A/N: I'm giving you all a quickie for missing a couple of weeks over Christmas/New Year.
These last chapters are not edited or pre-read, so if I mess anything up, or accidentally insert Australianisms in where they don't belong, it's all on me.
Thank you all for the reviews and faves. I'm super chuffed this story is being so well-received, and that so many people did pick up on the clues I left. I had a crisis in faith not long ago and was thinking of giving up writing for good. I just wasn't feeling it, you know? But here I am. Rest assured, if I start a fic I will finish it.
Happy reading, and happy 2022.
Footprints in the Sand
Chapter 7
Knowing, I absolutely cannot meet Edward without going for a run first, the instant I drag myself out of bed, I pull on my well-worn Nike sneakers. I'm already overrun with nerves, and I don't want to space out or lose myself in my thoughts and have him thinking I'm a total flake.
Tyler was always bringing it to my attention. That bastard used to snap his fingers in my face, too. The last time he did it I slapped his hand away with so much force he smacked himself in the nose. And then complained for the rest of the night as if I'd broken it.
He screwed Nurse Tits, A.K.A Lauren Mallory, in the supply closet at work not a week later.
Alice was completely right. What the hell was I doing with him? I guess she's also right in the sense that I've never exactly been brimming over with self-confidence.
The kids at Forks used to call me "beaver". Whenever there was a field day at school and we passed into the perimeters of the town with the same name adjacent to ours they'd all turn, point their fingers at me, and chorus it over and over again.
Of course my father, in all his pragmatic wisdom, overheard me crying over the phone to Alice one day, and told me only his opinion mattered and he thought I was beautiful. He then tossed my sneakers at me and pulled me out for a run.
Just as I'm doing now. Without him.
It's snowing, the air is like ice, and I struggle to breathe. By the time I make it to the Dutch Colonial I'm close to hocking up a lung, but of course, Addie is waiting for me by the fence, her bright pink twin-pom beanie sticking up over her grandmother's dormant rose bush.
"Hey, Bella," she greets me, her sunny smile brighter than the snowflakes falling around us.
"Hey, sweetie," I reply, yanking the Airpods from my ears, and taking a Milk Dud from the box she holds out to me. "What are you doing out here? Go inside, it's freezing."
"I'm not that cold," she assures me, despite her overly red nose and cheeks that are half obscured by her matching scarf. "I've been waiting for you."
"Were you?" I tease her and making her giggle. "What have you been up to today?"
"Hmm... I made a jigsaw puzzle with Grandma, but they're kinda boring—oh guess what?" she suddenly bursts, her father's eyes, more vivid and clearer than his, lighting up from their depths.
"What?" I play along and match her enthusiasm.
"I told Daddy that you think he hates you," she admits matter-of-factly as my heart stutters to a pit-stop, "and d'you know what he said?"
"What?" I echo, my voice failing, but she's practically bouncing in her excitement to tell me.
"He said 'you tell Bella from me that I definitely don't hate her'," she lowers her voice in imitation of her father before flashing me a beaming smile. "See, Bella, I told you."
"You did. I'm really... gl-glad..." I stammer dazed as my frigid cheeks burn ice cold.
"Grandma says she has your mail! Do you want to come inside?" she offers, the business of her father already behind her as I continue to fester in mortification.
"Sweetie, I can't today. I'm having lunch with a... a friend."
"With Alice?" she guesses, tilting her head to the side. The smile doesn't wane from her lips, because Addie will smile even in disappointment.
I really could eat this child, she's so sweet.
"Yeah, with Alice." I sigh beneath my breath. I'm lying to Frowning Daddy's own daughter about him, and I'm a monster.
"I like Alice. She's really funny," she says, shoving a Milk Dud in her mouth and offering me a second.
I oblige her. "She's pretty crazy."
She giggles again, and then pauses in thought, suddenly looking exactly like her father.
"Do you think Alice will be my friend, too?" she asks innocently, and that's when my heart absolutely breaks for her. Her father's right; she's only around adults, and she's lonely for friends her own age.
"Of course she's your friend."
Her face instantly warms. "Daddy says we're going to Alice and Jasper's wedding soon. Are you going, too?"
"I am going," I reply as Addie's breath draws in excitement.
"Really? Maybe we can be at the same table."
