Chapter 5 : She Almost Moved In
It was the end of Carlisle's shift. He grabbed his bag and left the hospital, bidding the receptionist goodbye as he walked past him. He sighed as he got into his car and dropped his head on the steering wheel, burying his hands in his hair. He took a long breath,straightened, and started the engine.
He should've driven to his house to change clothes and drop his bag, but he didn't. Instead, he headed to the address Edward had given him.
His stomach was tied in knots by anxiety. He hadn't been able to swallow one bit of his breakfast, and he'd skipped lunch.
Was Esme all right ? Why hadn't she answered any of Carlisle's texts ? He'd tried to call her several times, but she never picked up. What if she was hurt ? But if that was the case, wouldn't she have come to the hospital ? Carlisle had closely watched the new arrivals : Esme wasn't there.
A new theory made him feel even worse than before. What if she didn't want him anymore and couldn't find a way to tell him ? What if she'd just… run away ? This wouldn't do. Carlisle had to see her. If she'd changed her mind, if she didn't want to be his lover anymore, he'd tell her it was all right. Of course, he'd continue loving her, but they could stay friends. He'd hide his feelings if that meant still being able to be in her company.
Emerging from his thoughts, he looked around and saw he had arrived. He parked his car, got out, and went to the building Edward had indicated. He rang the bell, and a few minutes later the door opened.
There they were, just the same as in the photos Esme had shown him. Rosalie was tall, blonde, and beautiful, with eyes of such a dark blue that they almost looked purple. And Edward.. Carlisle was struck by how much he looked like Esme. He had the same hazel eyes, and the same hair, not quite brown, not quite red. God, Carlisle missed her so much.
"Hello," he said. "I know I'm early, but…"
"No problem," Edward said. "Please come in."
He led Carlisle into the living room, and they sat on the couch. Rosalie sat in an armchair facing them.
"So," Carlisle began. "How's Esme ?"
Edward met Rosalie's gaze. He seemed nervous and unsure.
"We'd like to know about you first," Rosalie intervened. "We'd never heard of you up to a few days ago, and the only reason we did was because we found this –"
She took what seemed like a photograph out of her pocket.
"– in Esme's night table."
She handed the picture to Carlisle.
It was one of the few photos that had ever been taken of Carlisle and Esme together. Carlisle remembered when it had occurred. They were walking along the river on a fine afternoon when they'd noticed a man taking a photo of someone they assumed was his girlfriend. Esme had observed they probably wanted to be together in the photo, so they'd offered to take a photo of them. The couple had thanked them and gratefully accepted. Esme (who'd taken the photo) was giving his phone back to the man, when he and his girlfriend suggested taking a photo of Esme and Carlisle too.
"Wait. You'd never heard about me ?" Carlisle realized. "Didn't Esme tell you about me when you had dinner together ?"
This had been the day Edward and Rosalie had called him and asked to meet him.
"We'll explain after," Edward promised. "Tell us about how you met my sister. Please."
Carlisle looked down at his hands in his lap. He was wringing them in worry. He remembered them holding smaller, feminine ones. Esme's hands.
It had all begun at the hospital.
"Dr Cullen ?" the nurse called. "There's a new arrival for you. A woman who cut her hand badly. She's bleeding a lot, we suspect hemorrhage."
"All right, I'll go and take care of her," Carlisle said.
He headed to the room the nurse had indicated to him. As he walked, he took a look at the patient's file. Esme Evenson, 30 years old. Before he could read any further, he had arrived.
He opened the door and entered the room.
As soon as he saw her, Carlisle's jaw dropped. Esme Evenson sat in a hospital bed, clutching her hand, which had been hastily wrapped with what looked like a sock (it wasn't easy to distinguish exactly what it was, because it was soaked with blood) to stop the bleeding. A pencil kept the sock in place.
What had stopped Carlisle right in his tracks was Esme's appearance. Her caramel hair waved gently past her shoulders. She didn't seem in pain – but then maybe she was merely hiding it. She wore a thoughtful expression, seemingly lost in a daydream. Carlisle assumed she hadn't heard him enter the room, which left him plenty of time to stare at her unnoticed and observe every detail of her face. She had red lips, and warm hazel eyes. She looked so soft and gentle. Carlisle's heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He couldn't recall ever seeing a lovelier person.
Finally emerging from the depths of her mind, she looked up and saw Carlisle, still standing awkwardly near the entrance.
"Hello," she said, smiling a little at Carlisle.
"Good morning," Carlisle said, smiling back.
She had a wonderful voice. Carlisle wanted to hear it again. He shook his head. She was bleeding heavily. He had to help her, not stand uselessly like a fool and gawk at her.
"I'm Dr Cullen," he continued. "and I'll be the one treating your hand."
He approached the bed and pointed at her hand.
"May I ?"
She nodded.
"Of course."
Was it his imagination or was she blushing ? Definitely his imagination.
He delicately took her hand and undid her makeshift bandage. Yep, it was a sock. He put both the sock and the pencil in his lab coat. He'd wash them and return them to her clean. He lightly seized her hand again. It was so soft. Focus, Carlisle chided himself. He inspected the wound. It was deep, but whatever had caused it hadn't pierced through her hand.
"All right, I'll stitch you up."
He took a needle and sutures and began working. He was soon finished, and he put away the residue of material. He looked up and found her eyes again. His stomach fluttered.
"You'll need coagulants and pain medication, but other than that you should be fine," he reassured her. "No need for a transfusion, thankfully."
He smiled at her, and his heart leapt when she answered with a smile of her own.
Oh, what a beautiful smile she had. It lit up her whole face, but mostly her eyes. Carlisle wished he looked as dazzling as her when he smiled, so that she'd think him as appealing as he thought she was.
"Thank you, Dr Cullen," she said gratefully.
"I don't deserve your thanks. I haven't done anything yet."
She only smiled again, and Carlisle lost himself watching her face.
