Hello, people!
Happy Wednesday!
Usual housekeeping:
- I still don't own any of it.
- Team Momo wouldn't exist without Midnight Cougar and Alice's White Rabbit with their red pens, or without AGoodWitch, Maplestyle, Mel, and Eternally Addicted who pre-read and tell me if I'm off my rocker or not.
- thank you for all the reviews and alerts! I treasure each of them.
The nominations for the Golden Onion Awards are still underway and will be open until July 31. All the pertinent info and the link to the nomination and awards website is in their FB group, The Golden Onion Awards (type in the search bar to find it). Don't forget to go and show your favorites some love with the nominations :)
We're finally at one of the chapters many of you have been waiting for, which should answer the question, "What the heck is up with Charlie?"
Here we go.
Chapter 33 – EPOV
Charlie and Renée arrived at my condo some forty minutes later, and by then, we had brunch warming in the oven.
I'd run to the deli a few blocks away, which was my original idea when Bella and I had started contemplating food options earlier this morning.
Because this was my turf, after all, I opened the door and welcomed them, but Bella was right there at my side.
"Renée, Charlie, welcome. Thank you for coming."
Renée nodded at me, but ran to fold Bella in her arms, her sniffles turning into all-out sobs. "I'm so sorry, baby. You don't know how sorry I am—"
"Mom, thank you. We'll talk more, okay? Come in now, get comfortable."
Bella's voice sounded firm and self-assured, but her hands shook imperceptibly. I didn't know whether her parents would discern that or if my laser-like focus on her allowed me to read her reactions better. Still, I hoped this talk would be productive. These three needed to air out a lot of dirty laundry.
Charlie stood there in my hallway, hands in his jeans pockets, shoulders hunched, and the uneasy expression of a kid who'd been caught with his hands in the cookie jar.
"Hi, Charlie."
"Edward. Nice to see you again," he replied, then threw a glance past us. Bella and Renée stood in the kitchen, their heads together, talking in hushed tones. "Before Bella rips me a new one, I meant to say … I'm sorry for how things turned out last night. We—I—gave you an awful first impression. You must be thinking our family is screwed up or something," he added at the end, almost in a mumble.
I had a long, deep sigh before answering. "If I built my judgment of people on first impressions only, hardly anyone would pass muster. I've learned to gather evidence thoroughly before forming an opinion."
"That sounds … just like a lawyer," Charlie retorted, still mumbling, but somewhat diverted.
"Professional hazard, I suppose. But before we join Bella and Renée, I have one thing I'd like to say to you. If you're here to further torture Bella and diminish her achievements, leave now. I won't stand for it."
Charlie's face flamed—whether in anger, surprise, or embarrassment, I didn't know. "That's not why we're here," he stammered.
"Actions speak louder than words. Shall we?" I gestured toward Bella and Renée.
Charlie gave Bella a hasty nod and scurried away toward his wife. I followed in his wake, and in a few strides, I stood behind Bella with my arm looped around her waist.
"Where are we eating, love?" I asked, looking down at her from the side.
"It's your home," she hedged.
"I want you to be comfortable here. Where would you rather have this talk? Here in the kitchen or in the dining room? We can set up anywhere you like."
I slid to her side and watched her scrunch up her nose adorably. "Dining room feels too much like a boardroom table." She pointed at it; in all its crystal and brushed steel sleek lines, it did look more like one of our conference rooms at the office.
"Kitchen it is, then."
"Mom, Dad, please take a seat around the island. Food's ready to go. We just need to set the places."
I turned, grabbing dishes and silverware for everyone, and set it on the counter. Bella distributed them first to her parents, then to the usual places that she and I occupied when we ate here together.
"I'll get the food from the oven, love."
She nodded and turned, picking up a trivet from the stack piled to the side of the stove. We worked in silence for a few minutes, ladling food onto plates and handing them out to our guests.
"You two work so well together," Renée commented. "A sign of a good partnership."
Bella blushed and looked up at me. "I didn't even realize that."
"How long have you been together?"
Those words were spoken in a neutral enough tone, but my sheer surprise at both words and tone stopped me dead in my tracks—just like that screeching sound of brakes in movies when characters go, "Oh, shit." This qualified as an "oh, shit" moment because Charlie had just uttered those words. For the first time since last night, he'd addressed Bella and me, and our relationship, without any resentment or preconceived notion.