"Maybe." I feel evil for encouraging her, but knowing Alice, she'll find a reason to place me beside Edward and Addie, despite the fact that I'll be seated with the rest of the bridal party. "Okay, Miss Addie, I'd love to stay and chat, but..."
"It's okay." She holds her pink mittened-hand up over the fence for her signature high-five, and that's when I notice her cast. "Dad" is written in black marker to the left of my name.
The smile immediately spreads across my face, broadening Addie's in the process. "Goodbye, Addie."
"Goodbye, Bella. See you tomorrow!"
. . .
I make up my mind not to make a huge effort on my appearance. It's just lunch, and I don't want to appear over-eager. I settle on jeans, boots and a turtleneck sweater. It's too cold to wear anything flashy anyway.
By midday, the snowfall picks up and traffic is atrocious. For only a two minute drive to 1st Avenue, it takes me twenty.
With the weather the way it is, though, I should have anticipated it. Maybe I'm a flake after all.
By the time I arrive, I'm fifteen minutes late. Edward's already inside sitting at a table in the far corner of the cafe, his attention on his phone, dressed in a black three piece suit and long wool coat.
He looks up when I enter and flashes me a welcoming smile.
"I'm sorry I'm late. Traffic was..." I'm flustered, out of breath, and... mother of god, this man is beautiful.
His hair's damp as if he walked in the snow, he's clean-shaven, and smells like spice and wood.
"I only just arrived myself," he says in an obvious effort to reassure me, before gesturing to the chair opposite him. "Have a seat."
"Did you walk?" I ask, taking it and placing my purse in my lap. Compared to how it usually is, the café is practically empty. Aside from me and Edward, there are only five other people inside.
"I did," he says, running a set of long fingers back through his hair.
"You must work close by."
"1st Avenue a couple of blocks south." He tilts his head to the right of him.
"You come here often?"
"Not too often. What about you and Alice?"
"Once a week, or thereabouts."
"Hmm... I think calling this lunch was a little misleading. Seems the only food they sell is...baked goods." He glances toward the counter and frowns.
"It's fine. I'm used to not eating a lot for lunch anyway."
"Okay, so what do you feel like?" he asks, planting his palms to the table to pull himself to his feet.
I open my mouth to reply, but immediately stall. This part of dates is always awkward.
He notices my hesitation as a smirk tugs on his lips. "It's on me."
"I... I mean..."
"If you don't tell me what you want I'll order you the same as me," he says lightly. He's standing over me now, tall and incredibly intimidating. I have no idea how he doesn't scare the life out of his daughter.
"I don't mind—just coffee will be fine."
"Just coffee," he repeats questionably.
"Yeah."
I watch him approach the service counter and order, noticing the barista practically swoon before him. Apart of me wants to snort to myself at how ridiculous it is, but at the same time, I can hardly blame her.
As Alice said, he's a bonafide hottie.
He returns several moments later, and removing his coat, he folds it over the back of the chair before taking it. Then switching his phone off, he places it on the table and turns his gaze squarely on me.
"Is there..." I begin only to abandon it.
"Pardon?" His perfectly groomed brows raise.
"I mean, is there a reason you wanted to speak to me?" I start over, sounding so hesitant it makes his smirk instantly reappear.
"Do I need one?"
"No... I guess you don't." I glance down at my folded arms and realize I'm tense.
I'm over thinking things as usual.
He chuckles breathily through his nose, drawing my attention. "I figured since my daughter thinks so highly of you, I should really make it up to you for assuming you didn't exist."
Breaking into a small smile, I scoff softly past it. "It's fine."
"Those two words again..." he muses.
I pause, feeling my forehead bunch. He's very perceptive, and I'm not altogether sure I'm comfortable with it. "Am I supposed to tell you it's not fine and I'm completely offended?"
His grin momentarily jerks back into place before his expression almost turns serious. "That was my initial assumption, but when it comes to you I'm always way off."
"I... I'm sorry?" I'm fairly certain I blink blankly at him.
Is he speaking in riddles or am I really just this stupid?
He half shakes his head and frowns again. "There was something I wanted to ask you," he changes course. I tilt my head curiously and clearing his throat he glances down at his own arms folded tersely across his chest. "If I ask you this, will you be straight with me?"
