This night is far from over! So stay seated! lol


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twenty-six
i can see you
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"Wait, what?"

Edward's gaze is still past me while he speaks. "My folks are here."

"You're fucking with me," I insist, nerves kicking in.

"I'm not. They're talking to someone over there, but my mom noticed me, so it's only a matter of time before they make their way over here."

His eyes lock on mine now, amused. He's casual, not panicked at all.

"This isn't funny," I whisper, refusing to turn around to see if he's being serious.

"It's a little funny."

"You didn't tell me your parents would be here!"

"I didn't know," he admits. "My mom wasn't sure they'd be in town, so it must have been a last-minute thing."

The band starts playing a new song, which is too upbeat for how I'm feeling. If I would've known his parents would be here, I wouldn't have come.

"I can't meet your parents, Edward."

"Why not?"

"Because…"

All of the champagne before now is making me hazy. Would it be a bad idea to meet Edward's parents? Probably. Edward might not recognize me from his brief stint of living in Forks, but that doesn't mean his parents won't. And even if I don't seem familiar to them, meeting his parents just turns this into something else.

"I get it. It's too fast, too serious," Edward offers.

"No, it's…" I shake my head and finish my glass of champagne. "I'm nervous."

"Don't be. It's fine. My mom is going to love you."

"That's a bold-ass assumption," I mutter.

With a soft smile, he lowers his head and pecks my mouth. Peachy pink transfers from my lips to his, so I wipe it away for him. The unprompted, sweet kiss fills my chest with affection. But then my stomach drops with his following words.

"They're walking over. Good luck."

The urge to run and hide emerges.

But there's no time to because his parents suddenly stand beside us. I can only see them in my peripheral vision because I'm still facing Edward, too scared to look away from him.

With his parents right here, a violent chill passes through me. This feels like more than nerves. I can physically feel the atmosphere change with their presence.

Maybe sensing my hesitation, Edward grabs my waist with one palm, keeping me here. It's not forceful, though. His touch is grounding, and I find genuine comfort.

Right now, it feels like we're a team.

"I didn't know you two would be here," Edward says to his parents. His focus is directly on them but indirectly on me as his thumb brushes over my hip encouragingly.

I don't want to be rude, so I angle my body in their direction but stay firmly stuck to Edward's side as I lock eyes with Esme and Carlisle.

Honestly, I don't really remember them, so seeing them now doesn't trigger any memory for me. They just look like an older, sophisticated couple. Esme's caramel hair is down in soft waves, her gown dark and glamorous. Carlisle's in a tux, his silver hair slicked to the side.

"We didn't know you were bringing a date," Esme says lightly. "Introduce us to your friend, honey."

"Mom, Carlisle," Edward prompts, "this is Bella Swan."

The pseudo-last name almost makes me cringe, but I recover and extend a hand. If there were ever a time to not fuck up, this would be it.

Esme takes my hand first, shaking gently. "I'm Esme, Edward's mother. It's so lovely to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," I say, willing my voice not to tremble. Thankfully, she exudes a warmness that relaxes me a little bit.

Our hands drop, and I offer to shake Carlisle's next. His eyes never leave my face. It's a little unnerving, making me more nervous than I should be. When we briefly shake, my spine tingles. Now I can place where the chill was coming from—him. If Esme is warm, he is cold. It adds up because I remember Edward saying his stepfather was intense.

"Bella Swan," Carlisle says, my name rolling off his tongue, testing it like he's trying to place me. "Are you related to—"

"Probably not," I answer before he can finish his sentence. I have no idea who he was about to say, but fuck if I'm going to stand here and have him say Rosalie's name aloud.

Carlisle doesn't look amused, but Esme and Edward laugh softly. Maybe they think I'm being quirky, but I'm mostly terrified.

Beyond Edward's parents, I discreetly look for an exit.

"Eric and Rebecca Swan?" Carlisle offers, still watching me in a way that lets me know he isn't going to move on from this. "I think I remember them having a daughter."