Suddenly, he remembered she had an important cut to the hand, and kicked himself for not paying attention to her well-being. She was surely hurting a lot, and he hadn't noticed it. Some doctor he was.
"I'm so sorry," he told her apologetically. "You must be hurting quite a lot. I promised you pain medication, and I have to give you coagulants."
"It's all right," she said. "I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind."
"Thank you," he said, but he still blamed himself.
He prepared a syringe and disinfected a small area of skin on her arm, then asked :
"Are you scared of needles ?"
She was looking apprehensively at him.
"A little," she answered, uneasy.
"Close your eyes. Trust me, it'll be very quick and it won't hurt a lot," he promised.
She was still shrinking a little away from him.
"Here, you can hold my hand," he promised.
"But don't you need it for the injection ?"
"I've practised, and I can do it with only one hand," he explained.
Then, trying to distract her, a ludicrous idea struck him.
"You know, most women would die to have the honour to hold my hand."
He winked.
As soon as he realised what he'd said, he wanted to disappear. Or slap himself. Or both. Carlisle Cullen, you are a fool, he told himself.
Thankfully, instead of looking at him like he was a weirdo, she laughed (what a wonderful laugh she had) and grabbed his hand with her own (the one that wasn't cut).
"I don't doubt that," she said.
He smiled, a little embarrassedly, then raised the syringe.
"Okay, now, if you're really afraid, look somewhere else. It'll help."
She obeyed him, but she didn't look out the window : she chose to concentrate her gaze on his face.
Carlisle tried to keep himself from blushing and focused on the injection. He approached it to her arm, then he pricked. She gasped and clutched his hand, but it was already over. He cleaned her arm again, then smiled at her and said :
"See ? It wasn't that terrible, was it ?"
She shaked her beautiful head – Carlisle admired the caramel curls flying around as she did – and admitted :
"No, it was fine. Thanks for helping me."
She looked down at their hands, still intertwined, and loosened her grip.
"There, I'm giving you your hand back. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I squeezed quite hard," she apologized.
"Don't worry," he said, "I'll lend it to you again if the need arises. Now, you need pain medication. I'll bring you pills and water to swallow them. Then you'll be free to go."
He couldn't help feeling sad as he pronounced these words, but then remembered :
"You'll need to come back in a week, though, so that I can check if you're healing correctly."
"Of course," she said.
Carlisle wasn't sure if the happy expression on her face was because she was eager to leave or because she wanted to return.
He quickly got out of the room and went to his office to fetch the bottle he had promised her.
"There you go," he said, handing it to her once he was back in her room.
"Thanks," she said gratefully.
She opened it and drank almost all the water it contained.
Once she was finished, she gave it back to Carlisle.
"Oh, no, you can keep it," he told her. "It's almost empty anyway."
She thanked him again.
"Well, I think you're ready to leave."
He tried to keep a light, casual tone, but he knew he hadn't succeeded very well. Suddenly, he had an idea. He took his notepad and his pen out of the breast pocket of his lab coat and scribbled his name and his phone number on the first page, before ripping it and giving it to her.
"Here," he said. "In case you need help or more medication or anything at all."
She smiled at him – Carlisle's heart rate accelerated again – and pocketed the paper.
"That's a great idea, thank you," she said.
She was happy to be able to keep in touch with him ? Keep calm, Carlisle, it's not like you gave her a choice. Plus, it's for medical purposes only. Even if he had given her his personal number and not his official doctor number.
"Would you…"
She hesitated.
"Yes ?" he encouraged.
"I could give you my number too ?" she suggested.
She was blushing a little. The rosy tint of her face suited her very well.
Carlisle couldn't feel his stomach. She wanted to give him her number. That sure wasn't for medical purposes.
"Please do," he accepted.
She was practically glowing now, and Carlisle thought his smile couldn't widen more. He'd never smiled so much and his heart had never beat so fast and loud before he'd met Esme.
He handed her his notepad and his pen. She quickly wrote her name and phone number.
It seemed to Carlisle she'd written something more, but he couldn't see very well, since she was leaning over the paper.
Once she was finished, she gave him back his things. He put them again in his pocket.
"You can go now," he told her.
"Well, it was very nice to meet you, Dr Cullen," she said before getting up, her radiant smile lighting up her face again.
"It was very nice to meet you too, Miss Evenson," Carlisle answered.
Very nice indeed.
But it seemed he'd said something wrong, for her smile faded. As soon as it was gone, Carlisle wanted to see it again. What had he said that caused this reaction ? He'd been hoping for the contrary : that her smile would stay, and, if possible, widen. Instead, it had disappeared, her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes weren't meeting Carlisle's anymore.
"It's actually Mrs Evenson," she said, obviously embarrassed.
"Oh."
God, he felt so stupid. An amazing woman like that, of course she was taken. And even if she was not, she'd never, even in a parallel universe, like Carlisle or even find him a little attractive.
Interrupting his thoughts, she continued ;
"But please call me Esme, Dr Cullen."
The smile was back again. Carlisle's heart came back to life. What did it matter if she was married ? She'd never have dated him even if she weren't. However, by a chance series of events, she was here, in this hospital room, talking and smiling to him, laughing at his terrible jokes about his attractiveness, clutching his hand, and asking him to call her by her first name.
Oh, wait, he had to give her an answer.
"Please call me Carlisle, Esme," he told her, savouring her name as he spoke it.
"I shall, Carlisle," she said.
Had he already mentioned that she had a breathtaking smile ? And that her voice was the sweetest sound Carlisle had ever heard, especially when it pronounced his name ?
"Thank you, Esme," he replied.
He couldn't resist the urge to say her name again. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he was sure he looked like a huge dork because of the goofy grin that seemed glued to his face.
However, she was beaming back at him again and he stopped thinking altogether, absorbed by her exquisite self.