"...Yes." I answer, sounding as uncertain as I suddenly feel, but what could he possibly want to ask?
He raises his clear green eyes and sets them on me sedately. "Do you think Addie has ADHD?" I immediately hesitate, unsure how to respond, and it's apparently answer enough for him. He expels a heavy breath and for a moment his head hangs low. "Great..." he mutters.
"I-I'm not an expert or anything. She could just be a very active, chatty little girl," I attempt to salvage it.
"But you've thought it," he says rhetorically.
"I have, yes. Do you have concerns about it?" I ask delicately.
"None. She's just... Addie. My mother has, though, and wants to have her tested."
"But you don't," I surmise, because it's not exactly hard to guess.
"They'll label her and then suggest I medicate her," he says a little too bitterly.
"I was never medicated," I admit, and it appears to interest him.
"How do you deal with it?"
"I run," I remind him.
He nods and scoffs to himself. "Yeah, I recall Alice mentioning that. When were you diagnosed?"
"When I was six."
"You've been running since you were six?" he asks dubiously.
I nod once, reiterating it. "Is that so hard to believe?"
"For Addie, yes. She'd drive me insane," he says ruefully, his smile coming close to returning.
"She'd be too tired to focus on anything else."
He gazes at me for several almost-uncomfortable moments. "Will she struggle to focus at school?"
"That's a fallacy. She'll just be focusing on several other things at the same time," I explain in lay terms as simply as I can, as relief floods his expression.
"So where does all this excess energy come from?"
"She is physically attempting to keep up with the pace of her brain."
"You don't... I mean, you appear... normal..." His brow furrows and he again breaks my gaze.
"Do you expect me to be bouncing around like a five year old?" I put to him, arching my eyebrows when his focus returns to me.
"I... have no idea," he concedes behind a gushing breath.
"I've lived with this for twenty years. I've learned to deal with it," I say with an inconsequential shrug. "Work keeps me busy, and on my days off, I run."
"What would happen if you didn't?"
"I..." I pause, beginning to feel self-conscious. "My mind wouldn't stop ticking over, and I'd have trouble sleeping."
"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "This is making you uncomfortable."
"Well, since Alice already outed me..."
"If it makes you feel better, if she hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have known."
"Well, it tends to only be obvious in children. By the time you reach puberty the 'H' usually drops out of the equation."
"That's encouraging. I only have eight years to go," he says wryly, breaking into a small smile. "Jesus, I don't even want to think about Addie being a teenager," he adds, rubbing his brow with the tips of his fingers.
"I think that's the general consensus for all fathers," I say lightly.
His laughter falls flat. "Yeah."
"You know, you could be worrying for nothing."
"I could be," he murmurs.
"Two cappuccinos and two slices of carrot cake?" The waitress arrives with our order, placing it before us noisily.
"Thank you," Edward says lowly, the frown now permanently knotted in his forehead.
I have the sudden urge to place my fingers to his skin and smooth it out.
"Enjoy," she says cheerfully.
Without a word, Edward grabs three sachets of sugar, tears them open and stirs them into his coffee.
"You have a sweet tooth," I say in an attempt to lighten the mood.
He smiles to himself, his eyes rising to meet mine. "I do. Is this okay? You're not a vegan or anything, are you?" he asks referring to the food.
"God, no. My father would roll over in his grave," I joke before immediately catching myself. "I..." Clearing my throat, I shake my head, and following his lead, I pour two sugars into my coffee and stir.
"You lost your father," he says, and it's not a question.
"Yeah," I shrug a helpless shoulder, and immediately change the subject back to our previous conversation. "You know, if Addie does have ADHD, it won't be the end of the world. Her brain is just wired a little differently, that's all."
He hums, his expression becoming almost tender in response. "Bella?"
"Yeah?" I glance up at him suddenly feeling exposed.
"Are you... sugar coating it for my benefit?" he asks me entirely too earnestly that for a moment I'm unsure of the context behind it.
He is most definitely an enigma.
"I'm not. I promise you. It was something I was diagnosed with, but it didn't become the focal point of my life. It can be frustrating, I'm not going to lie, but it's completely manageable. It won't stop Addie from living the life she wants."