Thankfully, the names Eric and Rebecca don't ring a bell. He must have mistook me for someone else.

"Who?" Esme asks, and Carlisle reminds her how they know them and that Eric is a neurosurgeon.

"Sorry." I shake my head, doubling down. "They're not my parents. I don't know them."

Carlisle doesn't look convinced. Like I'm wrong about who I am. Like I'm a liar. And I guess he wouldn't be wrong.

"Are either of your parents in medicine?" Carlisle further probes.

"No," I say, not bothering to expand because more than half of my family is gone, and I don't want to talk about that right now.

Edward snakes an arm around my waist for support, like he picks up on this being a sensitive subject, and I appreciate the intimacy and encouragement so fucking much.

Carlisle narrows in on the small gesture of affection before looking at me again. "Are you a doctor yourself?"

"Not unless you consider me a doctor of design," I lamely joke but earn a small laugh from Edward. "I'm an interior designer."

"How did you two meet then?" Carlisle wonders, like my not having any connection to the medical world means there's zero chance Edward and I would have met any other way. His tone and expression don't have to change for me to know he's not impressed by me. But I don't give a fuck because I'm not impressed by him, either.

"She's helping me with my condo," Edward answers, leaving out how he saved me from getting hit by a car. "Are you done with the interrogation now?"

Carlisle chuckles. "I'm not trying to probe. I'm just curious about the beautiful woman you brought with you tonight. Speaking of, we ran into Charlotte a few minutes ago," Carlisle says to Edward. "She was playing roulette a few rooms over. Have you seen her yet?"

Edward drinks from his glass, unbothered. "No."

Esme gives Carlisle a strange look, then smiles at me. "Where are you two sitting? I wonder if they placed us together."

"I don't know yet. We just got here," Edward tells her. "The only thing we've done is check out the silent auction."

And not run into whoever the fuck Charlotte is, I think to myself.

I'm not jealous. Not really. One, I don't even know who this woman is to Edward. And two, even if she's an ex, I know he's been with other people before me. I mean, he dated my cousin, for fuck's sake. And to be quite honest, I have no actual claim over him.

But that doesn't mean I'm not curious about who Charlotte is.

"So, where are you from, Bella?" Carlisle asks, sipping his whiskey.

"Around here," I answer vaguely.

"You went to college here as well?" he asks, then corrects himself. "Apologies, I shouldn't assume you did undergrad. I don't know much about what's required to be an interior designer."

This motherfucker.

"Carlisle," Esme chides, looking horrified.

"Don't be offended, Bella," Edward chimes in. "Carlisle doesn't focus on much outside of himself, so it's no wonder he doesn't know how much is involved with your line of work."

Carlisle scoffs a laugh as if he thinks Edward is joking. But Edward doesn't look amused. He seems kind of pissed. And hot. Really fucking hot.

Feeding off of Edward's boldness, I decide to talk myself up a little, even if Carlisle's thoughts mean nothing to me.

"I went to U-Dub for my bachelor's and master's degrees. I was accepted into a different program in New York that's competitive to get into, but I decided not to go and stayed close to home instead," I say.

"I'm sure your parents appreciated that," Esme says kindly. "I know it was difficult for us to have Edward on the East Coast for so long."

I nod. "Yeah, it was the best choice for me."

"Bella's also been mentioned in Architectural Digest a few times," Edward adds, remembering what Chelsea told him when she tried to talk me up. "Remind me, Carlisle, how many articles have been written about you?"

Carlisle just smiles and shakes his head. "You always know how to humble me, son. You made your point," he says. "Bella, I apologize yet again."

"It's fine." I dismiss him, then look up at Edward, desperate to escape. "I'm going to get another drink."

What I'm going to do is get the fuck out of here.

"I'll go with you," Edward offers.

"No, stay. Catch up with your parents."

