Twelve

EDWARD

Cupid.

She was sitting across from me, looking so serious, like she'd just confessed to being the President or a secret agent or something equally absurd. But she hadn't.

She'd told me she was Cupid.

I leaned back in the booth, staring at her, my brain working overtime to process everything she'd just said. Her steady gaze never wavered, and despite how ridiculous it sounded, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was being honest.

I rubbed my temples. I thought about everything I'd seen over the past few weeks—the couples at the bar, the waiter and the woman, even tonight. It didn't make sense, but it had happened.

"Okay," I said finally, locking eyes with her. "Prove it."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, like she'd been waiting for me to say that. "That's why I brought you here," she said, motioning to the crowded bar around us.

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She nodded toward a nearby table, where a couple sat on what was clearly a date. The woman was animated, her hands gesturing as she talked, while the man smiled politely, his gaze drifting occasionally—toward the bartender.

"The guy at that table," Bella said, lowering her voice as she leaned in, "isn't into her. He's into the bartender."

I glanced at the man and then at the bartender, who was drying glasses and chatting with a customer. "And you're going to… what? Change that?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to help him stop pretending."

I stared at her, incredulous. "You can't just—"

"Watch," she said, cutting me off as she stood.

I watched her weave her way through the crowd, her confidence unshaken as she approached the table. She placed a light hand on the man's shoulder, her touch brief but deliberate, before moving toward the bar.

My pulse quickened as she leaned on the counter, ordering a drink while brushing her fingers against the bartender's hand. It looked casual, like nothing out of the ordinary, but I knew better.

I shifted in my seat, my eyes darting between Bella and the couple. The man sat still for a moment, his date obliviously chatting away. Then, as if on cue, he cleared his throat, mumbled something to the woman, and stood.

He walked to the bar, stopping beside Bella, who gave him a warm, encouraging smile before stepping aside. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the bartender, and then struck up a conversation.

I leaned forward, my jaw tightening as I watched the bartender's face light up with interest. The two of them started talking like they'd known each other for years, their chemistry undeniable.

Bella returned to the booth a moment later, sliding into her seat with a satisfied expression.

"Well?" she asked, her tone casual.

I stared at her, then at the two men at the bar, who were now laughing and leaning closer to each other.

"How?" I managed, my voice quieter than I intended.

She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's what I do."

"You just…" I gestured toward the bar, struggling to find the words. "You just rewired his brain or something?"

"It's not mind control," she said, shaking her head. "I can't make someone feel something that isn't already there. But I can help them recognize what's real."

I leaned back, running a hand through my hair as my mind raced. "You're serious about this. You're really… Cupid."

She nodded, her gaze steady. "You wanted proof. There it is."

I looked back at the bar, where the two men were now exchanging numbers, and then back at Bella. My heart was pounding, and for the first time in years, I felt completely out of my depth.

"Holy shit," I muttered.

Bella smiled faintly, her eyes searching mine. "Still think I'm crazy?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because all I could think about was the undeniable truth staring me in the face: Bella wasn't crazy.

She was telling the truth.

The two men at the bar were laughing, completely engrossed in each other. It was undeniable—she'd done something, and it worked.

But then a thought hit me, sharp and unsettling.

"Wait," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "What about me?"

Bella blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. "What about you?"

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table, my tone edging into suspicion. "Have you… used your powers on me?"

Her lips parted slightly, and for a split second, I saw hesitation flicker across her face. "Edward," she started, her voice steady but cautious, "I've only ever used my power on you once."

I froze, my stomach twisting. "What?"

She sighed, her hands clasping in front of her. "At the bar. That night with the blonde woman. I touched both of you, just like I showed you tonight."

I stared at her, my pulse pounding in my ears. "And?"

"And… it didn't work," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"What do you mean, it didn't work?" I demanded.

"I mean there was a sliver of a spark," she said, meeting my gaze directly. "Just enough to make you notice her. But instead of staying and exploring it, you ran after me."

I leaned back in my seat, my mind racing. "So… what? You're saying I'm immune to whatever it is you do?"

She nodded slowly. "It seems that way."

The implication hung between us, heavy and unspoken.

I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. "The working theory of Rosalie's is because the spark begween us overrides any other potential connection you could have."

She reached across the table, her hand brushing mine gently. "This… whatever's happening between us… it's real. You're the one person I can't touch. And honestly? That scares me. Because it means I can't control it, and I've spent my entire life controlling love."

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest, raw and honest in a way I wasn't prepared for.

"So, what does it mean?" I asked quietly, my voice softer now.

Bella hesitated, her gaze locking with mine. "I don't know," she admitted. "But maybe… maybe it means we figure it out together."