The silence stretched without either of them noticing it, for they were too busy staring wordlessly in each other's eyes. What magnificent eyes she had, Carlisle thought, contemplating their beautiful hazel colour. He wanted to gaze at them for the rest of his life. She was mesmerizing in every aspect. Her laugh was like music, and her voice was so gentle. Carlisle could've spent forever observing each strand, each wave of her caramel hair. They shone red and gold in the sunlight, and Carlisle wanted to run his hand through them, see if they felt as soft between his fingers as they looked. He wanted to stroke her cheek. He felt so lucky to have been able to hold her hand – well, she had held his hand. He wanted to know what she smelled like. He wanted to know what her lips tasted like, to feel her mouth against his own.
I'm screwed, he thought, gazing endlessly at her.
Noises in the corridor behind him brought him back to reality. He cleared his throat and said :
"Well, Esme, I guess I'll see you soon ?"
He smiled tentatively at her.
"Of course," she answered, rising quickly from the bed.
She headed towards the door, but, as she passed next to him, she paused and wrapped her arms around him.
Carlisle was so taken by surprise that he stiffened and she immediately dropped her arms.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, about to walk away. "I just wanted to say thank you…"
She refused to meet his gaze.
"No, I…"
Unable to find the right words to express what he wanted to say, he took her in his arms, hugging her back. She felt warm against his chest, and he didn't want to let her go.
He had to, however, and he did so with a heavy heart.
She smiled at him, a faint blush on her cheeks, and stepped away.
Reaching the door, she turned around and, with one last blinding smile, said :
"See you soon, Carlisle."
Grinning at that perspective, he answered :
"Goodbye, Esme."
Once she was gone, he sat on the now empty bed and took a little time to breathe and slow down his heart. Without her, the hospital room seemed dull and dark, though the sun was still shining through the windows. He missed Esme already.
He needed to go and take care of other patients, but before that he took her note out of his pocket, grabbed his phone, and added her to the list of his contacts. He should probably have named the contact Esme Evenson, or even Mrs Evenson, but he couldn't. After all, she had asked him to call her Esme, hadn't she ? He was going to put away the note, but then he noticed a few lines under her number. Meet me for coffee after the check-up next week ?
Upon reading these words, his heart, which he had tried to calm down, started thumping faster, and his cheeks turned red again. It was lucky he was alone.
He couldn't wait for this week to go by.
Carlisle had decided not to text Esme right away in an attempt to seem detached.
The next evening, after a day spent thinking of Esme every time he wasn't treating a patient or speaking with a nurse or a fellow doctor, he gave in and seized his phone.
After long minutes spent carefully arranging and rearranging every word, wondering if he should put an exclamation mark or a simple dot, if he should address her by her name, by her name and her last name, or not mention her name at all, he wrote :
C : Hi, how are you?
After a moment of reflection, he added :
C : It's Carlisle Cullen, by the way in case she hadn't entered his number in her phone yet. He'd thought about saying only It's Carlisle, but in the end he'd put his last name too in case she'd forgotten who he was.
He was definitely not overthinking this. Since when had texting become this complicated ? He was almost sweating while he waited for her answer. Then he realized that it was late and that she was most likely sleeping.
However, a few minutes later – he was laying in his bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking about her smile again – she answered him.
E : hi! she said. i'm better now, thanks!
Then, a little later :
E : how are you ? did you have a good shift ?
She cared about his day ? Carlisle felt flustered, until he realized that it was probably only politeness.
C : It was good, thank you. Did you have a good day ?
E : it was okay :/
Carlisle frowned.
C : Oh. Were you in any pain ?
E : not exactly. it's just my job. i don't enjoy it very much, and coming home isn't much of a relief, but i feel better now. thanks for texting me :)
Carlisle's heart jumped (again). She felt better because he was texting her ? He felt like he'd faint. He probably would, but he needed to answer Esme first.
C : You're very welcome, Esme.
(He couldn't resist typing her name.)
C : To tell the truth, I like texting you.
It was true. It had already become Carlisle's favorite activity (although he'd only be doing it for a few minutes), second only to actually talking with her. Time couldn't pass quickly enough until he saw her again.
He looked at his text again and wanted to kick himself. She was going to think he was crazy. But no. She only replied :
E : i like it too.
Carlisle barely kept himself from letting out a joyful cry. She liked texting him too !
E : by the way, thanks for helping me when you had to inject pain medication
E : holding your hand really helped
E : i trust you when you say lots of women would've dreamt of being in my place
Carlisle was definitely going to faint. This wasn't possible. He must have fallen asleep. It had to be a dream. He pinched himself, rubbed his eyes, but the text was still there. He didn't know how to answer. 'Thank you' ? Nope. Carlisle racked his brains, trying to come up with something better. 'I enjoyed holding your hand too' ? Too cheesy. And, as a doctor, he was supposed to do his duty, not concentrate on holding hands with patients. Um… What about 'Lots of women indeed' ? Definitely not. 'I was actually flirting with you' was just plain stupid and didn't make any sense.
In the end, he answered :
C : I'm happy that it helped :)
He didn't usually use smileys like that, but he'd mimicked hers. He thought them cute.
E : i'm going to bed, talk to you later?
Carlisle was a little disappointed. He would've wanted this online conversation to last longer. But of course she had to sleep. It was already late. He was glad that she wanted to do it again.
C : Of course. Good night
E : sweet dreams!
Carlisle turned off his phone and changed into his pajamas. Sweet dreams. It was such an Esme thing to say. Carlisle loved it.
Unlike most nights, he fell asleep quickly.
From this day, Carlisle and Esme texted each other every evening. They learned about each other – tiny, unimportant things (their favourite ice cream flavours, for example), but still. Carlisle was glad of every scrap of Esme's soul he got. When they met again in person, they didn't feel like strangers nor like doctor and patient anymore.
"Good morning, Esme," Carlisle called as he entered her room.
She was in the same room as last time.
"Hello, Carlisle," Esme greeted him.
After a week without seeing her bright smile, Carlisle's knees nearly buckled. At least, thanks to their nightly conversations, he felt more comfortable around her.
"How's the hand ?" he asked.
"Aren't you the doctor ?" Esme teased.
