A lot has been going of for since I posted the last chapter. I haven't felt the most creative, so this story took a bit of a back burner. I'm glad I finally got this chapter done, and hopefully I can get on to the next one soon!

EPOV

Waking up, my head felt like a jackhammer was going off inside. As I shifted my body I fought a wave of disorientation, like my soul had returned to the dead weight of my limbs that hadn't moved while I'd been dead to the world. Shifting to sit up, I swallowed the motion sickness that swam up from my stomach, hanging my head in my hands. My teeth felt like they were covered in cotton and my eyes scratched and burned.

It probably took me another five minutes before I was able to move again, finally sitting up all the way and stretching my neck out. I noticed a bottle of water and a box of Aspirin had been left on my bedside table. I took the pills quickly, gulping the water down greedily, hoping to wash away the foul taste in my mouth. Having something in my stomach made me gag, even though it was just water.

I shuffled to the bathroom, trying not to move or jostle any part of myself. Once in the shower, I let the water cascade over my head and down my back, fighting the urge to vomit up the water I just drank, as well as last night's nachos. I obviously couldn't handle hangovers like I used to. I felt like I had the flu, and my whole body ached and shivered. I tried to think back over the night but couldn't remember much after getting in the Uber to come home. Fragments flitted through my memory, but they were vague, like parts of a dream. I remembered the silhouette of the end table against the midnight-lit trees in the glass wall at the end of the hall, then sitting at the piano, and then being dragged up the stairs by my parents. I didn't feel like it was truly all real, but I was pretty sure it was.

I lost track of how long I stood under the stream of hot water, but my palms had begun to wrinkle by the time I stepped out. After getting dressed, I slowly made my way downstairs, squinting as the light got brighter. Avoiding the overly sunny lounge room, I turned down the hallway to get to the kitchen, the feeling of deja vu you get the morning after getting drunk when you start to remember more of the night washing over me. I stared at the vase on the side table for a few, sluggish seconds, glad I hadn't broken it as it was one of my mother's favourites.

Shuffling into the kitchen, I'd never been gladder I unpacked my Nespresso machine when I moved back in with my parents. I wasn't fit to do anything more than fill it up with water and pop in a pod. When the coffee was finished, I almost collapsed into a seat at the kitchen table. Eyes closed and resting my head in my hands as I sipped my coffee, I listened to the house around me. It was still and quiet, of which I was undyingly grateful, as my head still pounded even after the aspirin. My parents must have gone out. I can't say I wasn't grateful for that either. They had never been strict parents growing up and we'd never had many rules, preferring to explain their expectations of us and trusting us to make the right decisions. Even though I was a grown adult, coming home drunk and waking them up in the middle of the night was probably outside of their expectations.

Nearly twenty minutes, and a coffee later, my parents came strolling across the lawn from the small sandy beach that bordered the water at the back of the property. As they came closer towards the house, my mother noticed me still sitting at the kitchen table by the glass wall, shooting me a small smile before turning to say something to my father. Dad looked up, seeing me watching them, and nodded back to Mom. My stomach dropped as I realised the 'talk' I was dreading was definitely about to happen.

Looking for something to keep me busy, I stood to make myself another coffee. I was standing by the coffee machine when Mom and Dad walked in. As they came through the door, their conversation quieted as they looked over at me. My mother gave me a warm smile, which I returned weakly.

"Good morning, Darling," she said in her gentle voice.

"Morning," I replied after coughing to clear my throat. I still felt a little shaky on my legs and realised I hadn't actually spoken yet today.

My dad turned to me after he'd slipped his coat off and hung it on the hook by the backdoor. "When you're finished making that, would you mind joining us in the lounge room for a chat?" he asked.

I'd known it was coming, but my stomach still did a little flip, which did not sit well with the lingering nausea from my hangover. I definitely felt like a teenager that had gotten caught sneaking in after a party. Swallowing my anxiety, I gave him a nod. "Sure."

After they had left me, I tried to draw out the coffee making process as much as possible to buy some time. I frothed the milk, making sure to be meticulous when I poured it into the cup, successfully making a crude version of one of those fancy leaf shapes they do on the tops of drinks at swanky cafes. Unfortunately, it still didn't take that long, and before I would have liked I was heading into the bright lounge room, trying not to flinch as the light seemed to reverberate behind my eyeballs.