Bella replied, but I threaded my fingers with hers. United front and all that.
"Since January, Dad."
"That long?" Charlie prodded.
I smiled and kissed the top of Bella's head. "No length of time will ever be long enough for me."
"Aww," Renée cooed. "Aren't they sweet, Charlie?"
"Yeah. You look—well, far more solid than I thought you'd be."
I felt Bella stiffen by my side, and her fork fell to the side of her plate. But because she was still munching on eggs and bacon casserole, she didn't react right away.
"Edward and I have known each other for years. It matters."
Charlie defensively raised his hands. "I'm not trying to cause problems, Bells. I just want to understand. How does it work with the fact that he's one of your bosses?"
Bella and I exchanged a look, as if to silently decide who would explain things, but Renée jumped in before we could.
"Well, Charles, they obviously make it work, don't they? Stop interrogating people, for God's sake."
Bella suppressed a snicker while her father stewed in his own juices.
"I'm trying to have a damn conversation, woman," he grumbled, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Dad, Mom—can you both stop, please?"
Chastised, Renée and Charlie shut up.
"We are … adjusting to things," Bella continued. "Edward isn't my direct supervisor at work, and it helps that he's been on sabbatical since January. We'll see how things come along now that he'll be back."
Charlie nodded and kept chewing his food, but his expression told me the man had a list of questions in his mind, and he'd get through them by the end of our meal.
"What are your post-graduation plans, Bella?" The question came from her mother unexpectedly. Charlie looked on, surprised—and I bet a tad miffed that his wife had stolen one of the questions from his arsenal.
"Immediate plans? Five or ten-year plans? Do I need to have a plan? Last I checked, I have an excellent, good-paying job that I'm extremely good at."
"Well, no. Not if you put it that way, but—"
"Now, Bells," Charlie interjected. "Don't jump down our throats, kiddo. We're just curious."
Bella sighed and threw me an exasperated look. I squeezed her hand in silent support. This was her show; plus, I believed her parents—scratch that, Charlie—wouldn't take too kindly to me if I jumped in to save the damsel in distress. More than that, Bella didn't need saving. She made her own decisions, and it was high time her father made peace with that notion.
"Look. I've been very, very lucky these past few years. At first, when I started working at CCM Legal, I did work as a secretary. And, yes, that was a job I took because it was stable, well-paying employment while I put myself through Emory. But, the last two years? Since Alistair promoted me to marketing manager—and by the way, he is my boss, not Edward—I'm doing my job, the one I've been studying for. I have classmates who've been making ends meet with waitressing jobs. I stopped doing that in undergrad. This is already a better job than any I could vie for starting Monday, MBA or not."
Renée beamed at her daughter—her proud smile a thing to behold. Charlie's expression turned mellow at the end of Bella's explanation.
"We've been very unfair to you, Bells. Now I've got enough balls to recognize it," Charlie admitted.
"How so, Dad?"
Charlie ran a hand over his face and pushed away his plate. "I feel like crap that we couldn't do more for your studies, you know? You shouldn't have had to put things off and wait to come out here and do your thing. We always told ourselves you'd make it, that the experience would be good, and you'd nail down your major instead of wasting time like so many other people. But the damn truth is, I would've wanted you to have an easier time of it, and the money just wasn't there. We weren't there."
Bella jumped out of her seat and walked over to her father, putting her arms around him. "Oh, Dad."
He patted her head affectionately, if a little stiffly. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm rubbish at talking 'bout feelings, you know? I should've just been upfront about this stuff. But I hoped …"
"You hoped I'd come back?"
He nodded. "Yeah," he confessed with a sheepish shrug. "We'd love to see more of you."
Bella smiled and poked him in the shoulder. "You know, planes go both ways."
He replied with a rumbling laugh. "Well, ya caught me. What can I say? This old grump doesn't really like not being on his turf."
"Are we good?" Bella asked.
"More than good. I'm sorry, Bells. I didn't mean to be such a pain in the ass."
Bella returned to her spot beside me and jumped back on her stool. "I'll remind you next time you act like one."
So? How we feeling?
Mostly, this was a case of ordinary parental screw-up, and nothing ... nefarious on Charlie's part. But sometimes parents don't know how to go about things, and they don't know how to talk feelings with their adult children without chiding them or ordering them around ... and shit happens.
Next up, we're going to a graduation on Saturday!