Charlie was always the calm, collected parent. He had minimal expectations of Bella, but maybe that was only because she had continuously demonstrated her will to excel and achieve without much support.
But now, as Bella watched her father sprinkle a few spices into a pot, tiredly stirring a ladle into the soup, she was very unsure of his reaction to the sudden appearance of a certain gigantic rock on her finger.
And perhaps she was right to be nervous. An engagement to Edward Cullen made absolutely no sense.
Quietly, she came up to the kitchen and murmured a hello. Charlie acknowledged her with a nod, and suddenly a wave of guilt splashed down her spine. She hadn't been taking care of the house, and she certainly hadn't been the one cooking their meals. Bella frowned as she watched her father scrape some tomatoes into the soup. The skins were still on, and she knew he preferred them peeled.
"Should be ready in ten," he told her.
Twenty was more her estimate. "How was your day, dad?"
"My day?" He took a moment to consider, and then shook his head, as if to wake himself up. "The usual."
Bella was clutching her left hand behind her. "I just wanted to tell you that…"
Her mouth dried when he looked at her—some weirdly hopeful and expectant gaze that she refused to analyze, lest it make her cry right then and there.
She blurted, "I'm engaged."
"You're what?"
Flexing her fingers, she stretched out her hand from behind her, the giant diamond sparkling beneath the kitchen fluorescents. "Edward and I—" She cut herself off with a swallow when Charlie dragged one of his palms down his face.
He didn't say anything. Not for a while. Bella clutched her wrist, her fingers fidgeting with the abnormal growth that was the diamond.
The soup wasn't anywhere close to being done, but he shut off the stove with a loud click, and fully turned to her. "You're engaged."
She nodded.
"My daughter, Bella, who barely gets up before noon everyday—the one who hardly goes to class—is engaged?"
She remained silent.
"When was the last time you went to campus?"
"I went for my midterm." Her voice was small. "Chemistry."
"And how did that go?"
She hadn't seen Charlie this quietly angry since… Bella couldn't remember when she had heard this tone directed at her. When she had been an early teen, surely. "Fine."
He took a few deep breaths, stirring the soup one more time before banging the ladle on the side. With a sigh, he turned the stove back on, and waited until the light simmer returned. His voice was deathly quiet when he asked, "Is it him?"
Her heart skipped. "What?"
"Are you giving all of this up for Edward Cullen?"
"This?"
"Your future, Bella."
She was giving up her life. "No, dad."
"I just—I don't understand it." His anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sadness that Bella herself was too intimately familiar with it. "No matter how successful or wealthy, no man is worth losing your future over. In fact, what's worse is having to rely on him for the rest of your life." He looked at her, vaguely pained. "Bella, finish school. Get your degree, and then do whatever you want. But have your own safety net first. Your own life, and your own profession."
"I will do those things," she replied emptily.
Doubtfully, his eyes examined the ring. "Will you?"
They stared at each other until Charlie finally turned back to the stove. Bella, the coward that she was, went up to her room, because the disappointment on his face was infinitely worse than any anger he'd ever shown her.
When she got into the shower, she barely felt the scalding water, or the gentle tears that scraped down her face. The ring pulled at her hair and tangled into a few strands, until she was painfully, frustratedly, trying to yank it back out. When she tried to pull on it from her finger, it wouldn't budge. Her fingers were too swollen from the temperature and moisture, but she tried, and tried, desperately, and brokenly, to remove it from her body. But each pull and scrape only made it worse, trapping it between two knuckles.
When she finally wrapped a towel around herself, she hated who she saw in the mirror. Puffy eyes, puffy finger. If she could take off the ring to shatter her reflection, she would.
No part of her was surprised to see Jasper in her bedroom. He was standing at her bookshelf, flipping through one of her books.
With wet hair, she crawled into bed, facing away from him and towards the dark night seeping in from her window. With barely a whisper, she said, "He didn't take it well."