They were sitting on the long sofa when I came in, sipping my coffee. Their heads were once again close in a quiet conversation, looking up when they heard me and flashing what I'm sure they assumed were non-threatening smiles.

"Have a seat, Darling," Mom said, gesturing to the armchair next to her side of the sofa.

"I know what this is about," I said, making my way over and sitting with a bit of a flop. "Last night was incredibly inconsiderate of me, and I'm sorry."

"You're partly right," Dad responded. "We definitely don't appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night and having to put you to bed, but you are an adult who has the freedom to make their own choices. What we're more concerned about, Edward, is if you feel the need to bury your grief in alcohol. We know you've been dealing with everything by yourself for a long time, but that sort of behaviour can only lead to more pain and heartache."

It shouldn't have surprised me that that was their conclusion about last night, but it did. I'd always been someone who liked control, especially over my own faculties, so I had never been that much of a drinker. So, for their first thought to be that I was falling into alcoholism seemed a leap.

"That's not what's happening, Dad," I assured them. "I was upset, sure. But I don't make it a regular habit to drink that much. Especially when it seems my thirty-year-old body can't handle a hangover like it used to."

"I'm very glad to hear that, Son," my father said, a little relieved. "I'm still concerned you decided to handle your emotions by drinking them. I hope you know your mother and I are always here if you need something." Mom took his hand, nodding in encouragement while the nerve at the edge of my eye twitched in annoyance.

"I assure you; it was nothing but wanting to blow off steam after a bad week. Even regular people have a few drinks after a bad week," I tried not to growl through clenched teeth. My head now pounded from both the hangover and the irritation. "And after the fight with Alice and having writer's block for days, I don't think it's entirely out of the question to think about something else." I took a deep breath quickly in an effort to rein in my temper, blowing it out my nose. "I also wanted to avoid Alice, and thought she'd probably take the opportunity to come over while you were out and corner me alone."

Dad shook his head, a little perplexed. "What is this fight with Alice all about, anyway?

"Different things," I hedged. "But mostly about her incessant need to control everything." I rubbed at my temple, trying to alleviate some of the tension in my brain.

"So it wasn't about someone named Bella, then?" my mother asked, her crystal-clear voice cutting though any thought I'd previously been having.

I sat completely frozen in shock for a moment. "How did you?... Did Alice say anything to you?"

"No," Mom answered. "You were rambling about last night as I put you to bed. But by your reaction I'm thinking this is at the root of this fight." Her gaze, with one eyebrow cocked, was the all-knowing look of a mother.

"What did I say?" I asked, full of trepidation.

"That you screwed something up and that she was never going to talk to you again," she said, pausing before she continued. "And that she was Maria's sister."

A moment of panic passed as I realised that while I'd tried so hard to keep them out of the situation, my drunk self hadn't had the same compulsion. "Right," seemed to be all that my brain could think to say in response.

My parents looked expectant, though a little impatient. "Well?" Mom asked. "Can you please explain to us what you meant, because it doesn't make a lot of sense at the moment."

Tugging on my hair in a nervous habit, I tried to squash the panic and unease that flooded me at the thought of telling them. As I found myself wondering if my parents could be trusted, it dawned on me how ridiculous I was being. They were my parents, for goodness sake! I'd trusted them with everything my entire life, so why should this be so different?

Taking a breath to centre myself, I tried to think of the best way to explain everything. "I recently met a woman, Bella, who is identical to Maria. And, yes, it seems that she and Maria are twins and were separated when they were adopted by different families."

I watched my parents as they absorbed that information, so many questions passing behind their eyes. They were quiet for about ten seconds before the questions started coming.

"How do you know they are twins?" asked my mother, while my father asked, "How did you meet her?" at the same time.

Finding Mom's question the easier of the two to address, I looked to her first. "They have the same birthday and look exactly like each other. And when I told her about Maria, she confirmed that she had been born in Tacoma and adopted as well."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket while I explained, and opened Facebook. Bella's name came up quickly in my suggested text, thanks to the numerous times I'd searched her on the app. Clicking on her profile, I handed my phone to my mother. She gasped when she saw Bella's profile picture. Dad looked over her shoulder, and it was obvious that actually seeing the proof was unsettling him.