He nods to himself, appearing to absorb it all, before taking a momentous breath and exhaling heavily. "Who the hell would have children," he says more or less to himself.
"Crazy people," I tease him, bringing the smile reluctantly back to his lips. "I have no idea how you can say no to her without feeling like an absolute monster."
"I don't say no to her. I completely spoil her."
"She doesn't appear spoiled to me."
"That's my mother's doing. She has her more than I do," he admits pretty candidly.
"If only you heard the way she talks about you," I deliberately allude, and that's when he practically turns to water.
His face immediately lights up with a broad, toothy grin and he almost appears to blush.
What's more than obvious is Addie owns his heart, and by all appearances, she has him wrapped around her little finger.
It only makes him a thousand percent more attractive. I can barely stand it.
"Sometimes I forget that she's not actually the parent. She likes to mother me," he says, smothering his chuckle beneath his breath before picking up the small dessert fork and slicing off a wedge of carrot cake.
"Yeah, I get that impression."
"When did you lose your father?" he asks, completely throwing me.
"I... I-I mean, not that long ago," I stammer.
"Hmm, it's obvious your pain is still fairly recent," he notes, those intense eyes of his turning conflicted the longer he keeps them trained on me.
"It's... completely shit," I disclose behind a wavering breath, before bringing my coffee to my lips as an excuse to sever his gaze.
"It is," he mumbles in agreement in a tone that suggests he can empathize with me.
I don't pry, despite the fact that I'm almost certain his wife died. It's none of my business.
"So you're... twenty six?" he speculates, breaking the silence we both fell naturally into.
"I'm sorry?"
"You said you were diagnosed at six and you've lived with ADHD for twenty years, so..." He raises his eyebrows in emphasis.
"Oh, I meant it as more of an estimate," I explain.
"Twenty-eight?"
I chuckle. "Close. Is it so important?"
"I'm curious. You have a young face but your eyes suggest you're... one hundred. And fifty."
"Um, wow..."
"Twenty-seven."
"Would you like to phone a friend?" I joke.
He smirks, but his face is animated, his eyes determined, and I realize he's completely enjoying this. "You cannot be older than twenty-eight."
"What if I'm in my thirties?" I put to him.
He pauses and scrutinizes me closely, his expression flooding with doubt. "Hold on." Picking up his phone he switches it on, opens up one of his apps and searches. After no more than twenty seconds, his grin tugs triumphantly and he turns the screen of his phone to me, displaying my very public Facebook information, including my date of birth. "Twenty-seven."
"Okay, you found me," I acknowledge, taking another sip of my coffee, and it suddenly occurs to me how similar to him Addie really is.
Though, he found my social media in moments, and I still haven't found his.
As if on cue, my phone pings, and pulling it from my purse, I glance down at it.
Edward Masen has sent you a friend request, the Facebook notification reads, lighting up across the screen.
"Edward Masen?" I question, pressing accept. He has Addie as his profile picture, but it's Addie at an age when I didn't know her. She looks to be three at the very oldest.
"Technically, I'm Edward Masen, but I only go by that name on social media."
Well, that explains why I couldn't find him; something I almost unwittingly blurt out.
"Trying to stay anonymous?" I venture as my thoughts race to comprehend it. His father goes by Cullen, and Edward is undoubtedly Carlisle's son.
"Pretty much," he says simply after taking another mouthful of cake and swallowing. "I prefer to keep certain things separate."
"That's not a bad idea. Though, I'm rarely on social media."
"Hmm, that's obvious," he says quietly, scrolling through my page with his thumb. I want to ask him not to, knowing he'll see the photos of me with Tyler, but he all too soon mutes his phone and places it back down on the table. "So, Addie's been mentioning you for about a year... Is that how long you've known her?"
"Thereabouts. She gave me Milk Duds this morning," I relay, smiling to myself from the memory.
He chuckles. "She must have hidden them from Grandma. I bought them for her yesterday."
"Your mother doesn't like her eating candy?"
"Not at all."
"She could just be reacting to sugar. That wouldn't be unheard of," I point out tactfully.
"Possibly," he agrees before scoffing to himself ruefully. "I let her have a lot."
"You can't say no to her," I murmur as my smile inches back to the surface, but no one alive could blame him.
"She knows it, too."