He only replied, "Did you expect him to?"
Bella closed her eyes, and then felt them get a little wetter when the covers shifted behind her. A cool hand slid over her torso, and the gentle tug that followed also pulled at her heart when she was pressed back against him.
"This is the most I can do with your shield," he murmured, the words ending in her neck. "Does it help?"
She only clutched at the hand that was draped over her, the thin, platinum band of her ring brushing over his knuckles. Silently, she was urging him to pull her closer, hold on tighter. Without him, she was afraid that she might just float away, and disappear.
When she woke the next morning, alone, she felt a momentary relief that it had all been a dream. The heaviness in her chest was gone, and so was the weight on her finger. In the early, hazy stages of wakefulness, she smiled at her hand—her naked, beautiful hand. But then her gaze slid to her nightstand, and she jolted when she saw the diamond staring back at her.
Edward took her to brunch, and Alice was naturally their chaperone. Port Angeles was the more hip place to do it all: the mimosas, the artisan coffee, and avocado toast. Alice sat beside them at their little table by the tall windows, cupping her delicate hands around a mug of black coffee. Edward reached forward to occasionally touch Bella's fingers, admiring the ring.
"It would look divine in sunlight."
"Just like you," Bella said, keeping the sarcasm low, and her tone genuine.
Glowing beneath the sun was the last thing she would have guessed a vampire to be capable of. Edward had described the phenomena as a weakness, since it drove them into hiding. They just looked too good in sunlight for it to be permitted among humans. It was the age-old problem of exposure. Though Bella, unsurprisingly, wished the sun would just directly kill them.
After watching Edward eat a quarter of an eggs Benedict and drink half a flute of a mimosa, they left the restaurant to stroll around the cutesy shops by the pier. Alice went in and out of some of them, returning with little paper bags of things she had purchased, all the while Edward kept Bella's hand on his forearm, giddily guiding her down the sidewalk, telling her about what an adventure it was to find her ring. Apparently, he had been sneaking off to Seattle for a few weekends with Alice.
"Harry Winston, was the best choice. Carlisle generally prefers to go through Tiffany's—they are an older, trusted company, but… I wish you could have been there with me. The prestige, and elegance in their displays. Their diamond analysis and quality verification…"
Weren't diamonds entirely worthless? A business scheme meant to put the price on rocks. Well, admittedly, very strong rocks.
"It's beautiful, Edward."
"Really?"
She looked up at him, at the concern on his face. "The waitress this morning kept glancing down at it as if it might just come off and hit her."
He smiled, and lifted her hand delicately, planting a kiss on her middle knuckle, right beside the diamond. "All the best for a Cullen bride."
"I hate when he pretends."
Bella sat tiredly at the other end of Jasper's desk, crossing her legs and fixing her dress so it stayed put. The burgundy sweater dress and skinny heeled boots Alice had shoved into her hands this morning had been the ensemble meant for their brunch outing.
"Pretends?" Jasper questioned, his fingers twirling a pen upon his desk.
Edward. "It never feels right. When he orders human food, and eats, and drinks."
Casually, he shrugged. "It's the illusion. This is the life Carlisle took away from him—the one you're letting him get a taste of. Have you ever thought how normal Edward must feel around you?"
"Normal?"
"You block his gift. You give him a chance to ignore his vampiric qualities—most of which he despises."
"Is that why we have three dinners and a movie outing planned for next week?" She scoffed. "He treats me like some wonder on a pedestal. As if he hasn't condemned me already. As if he chooses to ignore all of it."
"Edward treats you like a flower, Bella. He picked you from the garden, and stuck you in a vase. Your smell delights him, but he knows you're dying. He'll cling onto every bit of your humanity before he loses it completely."
She hoped she was a rose. Those could hurt if mishandled.
Jasper took the piece of paper beneath his hands, folded it, and placed it in an envelope.
Bella watched him, with his endless fiddling with stationary. "What is that?"
"A report."
