maybe it's the other way around. Maybe it is in your hands, in your power. And the real question is...why would you choose to hurt or disappoint someone if you have an option?"

He shook his head. "It's not that...simple."

I didn't really know what to say to that. "Yeah. I guess it never is."

He tightened his hold around my hand. It was obvious he wanted to explain, that he wanted me to understand. There was distress in his blue eyes, and the shadows under them seemed suddenly sharper, like they'd been drawn with charcoal. His voice was quiet when he spoke again. Quiet, but...bitter.

"I suppose...well, when I met you, I told you that, maybe it's time for me to stop looking. That maybe I should be content with my life the way it is. That was supposed to be my way of making sure I don't end up disappointing anyone ever again," he began to explain, his eyes studying our linked hands.

"I'd pretty much made my decision about it, about staying alone. But then...then I met you and...and then you wrote those innocent words on the check. 'Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint.' Your words...for a moment, I thought they could mean something. That they were meant for me. I don't believe in fate – I lost trust in those kinds of things a long time ago, after learning the hard way that there's no greater purpose behind small, everyday occurrences, behind bigger tragedies or losses.

"I learned that people try to look for deeper meanings whenever something terrible happens to them, and that's simply because they can't deal with the fact that, sometimes, bad things just happen – that they're an inevitable part of life. People need to believe that, when they're faced with heartache and loss, something good follows eventually. They need to believe that in order to survive. They can't accept the obvious fact that there's no greater importance behind struggles and hardships. Instead of facing the truth, they'd rather live a lie by telling themselves everything has a purpose. A reason."

I listened to his outburst without a word, thinking to myself that he'd never spoken so many words in one go. "That's...that's a rather harsh way to look at life," I said carefully.

"Well, that's how I look at it. And I have a reason why I view things like I do, Bella. I wasn't always like this. But once you cross the line to this side...well, it's not so easy to go back anymore. The world...it's a different place to me than it is to you. I sometimes envy you for...for being able to wake up in the morning and believe everything is going to be alright."

"Okay," I murmured, nodding. "I'm sure you have your reasons to feel like you do. I didn't mean to belittle your feelings when I said that."

He squeezed my hand. "I know that. And I..." He blew out a breath and ran his other hand down his face in a weary manner. "I didn't mean to depress you by burdening you with my thoughts. That's the last thing I want, to bring you down with me.

"What I tried to say was...even though I don't believe in fate, there was something about you, something in your words, that made me change my mind about getting to know you. And you did that. You changed my mind without even knowing I was struggling with something, and you did that just by writing a few simple words on a piece of paper. That's how much impact you've had on me, Bella, and for God's sake...you don't even seem to be aware of it."

His eyes were sad as he reached out with his free hand to cup my cheek. I leaned into his touch, trying to wrap my mind around the things he had told me. I still didn't know what was going on with him – what had happened to make him view everything the way he did – and I still didn't know what he...well, what he wanted. It was strange; I felt like I'd learned more about him during the past minutes than I could ever expect, but at the same time, I realized I was even more confused than I was the day before.

"So, what if I hadn't written those words on the check that day?" I asked. "What if I hadn't run into you that Sunday? What if you'd walked from that cemetery a minute later and you hadn't seen me? What if..." I trailed off and shook my head, letting out a weary breath. "I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't ask any of these things. What-ifs are pointless, and they drive you crazy."

Carlisle was silent for a beat. "I don't know. My life is pretty much based on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens," he mused. Then, he gave me a glance, smiling softly. "But you're right. What-ifs can drive you mad, and maybe even worse. You can get so stuck in them that you suddenly notice you have no way out."

I studied his face carefully. "Is that what happened to you?"

He smiled joylessly. "Eventually, yes." He squeezed my hand again, and after a moment, he brought it to his lips. "And to answer your questions...if you hadn't written those words on the check, and if we hadn't run into each other that Sunday weeks ago...I don't know. We probably wouldn't be here now." He leaned closer to place a soft kiss on my jawline. "But I'm...glad…that we're here. I'm glad I got to meet you. Don't ever doubt that, Bella."

