"I am still learning how to go back and reread my own chapters without feeling like I want to set all of my pages on fire."
- E.V. Rogina -
First, Do No Harm
We both slept in the next morning, but luckily, it was Saturday. I had a late shift that day, and against my habits, I stayed in bed much longer than I normally would have. Carlisle was out like a light, and I wanted to keep it that way. As he slept, I studied his face, thinking how he looked so much younger in sleep. A lock of blond hair had fallen over his forehead, and I resisted the urge to smooth it back, knowing he needed to rest. I wondered what he was dreaming about now; at least he looked peaceful.
I tried to be as quiet as I could when I eventually got up and began to prepare for the day. I showered quickly, cringing as I looked in the mirror as I untangled my hair. I'd almost forgotten the small scrape on my bottom lip, but I had to smile and shake my head, as I remembered the reason behind it. There were certainly worse things in this world than to have a handsome man bite you on the lip while you were in bed with him.
Luckily, Carlisle's teeth hadn't done much damage, but still, I decided to resort to something I didn't normally do. I was pretty sure that, some time ago, Rosalie had smuggled a lipstick into my bag, along with several other cosmetic products. She always gave me those, and I almost never used them, but the lipstick she'd given me a few weeks ago would be of use to me now.
My idea worked; the lipstick camouflaged the small, angry cut. I tried to be careful as I got dressed, not wanting to leave smudges on my sweater.
After that, I made myself coffee and some breakfast. I was still a bit intimidated by Carlisle's neat, large kitchen, and I tried not to make too much noise – or mess – as I nibbled on a piece of toast at the same time as I gathered my things and downed a cup of coffee. As I was cleaning up after myself, I noticed Carlisle had forgotten his wallet on the kitchen table. I took it and placed it on the counter where he'd find it, and then, I proceeded to wipe the table clean. After glancing at the clock, I decided I had just enough time to make some pancakes, before I had to leave for work. If Carlisle woke up hungry, at least he wouldn't have to worry about cooking. And besides, pancakes always made things better, right?
Okay, I wasn't that naive. Considering what had happened last night, I knew I couldn't fix things by making him pancakes. But I hoped a little thing like this would make him feel cared for, that it would make him realize I was thinking about him.
After putting the pancakes in the fridge, I scribbled out a quick note for him. Then, I retrieved my bag and left. As I was starting my truck, I cringed and tried to leave the driveway as fast as possible, fearing that the loud, roaring engine would wake Carlisle. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't, but one of his neighbors actually came outside onto their porch to watch me, as I backed out onto the street. I wanted to roll my eyes at her – it was not like it was the first time I'd visited Carlisle's house with my ancient truck.
Or maybe my rusty vehicle was just something they would never get used to. This was a nice, upper-class neighborhood, and maybe I just had to accept the fact that my truck would never fit in here.
My shift at the café passed without incident. Rosalie called when I was having my fifteen-minute break early in the evening. She was at the airport with Emmett; they were about to go visit his parents again. They lived in Calgary, and Rosalie and Emmett usually visited them once every few weeks. I thought it was nice.
Rosalie asked how my weekend had been so far, offering me sympathy when she heard I was spending my Saturday night at work. I didn't tell her about what had happened the previous night with Carlisle; it was too personal, too private a thing to share. I did tell her, though, that I'd met Carlisle's brother the previous evening.
"He has a brother?" she asked, stumped. "Did you know he had one?"
"No. I had no idea until last night."
"That's...odd."
I shrugged inwardly, understanding where she was coming from, but at the same time, it didn't really surprise me anymore that Carlisle hadn't told me about having a brother. There were a lot of things he hadn't shared with me, after all. At least, not right away. Like his ended marriage with Esme, who also happened to be a very close friend of his. I nearly told Rosalie that Carlisle now knew about me finding his ring, but I stopped myself, knowing neither of us could talk very long. Knowing Rosalie, she'd want to hear every detail about that particular conversation.
But to be honest, I wasn't sure if I was ready to tell her everything just yet. I wanted to mull over these things myself, to figure out how I felt about them. And these were private matters; even though Rosalie was like a sister to me, and we told each other practically everything, I didn't want to go telling anyone Carlisle's secrets. I wanted to protect his privacy. Not that I had to give Rosalie a thorough description of our conversations to let her know what was going on. She wanted to be kept up to date about my situation with Carlisle, but I didn't need to give her every single detail.
"What was he like? Carlisle's brother?" Rosalie asked, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.
"He was nice. Kind of annoying, but nice."
"Sounds complicated."
I laughed. "I don't know. He was very...mouthy. And flippant. Nothing like Carlisle, anyway. I hope I'll see him again someday. He seemed like a nice person, if you can get past his strange sense of humor." I told her about how I'd gone to ring Carlisle's doorbell the previous night, and how Edward had tried to trick me into believing I had the wrong house.
"How old was he again?" Rosalie asked.
I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic, but I answered anyway. "Two years younger than Carlisle. Forty-three or something like that. He's married, apparently. Two kids."
"Well, if he's like that at home, I kind of feel bad for his wife. Unless she has a strange sense of humor, too. Or maybe he's a beast in bed, and that compensates for his other shortcomings. Oh – listen, Bella, I gotta go if I don't want to miss the flight. Emmett's waving me over."
"Have a safe flight. I'll talk to you soon. Say hi to Emmett for me."
"Thanks. Will do."
I smiled as I put my phone away. Getting up and stretching, I made my way out of the backroom and glanced at the clock. Three hours until I'd get off. The thought made me yawn; the badly slept night was taking its toll. I listened idly to the other waitress who was working tonight with me, as she told me about her plans to meet her boyfriend at a nightclub after her shift.
Ah, to be young and full of energy. My idea of a perfect Saturday night was a hot bath and reading a good book in bed. Maybe I was getting old.
After my shift, I drove to Carlisle's house, suddenly a little nervous to face him after the previous night. I felt as though I'd learned so much about him during the past twenty-four hours. I'd found out he had a brother, I'd found out his ex-wife's name was Esme, and that it had been thirteen years since their divorce. I'd learned he kept his wedding ring in the bedside drawer, because he wanted to keep it close to him, because he wanted to remember the good things about his marriage.
That kind of made me wonder. If there had been good things about their marriage, did it mean there had been bad things as well? And if so...I wondered what those things were. I wondered if they were the reason why they had parted ways.
As I was getting out of my truck, I saw Carlisle was waiting for me at the front door. I crossed the yard with hurried steps, and my breath caught as he smiled at me. It was a tender smile; there was something different about it, but I didn't know what.
As soon as I reached him, he took my bag from me and set it aside. Then, he collected me in his arms and pulled me close for a kiss that was so intense, it forced my head back. He didn't even bother to pull me inside and close the door, and for a long moment, we stood there on his threshold, making out like two teenagers who had just discovered the art of kissing. When we eventually broke apart, my hair was all disheveled, and we were both out of breath.
"You should've woken me before you left," he murmured, his nose nuzzling mine. "You should've pinched me or something."
"Pinched you? Where?" I quirked an eyebrow at him, making him chuckle.
"Naughty girl," he whispered, pulling back from my face to look at me. I giggled and reached out to wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth. He frowned, confused, as my thumb came back red.
"Since when have you been wearing lipstick?" he asked, touching a finger to my mouth.
"Since you started biting me during orgasms," I answered cheekily, grinning at his embarrassment. "Oh, my goodness, are you blushing? That's so cute. Red suits you."
