A/N: I finished chapter 12 last night so I thought I'd give you a quickie. I like to stay 10 chapters ahead because my mojo has a habit of packing up its shit and leaving town without warning. I'll be updating once a week unless I get a few more written. I'm glad you're all enjoying.
Again, this chapter isn't beta'd, but thanks to StarryEdwatedWriter for pre-reading.
Footprints in the Sand
Chapter 2
I'm a week late, but after reconsidering it, I decide I am going to make a New Year's Resolution this year – never ever knock on the Dutch Colonial after dark again.
Frowning Daddy's attitude toward me bothered me a lot more than it really should have. Maybe because I have such a high regard for his daughter, maybe because he's easily the handsomest man I've ever encountered; maybe because he's well aware of it and that's why he's such a jerkoff.
Handsome man treats lesser woman like she's a disease – the man is a walking cliché, and I have zero idea what he has to frown about. A beautiful daughter, obviously a well-paying job, and an ex-wife who probably thanks her lucky stars every damn day for dodging that bullet.
I really can't reconcile how any woman can abandon their own child, though. It's a sensitive topic for me considering my own mother placed me second behind her libido, but Addie is... Well, she's Addie. Completely adorable. I can only surmise that he really is as hideous as I'm beginning to suspect he is. How he could have produced such a sweet child is anyone's guess, but he did.
Though, considering he picks her up well after dinnertime, and drops her off a lot earlier than I've ever contemplated getting out of bed, it's obvious her upbringing is credited to Mrs. Cullen. My opinion of her has suddenly spiked, and I'm beginning to think her sincerity toward me is sincere.
I might have to start calling her Esme.
Tuesday, I decide to throw out every scrap of junk food in the pantry before heading to the supermarket to buy a whole bunch of fruit and vege. It has absolutely nothing to do with the handsome douche from next door and the way he made me feel so pitifully insignificant. I tell myself that repeatedly in my car as I drive in the rain, all the while I want to cry because it kind of does. It also doesn't help that Frowning Daddy decided to kick my self-esteem when it was already in shredded ruins.
Life is cruel, and shit, and good looking people should be imprisoned simply for making the rest of the population feel like crap.
I'm also becoming everything I swore I wouldn't after my boyfriend of more than a year decided to fuck Nurse Tits in the supply closet at work; bitter.
Never mix business with pleasure; it was one of the very few pieces of advice Charlie offered when it came to relationships. Straight to the point and pragmatic, which pretty much summed him up. He was right. He always was. God knows my mother would have told me to have a threesome.
In any event, by midday I head out for my run deciding to put it behind me. Charlie would be disappointed to know I'm letting a virtual stranger get under my skin, and as my feet repeatedly hit the damp pavement, I tell myself constantly, that he means nothing to me, and his bad behavior is not my problem.
Then I see Addie waiting for me like she always does, a purple twin pom-pom beanie over her blonde head with her familiar bright smile in tow.
"Hi, Bella," she greets me when I come to a stop before her. "I got Daddy to write you an invitation just in case you can come," she adds before I can reply, thrusting a pale pink envelope over the fence to me.
"Oh, thanks, sweetie," I say, taking it from her as my heart twinges in guilt. You never know, someone might swap a shift with me; it does happen once in a blue moon. "If I can't make it, I'll still stop by before work and give you your present. Is that okay?"
She nods, her smile broadening. "That's okay."
God, she's so sweet I could eat her.
"What have you been up to today?" I ask, leaning against the fence and wiping the sweat from my brow.
"Hmm..." she tilts her head to the side in contemplation, and that's when I realize her hair's still braided, "I watched Moana with Grandma."
"Again?" I tease her, and she giggles. "How many times has that been?"
"Hm... maybe twelve," she answers and when I suck my breath in, her giggling increases. "Maybe next time you can come and watch it too?"
"I'd love to."
Her eyes light up as if I'd just promised to take her to Santa's Workshop in the North Pole. "Really?"
"Really, really."
"Yay! My Daddy's sick today," she changes course without missing a beat.
"Oh, that's no good."
"He was throwing up all. Night. Long." She grimaces. "He said I gave it to him."
