Nine
BELLA
I stared at the text I'd typed out for the fifth time, my thumb hovering over the send button. It was simple, almost too simple, but anything else felt like too much.
Edward, I just want to talk. Can we please clear the air?
I sighed, biting my lip as I debated whether this would make things worse. After a deep breath, I hit send.
Just as I set my phone down, the office door opened, and I looked up to see Esme and Carlisle Cullen stepping inside. My stomach tightened.
I shot to my feet, smoothing my skirt. "Mr. and Mrs. Cullen," I greeted warmly, stepping forward to shake their hands.
"Please, call us Carlisle and Esme," Esme said, her smile kind but a little hesitant.
"Of course," I said, nodding as I motioned toward the chairs in front of my desk. "Please, have a seat."
They exchanged a brief glance before sitting down. There was a subtle tension between them, the kind that wasn't immediately obvious but hung in the air like a storm cloud.
I settled into my own chair, folding my hands in my lap. "Thank you for coming in. I know it can be hard to take this first step, but it's a good sign that you're both willing to be here."
Esme gave a small, almost nervous laugh. "I suppose so."
Carlisle remained quiet, his posture stiff as he glanced toward the window.
"Why don't we start with why you're here?" I suggested gently. "What made you decide to come in today?"
Esme hesitated, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "I think… we've lost something along the way. Somewhere between raising children, building careers, and just… life, we forgot how to connect with each other."
Carlisle finally looked at her, his brow furrowing. "We haven't lost anything, Esme. We're just… older now. Things change."
Her gaze snapped to him, her expression wounded. "So that's it? We're supposed to just accept that this is as good as it gets?"
"That's not what I'm saying," Carlisle replied, his tone exasperated.
"Then what are you saying?" she shot back, her voice trembling slightly. "Because it feels like you've stopped trying. Like we're supposed to be comfortable with this."
Carlisle opened his mouth to respond but then closed it, shaking his head. "I'm here, aren't I? Doesn't that mean something?"
"Let's pause for a moment," I interjected, holding up a hand. "Esme, you said it feels like Carlisle has stopped trying. Can you give an example of what that looks like to you?"
She glanced at me, her lips pressing into a thin line before she spoke. "He's always working. Always distracted. Even when we're in the same room, it feels like he's miles away."
Carlisle's jaw tightened. "I work because I want to provide for us, Esme. You know that."
"Provide what? We both know the retirement fund is bountiful. I'm not asking you to stop working," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm asking you to see me again. To care about us again. I want you to value our marriage."
The room fell into silence, the weight of her words hanging heavy.
"Carlisle," I said gently, turning to him, "what's your perspective on this? How do you feel about what Esme's said?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I feel… frustrated. I feel like I've been doing everything I can to give her the life she deserves, and it's still not enough."
"It's not about the money," Esme whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's about you. About us. I miss the man I married, the one who would bring me coffee just because, or dance with me in the kitchen for no reason. I don't need grand gestures, Carlisle. I just need you."
Carlisle's eyes softened, and for the first time, I saw a crack in his resolve. "I didn't realize…" He paused, his voice thick. "I didn't realize you felt like I wasn't there for you."
Esme blinked rapidly, as if holding back tears. "I don't want us to drift further apart. I love you too much for that."
Carlisle reached over, hesitating for a moment before taking her hand. "I love you too, Esme. I always have."
My chest tightened as I watched them, their vulnerability raw and real.
"This is a good start," I said softly, breaking the silence. "You're both here because you care enough to fight for each other. That's what matters most."
Esme squeezed Carlisle's hand, her lips trembling into a small, hopeful smile.
"We'll take this one step at a time," I continued. "But you've already done the hardest part—being honest with each other. How does intimacy look at the moment for you? Are you having sex?"
Bit weird asking that to be honest.
Esme blinked at my question, her cheeks flushing slightly, but she didn't look away. Her lips parted as she considered her answer, her fingers still tightly interwoven with Carlisle's. "It's… complicated," she said finally, her voice soft but steady. "We're not… as intimate as we used to be. We haven't been for a while."
Carlisle's eyes widened slightly, and his hand tightened around hers. "Esme," he said, his voice low, a hint of shock laced in his tone.
She turned to him, holding his gaze. "You know it's true, Carlisle. I'm not saying this to hurt you, but we've grown distant. I've tried to ignore it, to tell myself that it's just part of being married for so long, but I can't anymore."
