So sorry for the delay! Life has been crazy, work has been kicking my ASS, and my son starts preschool next week for the first time ever *sobs*

Hoping to update again next Friday, though, because my mornings just freed up a bit more! Thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts, it really means SO MUCH, even a simple thought to let me know you're still here!

.
sixteen
enchanted
.

"Can I kiss you?"

When Edward speaks, the spell is broken and my eyes flutter open.

I can't.

I shouldn't.

I won't.

"Not yet," I whisper.

The delicious tension between us shifts, those lines that were blurring coming back into focus.

He doesn't protest and instead, puts some respectable space between us as he sits back.

I search his face for petulance. For the signs of an entitled, egotistical man who was expecting to get laid tonight and just got rejected.

But all I find is earnest acceptance.

It's honestly really fucking refreshing.

"I'd like to take it slow," I explain, even though I feel silly. It would've been just a kiss. That's all. One measly kiss. I could have—should have—been able to do that.

"That's fine," he says. "I'm not trying to rush this either."

Unfortunately, I imagine it then—us kissing. His warm mouth on mine. His palm tangled in my hair before sliding down my spine. Strong hands gripping my hips and pulling me on top to straddle him. His length straining in his slacks, pressing against that delicious spot between my legs.

I shake my head.

Clear the vision.

Okay, so it probably wouldn't have been just a kiss.

"It's not you, it's me," I blurt because I'm off my game here. I don't know what's up or down. Right or wrong.

No, I do know what's wrong.

Kissing him would be wrong.

Being here is wrong. But that isn't stopping me, is it?

This is riskier than I imagined. Even though I'm still unsure about his involvement with Rosalie, my body doesn't care about that. It's still reacting to him. Fucking pheromones.

But as much as I find him attractive, a kiss might mean something else to him. It might accidentally lead to more. And I don't want to do that. I won't do that.

My expression must be a mixture of confusion and overthinking because he says, "Bella, it's okay. Seriously. I'm not mad."

"I have trust issues," I admit, the honest words just tumbling out of me.

"Who doesn't?" he asks rhetorically. "But yeah, I kind of picked up on that with you."

"You did?"

He nods. "Just your overall demeanor. Like you're one second away from either slapping me, kneeing me in the balls, or kissing me. It's interesting, to say the least."

I can't help but laugh, which makes him smile. "So you like aggressive women?" I joke.

"I like you," he says simply, and my stupid heart slams against my stupid chest. "You keep me on my toes. You surprise me and I enjoy our conversations. And hearing about your family and your early life just… I don't know. I know you were embarrassed like you overshared. But it resonated with me because I could relate."

I soften from his reassurances. "Thank you for saying that. And… the more I get to know you, the more I… like you, too," I reluctantly confess, this bitter truth on my tongue.

He laughs, eyes crinkling around the edges. "Wow. Was that as hard to admit as it was to hear you struggling to say it?"

"Stop it," I say, laughing with him. "I'm bad at dating. Or whatever this is. I know. Sorry."

"No, you're not. And don't be sorry. I want your trust more than I want a kiss," he says like a smooth motherfucker. "I'm enjoying getting to know you. I'm not on a timeline. I'll follow your lead."

"Great," I sigh, adding his understanding nature to a long list of shit I didn't expect tonight. "So we're on the same page."

He faintly smiles. "Yeah. It seems so."

My phone chimes in my bag. "I should probably check that."

"Interior design emergency?"

"No, just…" I don't expand on who might be texting me right now, and he catches on that I'm not going to.

He clears his throat. "Take your time."

Edward stands and takes the empty bottle of wine into the kitchen and I reach for my clutch, pulling out my phone.

It's Jas.

Jasper: Let me know when you get home. Send proof of life if you can. Of Edward, not you. I think he's more in danger tonight than you are.

Rude.

I send him a selfie of me flipping off the camera.

The faucet turning on catches my attention. From here, I can see Edward standing at the sink and rinsing dishes.

I'm not sure if he stepped away to give me privacy to check my phone or to put some distance between us after I rejected him.

I wouldn't blame him for the latter.

A pang of guilt punches my stomach. It's stupid that I feel bad for not kissing him. And to make things worse—or better—he didn't even make me feel bad about it.

He's full of green fucking flags tonight.

The more I get to know him, the less I believe he was capable of hurting Rosalie. But the anonymous tip that Jackson received is in the back of my mind reminding me that even if Edward isn't responsible for her disappearance, he might not be completely innocent, either.

Feeling bad, I get up from the couch and stack the leftover dishes from the table, then wordlessly join him at the sink where we work together to clean his kitchen.

It's intimate in a way I wasn't expecting. Familiar, maybe. Like we do this all the time.

"My cousin texted me," I offer. "Just making sure everything is okay."

He eyes me, handing me a soapy plate to rinse and put in the dishwasher. "Was there a worry that things weren't okay?"

I smile somberly. "He's just protective."

We spend a few more minutes cleaning and when we're done, Edward starts the dishwasher.

"Thanks for helping," he tells me, leaning against the counter. "You didn't have to."

I wave him off. "It's the least I could do after such a nice night. But I should probably go now."

Disappointment flashes over his face. "I'm still enjoying hanging out, but if you need to leave…"

"It's almost eleven, and I have to work tomorrow, so. Yeah."