"She's from Washington," he said, though it was quiet, so I assumed he was talking to himself. His eyes then turned to me. "How did you meet her? I somehow doubt you were looking into Maria's biological family without any reason. Were you trying to find out if she had a family history of blood clots and strokes" I could see the 'doctor' gears tuning in his mind.

"I wasn't looking into it," I hedged. I knew I had to explain everything honestly, though truth felt heavy in my mouth. "I saw her, completely by chance, at the hospital on the day I went to talk to Dad, when I was here for the memorial. After I moved back, Alice helped me find her on Facebook, and then I went to meet her properly."

"So, Alice does know," Mom asserted. "What was your fight about then?"

I blew out a breath and rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "It really was about her need to always be in control. I had a plan of how I wanted to tell Bella everything, but Alice interfered, thinking she knew the best and only way. It threw me off, and I screwed everything up. I thoroughly freaked Bella out, and I doubt she'll be reaching out to me any time soon."

Dad, who had been quiet, turned the conversation back onto its main course. "Bella didn't take it well, I assume?"

"No, not really," I sighed.

"I'm sure she was just overwhelmed," said Mom. "It's a lot to deal with."

"As long as you were able to explain that she needs to see her doctor as soon as she can," Dad added.

"Carlisle," Mom admonished. "The poor woman just had her life turned upside-down. She might need some time to absorb everything."

"She could be in danger of suffering the same sort of condition, Es."

"You don't have to be all doctor all the time, Honey." They stared at each other for a few moments, having another of their silent conversations they had perfected over the thirty-five years they'd been married. Before long, they turned back to me, Dad's gaze expectant.

"She knows how Maria died, but I didn't get a chance to talk to her about going and seeing a doctor," I answered with a sigh. "I did give her a letter that explains everything much better, and in there I wrote that she should get checked out, just in case."

"See, there now," Mom interjected. "Of course, Edward wouldn't forget something so important." Dad still looked concerned, but let it drop for now. After a moment Mom's head snapped back to me. "Wait, is this why you haven't wanted to see Carmen and Eleazar since you've come back?"

Guilt flashed across my face. "Partly," I said, running a hand through my hair again. "I knew it would be difficult to not say anything to them, but it should be up to Bella now. She wasn't looking for any of this when I came into her life - turning her life upside-down, as you said Mom. It should be her choice for more people to be involved now."

Mom didn't look too impressed by this. Carmen was her closest friend and they usually shared everything with each other. The idea of not telling her would weigh heavily on my mother. Dad however was nodding.

"I think that's wise, son." Mom frowned at that and looked like she was about to interrupt, but Dad placed a hand on her knee and continued talking. "She needs time to come to terms with everything, and be ready for more, before she is inundated with strangers that feel they have some sort of connection.

I gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Dad." The whole conversation had drained me, leaving me once again tired and aware of my aching limbs and throbbing head. "I still don't feel great after last night. I think I'm going to head back to my room and lie down."

Before they could say anything to try and change my mind, I got up and headed towards the stairs. Just as I reached the top, I could faintly hear my mother's voice as she sighed. "Oh, Carlisle." But I quickly made my way to my room before I could hear any more.

~oOo~

A knock at my door a few hours later roused me from the mindless stupor I had sunk into while watching a documentary on the history channel on the spread on the Spanish Flu in 1918. My father was standing in the doorway, knuckles still poised to knock again, as if he'd had to try a few times to gain my attention. His face was neutral, giving no indication to his intent or reason for coming in.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning my head towards him, though I stayed lying down.

"Come," he said stolidly. "I'll drive you to pick up your car." Without waiting for a response or agreement from me he headed back down the hallway, leaving my bedroom door open. After a moment, I heaved a sigh, swung my legs off the bed, and followed him.

Dad was quiet when I slid into his car, and he didn't say anything as he pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the cinema. I was thankful, as the midday sun was a little too bright for my eyes to take - even the mild light we got this time of year in Seattle. Over the radio I could hear the almost imperceptible sounds of strings as an orchestra played Handel's The Messiah. My father had always preferred to play classical music in the car, saying that it helped soothe his mind while he was away from work. He had also been one of the first people to introduce and encourage my love of music.

After nearly ten minutes of a silent car ride, Dad's hands tightened around the steering wheel and his voice cut through the quiet. "Edward."

"Yeah," I said, jolted out of my reverie.