His words were sweet, and they stirred something inside me. As he pulled away, I stared at our linked hands resting in my lap. Maybe I was crossing a line, maybe I was pushing too hard, but now that we'd come this far, I knew I had to know. Or at least I had to ask him and hope he'd answer.

Keeping my eyes on our linked hands, I licked my lips and drew in a steadying breath. "So, why did you give me this necklace?" My voice was quiet, nearing a whisper, but I knew he had heard it; I felt his hand tighten around mine. My free hand went to the sapphire pendant resting against my chest, and I brushed a thumb over it, almost like hoping a physical connection to it would help me see into his mind.

I lifted my gaze from my lap and saw Carlisle's eyes were studying the pendant. I didn't know if he looked at it so intensely because he was considering my question or because he wanted to avoid my eyes.

"When I saw it, I thought of you. And I knew I wanted to give it to you. I just...I just hoped you'd like it. It was your birthday, and I wanted to give you something special. Something you'd remember."

Even though that was pretty much what I'd expected him to say, I still felt a little disappointed. Maybe I shouldn't have been. I mean, what had I been hoping for? A love confession? No, no exactly. But I guess I'd been hoping for...something more.

Or was that the problem here? Was I overlooking and completely ignoring the few things he'd said, because they weren't something I'd been hoping for? Maybe. But on the other hand, what if I was looking too hard? If you did that, you eventually began to see things that weren't there.

Carlisle's hand cupped my cheek again; the touch pulled me from my thoughts.

"Where'd you go?" he asked. "Does your head still hurt?"

"No. I was just...thinking in circles, I guess."

"Thinking about what?" He seemed amused now; I wondered why. "What makes your thoughts circle?"

I smiled humorlessly. "You. What else. Like I said...you keep me on my toes."

He smiled sadly. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Or at least, you're not doing it on purpose."

I was surprised when he seemed to consider my words carefully, staying silent for a long while. He was about to say something, but then, he seemed to change his mind, and he shook his head. He reached out to cup my face again, stroking a thumb over my chin.

"Do you think you could try to eat something?" he asked, observing me closely.

I shrugged. "I'm not really hungry, but maybe I should try to have something light. I feel like I've been run over by a bus."

He gave a soft chuckle. "I can imagine. You should take it easy today. Someone I know suffers from migraine hangovers as well, and he can barely get out of bed the day after a migraine." He stood up after tucking a moist strand of hair behind my ear, giving me an inquiring glance. "What would you like to have? Tea? Toast?"

I nodded. "Sounds good. Oh." I slammed my eyes shut and shook my head. A blush began to creep into my cheeks.

"What is it?"

I sighed. "Nothing. I just had a very attractive flashback of me throwing up in front of you yesterday. That's really embarrassing."

He laughed softly. "Don't worry about that. I used to be a doctor, remember? Believe me, I've seen everything there is to see. I had to throw out your doormat, though. It didn't exactly say 'welcome' anymore, if you know what I mean."

I closed my eyes and gave a quiet laugh, wanting to cover my face with my hands. "Oh."

"Don't worry about it," he said again. "There's nothing embarrassing about getting ill. I'm just glad it wasn't anything more serious. You...well, you gave me a scare. You looked so unwell, and for a moment, I thought you were having a brain hemorrhage or something."

"Oh, that's why you were checking my eyes and bending my head and all that stuff? I found it very annoying."

He chuckled again. "I just had to make sure." He turned away to leave the room, but he stopped when he noticed I was about to get up and follow him. "Stay put, Bella. I'll be back in a minute with you breakfast."

I mock-glowered at him. "Doctor's orders?"

"Exactly. Those orders include lots of bed rest and relaxation."

"Hmm. I'd like to know what this bed rest includes."

He smiled, his blue eyes darkening slightly. "If you're a good patient, maybe you'll find out."

The look in his eyes made my stomach do flips, and I lay down obediently, smiling when I heard him laugh softly. He said it was useful that I allowed him to learn so easily about my soft spots, in case he ever had to blackmail me about something.