He takes my glass from my hand, and his mom glances between us as if she senses tension but doesn't remark on it.

Before anyone can speak another word, I leave, not bothering to wait for Edward.

I exit the main ballroom area and find myself in a bar filled with people. Glancing around, I shift past strangers and exit from a different way I came, but all it does is take me to a dim lounge area with velvet seats, flickering candles, and more people.

In the corner, I see what leads to another hallway, so I take it, but I end up with only two options—an open room where a psychic is reading someone's palm and another lounge where people are playing casino games.

I linger in the dead end of the hallway, unsure where to go now. From the ballroom, I should've gone back through the silent auction area. I knew for sure there was an exit there. I could've left the way we came and been outside by now.

But maybe I'm not trying to get away.

I feel Edward's presence behind me before I see him. I don't know how or why; I know it's him. It's like the air crackles with warning. Or relief.

When I turn around, I find concern on his handsome face.

"I'm sorry about that," he says, reaching out for me. "Carlisle can be a dick when he's drinking."

"It's fine. I can handle him."

"I know you can. Still doesn't make it right," he says gently.

"Thank you for defending me," I whisper. "It was sweet. And honestly, a little sexy."

He smiles. "What are you doing over here? I swore you were running from me."

"I'm just… waiting for a palm reading," I say, gesturing toward the room where the psychic is.

Edward watches me, unconvinced. "Really?"

"Okay, I just needed some space. But now, a palm reading sounds intriguing. I'd love some direction about my uncertain future," I say sarcastically.

"Psychics probably tell people what they want to hear. Or people find connections with whatever generic information they're told to make their readings true."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"No. But it's not very practical."

"I guess I'm not surprised about your way of thinking. You're a man of science, after all."

He exhales a laugh and grabs my hand, turning my palm face up so his fingers can smooth over my skin.

"Hmm," he says, inspecting my palm, shifting closer so he's almost towering over me.

"What do you see?" I ask, looking up at him. "Am I going to die?"

He exhales a laugh. "Well, yes. One day. But I foresee a long and happy life before that."

It's a sweet thing to say, and I smile softly. "What else do you see?"

"I see an opportunity in your future regarding your career."

"Funny, because my boss offered me a job in Italy. She's opening a design firm there and wants me to start it for her."

His eyes flash to mine. "Seriously? That's amazing, Bella," he murmurs, genuine care in his voice. "When do you leave?"

"Oh, three months from never. I turned it down."

He frowns. "Why?"

"The timing isn't good. My dad and cousin need me here," I confess. "Back to the palm reading, please. You haven't yet told me anything I can agonize over."

Edward holds my gaze, never looking away as he says, "There's something in your past that you've let direct your life too heavily."

Rosalie.

Ouch.

Maybe he's right about psychics. This is all generic advice anyone could give me, and I'd find ways to make connections because I crave direction. I want something bigger than myself to tell me how to live. How to move on.

"Why'd you say that?" I whisper.

"You mentioned you could've gone to school in New York but stayed behind because of your family. And you just said you turned down a great work opportunity because of them, too. What are you scared of?"

My throat constricts because he sees me. Really fucking sees me. And that scares me.

"Nothing. Everything. I just…" I clear my throat. "They're all I have."

The room with casino games erupts like someone won big. It steals our attention for a second, but I appreciate the distraction.

"Enough of the heavy stuff," I say because this is getting too deep. "What about my love life?"

He traces a random line on my palm and squints way too hard. "I see nothing."

"Shut up," I laugh, pulling my hand out of his. "That is not what I want to hear."

"Okay." He tries again, grabbing my palm, my stomach fluttering. "I see a little something. Or someone. Tall, dark, and handsome."

I smile. "Uh-huh. Let me guess, his initials are EC?"

His grin is sly. "You'll unexpectedly meet this man. And when you do, it's important that you don't let go."

My smile fades, and my chest tightens. "Oh, wow. So what—he's the one?"