"Of the Cullens?"
"Of course. The kings want to know that I'm serving appropriately, and they never mind the extra intel they get on any coven."
Bella shifted in her seat, her eyes on the envelope. "Am I in there?"
"Yes."
She looked at him. "Really?"
"It would be unusual if I didn't mention your engagement, when it's already the talk of our community."
"Are we in there?"
Jasper set the envelope down. "We?"
"Us," Bella clarified, a little stupidly. "Our… arrangement. Arrangements."
"No. If we reported every single contract that was ever drafted, we would get nothing done. If there's a violation of any contract, that's when you would bring it to court, and demand a trial."
And the contract validity was determined by Aro Volturi himself. When he touched you, he could see you signing, and agreeing.
"A trial," she considered.
The smile on his face was challenging. "If you were better at this, you would have come up with something that would punish me for backing out of our deal. Only then could you drag me to Italy and demand justice for the lack of a mating bond."
"I wouldn't want to be punished for refusing that. I wouldn't do that to you."
The pen was back in his grip, twirling round and round. "You have too much empathy for this world, sweetheart."
An endearment that felt more like a taunt. "Well, if you wanted to trap me in a mating bond, what would you have done?"
But the answer was so easy, wasn't it? And instantly, at that realization, her heart sank.
This was a feeling Bella tended to avoid like the plague. The one where you felt the floor beneath you vanish, your heart dropping low, usually triggered by some thought or event that paused your entire world. It was a feeling that bred avoidance and perfectionism. If you didn't fail, you couldn't be caught off guard.
Bella could barely breathe. "Alice is going to kill my mother. If I'm not mated to Edward, she's going to do it. The proposal… it was nothing. It means nothing."
"I was wondering when you would bring this up."
She gripped the armrests tightly, her mind racing. "We can't do this."
"Let me see if I understand this." Jasper leaned forward towards her. "You would rather be subjected to an eternity under Carlisle's thumb than have your mortal mother die?"
"Is that a fucking question, Jasper?
Mildly, he conceded. "Okay. So I don't understand it."
Was her eye twitching? Her hands certainly were. "This is my mother—"
"—who will die within the next fifty years regardless of what you do."
"You're cold," she sneered.
"Practical. You're not thinking like an immortal."
"Then why did I accept this damned ring in the first place?"
His attention narrowed in on her, acute, and assessing. "To keep suspicions low, if we are to keep up our arrangement."
Not to keep her mother safe. That wasn't what Jasper had been thinking at all.
You will accept Edward's proposal with a smile on your face.
They stared at each other until Bella finally broke off.
And then, with a deep sigh, Jasper told her, "You can't do this to yourself. You cannot save everyone."
She knew that, but it didn't make it any bit easier.
"This is the consequence of having human connections."
Bella remained silent—the sorrow very, very real. She didn't even flinch when he appeared in front of her, offering his hand.
"You should go home. We can talk more about the Tome tomorrow."
That was why she had come in the first place.
Her eyes fell to his hand, and the scars that began at his wrists. "Is this what being dead is like? Will my heart freeze over, as well? Will I stop caring about the things I care about now?"
"It's an adjustment of perspective."
Cruel. When Bella didn't accept his hand, he merely reached down and grabbed onto hers. Pulling her up, she barely stopped herself from crashing completely into him. Their closeness was natural by now, but it never failed to take her by surprise.
Though his words surprised her even more. "You look like you just might hate me."
"I don't hate you."
"Then what are you feeling?"
She shrugged defeatedly, her eyes lowering. "It doesn't matter. At all."
He lifted her hand, with that obnoxious diamond glittering proudly.
"You know," she said, "I would have thought Edward would ask Charlie before any sort of proposal, but… I don't know."
"Alice told him to avoid communication with your father. It would have gotten violent."
"What? Edward—?"
"No. Charlie. Do you realize how upset your father is? He doesn't know what to do with you."