He opened his mouth, then closed it, his brow furrowing deeply. "I didn't realize… I mean, I knew things had changed, but I thought—" He stopped, his voice faltering as he looked at her with something close to guilt.
"I thought it was just the natural ebb and flow of a long marriage," Esme continued, her tone softening. "But it's not just that. It's the lack of connection, the way we don't even look at each other the same way anymore. And intimacy… it's not just about sex. It's about feeling close, feeling wanted. And I don't feel that anymore, Carlisle. Not like I used to."
Carlisle's jaw tightened, and he let out a shaky breath. "I thought… I thought you were content," he admitted, his voice low. "That you didn't need that from me anymore. I didn't realize how much I've… pulled away."
Esme's hand tightened around his. "I do need it, Carlisle. I need you. But I also need you to want this—want us—just as much as I do."
I cleared my throat gently, drawing their attention back to me. "Intimacy is often one of the first things to fade when couples grow distant, but it's also one of the easiest ways to rebuild connection. And Esme is absolutely right—it's not just about sex. It's about the little moments of closeness, the ways you show each other that you still see and value one another."
Esme nodded, her eyes flicking back to Carlisle, who looked down at their joined hands, his expression troubled.
I leaned forward slightly, my tone encouraging but firm. "I'd like to give you both a task. Something simple, but meaningful. Tonight, I want you to set aside everything else—work, distractions, worries—and spend fifteen minutes together. Just the two of you. No phones, no television, no interruptions. Sit together, talk, touch, reconnect in whatever way feels natural. It doesn't have to be anything grand. Even something as simple as holding hands and sharing a memory can make a difference."
Esme's eyes lit up slightly, and she nodded. "I'd like that."
Carlisle glanced at her, his expression softening as he gave a small nod. "Okay," he said quietly. "We can do that."
"And one more thing," I added, watching as they both turned their attention back to me. "If you're comfortable, I want you to think about the last time you felt truly connected—physically, emotionally, or otherwise. And when you have that moment in mind, share it with each other."
Esme smiled faintly, her gaze softening as she turned to Carlisle. "I already know mine," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "It was last Christmas, when you stayed up all night decorating the house because you knew how much it meant to me. You fell asleep on the couch afterward, and I remember sitting next to you, thinking about how much I loved you."
Carlisle's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked completely undone. "I remember that night," he said, his voice quiet. "You brought me a blanket and kissed my forehead. I thought it was because you felt sorry for me falling asleep there."
Esme's smile grew, though tears shimmered in her eyes. "It wasn't pity, Carlisle. It was love."
The room fell into a deep, charged silence, and I could feel the warmth of their connection beginning to surface again, tentative but real.
"Hold on to that," I said softly. "Moments like that are the foundation of everything else. And if you can build on those moments, you'll find your way back to each other."
Esme nodded, reaching out to brush her hand along Carlisle's cheek. He caught her hand and held it there, his eyes locked on hers.
I smiled faintly, leaning back in my chair. "You've got this. Just remember, it's okay to take small steps. The most important thing is that you're taking them together."
Esme and Carlisle both nodded, their hands still clasped tightly as they exchanged a look that spoke volumes. It was tentative, but there was hope in it. And sometimes, hope was all it took to start something new.
I was typing up notes from the Cullen session, still feeling the emotional weight of it, when the door to my office swung open without so much as a knock.
"Hey, baby sis," Bash said, sauntering in with his signature smirk.
I sighed, my fingers pausing over the keyboard. "What do you want, Bash?"
He flopped down into the chair across from my desk, kicking his feet up on the edge like he owned the place. "So, I heard through the grapevine you've got a little boyfriend."
I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Which grapevine is that?"
"Rosalie," he said casually. "I popped by your place last night to annoy you, but lo and behold, you were out on a date. So, spill. Who is he?"
"It doesn't matter," I said flatly, turning back to my computer. "Because he hates me now, so."
Bash let out a low whistle. "Wow, that was fast. What did you do?"
I shot him a glare. "Why do you assume it was my fault?"
"Because it's always your fault," he teased, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. "What happened? Did you hit him with your magical Cupid touch a little too hard?"
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "That's the thing. It didn't work on him."
That got his attention.
His smirk dropped, replaced by genuine curiosity. "What do you mean it didn't work?"