"He still went to work?" I ask more or less to myself. Stomach flu is no laughing matter. It can take down an entire hospital wing in less than twenty-four hours.
"He always goes to work." She over-exaggerates it along with a dramatic eye roll that is not even remotely synonymous with her age. "He likes to keep his brain busy—that's what he told Uncle Emmett."
"Ah..." I'm not sure what to say to that, so I don't elaborate. Though, I do wonder why, even though it's completely irrelevant to me; not to mention none of my business. "So, what do you want for your birthday?"
"Um..." Her head tilts again and she places the tip of her index finger to her chin in thought. "A puppy."
"Do you think you'll get one?" I ask.
She shakes her head and shrugs a resigned shoulder. "I don't think so. Daddy said they're too much work, and it'll be lonely while I'm at Grandma's."
"He does have a point, but maybe you could bring your puppy to Grandma's with you," I point out.
"Grandma is allergic."
"Aww, well your daddy might reconsider," I say, feeling bad for giving the poor kid false hope.
"Yeah... You never know with Daddy. Sometimes he just changes his mind for no reason at all." She holds up her hands, palms facing the sky.
I smirk, not because of Frowning Daddy, but over the way she talks about him; as if she were the parent and he the child. "Well, I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."
Her smile brightens and she nods her head; her beanie almost falling from her head. "Thanks, Bella."
"Okay, Miss. Adalyn, I really should get inside and shower. Talk tomorrow?" I hold my hand out for her routine high-five, and she slaps her pink-mittened palm to mine without hesitation.
"See you tomorrow, Bella."
. . .
Frowning Daddy has neat hand-writing, and as I trudge up the stairs to my second floor apartment, I find myself staring at my name written in it. It's perfectly symmetrical and semi-cursive in blue ink. My only conclusion is he isn't a doctor, and as I yank off my sneakers and sweats to jump in the shower, I realize I'm attempting to guess his profession.
Lawyer is the frontrunner.
I will not Google him, I promise myself after as I stare down at my handwritten name; the gay angle is beginning to gain more traction. Charlie had atrocious handwriting; in fact, he used to get me to fill in various paperwork for him so it'd be legible. Charlie was also the straightest man in existence.
Perhaps his wife was so vile he was pushed to the other side, I allow my thoughts to speculate as I grab a butter knife from my utensils drawer and tear open the envelope.
It takes me a moment or two to make sense of what's written. The invitation is Disney Princess themed and made out to "Bella from next door to Grandma's house". There is no forwarding address or phone number.
"Wha-what is this shit!?" I stammer out loud with growing disbelief. "Bella from next door to Grandma's house!?" My voice rises with each spoken word until I'm practically yelling. "THAT JERKOFF!"
I spend the next several hours fuming, and thinking up inventive ways to exact my revenge. I contemplate asking Mrs. Cullen for the address and gatecrashing, but decide against it. I even consider confronting the asshole when he swings by to pick up Adalyn; only I realize exactly how unhinged that would make me. It only cements by resolve to personally deliver Addie's present to her. In his presence, whether at the Dutch Colonial—therein breaking my New Year's resolution—or rocking up unannounced at his house and looking like a stalker.
I have no other alternative than to Google him, I convince myself as I aggressively boot up my laptop.
I find him immediately, and my first assumption Re: his profession, was spot on. He's a lawyer. A personal injury lawyer, no less. Edward Cullen: Partner, Attorney-at-law it reads on the webpage for Cullen/Hale and Associates P.L.L.C. His bio is at the top of the page alongside a photo of him; he's wearing a black suit, his arms are folded across his chest, his hair's neatly combed, and his expression's neutral. The frown that's over exaggerated in Addie's pictures is again concentrated in his clear green eyes.
He's so damned good looking it incenses me, and so with masochism as obviously the only determining factor, I read his bio. It details his education, areas of practice and bar admissions. The ass went to Columbia and majored in Political Science before getting his J.D degree and Masters of Law.
"July 20th 1988," I read his birth date out loud. He's six years older than I am I quickly do the calculations as I scroll further down the page.
This is when I come to the Hale in Cullen/Hale. Rosalie Hale. She's blond, more obscenely attractive than he is, and undoubtedly Addie's mother.