He rolled his eyes. "And you," he returned, his tone playful, as he ran the tip of his finger along my bottom lip. "This makes you look very...sophisticated."
"Oh? Is that a nice way to say I should start wearing makeup?" I cocked an eyebrow at him, pretending to be miffed. "Don't I look pretty enough to you? Is that what you're saying?"
He threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of exasperation. "Women," he sighed. "If you try to say something nice and supportive, it'll always backfire. Will I ever learn that?"
I chuckled, shaking my head at his antics, as he pulled me inside and closed the door behind me.
"Are you hungry?" he asked me as he helped me take off my coat.
I shook my head and toed off my shoes. "No, just tired."
He gave me a curious look. "How tired?"
I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what his question meant. He gave me a soft smile, and apparently, he wasn't going to bother to wait for my answer. He grabbed my bag with one hand and my arm with the other, and then he began to lead me towards the hallway. I expected him to take me to the bedroom; I didn't mind. I was pretty sure I'd never be too tired for a roll in the sheets with him, after all. But, as he stopped in front of the bathroom door, I gave him a surprised glance, receiving another small, secret smile in return.
As he reached out to turn the knob and pushed the door open, my eyes widened. The bathroom was dimly lit with candles, and the inviting-looking tub was filled with water and bubbles. All I could do for a moment was just stare. I heard Carlisle chuckle quietly, and then he nudged me gently, wordlessly urging me to step inside.
"Wow," I breathed as I looked around me. After a moment, I turned to face him, smiling. "No one's ever surprised me with a bubble bath before. Nice one, Cullen."
He chuckled, stepping closer to me. "Really? This is the first time? What kind of morons have you been dating?"
"Well, you know my miserable dating history consists of high school boys and idiots who make me end up in the ER."
"Poor thing. I suppose it's my responsibility to make up for those traumatic experiences."
I looked around me, grinning. "Well, the start sure looks promising."
"Just wait. There's more to come." His hands found the hem of my sweater and dove beneath. I shivered as his warm fingers caressed my sides, and then he dragged the garment upward, pulling it over my head. After tossing my sweater aside, Carlisle's hands were instantly back on my body, first caressing my arms, then sliding down my sides, before the tips of his fingers brushed over my lower back.
He knelt in front of me, placing a soft kiss on my stomach, and then, his fingers went to work on my jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them off my hips and down my legs. My panties followed suit, and I put my hands on his shoulders as I stepped out of them, shivering as his fingers wrapped around my ankle. As he rolled off my socks, I once again wondered how he managed to make a simple action like that so...hot. A giggle burst through my lips, then, as he ran his fingers along the sole of my foot, tickling me gently.
After dropping a few soft kisses on my thighs, he stood up slowly, stroking his hands along my sides. Then, he reached behind me to undo the clasp of my bra. Peeling it off slowly, he planted tender kisses to the hollow of my shoulder, and by the time he pulled back, I felt warm all over, like there was fire under my skin. Very pleasant fire.
Carlisle took my hand and guided me to the tub. I swallowed back a moan as I eased into the bubbles, closing my eyes. The water felt heavenly, and I suddenly remembered what I'd thought just a few hours earlier; that a hot bath was a perfect way to spend a Saturday evening. I cracked my eyes open, a little awed by how in sync he seemed to be with me.
"Aren't you going to join me?" I asked and looked at him, a little surprised he hadn't undressed by now. He had only unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, making me frown confusedly.
"Some other time," he murmured quietly, sitting down on the edge of the tub. "This is just for you."
I pouted. He gave a soft chuckle, and then, I felt his fingers gathering my hair, rolling it into a loose bun at the nape of my neck.
"But I'm lonely," I protested.
"Why on earth?" he asked. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." I heard a quiet click, and soon, a sweet, calming scent filled my nostrils; I realized he was pouring shower gel into his hands. My eyes slipped closed again as he began to knead my shoulders and back, every now and then dousing them with water. I brought my knees to my chest, leaning my head down, an involuntary sigh leaving my chest; his hands felt heavenly.
I heard him give an amused chuckle. "Have you been on your feet all day?" he asked.
"Pretty much," I mumbled, my words slightly slurred. "That feels amazing."
"Does it, now?" I could hear the smile in his voice. I shivered violently as his other hand began to follow the line of my spine, kneading the tense muscles of my back. Man, he had magical fingers. I sighed again, only now realizing my eyes were closed.
"Have you ever thought about becoming a masseur?" I asked, my voice ridiculously sleepy.
"I don't know. Am I any good?"
"My God. Can't believe you're even asking." He chuckled softly at my words. I kept my eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his strong fingers, as he kept rubbing my back and shoulders, working out knots I didn't even know I had.
A tiny part of my mind was wondering where his careful attentiveness was coming from. Not that this was something I didn't know to expect – Carlisle was always such a gentleman, so caring and considerate, and drawing me a hot bath and giving me a massage were definitely things he might do. But I guess a part of me was wondering if he still felt sorry about what had happened last night. If so, he humbled me. Because, here he was, once again, taking care of me. Trying to make up for something that didn't need making up for. He'd already apologized, after all.
"Lean back." His quiet words pulled me from my thoughts, and I did as he asked, feeling like I was only half-conscious. Had he put something in the bathwater? Or was it the shower gel that made me so sleepy? It smelled something like lavender and strawberries. I blamed the lavender.
As I leaned back, I felt him shift, and at first, I didn't realize why the back of my head wasn't touching the bathroom wall. I cracked my eyes open and noticed he was now kneeling on the floor beside the tub, and he had draped his other arm behind my neck, so my head was leaning against it. His free hand was stroking down my arms and dousing my shoulders and chest with warm water.
My eyes slipped closed again.
"You didn't have to do this, you know," I mumbled sleepily, as he stroked his fingers down my sides.
His nose nuzzled my temple. "Why do you say that? You don't like this?"
I smiled. "Believe me, I'm enjoying myself. That's not the problem."
"Then, what is?" His lips pressed against that spot beneath my ear, making me shiver. His hand slid down my stomach to my thigh, and I hummed quietly, as he began to rub it gently. He paid the same, careful attention to my other thigh, and by the time he was finished, I felt enervated, but also strangely wired.
"Bella?" he whispered.
"Hmm?"
"What's the problem?"
"What problem?"
He chuckled. He kept his voice low and quiet, as he spoke. "A moment ago, you said, 'Believe me, I'm enjoying myself. That's not the problem.' And I was wondering...what's the problem?"
"Can't remember," I mumbled. At that point, I was ready to say anything, just as long as he kept going. Just as long as he didn't stop. I bit my lip, as his hand trailed over my stomach again, slowly gliding over my hipbone, before his fingers stroked my inner thigh.
"You have poor focus," he murmured in a low tone. "Is your mind wandering?" His hand moved to my other thigh, and his touch became lighter, making me want to growl in frustration.
"What do you think?" I answered, my voice becoming heavy and breathless. I suddenly realized I was squeezing the edges of the tub with my hands.
"Well, I think...you're very easily distracted." He dragged his hand up my inner thigh, and I inhaled sharply, as he suddenly cupped my mound without warning, sliding his finger between my folds. He chuckled, low and deep, and I couldn't decide which affected me more; the sound of his soft, taunting laugh or his intimate touch.
"Carlisle..." My breath hitched, as his fingers kept exploring my heat, drawing lazy circles around the tender bundle of nerves above my center. "Carlisle..."