As he left the room, I thought to myself that he was rapidly becoming one of those soft spots, no matter how forbidden and unwise it was.

Rosalie stopped by at my apartment on Sunday. Carlisle had gone to his house, telling me had some things to take care of before his lectures tomorrow. He'd suggested I could accompany him, and I'd wanted to say yes; his house was beautiful, and I gladly spent my time there. I could have easily made my time pass with something while he worked, but then Rosalie had called, asking if it was alright to drop by. I knew she was curious to hear what was going on, and I had to admit, spending a few hours apart from Carlisle would probably do me some good.

Not that I wanted to get away from his company – just the opposite. I was enjoying his presence in my small home far too much. We hadn't talked about anything personal after our discussion the previous morning, even though we'd spent practically every moment together. He'd been very attentive to me, as I'd been recovering from my migraine, constantly asking me if there was anything I needed. His tender nurturing was very sweet, and it was easy to see that taking care of people was something he'd done before, that it was something he enjoyed. For the millionth time, I wondered what had happened to make him give up a career in medicine.

I did that a lot when I was with him; wondered. Especially after our discussion Saturday morning, I was at a complete loss when it came to figuring him out, and a part of me began to question if it was a wise idea to try to figure him out at all. I'd begun to feel like I might just lose myself in the process.

I still hadn't told him how I felt about him, thanks to the migraine fiasco. It made me wonder what would have happened, where we would have been now, if Friday had gone as planned, and we had gone out for dinner. Would I have chickened out, after all? And if I hadn't? How would he have reacted to the things I had to tell him? I didn't know.

A large part of me was still afraid to know.

"Are you alone?" Rosalie asked as I let her in early in the afternoon. She had to do a double-take on me – apparently, I still looked like hell. I'd slept at least ten hours the previous night, but still, I felt like I hadn't slept in a year. Stupid migraine.

I nodded. "Yeah. Carlisle had work stuff to do." She followed me into the kitchen, watching me carefully as I poured us coffee.

"Has something happened?" she asked me, taking off her coat and tossing it over a chair. "You look a little...I don't know...anemic?"

"Thanks." I rolled my eyes at her, passing her the coffee. "Everything's fine. Just tired."

"How did your dinner go on Friday? Did you talk to him? Did you ask about the necklace?"

"Well, we talked about some things, but we didn't do it over dinner." She followed me to the living room, and we sat down on the couch. I told her about the migraine attack and how I'd been pretty much unconscious for the entire day Friday.

"So, you still don't know what's going on with him?" Rosalie asked.

"Not really. In fact, everything seems even more complicated now. You know that small diner a few blocks from the café?" I told her about seeing Carlisle in front of the diner with another woman. Rosalie's eyes darkened dangerously, and I hurried to explain the rest of the story, telling her the matter was already settled, more or less.

"But I don't get it." She shook her head. "Why would he make it sound as though he just had some indefinite appointment? Why didn't he just be straight-up with you and tell you he was meeting a friend? A friend who just happens to be an ex of his?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is, if he's got nothing to hide, why wouldn't he be honest with you about what he's doing?"

I shrugged. "He's a bit like that, I guess. He just doesn't talk about personal things."

"That's it, then? Are you just going to take his word for it and believe they're just friends? Are you sure he doesn't have something going on with her?"

"I'm pretty sure. He told me she's married. Apparently, he knows her husband." Rosalie didn't look convinced. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Look, I know what you're thinking, and I know you're worried. Maybe you think I'm gullible, but I'm not. I know keeps some stuff from me. I know he doesn't tell me about a lot of things that are going on with him.

"But, I know – or I feel, more likely – that he doesn't hide things from me, because he doesn't want me to know about them. He keeps some things to himself, because talking about them is very hard for him. I can see it in his eyes, how much it affects him if I accidentally bring up a difficult topic, for instance.