With my curiosity piqued, I click out of the website and attempt to track him down via Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. He's on none. None that I can find anyway. Rosalie Hale is, however, and judging by her very public Instagram posts, there is no evidence she has a child. And while she might work with Edward, her personal life involves the oldest Cullen son, Emmett. He features in almost all of her photos spanning the last several months; whether they're sitting in restaurants together, laying on beaches, or at various black-tie functions and other events. In several photos she refers to him as her "Emmy Bear" while there is zero evidence that she sees Edward outside of work hours.
My phone rings, effectively cutting short my stalking-slash-plans of vengeance.
"Hey!" Alice's high pitched voice blasts through the receiver. "What's wrong with you?"
"Huh?" I echo blankly, my mind still skirting around Frowning Daddy and how catastrophically handsome the bastard looks in a three piece suit.
"You sound pissed."
"All I said was 'hello'," I reason.
"Yeah, and your hello sounded pissed." Her voice drops in monotone. "Anyway, I'm having a crisis."
Alice's crisis involves her lack of something old, and so I reluctantly allow her to draw me into discussing her wedding while momentarily forgetting that I'm Bella from next door to Grandma's house in ridiculously neat handwriting.
She stops by for dinner, and by dinner, I mean more in-depth discussion in regards to her grandmother's pearls—the something old we settled on over the phone. I take the opportunity to show her the offending invite over fried rice.
"What do you think?" I ask after giving her more than enough time to draw conclusion, and her expression is beginning to concern me.
"Truthfully, it sounds like he was humoring his daughter and doesn't really want you to come," she replies tactfully. "This looks like a woman's handwriting, though, and that'd make a lot more sense," she adds, and I snort.
"I'm pretty sure it's his," I mutter.
"Is he gay?" She quirks a brow.
"I have no idea—except he's an ass."
"I wouldn't take it personally. He could be just discouraging your relationship with his daughter." She shrugs and continues clumsily shoving rice in her mouth with her chopsticks.
"Relationship?" I echo dubiously. "I don't have a relationship with his daughter. She's the kid next door who talks to me for five minutes when I come back from my runs."
She shrugs a second time. "Is he seeing anyone? This still could be the doing of a woman."
"Seriously, Alice, I have no idea. I've only spoken three words to him when he threw my mail at me and slammed the door on my face."
"Then screw him." I can't tell whether she's truly as disinterested in the jerkoff next door as she appears, or if she's just trying to sway me back onto the topic of her wedding, but it's sound advice regardless.
Still, while she fixates on table-toppers, my thoughts inevitably drift, and by the time I'm shoving her out the door at end of the night I've made up my mind. I'm going to hand-deliver Addie's birthday gift in person.
At her house.
. . .
When I was seventeen, Renee sent me the book The Secret for Christmas. She then called me three days later to gush over it while going into detail of how it worked in her life. In other words, how many aging rockers she persuaded into bed. I read it once and donated it to The Salvation Army, but out on my run the next day, I attempt to put the principles into action. I focus on Mrs. Cullen out in the front garden with Addie when I run past, but I'm under no illusions that it will work; it's just a better alternative than allowing Frowning Daddy into my head to agitate me further.
Naturally, as I'm slowing my pace in preparation for Addie's greeting, she's alone; there's no sign of Mrs. Cullen. We chat over the fence, and while sharing a raisin cookie, Addie let's something innocently slip.
"We're going to visit Mommy in the morning then we're going to have pancakes—that's what we always do," she describes the plans for her birthday the weekend after next, and by the light tone of her voice she's giving nothing away.
"That sounds nice," I acknowledge after contemplating prying for more details, but I'm not a monster. "Do you visit your mommy often?" Okay, perhaps I am.
"Just on my birthday. Daddy doesn't like to go more than that; it makes him sad—even though my mommy's not very far away."
My mouth drops open, and I half nod my head before hastily reining my thoughts back and offering her a warm smile. Despite the fact that it really is none of my business, I don't know enough to question her further and I feel like a creep—in more ways than one. "Well, I'm definitely going to stop by to give you your present, okay?"