"I love it when you say my name like that," he murmured quietly, his nose nuzzling my ear. I gasped, as he dipped one finger lower, finding my entrance and pressing upward.
"Like...what?" I managed to pant out. I didn't know what he was doing, or how he was doing it, but his touch was driving me insane.
"Like it's the only word you can form. The only name you can remember."
"Maybe it is."
"Maybe? Just maybe?" He added more pressure, causing the heel of his hand to press against me in a very delicious way.
"Oh, my–" I would have thrown my head back, but since it was already resting against his arm, all I could do was just tilt my face towards the ceiling and draw in greedy breaths. He curled his finger upward and stroked firmly, and for some reason, that small change made everything feel even more intense. I couldn't remember the last time my excitement had peaked this fast. He'd barely started touching me, and I was ready to snap. "Yes...don't stop...please..."
"Say my name again," he whispered.
Like I had a choice. I felt like I was seconds away from passing out, and as he moved his hand again, gently running his fingers along my wet folds to tease the swollen nub of my arousal, bright lights began to explode behind my eyelids. "Carlisle..."
A shudder rippled through me, as his touch dipped lower again, and my hips bucked against his hand, a shaky breath pouring out of my lips. Jolts of white-hot pleasure began to stab through me, driving me into a shaking, moaning state of delirium. And then, I was coming apart, unaware of the sounds around me, the lapping of bathwater against ceramic, the moans echoing from the bathroom tiles...I was only aware of the jolts of pleasure running through me, only aware of Carlisle's gentle but insistent touch on my tender flesh, only aware of his warm breaths against my temple and the soft touch of his lips, as he kissed my cheek.
I came down from my high slowly, my body feeling heavy and weak. It was a moment before I could make myself open my eyes, and when I did, I immediately felt like closing them again. There was a soft kiss on my temple, and then, I felt Carlisle's hand gently stroke my side.
"That was amazing," I sighed, when I was finally able to form words again.
I could hear the smile in his voice, as he asked, "Are you feeling relaxed yet?"
"More than relaxed."
He chuckled. I felt him shift, and I opened my eyes to see him reaching for the towel that hung on the nearby rack. He wrapped an arm around me and helped me to stand, and after quickly rinsing the suds from my body, he guided me out of the tub and wrapped the towel around me.
"Wait," I murmured, stepping closer to him and letting the towel drop away. My hands went to the buckle of his belt, but he caught my hands, stopping me.
"Not tonight, sweetheart," he whispered.
I frowned up at him, confused. I pressed closer to him again, feeling the obvious evidence of his desire against my stomach. "Why not?"
He reached out to pick up the towel, wrapping it around me again. "Because I want tonight to be about you."
I frowned in disappointment. "You're too good to me."
"Not true," he disagreed, gently patting my skin with the towel. After drying me off, he blew out the candles and drained the tub. Then he guided me to the bedroom, pulling back the covers, and I was too tired to resist as he urged me to lie down. Again, I wondered why I was suddenly so exhausted. Maybe it was the long day, or the warm bath, or the lavender in the shower gel, or the skilled attention Carlisle had given me, but I could barely stay awake as I waited for him to undress and crawl into bed behind me. When he did, I turned to face him and nestled as close to him as I could.
"You're wrong, by the way," I murmured sleepily, not even sure if I was talking out loud. "You are good to me. So good."
Carlisle was silent for a while. "I wish I could be better," he answered, speaking so quietly I could barely hear. "I wish I could give you everything you ever wanted."
His whispered words confused me, and I wanted to ask him what he meant, but exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket. Sleep claimed me before I could really process his words.
Kneeling with a resigned sigh, I swept a pile of coffee cup shards into a dustpan. This was the fourth time that day I had been forced to become a little too familiar with the café floor. This day seemed to be full of misfortune in other ways as well; one of the coffee machines had stopped working, and I'd jammed my finger between the door when I'd come from the changing room this morning.
Maybe all this had happened because it was Monday, and Mondays usually sucked. It was a universally acknowledged truth, right?
I got up and crossed the café, tossing the shards into the trash bin. Glancing at the clock, I let out a relieved breath as I noticed my shift would be over in a few minutes. If one of the customers decided to knock their cup off the table for the fifth time that day, it would be someone else's responsibility to clean it up.
After putting away the dustpan and brush, I washed my hands quickly and exchanged a few words with the waitress who'd be working for the rest of the night, informing her about the broken coffee machine.
Just as I was about to go and change, the door of the café opened. Deciding I might as well serve this one last customer before I left, I turned around with a polite smile, an automatic greeting on my lips. But, as my brain registered the person stepping inside, all I got out of my mouth was just a quiet and surprised, "Oh."
The lights of the café played off Edward's bronze hair. He stopped as he saw me, and almost immediately, a confused, surprised smile curved his lips.
"Well, well, well," he said. "It's a small world."
I gave a soft laugh, taking a few steps closer to him. "Indeed."
"You work here?"
"No. I just like to wear aprons."
He laughed appreciatively. "Good one. Uh...can I have a coffee? Black, please?"
I fixed him with a deadpan stare. "Sorry. We don't sell coffee. Maybe you should try next door?"
Laughter bubbled from his lips again, and he winked at me. "Oh, I see what you did there. I like you, Isabella Swan."
I rolled my eyes. "What a relief. I was so worried you wouldn't." I grabbed a tray and made my way behind the counter. "So. Coffee, black?"
"Yes, please." He made his way to the other side of the café, choosing a table that was more secluded than the others and close to the window. Taking a cup and saucer, I poured the coffee and then took it to him, giving him a small, polite smile as I set it on the table. He responded with a wide grin. There was a glimmer in his green eyes that reminded me of his brother, but I had to admit, it wasn't often I saw that look in Carlisle's eyes.
"Here you go."
"Thanks. Would you like to join me, Isabella? Or is occasional laziness allowed while you're working?" His voice was teasing, and I kind of struggled to figure out if he was serious or not.
"Actually, my shift just ended, so technically, I'm no longer working." I narrowed my eyes at him. "And don't call me Isabella."
He smirked at me, wiggling his eyebrows. "Do you let my brother call you that?"
That made me roll my eyes. "He calls me Bella."
"Nice. Nickname basis. You must be getting close."
I sighed. "Are you always this annoying?"
He shrugged. "Not all the time. I have a serious job, like I'm sure you remember from our conversation last week. And you know what they say. Work hard, play hard. I need my sense of humor to survive. It's a coping mechanism."
"Uh huh." I gave him a long stare, still not sure what to make of him. Then, I shifted, turning around. "Enjoy your coffee, Mr. Cullen."
"Edward. Call me Edward. Mr. Cullen makes me feel like I'm at least a hundred years old, and I'm not. And Bella?"
I turned to look at him over my shoulder, and there was something different in his expression now. He was still smiling, but there was something like hesitation in his green eyes.
"Yes?" I asked, when he had been silent longer than I expected.
"Uh...how's it going with my brother? How are things?"
I shrugged, and now it was my turn to hesitate. I had no idea how much he knew about the details of our relationship. Had Carlisle told him we were just sleeping together, and that was it? Or did men share those things with each other? Did brothers?
"Everything's fine," I answered, deciding a vague answer was the best answer.
"Do you have plans for tonight?"
I nodded. "Uh, yeah. He's coming over this evening."
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Does Carlisle spend a lot of time at your place?"
What was up with the third degree? "Yeah, I guess. We stay over at each other's places all the time."
He looked surprised, almost skeptical. "Really?"
I shrugged, wondering why that confused him. "Yeah."