"Think about it. Imagine yourself in his position. If something bad had happened to you, something you can't get over, something you find impossible to talk about, why would you share it with someone you're just messing around with? Someone who's just passing by in your life?" I studied my hands. "I mean, I wouldn't want to go through that trouble if I were him. I wouldn't want to put myself through that."

Rosalie was silent for a moment, considering my words. "Okay. I guess you have a good point. It's funny, by the way. How you seem to understand where he's coming from, even though he doesn't tell you anything."

I shrugged. "I know how this sounds, but his eyes tell me a lot. I now understand why it's been said they're windows to the soul."

She was silent again, biting her bottom lip in a pondering manner. "So, is that how you feel? Is that what Carlisle believes? That you're just passing by in his life?"

"Well, that's what we signed up for. And besides, that's pretty much the impression I gave him yesterday. Before I learned the woman I saw was just a friend to him, and when he tried to explain why he met her on Friday, I made this big speech about how we weren't answerable to each other. That he didn't owe me an explanation. I guess I felt like I needed to prove I didn't give a damn, even if he dated other women behind my back. And now...well, if he took my words seriously – and I don't see why he wouldn't – he's under the impression there's nothing more to this. That I'm just having some innocent fun with him."

Rosalie blew out a breath. "Okay. That complicates things. Unless you did some damage control and said something later, something that might make him realize maybe you want something more, after all?"

I shook my head. "Not really. We talked about some things. I told him he confuses the hell out of me. He said he's sorry about it. And once again, he seemed worried that he might end up hurting me or disappointing me in some way. It's almost like...like he's apologizing for something he hasn't even done yet. He also reminded me that, because of his issues – whatever they are – relationships are hard for him."

"Well, they don't seem impossible. If the woman you saw him with used to be together with him..."

I nodded. "Right. And if he's able to stay friends with an ex, he obviously isn't totally hopeless when it comes to people and relationships."

"Does he see her often? Does she live in Seattle?"

I shook my head, shrugging. "I didn't ask where she lives. But yeah, they see each other every now and then. You know, now when I think about it, I shouldn't have been so shocked about seeing her on Friday. Carlisle's mentioned her before, at least twice. I knew he had a female friend who's an architect and an interior designer. I knew he's known her for a long time – over twenty-five years, apparently – but before Friday, I had no idea they had a history together."

"Well, he could've mentioned it. I would've." Her tone was slightly disapproving.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Did you ask her name?"

I shook my head. "Why?"

Rosalie's eyes took on a reflective look. "Because I think we need a new theory. You once said you believe he's a widower, right? Maybe that's not the case, after all. Maybe he's just divorced. Maybe the woman you saw him with is his ex-wife."

I hadn't thought of that, which was very stupid of me. I remembered the silver ring in his bedside drawer and the simple but beautiful engraving on the inner surface. July 15, 1995... C.C. & E.A.P ...Our Love Is Eternal...

I shook my head, frowning. "Yeah, but...surely that's something he might've mentioned yesterday? He just said they were together a long time ago – he didn't say anything about being married to her. Isn't that something he would've told me while we were on the subject?"

Rosalie raised her delicate eyebrows. "Is it?" she asked pointedly.

I stared at her, wanting to tell her yes, but then, I began to question it myself. Would he tell me about something like this? After all, he'd never even mentioned anything about being married. The only reason I knew about it was because I'd accidentally found the ring. If he felt like leaving something like that out, maybe he wouldn't bother telling me his good friend happened to be his ex-wife as well.

"Look, Bella," Rosalie said, when I'd been silent for a minute. "People are sometimes weird about these things. And given the fact that Carlisle clams up about personal matters on a regular basis, this is easily something he might've left out. Divorce is a hard thing for a lot of people. Some never get over it, never discuss it willingly. Think about Charlie."

I nodded, realizing she was right. I knew that, in a way, Charlie had moved on from what had happened with Renée, but I also knew he still missed my mother and second-guessed the decisions that had led to their divorce. And like Rosalie had just said, he never talked about their divorce willingly.

"And you say there are things that are hard for Carlisle to talk about," she continued, her tone reflective. "Maybe this is one of those things. Maybe their divorce is still a painful topic for him."