"I mean, I touched him," I said, my voice lowering as I recounted the moment. "He was flirting with this blonde woman, and they seemed into each other. I thought, fine, let's see where this goes. I touched him, and then I touched her, and… nothing. Not even a spark."
Bash frowned, tilting his head. "So what? He just walked away?"
"Not exactly," I said, biting my lip. "He stayed, but he didn't care about her anymore. It's like the second he saw me, whatever connection they had completely disappeared."
Bash leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting."
"Interesting?" I echoed, rolling my eyes. "He's completely immune to my touch."
Bash's smirk returned, slow and calculating. "You sure this isn't just your ego being bruised because Mr. Airline CEO isn't playing by your rules? If you want to get laid you'll have to flirt like the rest of us. It'll be okay."
I shot him a glare, though his words hit a little too close to home.
"Or," he continued, leaning forward with a more serious expression, "maybe it means something bigger. You ever think about that?"
I frowned, my chest tightening. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it," he said, gesturing with his hands. "Your power doesn't work on him, but he's clearly drawn to you. Maybe it's not about you making him feel something. Maybe it's about him making you feel something."
I stared at him, my mind racing as his words sank in.
"Look," Bash said, standing and shrugging. "I don't know what's going on with you two, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you can't force this kind of connection. Sometimes, it's just… there."
With that, he strolled to the door, pausing to glance back at me. "Oh, and for the record? I had nothing to do with this guy hating you. That's all on you, baby sis."
Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the uncomfortable possibility that he might actually be right.
Later that evening, I hesitated in front of Edward's office door, clutching my bag strap tightly as I gathered the nerve to knock. The tension between us had been gnawing at me, and after Bash's unsolicited but frustratingly insightful words earlier, I knew I had to face this head-on.
With a deep breath, I knocked lightly, pushing the door open.
"Hey," I said, stepping inside and flashing a tentative smile. "The boss wouldn't like to see you slacking off."
Edward was slouched in his chair, his tie undone and his usually immaculate hair a disheveled mess. He stared blankly at the monitor on his desk, but as soon as he saw me, he straightened, his expression guarded.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice clipped but quiet.
I shut the door softly behind me, stepping closer. "I came to say sorry."
He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "For what? Telling me we can't see each other? Or for proving my point about love being dead?"
I winced at the bitterness in his tone, but I kept my gaze steady. "For everything," I said honestly.
He blinked, his expression flickering with confusion. "What do you mean?"
I took a slow breath, walking around his desk until I was leaning on the edge beside him. He swiveled his chair slightly, looking up at me, his green eyes wary but curious.
"What you said about sparks and chances," I said softly. "It hurt my heart, Edward. Because you were right. There is a spark between us and it's becoming so bright I can't ignore it."
His brow furrowed slightly, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something, but I pressed on.
"I've spent so much time obsessing over other people's love stories, that I don't even recognize the spark when it happens to me," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
He watched me carefully, his walls still up, but I could see a crack in the armor.
"I can keep it professional," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "Your parents won't hear a single word about you from me. I promise you that. I was speaking from a place of fear, but now I feel better."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he let out a low sigh. "So why are you here, Bella?"
I smiled faintly, tilting my head. "Because I don't want to shut you out. And I'm hoping you don't want to shut me out either."
He stared at me for a moment, his jaw tightening. "I'm not sure I know how to do this," he admitted, his voice quiet but raw. "Letting someone in… it's not something I'm good at."
I reached out and gently rested my hand on his shoulder. "Then don't overthink it. Start small."
He looked up at me, his green eyes searching mine, as though he was trying to figure out if I was serious.
"Are you busy now?" I asked, letting my hand fall back to my side. "Let me buy you a drink."
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he gave me a long, measured look. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
I grinned. "So I've been told."
For a moment, the room was silent, and I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
Finally, he sighed, shaking his head as the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Fine. I can deal with a drink. But if this turns into a therapy session, I'm leaving."
I laughed, relief washing over me. "Deal."
He stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. As he shrugged it on, he glanced at me, his expression softening. "You're lucky I'm a sucker for good beer."
I smirked. "I guess I'll just have to use that against you."
"Try not to flirt with me," he shrugs his jacket over his arms.
"I'll try my very best," I laugh following him out of his office, through the quiet cubicles.
For the first time since I'd walked into his office, I saw the tension in his shoulders ease. Maybe it wasn't a perfect resolution, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.