Edward nodded slowly, still looking at me closely and narrowing his eyes. "So, how long have you two been seeing each other, then?"
"Uh...a few weeks, I met him in August."
This time, his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. I could see he tried to hide his surprise, but he obviously wasn't very successful. "That's more than the usual few weeks. Huh," he murmured, almost as if to himself. He looked down at his coffee cup. "You should get a medal for that."
I frowned, a knot of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. "What do you mean?"
Edward shook himself from his thoughts and looked at me again. I met his gaze, perplexed, and for a long while, he just stared at me, once again hesitating. It was almost like he was gauging me, trying to determine if I was ready for something. Or if I was capable of something, more likely. It was...very confusing, and I began to feel slightly self-conscious under his measuring gaze.
Even though I hadn't known him for long – hell, I couldn't even say I knew the man at all – still, I'd somehow gotten so used to the idea of a mischievous grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, and that was why I felt more than confused, when his expression suddenly turned serious. He glanced down at the table and drew in a small breath, still uncertain. Then, he shook his head, like he had come to a decision about something.
"Screw this, he's never going to tell you himself, anyway," he muttered under his breath. "Bella, do you have a moment? Let's say...like a year?" He gave a dry, bleak laugh. "I'd really like to talk to you about something. Maybe it was fate that made me walk into this café instead of the one that's across the street. It's like the universe itself wants me to have a conversation with you, and who am I to disagree with the universe?" He gave me a crooked grin before sobering again.
There was something in his voice, in his uncommonly serious expression, that made me curious. And also, a little worried. "Sure. I'll just take this away and change quickly," I waved the tray at him.
He nodded. "I'll be here. And by all means, grab yourself a coffee as well. This may take some time. A lot of time."
Still feeling a little uneasy, I made my way to the counter, putting away the tray and untying my apron. As I went to the backroom to get my bag and change my clothes, I wondered what it was Edward had to tell me. Why had he said I'd deserve a medal for being together with Carlisle for over two months? Sighing, I shook my head and grabbed my things, making my way back to the café. Taking Edward's advice, I grabbed myself a coffee and crossed the café to his table.
His eyes were still measuring, now almost watchful, as I took a seat across from him. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sammy – the waitress who had taken over after me – chose that moment to come and offer him a refill. He thanked her quietly, and when she was gone, he turned to fix me with another close stare.
"You're looking at me like you expect me to grow horns or fangs or something," I told him. "It's a bit...unsettling."
He gave a soft laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm just trying to figure out what I should do. Just trying to determine if I'm about to make a huge mistake. I mean, I know nothing about you."
"Um...okay?" I looked at him, even more confused than a moment ago. "And I know nothing about you. All I know is that you have two kids, your wife's name is Irina, you have a weird sense of humor, and you're Carlisle's brother. A brother whose existence I only discovered just a few days ago, by the way."
That made him grin in a sad manner. "He keeps you guessing, doesn't he? Carlisle?"
I shrugged. "He sure does."
Edward leaned back in his chair, watching me closely. "How do you feel about that?"
"About what?"
"That he doesn't...tell you things?"
I quirked my brow, looking down at my coffee to hide my expression. "What makes you think he doesn't tell me things?"
"Well, first of all, I know my brother better than anyone. I know how he functions. Second of all, you've known him for months, and you only found out about me last week. What does that tell you?"
"It tells me he's a very private person. So what? He doesn't owe me anything."
He nodded slowly. "Because you two are just messing around?"
"Exactly."
He pursed his lips in a pondering manner. "You never answered my question."
"What question?"
"I asked: how does it make you feel, knowing he doesn't tell you about stuff?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Frustrated, I guess. But like I said–"
"–He doesn't owe you anything," Edward finished for me. "Or...maybe that's what you just want to keep telling yourself. I saw how you were looking at him last week. I'm not blind, you know."
I let out a sigh. "Can you get to the point? What did you want to talk about?"
He was silent for a long time. "I am getting to the point. I'm just laying some groundwork here first. I'm trying to figure you out. I'm trying to...I'm trying to figure out what you want from my brother...and what you expect. I don't know you, and I'm just trying to figure out if you're...good enough for him."
I gave a surprised laugh. "That's what this is about? Some protective little brother stuff? You're trying to determine if I'm bad for him? You're afraid I'll mess him up?"
He shook his head. "No. You misunderstood. And besides, you can't mess him up. He's already as messed up as a person can be. I hope you're aware of that." He quirked a questioning eyebrow at me.
I hesitated. "I know he has...issues."
"Right. He does. And because of those issues, he hasn't had a good day in fourteen years. I certainly hope you're aware of that, too." He paused and sighed. "Look, Bella, when you said you've been seeing each other for weeks, it surprised me. It caught my attention. Want to know why?" He waited until I nodded. "It surprised me, because Carlisle's relationships don't usually last longer than a couple of weeks. Even a month is a long time for him to date someone."
"He dated that Kate for a couple of weeks," I pointed out.
"Right. A couple of weeks. If he said that, he meant something like three weeks or less. I know this, because he told me about her. Did he tell you why they broke things off?"
"Carlisle said she wanted to settle down and have a large family. And apparently, it's not something he wants. He's...he's told me he's not capable of anything long-term with anyone. He feels that starting a family with someone, for instance, is something that's behind him. Something he hasn't been able to consider for a long time."
"But you don't know why."
It wasn't a question, but I answered, anyway. "No, I don't know why. I do know something makes him view these things differently. And I know it wasn't always this way for him. I know about...Esme."
Edward looked surprised again. "He told you he's been married?"
"Well, eventually. But only after I'd told him I accidentally found his wedding ring. He was kind of forced to explain."
"Oh." He took a sip from his coffee, and then he ran his fingers through his bronze hair. "Well, at least he told you. That's something. That's...more than I expected."
I frowned. "What do you mean by that? He doesn't tell people about his divorce?"
"Well, he never tells that stuff to the women he dates. It's not something he likes to talk about, as I'm sure you understand. One reason is that it's obviously a hard topic for him. And the other reason is, his relationships never last, and he knows it. He doesn't bother sharing things like that because of it." He gave me a close look. "Which is why it surprised me that you know about it at all. That he willingly shared this thing with you."
"Like I said, he was kind of forced to explain, after he found out I knew about the ring. And then, there was the fact that I saw him with Esme a while back. Once again, the whole thing was an accident. I left work earlier because I had a migraine, and I happened to walk past the diner where Carlisle was meeting her."
A small grin pulled at his lips. "I'll bet you were jealous. She's one fine woman."
I gave him a glare. "I had no reason to be jealous. Even if Carlisle hadn't told me they're just friends now, it's none of my business who he sees. We're not answerable to each other. We're just messing around, like you said."
"Is that how you really feel? Be honest with me."
I gave a frustrated sigh. "What does it matter? And why do you care how I feel? What is this sudden obsession you have with your brother's relationships? And what did you want to talk to me about in the first place? You know, I don't have time for this." I made to get up, but Edward surprised me by grabbing my hand.
"Just...just hold on a second, okay? Alright." He blew out a sigh. "Alright. Let's cut the crap. I have a question I need to ask, and you have to give me an honest answer. If you want to find out what I have to tell you, that is."
I sat back in my seat, curling my fingers around the coffee cup. "Okay."