Carlisle smiled, then said :
"Let me have a look."
She held out her injured hand. He undid the bandage, taking care not to pull too hard or hurt Esme in the process. Putting away the fabric, he examined her hand, and found the cut well in the way of healing.
"No signs of infection," he noted. "I think you'll be just fine," he told Esme.
"That's great."
She smiled, got up and gathered her things. She was going to go, but Carlisle could see she was hesitating.
"Yes ?" he prompted.
"Um, I was just wondering…" she said nervously. "If you had seen my note…?" she finished.
She was looking anywhere but at Carlisle, whose face was on fire again. Of course he had seen it. He'd wondered about broaching the subject since he'd entered the room, but couldn't find a way to do so. In the end, he'd cowardly hoped she'd speak about it first.
"Yes I have," he said.
She was still embarrassed. Did she think he hadn't talked about it yet because he didn't want to go ?
"As it happens, I was just wondering… When do you want to go ?" he asked.
She abruptly looked up at his face to see if he was serious. With his gaze, he assured her that he was. Her beautiful smile bloomed again on her face.
"I suppose now would not be a convenient time ?" she guessed.
"Actually, now works just fine for me. It's the end of my shift," he explained.
He'd taken care of it, trading hours with Dr Gerandy so that he'd get more time with her without having to go.
"Wonderful ! Let's go now, then ?' she proposed.
"That's fine by me," he said.
He got an idea.
"Do you have a place in mind, or can I suggest somewhere ?" he asked.
"We can go wherever you want," she answered.
"Well, I'd like to go home to drop my things and change. Would you mind coming with me and staying for coffee ?"
"Absolutely not, it's a very good idea. And it's convenient for you. I shouldn't stay long, though, I wouldn't want to keep you from sleeping."
"I'm not tired," he protested.
He had been before, but the electric shock of seeing Esme had made his heart rate reach a speed he hadn't believed possible before, awakening him in a much more efficient manner than coffee or Coca Cola could ever be.
"I'll pretend to believe that lie," Esme said.
He couldn't help feeling pleased that she seemed to care about his health.
"I promise it's true," he insisted nonetheless. "I feel much more awake now that you're here."
He immediately flushed beet red. What did he have in mind ? She was going to laugh at him.
"Well. Maybe you're the reason why my hand healed so quickly."
Carlisle looked at her. She stared back at him, hesitant and confident at the same time. Her cheeks were pink, but her gaze was unwavering. He stayed silent and blushing, not knowing what to answer. In the end, he only said :
"Let's leave and go take our coffee, shall we ?"
She nodded, and they left the room.
They were walking past the reception. The receptionist said :
"Goodbye, Dr Cullen ! Goodbye, Mrs Evenson !"
It all came back to Carlisle, and he almost tripped on the edge of the few steps right outside the hospital. Esme gripped his hand and said :
"Are you okay, Carlisle ?"
"I'm fine," he mumbled.
"It seems you are tired," she said, half joking.
He was too caught up in his thoughts to answer. The innocent goodbyes of the receptionist had reminded Carlisle that Esme, no matter how charming she was, was married. She had a husband, whom she no doubt loved very dearly and maybe even had children with, unlike himself, who had lived alone ever since he'd left his parents' house. He'd imagined that Esme liked him, when he'd just been entertaining foolish dreams. She was only being her normal, lovely self. She wasn't at all flirting with him. And this meeting for coffee wasn't a date ; it was merely an agreeable way to spend time with a good friend.
Esme had just friendzoned Carlisle without realizing it.
"Carlisle ?"
He turned his head, meeting her anxious hazel eyes. There would never be love in her gaze when she looked at him. Carlisle immediately conjured in his mind the image of her faceless husband. The man was holding Esme in his arms, and she was looking at him fondly. Then she leaned in, their mouths grazed and Carlisle erased the picture from his mind with a slight shudder.
"Carlisle ?" Esme repeated, lightly squeezing his hand.
He realized all the time they'd kept walking, she hadn't dropped his hand. He held hers tighter and, trying to smile, he said :
"I'm fine. I'm sorry, Esme, I was just –" he waved his free hand around his head " – thinking," he finished lamely.
Esme smiled, and he almost tripped again.
"I forgive you," she declared.
"Thank you."
The hell with her husband, Carlisle decided. They'd talked every day for a week and she'd never mentioned him. Carlisle would enjoy every smile, every touch Esme bestowed upon him, even if she didn't have romantic intentions. He'd stay silent about his own feelings, and appreciate every second he spent in her company.
The coffee they shared was so pleasant that they decided they'd do it once a week. They ended up meeting several times a week, always at Carlisle's house. For a mysterious reason, Esme didn't want to go to hers. The days they couldn't meet in person, they conversed on their phones.
Carlisle learned Esme had been scared of needles ever since a vaccination with a doctor who'd been a little too rough. She loved Skittles, sunshine, cats, walking along the river, Jane Austen. She talked a lot about her brother Edward and her best friend Rosalie. The two women were so close and had known each other for such a long time that they felt like family too. Her and Edward's parents had died a few years ago. Edward now lived in their house. Her room had become the music room where Edward played the piano and taught it to his students. He divided his time between composing music, teaching the piano at home or in a music school not far from there. Rosalie worked as a secretary, and her boss took every opportunity he got to make her do his work in his place. She didn't like her job, but she needed the money it brought her. Her parents had died around the same time as Esme's, but they'd left all they had to Rosalie's two brothers. They were old-fashioned, and believed male heirs should inherit everything they had. Left with nothing, Rosalie had begun cleaning rich people's houses, before finding this job. As horrible as it was, she'd told Esme it was still better than before, and she needed it to survive, as her brothers kept all the money to themselves.