"I suppose," I admitted. "But how come they're such good friends, then? If their divorce was so difficult that Carlisle can't mention it, even in passing, then how are they able to keep in touch with each other at all, let alone be close friends?" I shook my head, my mind replaying the scene I'd witnessed in front of the diner. "You should've seen how he was with her. It was..." I sighed quietly. "It was obvious he cares about her. Like...a lot. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's in love with her still."

Rosalie took my hand. "If he's known her for over twenty-five years – and if they were married – then there's no doubt he loves her," she reminded me gently.

I nodded quickly. "I know that. And it's not that I can't accept it. Of course, I can. I just..." I blew out a breath and wrapped my fingers around my coffee mug, only now realizing I hadn't even tasted it. It was probably cold by now. I breathed in slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. "I'm not really jealous of his feelings for her, whatever those feelings are," I said slowly, trying to put my thoughts to words. "Of course, he has every right to care about her. I guess I'm just..."

"You're hoping someone will look at you like that someday," Rosalie finished for me. "And you're hoping it'd be Carlisle."

I didn't have to answer her. I closed my eyes and opened them slowly, taking a sip from my coffee. It was cold, like I'd suspected, but I took another sip, anyway. "I don't know how I got here. When I got here. I mean, I've only known him for a few weeks. I wasn't supposed to feel like this. I wasn't supposed to..." I drew in a steadying breath, "...fall in love with him."

There. It was out. For some reason, the words leaving my lips made me feel both better and worse.

Rosalie gave me a sympathetic smile. "You know what they say. The heart wants what the heart wants. I know that a little too well myself." She reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "I still think you're going to have to talk to him, sooner or later. And I suggest you do it sooner. I know this sounds bad, but I don't want you to waste your time with him, if he's not able to give you what you want. What you deserve."

"That's the problem. I know he's not able to give me what I want. And I know if I now tell him about my feelings for him, he's going to say it's best if we don't see each other anymore. He's told me more than once he doesn't want to hurt me, and staying with me when I have feelings for him, feelings he can't return..." I shook my head. "He'd rather walk away. I know it. And I know it's pathetic of me – it's worse than pathetic – but a large part of me just wants to accept whatever little he's able to give."

"You're only human, Bella. You can't help your feelings, and you can't choose who you fall in love with. And I want you to know I'm not pressuring you into making this choice or that choice. All I can do is give you advice and support, and then just hope you don't get hurt." She placed her empty coffee mug on the table in front of the couch, pulling me into a quick embrace. "Now, are you sure he'd choose to walk away if you told him about your feelings? What about the necklace he gave you? Did you get a chance to ask about it?"

I nodded. "He said he wanted to give me something special. He said...he said he wanted to give me something I'd remember."

Rosalie frowned. "Well...that's vague."

"Tell me about it."

She gave me a small smile. "Don't get so depressed just yet. Maybe I'm just an incurable optimist, but it's just that...I've never seen you like this. You really like him, and I want you to fight for this thing. I'm not saying you should chain him to your bed or anything – or you can do that, too, that works sometimes, you know..." She winked at me, then, making me roll my eyes. "What I'm saying is, talk to him. Don't give up before you've even tried."

"Thanks." I tried to smile, thankful she hadn't given up, even though I kind of felt like I had every reason to.

"And now, since you're already miserable, let's talk about the ex. What did she look like?"

"You'd make a terrible therapist, you know," I murmured in a dry manner, sighing. "She was...pretty. Like, insanely pretty. Beautiful. I'd even dare to say she's almost every bit as gorgeous as you. She was slim but curvy, and well-dressed... Overall, she just looked very...distinguished." I paused. "Let's just say that even the thought of her spending nights at his house makes my brain burn and my self-esteem drop like a meteor."

Rosalie's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Excuse me? She spends nights at his house?"

"No, not really. I was exaggerating. I know she stayed one night at his place a few weeks ago."

"But nothing happened, as far as you know?"