"Alright." He pulled in a deep breath. "You've been seeing my brother for about two months now. I've been trying to tell you it's a long time for him. He hasn't stayed with anyone that long since...since Esme." He paused, licking his lips in a nervous manner. "That's why I have a reason to believe he must really like you. Not that he's disliked the women he's been seeing in the past, but my point is, the only reason he's even been dating anyone at all is probably because Esme and I kept pressuring him into it."
I frowned. "Why?"
"We'll get to that. My point...my point is that, whenever he's been seeing someone, he's either ended things with them, or they've ended things with him sooner or later. Most times, it's been sooner. And most times, it's been Carlisle who's made the call to walk away. The thing is, Carlisle doesn't want to become attached. In his mind, having feelings for someone is the worst thing that can happen to him."
I nodded slowly. A part of me was glad one piece of the puzzle had found its place, but I was still more or less confused about what Edward wanted to tell me. What he wanted me to know.
"Why is that?" I asked. "Is it just a commitment issue? What is he afraid of?"
"What has he told you?"
I rummaged through my memories. "Well, not much. All I know is there are things he finds impossible to talk about. I've thought it had something to do with Esme and their divorce, but...I don't know. At the beginning, I actually thought he was a widower. He was always so sad, and...I once saw him come from the cemetery." I paused, reaching back to undo my ponytail. I ran my fingers through my hair, momentarily lost in thought.
"A couple of weeks ago, he said he has a rather harsh view on life," I continued. "That the world is a different place for him than it is for me, and...that he envies me for being able to wake up in the morning and think everything is okay." I paused, biting my bottom lip. "I know he doesn't sleep well. He has nightmares. If I happen to wake up in the middle of the night, he's almost always awake. Sometimes, he takes walks, no matter how late it is."
Edward nodded solemnly. "He's had trouble sleeping for a very long time now. It worries me, seeing how tired he is."
I nodded, thinking about how I'd found him a few nights ago, sitting alone in his dark kitchen. "Has it been this way ever since his divorce?"
He hesitated. "Uh...no. His sleeping problems actually started before that. The divorce was never a cause for anything. In fact, it was a result, just something that followed after."
"After...what?" I asked. "What happened?"
Edward blew out a sigh, and he looked at me for a very long time.
"Like I said, Bella...I want to believe my brother likes you. More than that, I want to believe he trusts you. He's spoken to you about things he's never shared with the women he's dated in the past, and I believe that counts for something. And I saw how he looked at you last week, how he was with you. You know what else? He doesn't usually spend nights at anyone else's place but his, mostly because of his sleeping problems, but also, because he finds it too intimate. And he's not good with intimate."
"Why not?"
"Because intimacy leads to attachment, and in his mind, attachment leads to unnecessary pain. Which begs the question...why would he make an exception with you? You said he spends nights at your place, didn't you?"
I shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, he doesn't stay over every night. But when he's not spending the night at my apartment, he usually invites me to stay over at his house."
Edward narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying you see each other every day?"
"Pretty much."
"Huh."
I raised my eyebrows at him. "Is that significant?"
He rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Use your head. We're talking about a man who doesn't get past the fourth date without freaking the hell out. The fact that you see each other every day, that you spend almost every night together..." He shook his head in frustration and gave me a confused glance. "You look like you don't see my point."
"Well, I don't. What does it matter? I mean..." I shook my head and searched for words. "I guess I'm...I don't know, pleased, flattered? – that I've gotten this far with him. He admitted he didn't expect us to last this long. Maybe I didn't, either. When we started this relationship, we agreed to keep it casual and take it one day at a time. That's exactly how I've tried to look at things. I've tried not to have expectations." I began to fiddle with the sapphire necklace around my neck, lost in my thoughts.
"And you've been trying not to have expectations, because Carlisle has said he's not able to give you anything more. Because long-term relationships aren't his thing."
"Right."
Edward leaned forward in his chair, looking at me intensely. "Alright. And now we're getting to the question I wanted to ask you earlier. What do you want, Bella?"
I frowned. "What do you mean, what do I want?"
"I mean, you say you've been trying not to have expectations because of my brother's obvious limitations. But be honest with yourself. Do you have expectations, after all? If given the chance, would you want something more?"
I avoided his green eyes. "It doesn't matter what I want. He made it very clear from the beginning he's not able to start anything real with me. The only reason why he agreed to start a casual relationship with me was because I told him we can keep things light. That we don't have to make this into anything serious."
"Maybe. I'm not denying that. But the million-dollar question is, why hasn't he broken things off with you by now? Why is he still with you? Why is he breaking pretty much every pattern he's adopted during the last fourteen years? He's spending nights at your apartment, he's told you about Esme, he's spending practically every day with you, he's told you about some of the things that trouble him–"
"Not really," I cut him off, disagreeing with the last part. "He occasionally tells me something, yes, but he's always very vague and reluctant about it."
"But my point is, at least he's talking to you. That's significant. I understand why it doesn't seem much to you, but believe me, it's a huge difference to someone who's seen him withdraw and clam up about everything for over a decade." His eyes flicked to the sapphire necklace I was fiddling with. "What's that?"
I sighed, feeling suddenly extremely tired. "It's a necklace."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I can see that. I mean, what's the story behind it? Why are you clinging to it like that?"
"I'm not clinging. I'm just..."
"Did Carlisle give it to you?"
What was he, a mind reader?
I let out another sigh. "He gave it to me on my birthday a few weeks ago."
He nodded slowly, smiling knowingly. "Well, that settles it." He leaned forward in his seat again, holding my gaze. "Now, Bella, be honest with me. Everything depends on your answer. Do you like my brother?"
"Of course."
"How much?" Edward demanded, his green eyes hard and intense, like two emeralds.
"Much." I drew in a deep breath. "Too much."
He leaned back and nodded slowly. "Alright. That's all I need to know."
I looked at him warily. "And why do you need to know that?"
"Because I had to make sure you're up for the task. Because I love my brother, and nothing would make me happier than to see him happy. But that's not going to happen unless someone – as in me – does some meddling. Unless I give you a nudge in the right direction."
"Okay. And why do I need a nudge? And why the meddling?"
"Because I know Carlisle. He's going to let the chance of a lifetime slip through his fingers, unless I tell you the things I'm about to tell you."
I took a sip from my coffee; it was cold. "I assume that, when you're talking about the chance of a lifetime, you mean me. I'm very flattered. But I have a question. If your brother likes me that much, as you keep implying, why wouldn't he just let me know? If he really likes me, why not just stay with me, then? Make this official?"
"For the same reason he's refused to let anyone close to him for these past years. Because he's a prisoner of his own head and fears. Because he clings to his past as much as his past clings to him. The world may seem like an endless river of possibilities and dreams for you, Bella, but for Carlisle, this life, this world, is just a place where only worst-case scenarios exist."
He let out a slow breath, holding my gaze. "Always remember, Bella, that it's not other people who set the hardest limits and biggest boundaries for us. They don't have to, because we do it ourselves. The most severe judge in your life is you. Very often, we stand in our own way and stop ourselves from making choices that are good for us.
"Our minds can be our biggest enemies, the biggest obstacles we ever have to face. Not to mention our fears. Fear is probably the strongest power in the world. It turns everything beautiful darker. It comes into your heart so quickly and easily, and before you even know it, it's starting to get comfortable. And when fear gets comfortable, you suddenly notice that getting rid of it is impossible."
I swallowed. "And that's what happened to Carlisle?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"And...what is it Carlisle's afraid of?"
Edward fixed me with a long, penetrating gaze. "As you know, he was once married to Esme. It's been almost thirteen years since their divorce." He paused. "Did Carlisle ever tell you he used to be a doctor?"