Carlisle told Esme everything about his life, which wasn't much. He'd had a quiet childhood, very good marks at school, and had decided to become a doctor, much to the disappointment of his father, who'd hoped his son would take up his job. Carlisle loved working at the hospital, though some days Esme spent their time together comforting him after the loss of a patient. Carlisle always felt better after talking to her. Before her, he'd tried to forget it with the help of alcohol, but it hadn't worked very well. One day, he told her, he'd woken up and found out that while drunk he'd sent a text to every single one of the contacts on his phone saying that he loved them very much and that he was going on vacation to the Bahamas. They laughed when he told her about the surprise on everyone's face when he'd showed up at the hospital that day (most of his contacts were colleagues).
One day, they playfully called each other 'Carl' and 'Es', before deciding it felt a little weird. Sometimes the nickname slipped from one of them's lips, and they had fun reminiscing about the joke.
They talked about everything together, but not once did Esme speak of the man she was married to, nor of any children she might have. Carlisle wondered if her husband was a violent man who mistreated and terrified her, but Esme never bore any injury. Maybe she hides them, he once thought, but on a particularly hot day, after checking to see if there were any bruises on her bare arms and legs, he dismissed this theory and took every chance he had of gazing appreciatively at her.
Finally, he found the courage to broach the subject. It was on one of those times when she'd come to his place.
"Tell me, Esme, what does your husband think of us ?" he asked with a gesture of his hand that included the two of them.
Esme, who was taking a sip of coffee, nearly choked on it.
Carlisle's face went red again. He hadn't meant for his sentence to sound so suggestive.
"I'm sorry," he said, handing her a napkin. "I mean, isn't he scared that I'll steal his wife or something ? I know it's ridiculous – that it's not like that between us – but some people are jealous."
He grinned to show he wasn't being serious.
"Well," Esme said, putting her mug back on the table. "My husband doesn't care very much what I do or who I spend my time with."
Carlisle's smile disappeared.
"Oh."
What a stupid man. If Carlisle had been blessed with the luck of being loved by Esme, he'd never be so insensitive. He'd take care of her like the most precious treasure on Earth, and listen to every word that slipped past her lips with religious devotion – like he was doing right now. If Esme loved him – but she didn't love him, he reminded himself.
"Do you love him ?" he asked before he could stop himself.
From her answer depended the entirety of his tiny hopes. If she said yes, then he was doomed. If she said no, however…
She hesitated. Then, looking straight in his eyes, as if she could tell how important what she'd say was, she admitted :
"No. I don't. Whatever vague affection I have ever felt for him has long faded."
Carlisle's inner self let out a cry of victory. Esme didn't love her husband ! Maybe he did have a chance, after all…
"Why did you marry him in the first place ?" he asked.
"I thought I was in love with him. I realize only now that I was not. He doesn't love me either. I'm sure he only married me to have someone cook his meals and clean the house for him," Esme explained in a voice that wasn't bitter, only regretful.
Once again, what a fool that man was. If Carlisle was Esme's husband – but he was not.
"I bet Rose hates him," he said in an attempt to cheer her up. He always called Rosalie 'Rose' because Esme did. After hearing her say that name so many times, Carlisle had picked up the habit.
Esme chuckled.
"Indeed she does," she laughed. "She once told me that if Charles was handsome, she'd understand me better, but she says he's as ugly as a horse's ass."
Carlisle snickered. He agreed with Rosalie. Charles – since that was his name – was loathsome indeed. Even if he'd never seen the man, he hated him for neglecting Esme in such a manner.
"Do you think he's handsome ?"
Carlisle raised his eyebrows at Esme.
"There was a time when I did find him quite cute. That time is long over now," she answered.
She added thoughtfully :
"Rose always said I have horrid taste in men."
They smiled at each other.
Carlisle wanted to ask her if she found him handsome, but he didn't dare. After a short silence, she changed the topic of the discussion.
After this enlightening conversation, Carlisle thought about trying to kiss Esme. Sometimes, at night, he dreamed he did it. At first, she was surprised, of course, but then she said :
"I thought you'd never do it."
And then she threw herself at him, kissed him passionately, then opened the first button of his shirt… and that was where the dream got out of hand.
Of course, as much as Carlisle wanted to kiss Esme, he knew that he'd never dare do it in real life. Besides, she didn't want to kiss him. What if he kissed her, and she slapped him, then left and he never saw her again ? What if he asked if he could kiss her, and she laughed at him before leaving and he never saw her again ? Carlisle couldn't risk it. Every day he fell more in love with Esme. She was kind, smart, and funny. Carlisle had never enjoyed anyone's company more. He didn't want to ever lose hers.
"Where's your ring ?" Carlisle suddenly asked one evening when Esme had come to visit him. They were sitting on the couch. Their cups of coffee were laid on the table in front of it.
Esme looked down at her bare finger and said :
"I took it off."
"But why ?" Carlisle asked.
"I'm going to divorce Charles," Esme explained.
Carlisle grinned.
"That's great !" he exclaimed.
Stop being so enthusiastic, he chided himself. It wouldn't change anything between them. Still, it was one of the best days of his life.
Esme laughed before his happiness.
"Yep. Rose convinced me. He's been cheating on me for quite a long time."
Ugh. That guy was so dumb. He was married to the most incredible woman on the planet and he cheated on her ? If Carlisle was married to Esme… Here we go again, he sighed interiorly. She won't marry you. She doesn't even like you !
"She was right to encourage you," Carlisle said. "You deserve way better than him."
Or than me, he completed in his mind.
"You're sweet," Esme said affectionately.
"I'm serious," Carlisle insisted. "You take care of everything and ensure his comfort, he gets to spend every day with someone as perfect as you, and he has the gall to go see somewhere else ?"
Esme smiled, and as usual Carlisle's heart accelerated.
"You sound like Rosalie. You're so kind to me. I love you both so much."
Carlisle was about to faint. Esme had told him she loved him. Even if it wasn't in the way he would've wanted, she loved him. Carlisle felt so lucky.
"I love you, too," he said.
Except he meant it in a romantic way. It must have been written in his eyes, because she was looking in them and her expression changed ever so slightly. She knew him so well. The contrary was also true, but this time Carlisle couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"Do you ?" she asked.