Bella only grew smaller, shrinking away from Jasper. She didn't hate him, but she hated this.
"You've pulled away from your life, and you've pulled away from him. And doing so will only make this harder. When will you actually listen to me when I tell you to stop wasting these months?"
He watched her closely before grabbing at her wrist. He guided her to the bookshelves—to a section with thick, large hardcovers. His cookbooks.
"Pick something from here," he told her, the request almost comical.
"Why?"
"Because," he said, pulling one out for effect, "you're making dinner for your father."
Bella didn't need a cookbook.
Charlie's go-to favorite had always been a calming, slow-cooked beef stew. Add in a freshly baked apple pie for dessert, and it was a happy night. And since Jasper seemed intent on making sure Bella delivered for tonight, she sent him off to the store to pick up a grocery list of items necessary to make the magic happen.
She was organizing the kitchen by the time he got back, placing the paper bags on the counter. Bella reached into one and happily pulled out the two bottles of Burgundy wine.
Skeptically, Jasper asked, "Are those for you, or for the stew?"
"Both. Want some?"
She was only teasing, but the disturbed look on his face only made her giggle. The air around them was calm, and light, though there was something unsure that glossed over his face as he watched her pour herself a glassful of poison.
"Grapes are healthy, don't worry," she reassured as she took a sip.
"Tell me," he said. "What is the point of drinking this and applying your anti-aging regimen?" Bella was impressed he even knew anything about skincare. "It's very counterproductive. Alcohol ages you heavily."
Bella rolled her eyes. "And so does sugar, but none of that matters anymore. Besides, maybe I can afford to look a little older if I'm going to be frozen for the rest of eternity."
Thirty minutes later, the smell of beef and vegetables filled the kitchen. As the stew cooked in the oven, she quickly began working on the pie. Jasper didn't really offer to help, and she didn't need it anyway. He simply watched from a corner of the kitchen, occasionally on his phone, only moving when he was in the way.
"Jasper?" Bella arranged the lattice crust on top of the pie dish.
"Hm?"
"Would you stand by if Alice just started killing me?"
He put his phone down. "What?
She wiped her hands quickly on the cloth on the counter and then pressed the wine glass to her lips."Something tells me your own lesson wouldn't apply to you."
"My own lesson," he stated flatly, and then retorted, "Alice wouldn't kill you, Bella. And no, I wouldn't just stand by; it's in my contract to keep you safe."
"But if it wasn't that way? What if I were just some human connection that didn't matter?"
Slowly, understanding formed on his face. "Your situation is entirely different than your mother's."
She shrugged. "I know. But I still think I couldn't just stand by and watch it happen." She picked up another long piece of dough and laid it across the pie, adding to the lattice. "After I turn, I'll be strong. I can fight back when I know you won't."
Before she could reach for her glass, Jasper grabbed it, holding it hostage. "You won't be fighting anyone. You can't. Alice is a Cullen."
"I only serve them if I'm mated to you—when I get half of your sentence. But before that, there's nothing stopping me from hurting her, is there?"
Jasper stared at her with an expression she had never seen before. His crimson eyes wide, he looked at her as if he saw that dangerous potential. The inevitable loss of control. A liability. "Bella."
"Jasper."
He placed the glass down further from her. "The alcohol gives you too much courage. Reckless courage. Our whole arrangement is sensitive, and it must be planned precisely until completion."
"Then talk to me." She smiled at him, her face delectably warm. "How will you mate me to yourself, Jasper?"
"Well, we say the words—"
"I choose you. To respect, and protect until the end of our bond." She focused back on the pie, running her fingers around the dish to cut off any excess dough. "I choose you to strengthen my weaknesses, and share my grief. I choose you to protect our freedom, support our misfortune, and celebrate our triumphs. I choose—"
He cut her off, amused. "You've memorized it."