I nodded.
"But he never explained why he quit?"
"Not really. He just said something like, it wasn't the field for him. I don't quite understand it, though. I…uh...I hurt my hand a few weeks back, and it was easy to see that taking care of others is something he enjoys."
Edward nodded. "Well, he used to enjoy it. I always thought he was meant to be a doctor."
"Why did he quit, then?"
"Because he felt like he wasn't worthy. Because he felt like he failed in the worst possible way. And not just as a doctor."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Edward shifted in his seat, reaching into his pocket to take out his wallet. I watched him, confused, as he flipped it open and pulled out a small picture, reaching over the table to give it to me.
A little girl with black, untamed hair and blue eyes stared at me. I lifted my eyes to meet Edward's intense gaze, frowning. It was the same picture Carlisle had accidentally dropped on the table of the café a few weeks ago. Well, maybe not the same picture. This picture wasn't creased and dog-eared, like the one I'd seen a few weeks ago.
"Have you ever seen this photo?" Edward asked quietly.
I nodded slowly. "Uh...yeah. Carlisle has the same photo in his wallet."
"He showed it to you?" he asked, dubious.
I shook my head. "No. He dropped it once, and I found it. I'd forgotten the whole thing. Who is she? The girl?"
Edward ran a hand through his hair in a weary manner. "That's my niece, Bella."
I blinked slowly, trying to understand what he'd just said. "Your niece?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"But..." I shook my head and frowned, feeling like my brain had frozen. "But that means... Your niece? Carlisle has a daughter?"
"Had."
"Had?" I repeated stupidly.
Edward gave me a sad smile. "Yes." He swallowed hard. "Her name was Alice. Carlisle and Esme... She was the center of their existence. Esme had dreamed of motherhood her whole life, and when Alice was born, there was obviously no limit to their happiness and joy. Carlisle loved his daughter more than..." he shook his head, at a loss for words. "Well, more than anything. He sometimes had to work insane hours at the hospital, but he spent every free minute of his time with Alice, trying to make up for every lost moment, for every morning he wasn't present when she woke up, for every night he wasn't there to tuck her in.
"Of course, Esme loved her just as much, but it was like Carlisle's whole life hadn't even started before Alice was born. He was...he was the best father for his daughter, the kind of father everyone wishes they had. And he enjoyed it.
"I'd never seen him so happy, so complete. Fatherhood wasn't just a role for him; it was the whole purpose of his life. Just like he was always meant to be a doctor, he was meant to be a father as well. I could spend a hundred years watching him and trying to learn his patience and kindness, and still, I wouldn't be half the man he is. Half the father he is."
He paused, letting out a quiet, slightly shaky breath. "I don't know if he's ever told you about our parents. We had a good mother, the best there is, but the same can't be said for our father. Carlisle swore that, if he ever got a chance at being a parent, he was never going to make the mistakes our father did." He paused again, looking at me sadly. "You look like...you don't know what to think."
I opened my mouth and closed it again, realizing I was still holding the small picture. "Well, I don't. I mean, when he dropped the photo a few weeks ago and I saw it...I had other things on my mind, and I dismissed the whole thing. I hadn't seen Carlisle in days, and his behaviour worried me. I just figured the girl was a relative of his, like a niece or something. Back then, I didn't know much about his background and family, but I assumed he might have siblings. I kind of forgot about the picture soon after. I should've known right away, though. Her eyes..."
Edward nodded. "Carlisle's eyes, right? The same eyes our mother had. Alice got her dark hair, too."
I stared at the picture. Such a beautiful little girl. I drew in a shallow breath, blinking furiously. "What happened to her?"
Edward stared at the table between us. "There was...an accident." He swallowed. "Carlisle, Esme and Alice were heading home from a friend's house one night. They, uh...they came to a busy intersection..." He paused and raked a hand through his bronze hair. "There was a drunk driver. He crashed into their car from behind, and...Alice was in the backseat."
I closed my eyes, feeling nauseous. "Christ."
"I know," Edward's whisper was quiet. "Everything happened very quickly. There was nothing to be done. Carlisle tried, of course. He wasn't injured badly – I think that made it all the more painful for him. He survived with bruises and cuts, whereas Alice..." he trailed off for a moment, trying to find words. "He, uh...he tried to revive her at the scene, before the EMTs arrived. But there was nothing he could do. There was too much damage, and she was losing blood too quickly. She..." he blew out a slow breath. "She died in Carlisle's arms."
I kept my eyes closed, raising a hand to my lips. Letting out a trembling breath, I shook my head, suddenly feeling weary and exhausted, like I'd run a marathon. An emotional marathon.
"I don't know what to say," I heard myself murmur. "I don't...I don't know what to think. I can't even imagine..." I shook my head again, opening my eyes. "How old was she?"
"Four years old," Edward answered quietly, nodding toward the picture in my hand. "That was taken two weeks before the accident. This November, it'll be fourteen years since it happened."
I stared numbly at the small, cherub-like face, the messy hair, the mischievous grin, the stormy blue eyes...and I thought about the broken man who had those same eyes, thought about him sitting alone in the dark. It was no wonder he didn't sleep. To have your own child die in your arms, having to remember it for the rest of your life...the thought alone was unbearable. And if that was unbearable, what was it like, when it was your reality? What was the next, worse stage of unbearable? Was there a scale for these things?
"And Esme? Was she hurt in the accident?" I asked to get something else to think about. Blinking furiously again, I placed the picture of Carlisle's daughter on the table, suddenly fearing I might damage it.
"Not badly. She had a concussion and a few bruised ribs."
I nodded, drawing my lungs full of air and then exhaling slowly. "I just...I can't wrap my mind around this. It's too awful. It's no wonder Carlisle doesn't sleep at night."
Edward nodded. "An extreme case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Just imagine what it's like to suffer from it for years." He sighed. "He keeps having nightmares about the accident. I don't even dare to think how many times he's relived it in his dreams. I think his subconscious returns to it over and over again, because he can't stop feeling guilty in his waking life."
I stared at him. "Guilty?"
He gave me a small, joyless smile. "He couldn't save her," he said simply. "He was a doctor, and he couldn't save her. He was her father, and he couldn't protect her. And he feels like he should've been able to do both. For fourteen years, he's been reliving everything that happened over and over again, second-guessing this decision, or that decision. If he'd focused on this injury first instead of that, if he'd tried to control the bleeding here instead of there..."
Edward shook his head. "The people who examined the body told Carlisle over and over again that there was nothing he could've done differently. That he did everything absolutely right, but it just wasn't enough. There was just too much damage, and she was so small...but Carlisle..."
He sighed, staying silent for a moment. "He still can't accept it, not even after all these years. He felt guilty – feels guilty – pretty much about every little detail. After the accident, he kept going over every small thing. What if he'd taken a different route that night? What if they'd left their friends' house a minute earlier? Or a minute later? What if the safety seat of the car was the wrong size, and he hadn't noticed it? What if he'd paid more attention to the car that was driving behind them?"
He shook his head. "At first, I thought it was just a way to cope with Alice's death, a way to try to reason it. To accept it. I thought it'd help him move on. I thought he'd eventually run out of things to obsess about, things to blame himself for, but..."
It was a moment before I could speak. "I'm sure there's nothing more terrible for a parent than losing their child," I murmured eventually. "And I guess it's...understandable...if there's guilt involved, but..."