Dad quickly glanced at me with a penetrating look, before turning back to concentrate on the road. "I sincerely hope you're not expecting anything from this young woman," he said slowly, in a serious tone. "She is not a replacement for Maria, and to pursue something romantic with her would be highly unethical, and frankly manipulative."

I was shocked. "I… Dad, no. I'm not…" I struggled to find the right words. "That's not what I'm doing. And I could never replace Maria." I couldn't believe my own father would think that of me.

But then again, hadn't I had similar thoughts about my actions and motivations? Hadn't I agonized for days trying to justify moving back to Seattle so that the decision wasn't based on the intense draw I had felt towards Bella after I first saw her? Hadn't Alice made similar comments, too? Probably the reason I felt hurt by my father's veiled accusation was that he had so clearly seen through what I had told him and Mom, proving how well he really knew me deep down.

"I'm sorry, Son," Dad said, his voice tempering into the fatherly tone he had used my entire life. "I know how hard losing Maria was on you, especially with it being so sudden and shocking. It has seemed to me that you've been trapped in a holding pattern with your grief, unable to move forward and find a new pathway without her. When you told us about Bella, I was worried that you would put all of that emotion into a relationship that would only act as a band-aid." He turned to me and caught my eye while we were stopped at a red light, before he focused again on driving as he took off again. "That wouldn't be good for you in the long run, and it certainly isn't fair on Bella."

My emotions were conflicted, so I took a moment to focus and collect myself. On one side I still felt the intense hurt and anger, but on the other I knew this was all coming from my father's intense need to care for people.

Swallowing my indignation, I made the effort to reassure him. "Trying to start a relationship with Bella was not one of my motivations when I decided to go forward in telling her." Even though it was the truth, it still felt like I was picking and choosing my words carefully. "I was shocked and overwhelmed when this whole thing first started, but I also think that it woke me up out of a stupor I'd fallen into. Part of it has been about finding the truth, sure. But it's also about making sure what happened to Maria doesn't happen to Bella as well."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said with a nod. "I think it's very important you keep at the forefront of your mind the fact that, for all intents and purposes, she is your sister-in-law. And that you treat her as such."

We once again sat in silence as Dad let his words sink in, while I tried not to clench my teeth. Part of me was still a little upset that my father thought I was capable of manipulating an innocent woman like that, but I also knew my father would never have allowed me to treat another person that way, even if it was unintentional. Between him and Alice, it was clear that my family had a harsh view of me lately. Had I really become so unrecognizable to them, or had I really just buried my head so far under my grief that I'd lost sight of myself?

After spending so long feeling isolated and alone, I forgot what it was like to hear other people's side of the story. I'd always been so good at reading other people that now that other people's perceptions of me didn't match who I thought I was, I was feeling attacked. I felt like a caged lion with its back against a wall, lashing out at everyone in their path in an effort to escape to safety. It certainly didn't help that I also had a stubborn streak a mile wide.

If I ever wanted to move forward with my life, I was going to have to relearn how to let people back in. And to actually hear them, without feeling like their every thought and opinion was a personal criticism. I definitely wouldn't be able to handle the intense emotions the situation with Bella was bound to bring up until I dealt with that.

When Dad pulled up to the curb outside the cinema, he shifted in his seat to face me more head on and gave me a warm smile. "I'll see you at home," he said.

As I moved to get out of the car, a thought popped into my head, and before I could think about it too much, I went with it. "I might drop round and see Alice," I told him, my hand still on the door handle. "It's time we talked about everything properly." It also gave me a little time to cool down and process this conversation.

"Oh. Good," Dad said, sounding just slightly surprised. "Good, I'm glad."

I nodded at him with a tight smile, turning to get out of the car. "And Edward," his voice calling me made me stop before I closed the door and looked in at him. "I'm proud of you, Son."

Feeling a little choked up, I mumbled a quiet "Thanks", then stood and closed the door.

I watched for a second as my dad pulled away from the curb and drove down the street. I wondered how things would change now that my parents knew about Bella and the whole Soap Opera story of her and Maria's connection. There was a large part of me that actually did feel relieved, not having to carry this huge secret when I'm around them. It was also comforting to know that I'd be able to turn to them for advice when things got hard or complicated, which I'm sure they would if Bella decided to reach out.

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