"Pete can take you home."

"It's okay. I can Uber."

"Please. I insist."

"Has your driver just been waiting out there the entire time?"

"No. But he only lives five minutes away. It's why I moved here from Bellevue."

I quirk a brow. "So he could drive your dates home?"

"No. His wife Maria is eight months pregnant and I felt guilty about making him commute."

"Well, that's nice of you," I say, and he just shrugs. "Isn't moving just so he's closer a hassle, though? I mean, why don't you just drive yourself places?"

I sense the vibe shift, like this is a sensitive topic. Which makes me insanely more curious.

"Ah. That's a story for date ten," he says, vague and playful, but his tone doesn't match the hesitancy in his eyes.

"Date ten? Wow. Way to drag out the mystery."

"Just playing the long game. You said you wanted slow, so." He smiles, using my words to his advantage. "I'd like to see you again."

I know this is a bad idea. I know what I'm doing is wrong. But I've already learned so many things about him tonight that I would've otherwise not known. Sure, he's been a little cagey and withholding truths. He's picking and choosing what he's open about. But I didn't expect him to tell me his entire life story tonight. That's not realistic.

I'm just starting to get a grasp on who he is, and he's willing to spend more time with me. I have to take this opportunity. I just need more time with him to connect the dots.

From my silence, he speaks. "No pressure. If you're not looking for anything serious, we can just have fun. Keep it casual."

I shift closer to him, but not touching.

"I don't exactly know what I'm looking for, but… I'm down to hang out again," I say, staring up at his expectant, delighted green gaze.

"Are you free next Saturday night?"

"Yes," I instantly say.

"Good, because I'm going to a charity event and need a date."

"What kind of event?"

"A gala."

"Never mind. I'm booked and busy that night," I jokingly quip, and he grins. "I'll be honest, I said yes thinking you were asking me out to dinner. Just us."

I'm not yet sure if being around others is smart or dangerous.

"I mean, the event isn't until next weekend so I'd definitely like to see you before then if I can," he says. "But you said you wanted to take things slow, so I figured eleven days was decent timing for another date."

Honestly, it's considerate of him. Most men I've dated or have shown interest in me are pushy, pompous, and can't take a hint.

Like Jackson.

"That's really nice of you, but I promise I didn't mean you had to wait a certain amount of time to ask me out again," I clarify.

"Okay, well I'd still love it if you came with me to the event. I know it might not sound fun. And maybe it won't be. But selfishly, it'd be more fun for me with you there. And there's free food and drinks."

I give him a look. "Free? Galas are never free."

"Free for you," he amends. "I'll buy your ticket."

I'm skeptical of his generosity. "How much are they?"

"Doesn't matter. It's for a good cause."

I think about it. "Which charity?"

"Surgeons of Hope."

I quickly try to think of reasons why I shouldn't go, but can't come up with any. If anything, maybe being in public is safer because there's less of a chance of anything romantic happening again.

"Okay, I'm in," I agree.

His eyes spark. "It's a date."

Pushing away the delighted thrill that shoots through me now that we have solid plans, I leave the kitchen to get my things. As I step into my heels and grab my clutch, Edward calls Pete, and I listen to his one-sided conversation, confirming I'm ready to go home.

After he hangs up, Edward holds out his hand and presents me with… nothing.

"You want to take this or leave it here?" he asks.

I'm confused for a second, but his amused expression lets me know it's that pretend key we've been tossing around all night to keep from getting too personal.

"You keep it safe," I say, watching as he slides his hand into the pocket of his slacks and pretends to put the key away.

He walks me downstairs where we wait on the sidewalk for a minute before the sleek sedan pulls up next to the curb.

Edward and I lock eyes.

I know I turned down a kiss earlier, so I doubt he'll try again. Which is fine. That's perfect. But I figure I need to give the guy something to solidify this as a decent date.

We still aren't equal heights even though I'm in heels. But I reach up and wrap my arms around his shoulders to hug him. If he's surprised, he doesn't act like it because immediately bends a little to make it easier for me, and wraps his arms around my lower waist to hug me back.

"I had fun," he murmurs.

Even if this date wasn't entirely real, I realize I was more myself tonight than I have been on most other first dates. But that's likely because I don't care about the outcome. I'm not trying to impress him or win him over. And there's something kind of freeing in that.

There's something very real about that.

Squeezing me tighter, he lifts me a bit so my heels no longer touch the concrete.

We hug for a beat longer, and he nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck, sending traitorous goosebumps across my skin.

As far as hugs go, it's… good. So, so good. It's a full embrace. Strong, but also gentle. Affectionate, yet vibrating with the undertone of attraction. It lasts longer than I expect it to. Five, ten, maybe even fifteen seconds long.

He sets me down but before we pull away entirely, my lips graze his cheek. Just a small peck.

"Thanks for tonight," I whisper.

I turn away before I can look at his face because I'm worried about what I'll find there.

Desire, hunger, unabashed interest.

I'm worried having him look at me like that will make my heart override my head and I'll kiss him.

I'm worried that if I kiss him, I won't stop.

He opens my door and I slide into the backseat.

"Goodnight, Bella." When I do finally look up at him, I don't find anything close to what I was imagining. All I see is quiet determination before his eyes shift to Pete, his tone loaded when he says, "Get her home safe."