"Of course she does. Kids are smart," I say sliding a piece of carrot cake into my mouth. It's the first time I've ever tasted it and it's nowhere near as vile as I always imagined.
"Were you close with your father?" he asks, once again veering back to the topic of my father and taking me by surprise.
It's not that I hate talking about Charlie, I don't, no matter how painful it still is, but his interest in it has me almost intrigued.
"I was."
"I'm sorry," he offers as his expression becomes genuinely pained.
"Yeah..."
"How's your mother taking it?"
I immediately stall, my mouth opening silently. The topic of my mother was not something I expected to discuss. "I wouldn't know. I have very little contact with her. My father raised me," I reply in a small voice.
"Oh... shit. I'm sorry." His apology is sincere, and he momentarily stares down at his coffee. "Truthfully, Bella?"
I only raise my eyebrows in response, my cheeks full of cake. I shoved a huge forkful in my mouth in further avoidance of the uncomfortable topic of my mother.
"I'm trying to work you out. You don't react like... I'm used to," he professes, his brow becoming heavily furrowed again.
"How am I supposed to react?" I quiz, more curious than I'm willing to admit.
"You..." His expression becomes almost ironic. "Most women like me more than Addie. You're the opposite. You're very guarded around me."
"I don't know you," I say in my own defense, and jesus, he's perceptive. While a part of me feels incredibly at ease with him, I can't deny the warning bells that keep going off in my mind. He's a definite danger to me, and in more ways than one.
I'm in real danger of falling in love with him.
"Has your opinion of me changed?" he quizzes, arching a single brow.
"I'm sorry?"
"Do you still think I'm an asshole?" he elaborates, fighting the obvious urge to smirk
"I..." I laugh flatly, uncomfortably. "I don't think you're an asshole. You heard me..."
Of course he did. He reminded me in his note the next day.
"That was your intention, was it not?"
"It was more of an impulse," I explain, shrugging noncommittally. I missed my break because of him and was late back to my shift. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't angry at him and his complete lack of common courtesy. "Does it bother you?"
"No."
"Hmm, okay."
"So... what was it Rosalie said to you Saturday night?" he asks a second time, and I can only stare at him, wondering how the hell I fell into this cycle of being interrogated.
I briefly hesitate before deciding to come clean. "She warned me about using Addie to get to you. I told her it wasn't a problem because I didn't like you at all." Okay, I'm not exactly honest, and in response, he practically chokes on his coffee.
"I figured as much," he mutters in a restricted voice, sliding back his sleeve to check his watch.
"Do you have to get back to work?"
"Soon."
Picking up my fork, I finish off what's left of my cake and then move onto my coffee.
"Bella?"
"Hm?"
He opens his mouth and for several long seconds he falters. "Would you like to do this again?"
"... Have lunch?" I enquire, but I can't help but think his question was out of some kind of obligation.
"Lunch..." he echoes to himself. "Dinner?"
"Um...s-sure," I stutter as his lips twitch.
"I'll walk you to your car," he proposes, and reaching behind him he grabs his coat and pulls himself to his full height.
I guess we're leaving.
I follow suit and allow him to lead me from the café. The barista bids us a good day. Edward throws her a quick smile, half turning his head in her direction, and suddenly we're on the street with the snow continuing to flutter steadily all around us.
I'm not wearing a jacket, but I parked less than a minute away, and wrapping my arms around myself, I quicken my step.
After unlocking my car, Edward opens the door for me.
"Thanks for the coffee," I say, offering him a warm smile despite the fact my teeth are beginning to chatter.
For whatever reason this appears to amuse him. "You're welcome."
"Well then..." I utter, when he falls into a moment of staring at me as though I'm a curiosity.
His smile inches broader. I mirror him, when without warning, he places his palm to my cheek, his fingers sliding beneath my jaw, and draws me to him. I hold my breath and immediately tense, and when he's mere moments from kissing me, he second guesses himself and plants his lips to my forehead instead.
"I'll call you," he speaks against my hairline, and without another word, he turns and head's down the opposite end of the street, his head bowed and both fists rammed in the pockets of his coat.
"Okay," I murmur to myself in a complete and utter daze as I watch him leave.
I might have been wrong about him, but this man still makes me question absolutely everything.
A/N: Thanks for reading :)