The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.

Beautiful Sorrow

End of chapter 29

She didn't understand why it mattered to her so much that Mr. Cullen saw her as a grown up. But it was painfully clear to her that whatever chance there was of him seeing her as an intelligent and mature human being evaporated the moment he ordered grape juice for her.

With crushed hope and solemn resignation, Bella wished for a quick and painless death.

Chapter 30

Bella, age 18

Thankfully, Bella's mortification went unnoticed by their server and Mr. Cullen. Or so she hoped. At least neither made any outward sign to indicate that they had noticed her effort to will away the rush of blood from her face.

"Are you feeling okay, Isabella? You seem a little... out of sorts. You must be famished. The food should be here soon. They are reasonably quick in their service." Carlisle Cullen reassured her with a smile.

"No, no! I'm fine. I'm not that hungry. Really." Bella tried to dispel his concern. She was far too engrossed in her present circumstances to be bothered with mundane bodily functions like sustenance - or breathing.

"So, tell me about your classes. What are you taking and who are your professors?"

As the evening progressed, Bella felt her spirit lifting a little by little. Mr. Cullen continued to ask her questions: how was she adjusting to the city life? Had she made new friends? How often did she work? Was she sure the added pressure wasn't going to take a toll on her grades? How often did she visit her parents? How were her parents doing? Were all of Charlie's medical needs being met in a timely fashion? He reminded her that she mustn't hesitate to bring to his attention any infractions or delays in processing the reimbursement requests her mother submitted.

Once her initial shyness ebbed a little, Bella found herself able to speak without stammering or struggling for words. However, she remained steadfastly spellbound by the man who sat across from her. Perhaps she was better composed to respond to queries in an articulate manner, but the sense of disbelief didn't leave her mind.

He wanted to know about her life, her work, her school. He wanted to know about her. How could that be? How could she be so lucky? Or worthy of his curiosity? She was embarrassed about her life and the lack of intrigue it held. But Mr. Cullen seemed genuinely interested, and her boring answers didn't deter him from asking for more information.

She secretly wished she could ask him a few questions too. Did he have a family? A wife or a girlfriend? Was she as beautiful and as perfect as he was? She had to be. Oh, what a vision it must be when they could be seen together. Did they have children? How old were they? What did he do when he wasn't working? Did he look this good when he woke up in the morning?

Of course she held her tongue. She knew her place in the great scheme of things. She didn't want to overstep the boundaries. Mr. Cullen valued his privacy; he might not take too kindly to her inquisitiveness.

Their conversations were punctuated by the arrival of appetizers. The arrangement and presentation of high-life cuisine appropriately stupefied Bella. It wasn't just the sight and smell that overwhelmed her senses. The unexpected taste of the artful edibles threw her off the loop as well. The large array of utensils and silverware laid out before her in synchronized precision did little to ease her confusion.

She decided that the safest course of action would be to mimic Mr. Cullen and follow his lead in order to avoid accidentally exposing her lack of grooming when it came to etiquette and table manners.

She couldn't help but note how much at ease the man seemed surrounded by grandeur. He was in his element, and it was evident in the casual grace with which he maneuvered the silverware and lifted the blood-red wine to his lips.

Bella felt strangely elated to have the chance to witness him this way. She couldn't help but recall the hasty meal they had shared in his car the day he dropped her off at home. She almost felt guilty for subjecting him to that. Rest-stop burger joints were beneath him. He belonged to places like Euphorique. Seeing him here felt right.

He fit in here perfectly.

She, however, did not.

The thought made her sad momentarily, but she wasn't allowed to dwell on it as Mr. Cullen's persistent questioning drew her out of her gloom.

Of the gamut of items served as starters, she only recognized what appeared to be the frothy goodness of a cappuccino. Even though she was accustomed to the home-brewed, store-brought filter coffee, Bella had had the chance to try out the fancier variety of the analgesic drink a few times while she worked at the diner. She loved the creamy caress of the soothing foam on her tongue. Of course, she could never justify spending four dollars on such frivolous indulgences on a regular basis. She was well versed in the ways of frugality.

So when the server placed a steaming cup in front of her, she was delighted that there was at least one thing she was familiar with and looked forward to experiencing again. It did strike her as odd that coffee would be part of the pre-dinner delicacies. Her limited experience taught her that it usually succeeded the meal.

Maybe the French have their coffee before their meal.

Far too engrossed in what Mr. Cullen was saying, and feeling secure with familiarity, she took a sip from her cup without much forethought.

The strange and alien taste of seafood mixed with the essence of coffee and milk hit her palate and her entire digestive system rebelled against it before she could rein in her shocked reaction.

There was fish in her coffee.

Nothing in her short life prepared her for a scenario where fish was an acceptable ingredient in coffee.

It was not a legitimate combination by any stretch of her imagination.

She loudly choked out the little bit she sipped in and then looked in horror at the mess she made at the table.

She was petrified.

It dawned on her that she had just broken some critical rules of civility, and quite likely created grounds to make Mr. Cullen regret his decision to bring her to this place. She hung her head in shame, unwilling to see the look of derision and annoyance in his face.