Perhaps Carlisle was only imagining things, but it felt like she was asking him if he loved her like a lover. Carlisle knew what to answer. He was still scared she'd laugh at him and go away, but something in her eyes told him she wouldn't. He leaned closer to her and breathed :
"I do."
She stayed unmoving for a few seconds. The living room was silent, the only sounds that could be heard were the steady rhythm of their breaths and the thumping of Carlisle's heart.
Then Esme leaned in, too. She was only centimeters away from his face. He could see faint traces of jade in her irises.
"Do you really ?" she repeated.
This time, her meaning left no doubt.
"I do," Carlisle said again.
He was lost in her gaze, his mind blank, unable to move or breathe or do anything. She lightly put her hands on his shoulders. Her touch felt so good. He closed his eyes, basking in it, and suddenly he could feel her mouth against his. He stiffened, his eyes opening in surprise, and she withdrew.
"You kissed me," he said.
He couldn't believe it. This day was definitely the best of his life.
Esme looked away, blushing lightly in embarrassment.
"I…I'm sorry," she said.
Carlisle frowned. Why was she sorry ? Did she regret kissing him ?
"I shouldn't have… Can you forget it ? I thought you…" she stammered.
She thought he was angry because she'd kissed him ? She thought he hadn't wanted her to kiss him ? This had been the best kiss of his entire life, and it had barely lasted a second !
"No, Esme, I…"
He couldn't find a way to express how wrong she was, so he only said :
"Please, kiss me again."
She looked at him, questioning if she'd heard right.
"Please, Esme, kiss me again," Carlisle repeated.
Her soft lips met his again, and she placed her hands in his hair. Carlisle positioned his on each side of her face and kissed her back. Their mouths moved together, creating a hot sensation in Carlisle's body which nestled at the pit of his stomach. She traced her tongue across his bottom lip. He couldn't stop himself from moaning against her mouth. The sound encouraged her, and she crossed the barrier of his lips, exploring his mouth with her tongue, trailing it lightly across Carlisle's. She tasted like sweet honey. Carlisle loved it. One of his hands slid from her cheek to her back and he drew her closer to him. Her fingers gripped his hair tighter. He didn't want to ever stop, but eventually they had to catch their breaths. With one last gentle kiss on her mouth, Carlisle broke away, panting.
"I love you," he said before he could stop himself.
"Guess what ?" Esme said playfully. "I love you, too."
"Really ?" he marveled.
Esme giggled.
"Would I have kissed you if I didn't ?"
Carlisle laughed. He felt euphoric. Esme loved him ! She'd kissed him ! Twice !
"All this time I dreamt of doing it… It's even better than I imagined," she confided.
"You dreamt of kissing me ?" he repeated, confused.
She'd stolen his line.
"Yes," Esme said. "It's been terrible, all these months of coming to your place almost every day and thinking about you almost all the time you were away, while I had to act like we were just friends. It was torturing. The worst was when you laughed, and then you looked at me with that adorable smile of yours, and your eyes sparkling. I wanted to kiss you so bad. I was afraid if I opened my mouth the only words that would come out were a declaration of my love."
Carlisle took her hands in his.
"Since I've met you, my life revolves around two things : you, and the hospital. I spent so much time wondering how to tell you I love you, all the while knowing I'd never be brave enough to do it. I can't tell you how blissfully happy I feel. I love you so much."
He punctuated his words with a light kiss on her knuckles.
"You're so kind with everyone, even with Charles – and God knows he doesn't deserve your compassion. You're beautiful, you're smart, you're funny – you're just you. I feel like I'll never be able to stand to be apart from you now that I know you feel the same about me. At first, I thought I had no chance, because you were married, and because you'd never be interested in me anyway. I thought the only one to hold a place in your heart was your husband. Then I learned you didn't love him – had never really loved him – and you spent so much time with me… I thought maybe – just maybe –there was a possibility that you could be in love with me."
"Oh, my darling," Esme sighed lovingly.
She'd called Carlisle her darling. He adored it. He wanted to hear it again.
She withdrew her hands from his. Carlisle grieved their loss, but she moved them to his cheeks. He relaxed, enjoying the warmth of her touch as she continued, staring into his eyes.
"Carlisle, the day we met, I was struck by your appearance. I told myself I needed to stop, that I was being stupid, that I was married – even if the man I was bound to didn't respect his vows, I had to be faithful to him. When you helped me with the injection, I was seduced by your kindness and the support you showed to a complete stranger, when so many would've just snapped at me to look away and bear the pain. When you advised me to look away, I was drawn to your face. It distracted me like no other thing could. I barely felt the sting in my arm."
She smiled. Carlisle was listening religiously. Was it true ? Was he really awake ? Could it be possible that she felt the same way he did about her ?
"When I learned that I'd have to leave and maybe never see you again, since I wasn't sure you'd be the one to do the check-up, I had the idea of the coffee. I didn't dare say 'date' : if I did, you'd most likely turn me down ; I had a husband, and you weren't the least bit interested in me… or so I thought," she teased, kissing the tip of Carlisle's nose.
"When you texted me that night, I was overjoyed. I'd been checking my phone all day, hoping you would. I was glad when these conversations became a habit : it was a pretext to learn every possible thing about you.
"The following week, when you didn't speak about my note, I thought you hadn't seen it. I asked about it, and right after felt very stupid for doing so : what if you'd purposefully ignored it, recognizing it justly as an attempt to obtain a date with you ?"
"I was too nervous to speak about it," Carlisle interrupted. "I was waiting for you to mention it."
Esme grinned.
"You really are quite shy, aren't you ?" she teased.
Carlisle smiled sheepishly, and she kissed him. Her lips were so warm. She was so warm. Carlisle loved her. He tried to capture her mouth again, but she pulled back.
"Let me finish first. I'll kiss you as much as you want after," she promised in a whisper.
Carlisle's stomach lurched in a pleasant way and he suppressed a shiver.