"Your Tome teaches all. I don't even think I need you anymore." Smiling gently at the unbaked pie, her eyes slid to his. "So, after the words, you give me a scar, and I give you one in return." She grabbed the cloth from the counter, wiping the flour from her hands, and then stood before him. "And… that's it."
"Right here." He brushed a few fingers up her neck, and held two at the base. "Yours will be right here."
"And they have to be matching," Bella said, her eyes darting to the spot where his neck met his shoulders. "You've thought about it."
"Endlessly," he murmured alluringly. "So many possibilities, but I know exactly how I want this to go." His hips dug into hers as she was pressed into the counter, one of his hands gripping her waist. "But wanting is vastly different than what needs to happen."
"The logistics," she breathed, a little dizzy. Him, or the wine? Both, she decided.
"Precisely. You change, and we'll have a window of time before Carlisle would even attempt to mate you to Edward. Your first few days will be hectic; a mess of hunger and blood."
The importance of this discussion was merely a brush against her skin. With his lips so close to hers, she didn't care one bit about these details he was telling her. "So, you won't have me properly. Is what you're saying?"
"I'm saying—"
He didn't have to say anything. He shouldn't have to. The haze was thick and seductive, and all she wanted was this in front of her.
So, she took it. Him. A flower, just for her.
Quickly pressing her lips to his, she felt that initial jolt of cold as it awakened her body. She had kissed a vampire before, and she more or less knew what to expect. She knew that by the time she grew accustomed to the temperature change, it would stop. The blood that rushed to her lips, plumping and softening them, would always be too much for Edward Cullen.
But what was too much for Jasper Whitlock? Because any of her previous expectations were being shredded to bits the moment she felt his tongue part her lips, seeking out her own. Sighing into him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, the hand on her waist gripping her tighter as she was pulled closer. The rhythm he kept was breathtakingly slow and achingly sweet, as if he savored every inch of her lips, tracing them with his own.
And then Jasper paused, leaning back slightly. An inch between them. His whisper blossomed against her lips, bringing chills down her spine. "He can't kiss you like this, can he?"
Her heart stuttering, she was barely aware of herself whispering back, "No."
That little response fueled him. Bella could tell, because she found herself on the counter, knocking over a salt shaker and just about everything else she couldn't give a damn about. Jasper's hands found her thighs, encouraging them to wrap around him. His force was strong, and she could only yield as her back bowed over the counter, his body molding against hers.
Distantly, a timer went off. The stew. The stew was done.
But Jasper continued to ignore the blaring of her phone as he explored her mouth. God, he was so deliciously hard against her. If Bella had downed another glass of that marvelous wine, she would have stripped bare right then and there. And she probably would have broken her phone, because she would have thrown it straight out the window.
Jasper couldn't ignore the noise for long. He pulled away abruptly with a curt growl, "Your damn phone, Bella."
Her heart was everywhere as she watched him try to tap at it, flour scattered all over the screen. She was half convinced his finger would go through the phone. Finally, when it cooperated and quieted, Jasper returned to her and pulled her to him.
Bella let him kiss her once before saying, "I need to take out the stew. And you're not fucking me on this counter."
He grinned at her. "I'm not?"
"Come back to me when you fix your hearing."
Before she could wiggle down to the floor, he trapped her once more. Automatically, his hands squeezed her outer thighs. "Let me take you somewhere."
She picked up the cloth beside her and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "And let me remind you that this dinner was your idea."
He sighed, and there was something so delightful about it. Placing two hands on either side of her, he leaned down and nipped at her lip. Once. "Yes, but when do I get to eat?"
A/N: This chapter: Charlie's disappointment, a weird brunch, and perhaps a concerning habit of alcohol.
A little taste for what's coming up:
"Why Seattle?" He questioned.
"It's the only city my mom is willing to step foot in within Washington."
"You should be going south. Miami, Austin, L.A. Enjoy the sun with normalcy."
Bella paused, her eyes searching his with a little smile.
But he only scowled, reading her easily. "Don't stay in Washington for me."
See you next time.