She waited for words of reprimand, and perhaps to hear Mr. Cullen say how disappointed he was that she barely had the table manners of a feral child. But what she heard instead was the honey-sweet sound of laughter.

Bella cautiously lifted her gaze to look at Carlisle Cullen. He was laughing. She had never seen him so gleeful before. She recalled a few curt smiles or a rare amused expression on his face, but never laughter. He was downright radiant when he was joyous like this.

He was laughing at her stupidity, she realized. Ordinarily, it would have caused her some hurt feelings for being ridiculed so openly. It wasn't nice to make fun of people's shortcomings but she couldn't find it in herself to hold it against him. She did make an utter fool of herself. Anyone would crack up after the display she had made. At least it made him laugh. Even if it was at her expense.

She tried to wipe away the mess she made with the expensive linen napkin and hoped her cheeks would stop burning with shame. She also desperately prayed that she would not burst into tears and compound her crime.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to..." she began to apologize as Carlisle's hearty laughter began to wind down.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Isabella," Carlisle said with mirth still lingering in his voice. "In fact, I should apologize to you. I should have warned you. Lobster bisque cappuccino can be quite a shock to your system if you don't know what to expect. Your reaction is completely understandable."

"Huh?" was all Bella could manage.

"I'm sorry, but I really couldn't resist. You should have seen the look on your face," Carlisle said as he smiled broadly.

Bella was bewildered. He knew she was going to react that way and didn't warn her? Is that why he had brought her to Euphorique? To be his live entertainment for the evening? A comedic relief? Poor, small-town girl with no clue about high-life or French food.

She felt her soul crushing into a million pieces. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she was forced to look down, refusing to let him see how truly stupid she was.

"Would you forgive me if I tell you that I had the exact same reaction the first time I tasted that wretched coffee?" she heard him say.

"Wh... what?" she asked, trying to make sense of his confession.

"You'll have to promise never to repeat this to anyone," he warned, "but the first time I tried that stuff I nearly threw up right at the table."

"You did?" she asked in disbelief. The notion of Mr. Cullen ever being anything less than a suave, worldly man was nearly unthinkable.

"I did indeed. As a matter of fact, you handled it far better than I did at the time. My father took me on a trip to Europe when I was a little younger than you. We stayed in Paris for a few days and that's where I had the hideous experience of trying my very first cup of fish coffee. My father never let me live it down. He laughed at my expense for days." He paused for a moment. "I don't have a lot of memories like that with my dad. That was a rare thing, for us...

"Isabella, I know it was awful of me to order it without warning you beforehand, but you reminded me so much of that trip. The temptation was too great. Forgive me? Please."

Carlisle held her gaze as he shared a little piece of his past with her. In that one instant, all reminders of humiliation were wiped away from her mind. She felt blessed instead. He deemed it worthwhile to reveal something personal, something sentimental, about his life to her. That was far more than what she could ever have hoped for.

Of course he was forgiven.

"I won't tell anyone," she promised while beaming.

"Good. 'Cause you see, if you do I will have no recourse but to eliminate you. I have a reputation to protect, you know," Mr. Cullen said with mock warning, but the glint in his eyes gave away his playful intent.

Bella couldn't help but smile. "I won't, I promise."

"Good girl."

Their conversation resumed its easy pace, and he continued to inquire about her schooling and how she was faring in Child Observation and Assessment class. She survived the rest of the dinner without breaching any other table manners. Her strategy to mimic Mr. Cullen proved to be an effective one. The main entree turned out to be steak. To Jean Francoise's credit, it was indeed the best she had ever had.

By the time their evening winded down and she was being served a flaming bowl of creme brulee with coffee - real coffee this time - Bella realized she had divulged her entire life to the man. Not that there was much worth the reveal, but whatever little her life held was now laid bare before him. He knew everything there was to know about her, and with the exception of what he had said earlier about his father, she wasn't any the wiser about him than she was when she met him on the street that day.

It was disappointing that she couldn't get a fair shot at gathering some knowledge about Mr. Cullen in return. But as before, she reminded herself of her place. She wasn't his equal; she never would be. She was already deeply in his debt. His generosity today was above and beyond any expectations she could ever have. She oughtn't be greedy for more.

When the time came to settle the bill and leave, the notion of offering to pay for her share crossed Bella's mind, but only fleetingly. She had absolutely no idea how much her meal had cost as she recalled that the menu didn't have any prices listed. It wasn't difficult though to speculate that it was solidly outside her reach. So, she quietly sat and watched as sleek, rectangular plastic exchanged hands and a beaming server boy bowed and thanked Mr. Cullen profusely, supposedly happy with the tip.

"Shall we?" Mr. Cullen asked to indicate it was time for them to leave, and Bella followed him out to the car obediently, leaving behind the splendor that was Euphorique.

AN1: Story rec - Downward Spiral by dragonfly336

It just about killed me. Brilliantly laid out. Beware! VERY high levels of angst. But it's worth it.

AN2: A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98.

Thanks to Detochkina, EBS, and WutheringBites for all the help.

Thanks to those who checked out Where the Streets Have No Name. I'm most grateful.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for reviewing. You make my day.