"Where was I ? Right. The coffee. Well, we started seeing each other very often, and my life was better than it had been in a long time. Charles didn't notice anything ; he never asked why I was never around the house. Despite myself, I couldn't help comparing him to you, who was always interested in every detail of what I did, of what I told you. I loved talking to you about myself, and seeing the concentrated expression on your face as you listened to me. I fell in love with you because you're such a gentle, compassionate, caring man. You're the opposite of Charles. I can't believe the mistake I made in marrying him. Thankfully, this absurdity will soon be over now."
Carlisle grinned. They would be free of him, and he'd be able to cherish Esme for every day of their lives.
"The few times you talked of Charles, I felt atrociously jealous," he confessed. "I'd always think that if I were in his place – if I had married you – if I were your husband – and I'd always stop myself from following this path, because I wasn't, and I would never be."
Esme smiled sadly, and kissed Carlisle's jaw.
"I'll be free soon," she assured.
Carlisle fidgeted a little, uncomfortable.
"What is it, darling ?" she asked.
A warm, fuzzy feeling ran through Carlisle's chest. He loved it when she called him that.
"It's only that… Does it bother you to be with me while you haven't divorced yet ?"
"Oh," she said, taken aback, and she dropped her hands from her cheeks, drawing a little apart from him on the couch. "I'm sorry. I'd forgotten your father was a pastor, and that you've been raised to be a good Christian. I should've waited for the divorce. I only thought, since you were so happy, and it'll be done so soon…"
"No, no, no !" Carlisle exclaimed.
He quickly took her hands again.
"I mean, of course, we can go no further than that if you don't want to, but I won't object if you do. Yes, my father was a pastor, and he's probably rolling around in his grave as I speak, but it's the 21st century, and, like you said, it'll soon be over. I don't mind if we do anything tonight. In fact, I was rather hoping we would…"
He dropped his gaze, blushing.
"I am a Christian, of course, and I hope I am no sinner, but I wouldn't consider this a sin. If you want to do it, and I want to as well, seeing as we're adults, I see no reason not to do it. Yes, you are technically still married to Charles, but the both of you don't share love. Doesn't this make your marriage void ? At least, I see it this way. I was only asking this to be sure that, if you choose to do this, you won't regret it."
A radiant smile spread on Esme's lips, and Carlisle stayed staring at her face, mind blank. She took his head in her hands and said :
"Carlisle Cullen, you are truly extraordinary."
And then she kissed him again. Carlisle feared if they continued in this way, he would have a heart attack. He was aware of every part of their bodies that was touching, his body buzzing with adrenaline. His brain couldn't produce any rational thought. He could only wrap his arms around Esme's waist and kiss her too, again and again and again. When they finally broke apart and he emerged from the haze, he was laying on the couch, and she was on top of him. She dropped her head on his chest, breathing heavily.
"I can hear your heart beating," she whispered, a smile full of awe on her face.
Carlisle tightened his arms around her.
"I love you," he said.
She laughed.
"I love you, too."
"What were we saying before ? I can't remember," Carlisle said.
He honestly couldn't recall what they were talking about. Esme's kiss had erased his mind.
She giggled again.
"I was marveling at how amazing you are."
"Oh," Carlisle said, embarrassed. "And may I know why do you think that ?"
She propped herself up on her elbows to look him in the eye.
"I can think of a billion reasons, but if I listed them all we'd be stuck here until tomorrow."
"I wouldn't mind," Carlisle murmured.
He felt so relaxed, nestled against the cushions of the couch, holding Esme's warm body against his.
"I would imagine we'd be more comfortable in your bed," Esme said in a serious manner.
Carlisle flushed deep red.
"I mean… if you want to ?"
Her voice trailed off, unsure.
"Of course I do, my darling," Carlisle said. "In fact, let's head to my bedroom at once."
She lifted herself off him, and held her hand out to him to help him get off the couch. Once he was standing, he took her hand and led her to his room. She'd already seen it : the first time she'd come to his house, he'd given her a tour.
As soon as he opened the door, she pushed him gently and he sat on his bed. She quickly joined him, and buried her hands in his hair. Bringing his head closer and closer to hers until their noses almost bumped, she whispered :
"Are you sure you want to do this ?"
"Yeah," Carlisle answered after a few seconds. "Are you ?"
"Yes," she stated confidently.
"I love you so much," he breathed directly in her ear.
She shivered, and kissed him passionately.
Carlisle sensed the sun through his closed eyelids. He yawned, and turned slightly away from it. Blinking, he opened his eyes and slowly emerged from his slumber. He was laying on his back, Esme still sleeping soundly next to him. Her head rested on his bare chest, and her arms were draped across his waist. He was holding her, arms tight around her midriff. They were both naked under the sheets.
Carlisle's lips stretched in a blissful smile. He'd never felt so good before. The previous night had been amazing. Esme was amazing. God, Carlisle loved that woman so much. He couldn't believe she shared his feelings.
He kissed her hair, and she moved a little. Carlisle turned them around so that he was on top of her, taking care not to wake her too abruptly. She groaned a little, but didn't open her eyes. Carlisle kissed her forehead, and she fidgeted a little. He kissed her left cheek, her chin, and, finally, softly pressed his mouth to hers. She moved her arms to his shoulders, and kissed him back. Carlisle smiled against her lips. She was awake.
"Good morning, my love," he whispered.
"Morning, sunshine," she muttered.
Her eyelids fluttered, then drew open and Carlisle lost himself in her hazel gaze. She smiled at his sight.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you, too."
Carlisle would never get tired of these words.
"How does breakfast in bed sound to you ?" he suggested.
"Mmmm… Not now, I don't want you to go," she answered, tightening her hold on his waist.
"Sounds good to me," he replied cheerfully.
He didn't want to leave the bed either.
He nestled himself around her, burying his face in her caramel hair. Splayed on his pillow, waving gently all around her like a halo, shining a little in the daylight, they looked gorgeous. She looked gorgeous.
"You look like an angel," he told her, propping himself up on one elbow.
She laughed.