"Well, Carlisle told me – voluntarily, even – that a friend of his had dropped by unannounced. And he also told me this friend of his was a woman. I thought it was odd, and even though it was rather naive of me, I trusted him when he said she's just a friend. And, well..." I hesitated. I could still remember how Carlisle had looked, when he'd come to see me at the café that day. I hadn't seen him in a week, and I'd already thought he wanted to break things off with me. But then, he'd stepped through the door, looking like he was just a ghost of himself, like he was ill...

"What?" Rosalie asked. "Is there something else?"

I bit my bottom lip, hesitating. For some reason, telling her about this seemed almost personal – like it wasn't my thing to share. I didn't know where that feeling came from.

"One reason why I didn't think much of her visit was because Carlisle looked...well, he looked really unwell, when he came to see me that week. It was almost like he'd been sick. It caught my attention. He just said he'd been busy with work, but...something told me he wasn't entirely honest with me. He looked terrible."

"What do you think was going on, then?"

I shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I'm pretty much in the dark about it. No surprise there." I heaved out a sigh. "Like you said, we need a new theory. If it turns out the woman he meets every now and then is his ex-wife, and he's not a widower like I've thought all this time..."

"You know, the only reason you thought he was a widower was because you saw him coming from the cemetery. Maybe you just happened to read too much into it. Maybe no one died. Some people like to visit cemeteries, because they find them peaceful. Or maybe he was visiting a relative's grave."

"Probably. I know his mom died when he was young. Maybe she's buried here in Seattle." I paused, mulling over her words. "But you know, seeing him come from the cemetery isn't the only reason why I assumed someone important to him died. He once said something like...like sometimes, it's impossible to regain what you've lost. And yesterday, he said a lot of stuff that makes me believe that, whatever happened to him, it wasn't something insignificant and small."

"I'm sure it wasn't." Rosalie took the barely touched coffee from me and got up. I followed her into the kitchen, as she poured me a new coffee and refilled her own mug. "So, what are you going to do? What's your plan?"

I took the coffee she offered and went to the fridge to pour some milk into it. "I don't have one. I guess...I guess I'll just have to see what happens. I've noticed that if I don't pressure him to talk, he sometimes surprises me by sharing bits and pieces of himself. Makes sense, I suppose. Bringing up difficult stuff is a lot easier, when no one's pressuring you into talking."

Rosalie nodded, raising the mug to her lips and taking a careful sip; the coffee was hot. "Now that you know about this old friend of his, maybe you could tell him you accidentally found the wedding ring. That could make him open up about some things."

"I don't know." I scratched my head, wondering how to explain my feelings when it came to that. "All along, I've felt like I shouldn't have found the ring in the first place – like I intruded on his privacy by finding it, as accidental as the whole thing was. And I just feel like it's his decision to bring it up, not mine. It bothers me, of course, that he hasn't told me about his ended marriage, but at the same time, I understand that he must have a good reason not to bring it up. If I tell him about finding the ring, I guess it feels the same as if I'm confronting him about it. I feel like it's not my right to do that. I'm not supposed to grill him until he cracks. My point is, I just feel as if he's supposed to tell me about these things willingly."

"And what if he doesn't?" Rosalie asked. "What if you continue this casual relationship of yours, and let's say, after a few more months, what if he still hasn't said anything about it?"

I blew out a long sigh. "I don't know. I might easily be crazy by then." I paused, sipping my coffee. "Or maybe I reach my limit long before that and explode from all these unanswered questions." I stared blindly at a spot over her shoulder. "You were right all along. I'm not good at this. I'm not good at casual."

"You know, if we manage to figure this thing out, we'll be qualified to start our own detective agency. You have cop genes. I have...well, I have Emmett and some very sharp scissors. We'll be very successful."

I gave her a grin, pleased that she tried to bring some humor into the conversation. "Did you say qualified? Will we fight crime with hot coffee pots and an exfoliating cream tube?"

"And Emmett."

"Right. Shouldn't forget Emmett." I shook my head, thinking to myself that only Rosalie could make me smile in a frustrating situation like this.