Edward nodded. "He kind of took it to whole other level. He couldn't stop blaming himself. He still can't. That's one reason why Esme...why they couldn't stay together. Esme took Alice's death just as hard, but she accepted it more...easily...than Carlisle. Her grief was more...I don't know, open and unfettered. She willingly sought comfort and support from her friends and family, but Carlisle...he just shut himself off. He distanced himself from everyone and everything. Including Esme. And since he'd failed to save Alice, he felt unworthy to go back to the hospital and call himself a doctor."
"He quit," I stated softly.
"Yes." Edward ran a weary hand across his face, giving me a sad smile. "'First, do no harm,'. Does it sound familiar?"
I frowned. "Hippocratic oath?"
He shook his head. "A very similar phrase appears in the Hippocratic oath, yes, and that's why many people confuse it. Primum non nocere, 'first, do no harm,' is Latin. Basically, it's a guiding principle for physicians that, whatever the intervention or procedure, the patient's well-being should be the primary consideration. Sometimes, that means doing nothing, as wrong as that sounds."
He sighed quietly. "I suppose...Carlisle still torments himself with the thought of, what if there'd been something he could've done differently, or, what if there was something he should've left undone. It never mattered to him what the doctors told him about Alice and her injuries. Those thoughts, those questions he had...they never left him alone. And they never will."
I stared at Alice's picture again. "What happened to the other driver? The one who crashed into their car?"
Edward shook his head. "He never regained consciousness. He died a few hours later at the hospital. The alcohol in his blood was six times more than the legal limit."
I frowned, suddenly remembering something. "Is that why...why Carlisle doesn't drink?" I remembered the look in his eyes, when he'd seen the bottle of vodka in my kitchen, and his relief, when I'd told him it wasn't for me. And then there was that story I'd told about that party I'd gone to with Rosalie when we'd been teenagers, his expression when I'd told him we hadn't been able to walk back...
"That's one reason," he answered, hesitating. "But he, uh..." He gave a quiet, bleak laugh and stayed quiet for a minute, searching for words. "I still don't know how he did it, given everything that was going on with him. I mean, he quit his job at the hospital, and then there was the divorce.
"He gave the house to Esme and moved out. After that, he put all his energy into studying. He eventually earned a doctorate in English in record time. On the outside, it seemed as though...life went on. That time was passing again, even for him.
"I knew he wasn't...alright...but I didn't expect him to be. I knew he was still grieving, and I knew he hadn't gotten over what'd happened. I also knew he was having trouble sleeping, but he had medication for that. What I didn't know was that, he was medicating himself with something else as well."
My lips felt cold. "You mean..."
Edward nodded, staring blankly at the table. "There was one night, about three years after Alice's death, when I...I tried to call him. It was getting late, but I'd promised to call him that day. When I did, there was no answer." He paused, drawing in a slow breath.
"I still don't know what made me jump into my car and drive to his house. Maybe it was a whim, or some sixth sense telling me something was wrong, but...it still horrifies me to think what would've happened if I'd chosen not to go." He gave me a glance, as if to make sure I wanted to hear what he had to say. I wasn't sure if I wanted to, but at the same time, I knew I needed to know.
"Maybe it was...an accident. Maybe not," he said slowly. "There was an empty whiskey bottle...and a bottle of sleeping pills next to it. It was half-full, but I had no idea when he'd refilled his prescription."
I closed my eyes again and blew out a slow breath, trying to ignore the churning nausea in my stomach. Edward stopped speaking, and when I opened my eyes after a moment, his green eyes were sympathetic.
"Like I said, I never knew if it was an accident, or just a drunken impulse. And I never asked, because I knew if there was anything to confess, he would've lied to me in order to spare me. But I kept a very close eye on him after that, obviously. He never drank ever again, as far as I know.
"Esme and I managed to convince him to seek therapy, which he did, but I think he did it more for our benefit, to set our minds at ease. But there's a limit to everything, even to Carlisle's twisted sense of selflessness and responsibility.
"He quit the therapy after a couple of weeks. I guess I can't really blame him for that; talking about Alice didn't really help him. He was always in worse shape after his sessions. I had to pick him up and drive him home a couple of times, because he couldn't do it himself." He pushed aside his coffee cup, lacing his fingers on top of the table. "Esme asks him to go with her to her own psychiatrist a few times a year. He goes, begrudgingly, but..."
I nodded. "Maybe it's a good thing he's made to talk about it every now and then. I mean, I'm sure it can't be easy, but..."
"I agree. It's a good thing Esme's so persistent about it. Aside from the psychiatrist, Esme's the only one Carlisle talks to about...Alice. He doesn't even speak Alice's name to anyone else – I haven't heard him say it even once in fourteen years. It's ironic, considering he's probably thinking about her most of the time. He visits her grave every now and then, sometimes together with Esme."
"Has it gotten better at all over time?" I asked carefully. "I mean, I know people deal with these things differently. And I'm sure if someone loses their child, they can never get completely over it."
"You're right. I don't think losing a child is something a parent can get over. I'm not sure if you're even supposed to get over something like that. As for if things have gotten better for Carlisle over time...well, he gets up in the morning, he goes to work, he functions pretty much like a normal human being.
"But compared to Esme, Carlisle's grief is still...I wouldn't say fresh, but rawer, maybe. If Esme's grief has become a scar over time, Carlisle's is still an open wound that refuses to close. One reason is that they deal with their loss differently, like you said.
"One indication is that Esme, and her new husband, live in the house she shared with Carlisle when they were still married, and she could never imagine moving away. Never. The house is beyond dear to her, because it was Alice's home, too. It's full of good memories, and she draws strength and comfort from that.
"However, Carlisle...he couldn't even consider staying in that house, for those very same reasons. Because it was Alice's home, and because it's full of good memories. The house doesn't comfort him like it comforts Esme. Returning there only causes him pain."
"He never moved on, did he?" I asked quietly. "I mean, Esme got remarried and all..."
Edward nodded. "He once swore to me that he's never going to put himself through that again. He said he'd rather stay alone than take that kind of risk again. He said he doesn't want to – that he can't – become a father ever again, because it'd mean there's the possibility he'll...fail. That he'll have to say goodbye again."
He stroked his chin in a pensive manner. "That's why he's so adamant about keeping his relationships casual. Short term means he doesn't have to feel anything. It means he doesn't have to think about the future. The mere thought of starting a family with someone is unbearable to him. It'd mean he's willingly taking the risk of losing someone again.
"I said earlier that Carlisle sees the world as a place that's full of worst-case scenarios. Caring about someone, loving someone...that alone is too much for him, and the thought of becoming a father...he thinks it's the worst thing that can possibly happen to him. And maybe... maybe he's also afraid of replacing Alice, in a way, as crazy as it sounds. I also think he believes starting a new life is something he doesn't deserve, after his...failure."
I nodded slowly. Finally, I understood. And now that I did, I wasn't sure what to think. How to feel.
"Was it hard for him...when you eventually started a family with your wife?" I asked. "How does he relate to your children?"
"I'm sure it was challenging for him at the beginning," he answered slowly. "But it's Carlisle, you know. I'm sure he was genuinely happy for me and Irina when Seth was born, and later Elizabeth. Of course, he kept his distance at first, but...I think it's getting easier for him, now that they're a bit older.
"Seth turned nine last month, and Elizabeth turns five in December. I know he loves them. He sometimes takes Seth to play baseball with him; it's their thing. And for some reason, Seth actually listens to Carlisle better than he listens to me," he rolled his eyes, giving a soft, amused laugh.