"So do you."
She pulled him to her by the back of his neck and kissed him.
After a long time laying in bed, cuddling, kissing and making love again, they finally got up. They took a shower, before heading to the kitchen to eat breakfast.
"Would you… come live here ?" Carlisle suggested shyly.
His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His face was bright red.
"I mean. If you want to ?"
Esme chuckled.
"You really are that nervous about it ?"
He shrugged. The tone of his skin spoke for him.
"Obviously, the answer is yes. I want to move in with you. But maybe we should wait for the divorce to be official ? I mean, I know we just slept together, but…"
It was Esme's turn to look down, blushing.
"I understand," Carlisle said hurriedly.
He would've waited a thousand years if it meant living with Esme after. He'd do anything to make her feel comfortable.
"Thank you, darling."
She squeezed his hand gratefully, then continued eating.
"Do you mind if I tell everything to Rose ?" Esme asked once they were finished. "I'm supposed to dine with her tonight."
"Of course I don't mind. I look forward to meeting her and Edward."
"I'm sure they'll love you."
"I'm not so sure about that part," Carlisle said, half-joking.
Esme threw him a disbelieving look.
"Stop being so modest. You're a great person. Rose might take some time to accept you, because she doesn't trust people much. She's very protective, and I love her, but sometimes she goes a little too far. I wouldn't worry though," she added, catching Carlisle's expression. "Even if she does seem reluctant at first, eventually she'll see how wonderful you are."
"You think I'm wonderful ?" Carlisle asked.
Esme laughed, then kissed him.
"You're wonderful," she breathed against his mouth.
"I love you, Esme," he said. "You're wonderful, too. I'm going to miss you, even if I'll see you tomorrow. Will you text me ? To tell me how Rosalie took the news ?"
It was merely a pretext to make sure he'd hear from her.
"I will, I promise," she answered. "I've got to go now, though," she said sadly.
Carlisle sighed.
"We'll see each other tomorrow," she reminded him. "Even if the time between now and tomorrow seems so long. I'll miss you so much. I already know I'll only be thinking of you all day."
Carlisle took her in his arms, and they stayed like that for a few minutes, enjoying each other's closeness. Finally, Esme pulled away a little and kissed him. What had started as a chaste, innocent kiss quickly heated. Both didn't want to let go. In the end, Carlisle's sense of duty called him and he had to stop.
"Tomorrow," he whispered fervently in her ear.
She kissed him again, then broke away. He couldn't resist dropping one last kiss on her lips, then another on her cheek, then another under her jaw, and then they were kissing again fervently, as though they'd never see each other again.
Finally, Esme whispered :
"Darling, I really have to go. I love you."
"I love you," Carlisle answered breathlessly.
With one last beautiful smile, Esme left Carlisle alone in his house.
Carlisle's memories faded away as his voice broke. His gaze, lost in the reminiscence of Esme, focused again on Edward and Rosalie's faces, listening attentively.
"That's it," he whispered. "I waited for her to text me, but she didn't. She didn't answer my calls, either. She said she'd tell Rose – I'm sorry, can I call you Rose ? I always do, because Esme always called you Rose."
Rosalie nodded her assent.
"She said she'd tell you how she met me, and that she was going to divorce Charles, and then come live with me. So what happened if she didn't ?"
Rosalie took a deep breath, and said :
"Listen. This is going to be very hard, but… Esme is dead."
Carlisle couldn't believe what he'd heard.
"What…?" he muttered, confused.
Surely this was a joke. Surely they just had a sick sense of humour. Surely Esme's phone was broken, which explained why she hadn't answered, and she'd been too busy at work to go eat dinner with Rosalie.
Carlisle looked hopefully at Edward, hoping he'd tell him that of course this was a joke. But Edwrad only gazed back at him, his eyes wet. Esme's eyes.
Carlisle looked at Rosalie again. She was crying, too.
"But…"
This wasn't possible. Esme was alive, she had to be. When he'd go back to his house, she'd arrive, her wonderful smile lighting her face, and she'd run into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist. She'd look up into his eyes, her gaze tender and loving, and she'd say :
"I missed you."
And then she'd kiss him, and he would kiss her back, and then they would…
Edward shook his head, as if he'd heard Carlisle's thoughts.
"My sister is dead, Carlisle," he breathed in a broken whisper. "She's not coming back."
Carlisle couldn't believe he'd been so happy only two days ago. He'd even take the anguish of the last few hours. He'd finally admitted his feelings to the woman he loved, and she loved him in return. They'd made love, and Carlisle had enjoyed every second of it. He'd woken up with a warm presence in his bed, that of someone he loved. They'd parted with the promise of seeing each other again, and soon being able to wake up with each other every day for the remainder of their lives.
Carlisle felt like the ceiling had crashed on his head. Every part of his body hurt, but his chest most of all.
Slowly, he put his arms around his leg, his head on his knees, and shut his eyes. Unaware of the world around him, he lost himself in a gray haze. No sounds came to his ears. He floated in the fog, he couldn't tell for how long. He couldn't feel anything now, but that wasn't necessarily good news. What was he doing here again ? Esme. As soon as the name passed through his mind, her lovely silhouette appeared, piercing the clouds. Suddenly, Carlisle's chest was pierced by a violent pain, and he screamed silently. Touching her was his cure, he knew it in his heart. He extended an arm towards her, and she tried to seize his hand, but a gust of wind separated them. Her face mirrored his panicked expression. Esme, he called. Esme ! Come back ! Please! He begged to no avail : he was taken further and further away from her, until he couldn't see her at all.
The wind finally dropped him and he opened his eyes. He was lying on the couch in Edward's living room. Behind the window, the sky was dark. It seemed he'd stayed quite a long time in the grey haze. Esme. Carlisle closed his eyes again and found himself wandering in the fog again.
At least, there, Carlisle didn't feel the pain in his chest as acutely, and he might get to see Esme again. Esme.
I know this was super long, but I couldn't find where to cut. Tell me what you thought !