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"Finally. The elusive Bella." Carlisle Cullen set his grocery bag down and clasped my offered hand into both of his. "It's nice to finally meet you, my dear; I'm Carlisle."

"Hi, Carlisle," I said, making sure to maintain eye contact. He was a handsome man, although I thought Edward looked more like his mother. "Thank you for having me."

"I told her we've been anxious to meet her," Esme said, joining us in the foyer. "Come on, I'm just setting the table."

Edward swiped up the grocery bag and we walked into the dining room.

"Can I help you bring anything out?" I asked Esme, wanting to feel useful.

"No, sweetie, that's all right – you relax. Carlisle can help."

I nodded, smiling at her. The dining room was sparsely furnished, most of the focus being the huge window looking out over the ravine and San Francisco across the Bay. It reminded me of the view from Grizzly Peak.

Esme and Carlisle brought out lasagna, salad, bread and wine. Edward had already told me of the divinity that was his mother's cooking; I couldn't wait to eat.

"I assume you like Italian, Bella?" Carlisle asked, winking.

I could almost feel Edward rolling his eyes. "You're so cheesy, Dad."

"What? She's got an Italian name."

"Yeah, she's fresh off the boat," Edward snarked.

I poked his thigh, giving him a look. "Actually, Mr. Cullen – "

"Carlisle."

"Oh, okay – Carlisle, my maternal grandparents are from Sicily so, you're correct. I'm named after my grandma."

"Wonderful," crowed Carlisle, pouring me a glass of wine. "I was named after my father. We would've named Edward after me, but Esme wouldn't hear of it."

Esme snorted, passing the large salad bowl down to Edward. "I wanted my children to have their own identities, thanks."

"I have my own identity," Carlisle protested.

"I know you do," she soothed.

I swallowed back a laugh. Edward had made his father sound like a pompous ass, but so far he seemed kind of easy going to me. And his relationship with Esme was absolutely awesome. They were so… touchy-feely. My parents were affectionate in their own way, I supposed, but nothing like this.

After enjoying our meal for awhile and making polite chitchat, Carlisle poured himself another glass of wine, clearing his throat.

"So, Bella. How's Berkeley these days? I hear you're majoring in American literature?"

"Um… well, I don't know. I'm sort of undecided… I know that's really cliché…"

"Well, everyone's undecided at your age." He broke off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth. "But what direction do you think you'll end up going in? I'm sure you've got some sort of inclination…"

"She's taking lit classes, Dad. Who knows what she'll be doing in two or three years? I didn't know at that age." Edward sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"No, you didn't. But not everyone's like you."

"You're right, maybe Bella's psychic," Edward teased, and I was relieved to hear the playful note in his voice.

Carlisle shook his head, smiling ruefully. "Bella?"

"No, Edward's right," I said quickly. "I'm really not sure about anything yet; it's looking like a lot of lit classes at the moment. And a lot of general courses. I'll start narrowing things down next year."

"What professions interest you?"

Oh Lord. I could see what Edward meant now. I'd never been all that comfortable being in the spotlight. Meeting new people was awkward enough, but I managed to make do. Conversation with said people took getting used to, but I managed. Having to answer a bunch of questions, though? Ugh. I yearned for Rose's quick witted sass or Alice's natural verbosity.

"I … maybe teaching? They say that's all you can do with English degrees anyway," I joked lamely, glancing at Edward.

He squeezed my thigh, his eyes trained on his father.

"Nothing wrong with teaching. Listen, I'm good friends with several of the professors down there as well as members of the board of trustees. I can put in a good word if you're interested in becoming an assistant at some point."

"Thank you," I said. "I might take you up on that."

"It's never too early…"

"Carlisle," Esme laughed quietly. "Will you leave the poor girl alone? She's never going to come back if you keep on."

"What?" He held his hands up innocently. "I'm merely giving her options."

Esme nodded. "I know, but relax."

Carlisle waved his hand. "Fine, fine."

The conversation shifted to Carlisle's practice which then evolved into a medical case he'd been working on with several colleagues. He was nicer than I'd anticipated – I'd been ready for meanness and condescension per Edward's warning – but I had to admit he was pretty long winded.

I'd always been rather confident with my vocabulary but between Carlisle's medical terms and segues into everything else under the sun, I felt a bit inadequate. It must have been interesting, to say the least, growing up in this house. The kids were either really intellectually stimulated, or really adept at tuning him out.

Esme, however, kept her eyes on her husband the entire time. Even when Edward and I zoned out, she kept right up. No wonder they got along well; she listened to his rambling and he did as she asked.

After cannoli and coffee, Edward and I said our goodbyes, promising to return soon.

"So. What did you think?" he asked as we wound down the dark, twisty road.

"They're nice, Edward. You made your Dad sound like an ogre."

"He was an ogre when I was growing up. He's mellowed out a lot."

"Have you mellowed out a lot?"

"Probably." He scrubbed his hand over his face. "Like I said, there were a lot of fights in that house. I think he finally gets that I'm good at what I've chosen, though."

"You're amazing at it."

He chuckled, quietly. "Yeah, well can you see why it was rough for someone like him to accept his son was doing something as common and lowbrow as construction?"

I cringed at the bare venom tainting his words. "Yeah, I can see. "

"But whatever," Edward said. "I probably sound like a bitter asshole."

"No, just like he hurt you," I said carefully.

"Hmm."

We were silent after that. Eventually we came back onto even ground, the hills behind us and the streetlights before us.

I wanted to hold his hand, but it occurred to me that maybe he just needed time in his head to think.

"Am I dropping you home?"

"Will you come in?"

He barely hesitated, thrumming his fingers on the wheel. "Okay."

Outside the gate to my building he shielded me from the brisk night wind, his rough fingers gentle on the back of my neck.

"Thanks," he whispered suddenly as I turned the key, the warmth of his breath sweet in my ear.

"You're welcome," I said, understanding him.

I pulled him into the courtyard and kissed him the way I loved to, the way I thought about doing whenever we were apart.