Her smile broadens and her bright green eyes light up from their depths. "You can ask me what I want if you like."
"What would you like for your birthday, Miss. Adalyn?" I play along.
She giggles but answers without hesitation. "Lady and the Tramp—Daddy always forgets to get it for me."
"The movie?"
She nods vigorously.
"I'm sure I could pick it up from somewhere..." I tease her, and in reply she giggles again.
"Really?"
"Really, really."
We say our farewells with an accompanying high five and I head toward my apartment, texting Mrs. Cullen as I do.
Hi, Mrs. Cullen. I got Addie's birthday invitation and there's no address on it. I'm working, but I'd still like to drop off her present. I leave it at that knowing anything else will come off as weird rambling, and she answers not one minute later.
Hi, Bella. I can give her your present for you if you like, but if you'd like to to give it to her personally, the address is 1717 Evergreen Place.
I'm a little surprised that it was so easy, and the moment I close my apartment door behind me and toss my keys on the kitchen counter, I Google the address. It's an early 20th century navy blue Craftsman with sprawling views of Lake Washington in the upscale neighborhood of Denny-Blaine.
Of course.
The following day is Alice's first day off from her shift, and my last. We meet at Pacific Place mall for lunch, and after we head to Barnes and Noble to find Lady and the Tramp.
"Okay, what else can I buy her?" I wonder out loud, tucking the Blu-ray copy under my arm as Alice and I browse the children's section.
"How old is she?" Alice enquires.
"Five."
"Does she like Frozen?"
"Moana, but I have no idea what she already owns."
"Hm..." She turns to me and raises her hands in a shrug, but like me, Alice is an only child—no nieces or nephews. In fact, Jess is the only one of our friends who has kids. "Gift card?"
"She's five," I reiterate.
"Baby Alive?"
"Five going on thirty-five, I should add."
"Well, did she say she wants anything else other than Lady and the Tramp?—Dra-co Mal-foy!" she jokes, picking up the Harry Potter figurine and bobbing it before me.
"A puppy," I say smirking as I recall the conversation I had with her on the day I became Bella from next door to Grandma's house.
"Get her a stuffed one," she suggests tossing Draco back in the basket with the various Ron, Harry and Hermiones.
Alice finds the collection of Furriends, and there's only one option; a twelve inch Little Skipit—a plush white and brown puppy.
"By the way, Jay's having a house warming on the 24th," Alice pipes up as we're heading to Redbubble to buy a birthday card and gift wrap. I've been hearing about Jay's new apartment almost as much as her wedding. Despite the fact they spend more than 80% of their time at each other's places, they're waiting until after they're married to officially live together.
Alice is nothing if not traditional.
"The 24th? Is it a Friday?—I'm working weekends this month," I remind her.
"Of course," she assures me, sliding the invite from her purse.
"Oh look at that, my name really isn't Bella from next door to Grandma's house," I say dryly after opening the envelope and staring down at Jazz's messy handwriting on the card; typical for an up and coming doctor.
Frowning Daddy is definitely gay.
"Bella, why are you letting this guy get under your skin?" Alice asks, her voice taking on a confused edge.
"Because first he throws my mail at me as if he might get Typhoid if he touches me, and then he's completely insults me on his daughter's birthday invite. I don't even know him!"
"That's the entire point," she adds, eyebrow arching in emphasis.
I huff, but it's directed mostly at myself. I'm just feeling sensitive, I rationalize. It's been less than two months since I broke it off with Tyler and it's still driving my emotions.
After I arrive home I go for my run—a few hours later than usual—and as I pass the Dutch Colonial on my way back, Addie's nowhere to be seen. It's been snowing and clumps of it cover the fenced-in yard, and I'm more than aware of Mrs. Cullen's aversion to it. Still, my heart sinks knowing I won't see her for four days, on top of the knowledge that I have three fourteen-hour shifts a head of me.
I enter my building through the wrought iron gated entrance, and collect my mail from the foyer. Nestled among the usual bills and catalogues is another letter addressed to the Cullens.
I decide this time I'm going to honor my New Year's Resolution.
A/N: Thanks for reading.
And yes, I changed Edward's date of birth. It's not a mistake.