"I don't know what you want me to say right now," he says, his smile turning a bit shy. "If I say yes, I risk scaring you away. If I say no, you'll think I'm not into you. And I really fucking am, so…"

"Say whatever you want. Or feel. This is just pretend, anyway."

I'm unsure that was the right thing to say because he nods slowly and drops my hand.

"I can't ever get a good read on you," he says quietly.

"I think you're doing a pretty good job. You nailed my palm reading."

A group exits the casino area, interrupting us, and after they pass, Edward takes my hand and guides us out of the hallway and into a velvet booth in the lounge. I like that he's not rushing to get back out there with his parents.

"So, you know I have to ask," I prompt. "Who's Charlotte?" He shakes his head in irritation. "Sorry, should I leave it be?"

"No, it's fine. I'm more pissed that Carlisle felt the need to mention her at all."

"What's the big deal? Who is she?"

Edward scrubs a hand over his mouth. "She's the friend I mentioned who wanted to help decorate my condo."

"So… she's an ex-girlfriend marking her territory?" I offer, rephrasing it.

"No. We've never dated."

I try again. "Okay, so she's a woman you've casually slept with who didn't get a label from you?"

"I'm not saying I haven't had casual relationships in the past. But I'm always upfront about it. And no, nothing has ever happened with her."

"But you two are close? She's been to your new condo, and you've lived there for, like, two and half months." I don't say it accusingly but merely laying out the facts.

"Yes, she's been to my place. She's a family friend. If anything, she feels more like a relative," he confesses. "We did undergrad and medical school together. There was a time our parents assumed we'd get together, but we kept disappointing them."

"And in turn, you disappointed her?" I wonder, and his face gives him away—at some point, she must have made it clear she wanted to be with him, and he let her down. I try to piece the timeline together. "So you both lived in multiple cities together. Chicago and Cambridge. And now she's here, in Seattle?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. What's that called?" I ask, holding back from saying desperation. "Fate?"

He smirks. "Coincidence."

"I'm not convinced. Who moved here first after medical school—you or her?"

He hesitates. "I did."

"She followed you."

I almost feel bad after I say it because the woman just wants someone she can't have. And that has to fucking hurt.

"It didn't feel like that, and she never admitted it, so…" Edward shrugs. "I don't know."

"You're not an idiot, and that's not a coincidence, Edward. That's a woman who knows what and who she wants."

He reaches for my hand and pulls me to sit in his lap. "I know who I want."

I can't lie, I fucking melt. He makes it worse—or better—by nuzzling his face in my neck and pressing a soft kiss to my skin.

"So, will she claw my eyes out if we run into her?" I ask as goosebumps cover my skin from his lips on my neck.

He pulls back to look at me. "No. You don't need to worry about that. But we can leave if you feel uncomfortable."

Using this woman as an excuse to dip out early and avoid his parents is tempting. But knowing how much he spent on these tickets, I can't do that.

"I'm not uncomfortable, but if you want to leave and avoid a run-in with her, we can."

"It's less about wanting to avoid her and more just wanting space from Carlisle," he says, his tone pure and true. "I don't want him to ruin our night. Do you want to stay?"

"Not really," I admit.

"Then we won't. I made an appearance and contributed to the cause. We can go," he says with an easy shrug.

"Okay, but if we leave, you have to promise we can go eat," I warn. "And I'm buying. You've already done way too much."

"I appreciate the offer, but I got it."

"Um, it's not up for discussion."

He smirks. "Oh, I know. There's no way I'm letting you pay if we go out to eat. I invited you out tonight; therefore, I'm buying."

"You think you're gonna win this argument, huh? You don't know how aggressive I can get when I'm hangry. My blood sugar drops, and I'm ready to throw down."

"Okay." He cups my chin and gingerly brushes my lower lip with his thumb, his eyes sparking. "Fight me, baby."

Instead, I lean forward and kiss him.