After a moment, his expression grew solemn again. "I'm sure he sometimes looks at my kids and wonders why all that was taken away from him. But maybe...maybe spending time with them has helped him, in a way. But then again...maybe he's not guarding his heart, because they're not his children. Like I said...coming to care about people is his worst nightmare, and that's why it's not often he allows himself to feel something."
"Why is he seeing people, then? Why is he dating?" I asked quietly, staring at my cold coffee. "If he says he'd rather stay alone than take the risk..." I sighed. "He must feel really lonely. I would."
"I'm sure he's lonely," Edward agreed. "But that's not why he dates. It wasn't his choice, or his idea, exactly, to start seeing people again. It was Esme who changed his mind and encouraged him to start seeing people. Or forced him, more likely. She was actually pretty furious with him at one point, and she even set him up with a friend of hers. It torments her to see him alone. She wants him to move on and live again, like she has. Despite the fact that their marriage fell apart after what happened to Alice, there's still a lot of love there."
I nodded, remembering their gentle embrace in front of the diner. "I'm sure there is."
"They still send letters to each other. It's their thing. They used to do it after they'd met, when they'd just fallen in love."
That made me look up at him. "Letters?"
Edward shrugged. "Yeah. Not love letters anymore, obviously." He gave a dry laugh. "Like I said, it's their thing. They write about things that have happened, about normal, everyday things, but also, about things that are hard to talk about. I think it's therapy for them, in a way."
I nodded again, briefly thinking about that one night, weeks ago, when I'd picked up Carlisle's mail and dropped one of the letters. It had been from Esme.
Edward breathed in slowly, bringing my attention back to him.
"It'd mean a lot to Esme, to see Carlisle happy with someone," he mused. "Like I said, she once set him up with a friend of hers, not even once, but actually twice. That's how much she wants to see him happy. Carlisle knows it. And he also knows he's hurting her, when he holes himself up in his house. That's why he's trying to make an effort."
"Oh. So, he's dating to keep up appearances...for Esme. He doesn't want to make her worry."
Edward nodded. "Yes. But it's not exactly as it sounds. He never uses anyone. He's never misled the women he's dated by allowing them to believe he's capable of offering them something more. He's always made it clear he's not looking for anything serious, that settling down and having a family aren't things he wants. He's only sought the company of women who aren't expecting the relationship to go anywhere. That way, he's not hurting anyone, and when Esme asks if he's been seeing someone, he doesn't have to lie to her. Everyone's happy. Well...almost everyone."
"Right." I closed my eyes and bit my teeth together, swallowing. I breathed in slowly and then exhaled, running a hand through my hair.
When I opened my eyes, I saw that Edward was watching me closely. "I know what you're thinking. What you're afraid of."
I blew out a breath. "Oh? And what's that?"
"You're afraid this applies to you as well. That the only reason Carlisle's with you is because he believes your relationship doesn't have to go anywhere."
"Well, it's true. I was the one who suggested we don't have to make this into anything complicated."
"I concede your point. However," Edward leaned forward, holding my gaze, "even though your relationship started that way, it doesn't mean it has to define how it continues."
I gave a soft, frustrated laugh. "But for these past minutes, you've been going on and on about how attachment and feelings are Carlisle's worst nightmare. Why would that suddenly change?"
"Maybe it already has changed, or at least I hope it has. That's why I wanted to talk to you in the first place." Edward waited until I met his gaze again, as if to make sure he had my full attention.
"Like I said before, I saw how he looked at you the other day. Like I also said, I know my brother. If he spends practically every day and every night with you, if he tells you things about Esme, if he gave you a very expensive-looking necklace just a few weeks into your relationship... there's a hell of a good reason for that. And there's one more thing that makes me believe there's something different about you."
"What's that?"
Edward smiled crookedly. "He didn't tell me about you. Not until I came to see him last week, and he was forced to admit he was expecting company. As in you."
I stared at him, confused. "How does that...what does that..." I shook my head. "I don't get it. He never mentioned anything about me, and you think that's a good thing?"
He nodded and grinned. "Yep. You know why? Because he always tells me immediately if he has something going on with someone. He's always like 'Yes, well, she's a sweet woman, but I don't think it'll work out.' And every time, a few days later, he tells me how they parted ways. But you? He didn't tell me anything about you until last week. And that's because he's scared shitless, if you'll excuse my crude expression. He always clams up when he's scared. That's something you should remember, by the way."
"So, he likes me, and that scares him, and somehow, that's a positive thing?" I asked, staring at him dubiously.
"You're quick. I like that. And now, the ball's in your court. If you like my brother, and I know you do – I'm freakishly good at reading people, that's what makes me an excellent lawyer – you're going to have to think about a few things. And then, you're going to have to talk to Carlisle. That's going to be a little harder.
"He's going to try to reject you, and he'll be all, 'You're just wasting your time with me, I can't give you what you need,' but if you stand your ground, you'll be able to make him see reason. Unless..." Edward gave me a long look. "Unless the thought of staying with my brother is something you don't want. No matter how much you're in love with him."
"Hey! I never said–"
"You didn't have to," he cut me off, smiling. "I'm the mind reader, remember?"
I sighed and just looked at him for a long time before speaking. "Of course, the thought of having something more with him is appealing. More than appealing."
"But?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure if there is a 'but.'"
"Do you want to have children? Because that's the one thing Carlisle can't give you, the one thing he even refuses to consider. Of that I'm certain. Losing Alice...and the way he lost her...it's something he can never leave behind. Some things...some things just can't be fixed, and this is one them."
My hand went to the necklace around my neck. I brushed a finger over the sapphire, considering his words. "He asked me that once, if I wanted to have a family someday. But to be honest, it's something I haven't thought about much. I'm not sure if I'm even mother material. Besides...I'm twenty-five. The longest relationship I've had lasted two years, and it turned out he was a jerk. I've never gotten to the point where I'd actually have to consider this for real."
"Well, congratulations. Now, you've reached that point. You're at a crossroads, if you will." He grinned at me. "So, it's time to start considering."
I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Maybe." I flicked him a wary glance. "Carlisle's not going to be happy when he finds out you told me his life story. Something tells me he doesn't appreciate meddlers."
"He'll thank me later, I hope. Unless you're going to break his heart."
I smiled sadly. "Can't break something that's already broken."
He nodded, sobering again. "True. But I hope...I hope there'll be healing. It's not that I expect the impossible from you. After all, you can't help a man who won't help himself. But I just hope…I just hope..." He let out a long breath, shaking his head. I realized it was kind of painful to see him like this. Edward was supposed to be grinning, smiling. His emerald eyes were supposed to be full of rainbows, not shadows.
I reached across the table and touched his hand, surprising both him and myself. "I know," I told him. "Thanks for telling me all this. I promise I'll think about everything you said. And you're right. I like him. A lot."
"Are you going to talk to him, then? Or...do you have to think about things first?"
I shook my head. "I'll talk to him tonight. I'm bad at keeping secrets, and he'll know if there's something I haven't said. And besides...I think it's about time there were no more secrets between me and him. Some things shouldn't be left unsaid." I took the picture of Alice from the table and gave it back to Edward. He offered me a sad smile.
"Well said." He glanced up, as Sammy brought us the checks, and as I reached out for my bag to get my wallet, he shook his head at me.
"I'll get this. If you're going to make my brother happy, the least I can do is to pay for your coffee."
I chuckled. "No pressure?"
He grinned, his emerald eyes sparkling. "No pressure."