I didn't respond right away. Instead, I let her words sink in, the weight of what she'd revealed pressing against every doubt I'd had about her—and about us.

For the first time in a long time, I felt something I couldn't rationalize or control.

And I wasn't sure whether it terrified me or thrilled me.

I couldn't stop the flood of questions spilling out of my mouth. It was like a dam had burst, and every doubt, curiosity, and lingering thought fought to be voiced at once.

"How did this even happen?" I asked, leaning forward, my hands spread wide on the table. "Were you just… born as Cupid? Did you wake up one day and suddenly have this power?"

Bella sighed, her shoulders tense as she clasped her hands together.

"It wasn't something I asked for," she said finally, her voice soft but steady. "It's passed down, like a… legacy. When the previous Cupid's time is up, the power moves on to the next pair of siblings it chooses."

I blinked. "Wait—siblings?"

She nodded. "It always goes to a pair. One of us gets the power to mend love, to create connections. That's me. And the other gets the opposite."

I frowned, trying to piece it together. "The opposite? You mean… Bash?"

"Sebastian," she corrected, rolling her eyes. "But yes. He's the opposite of me. His power is…" She hesitated, clearly searching for the right words. "Let's just say he can undo what I create. His touch can spark anything from small arguments to full-blown divorces. And unlike me, he thrives on chaos. The more damage he causes, the stronger he gets."

"That explains a lot. That's why would didn't want me to touch him," I said under my breath, thinking back to the smug look on Bash's face the first time I'd met him. "And you? How does your power work?"

Bella's lips quirked into a faint smile, as though the answer was obvious. "I draw my strength from love. Things I love, people I love… even places or activities that make me feel happy or fulfilled. And when I help a couple repair what's broken between them, it makes my power stronger."

"So, fixing broken relationships feeds your power?"

She nodded. "Exactly. It's like… recharging a battery."

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. "If that's the case, why not just hold hands with my parents and fix them? If it would help you and them, why not?"

Her expression darkened, and she shook her head. "I can't. It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?" I pressed.

"Because," she said firmly, her voice tinged with frustration, "touching people doesn't erase their problems. It doesn't fix years of hurt or rebuild trust that's been shattered. It just… enhances what's already there. If your parents' connection is fragile, my touch would only make it worse. They'd only fall again but from a greater height. A fall they might not be able to land."

I leaned back in my seat, her explanation sinking in. "So it's not a magic fix."

"Exactly," she said, her tone softening. "It's a nudge, not a solution. That's why I do the work I do—helping people rebuild those connections themselves. It's the only way it lasts."

I studied her for a moment, the weight of her words settling over me. "So, you're telling me you're some kind of love doctor and your brother's… what? The grim reaper of relationships?"

Bella gave a dry laugh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "That's one way to put it."

"Sounds like a great sibling dynamic," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bella smirked, a spark of humor lighting up her eyes. "We may fight like hell, but at the end of the day, we're still family. We look out for each other—most of the time."

I let out a breath, leaning forward again as I rested my elbows on the table. I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. "This is insane."

"I know," she said softly, her gaze steady on mine. "But it's the truth."

I stared at her, trying to wrap my head around everything she'd just told me. It should have been impossible, ridiculous even. But after everything I'd seen—and the undeniable connection I felt with her—I couldn't bring myself to dismiss it.

And that scared me more than anything.

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table, staring her down with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "Okay, let's just say I buy all of this for a second. There are people all around the world falling in love every single day. You don't have the time to touch everyone on Earth. How does that work?"

Bella sighed, crossing her arms over the table, her expression shifting into something softer, like she was explaining a delicate truth. "You're right. I don't touch everyone. I don't need to."

I raised an eyebrow. "So what, love just… happens? The world's running on autopilot?"

She gave me a faint smile. "Not exactly. People fall in love naturally, Edward. That's the thing—you don't need Cupid for every spark or connection. Chemistry, timing, and fate handle most of it. Love is powerful on its own; it doesn't need me to exist. But…"

"But?" I prompted, leaning closer.

"My job is to make sure the small sparks don't go unnoticed," she said, her tone quiet but sure. "I nudge them along, make them stronger, help them stick. It's like throwing kindling on a fire—sometimes it's enough to make it burn brighter, faster. People can find each other, but not everyone knows how to hold on. That's where I come in."

I stared at her, turning her words over in my mind. "So, you're like a relationship accelerant?"

She laughed softly. "That's… one way to put it. I help amplify the initial spark between people, especially when it's fragile or overshadowed by fear, doubt, or bad timing. And yes, I'm also here for the cracks. For the people who've been hurt or forgotten how to fight for each other. I don't replace the work they have to do, but I make it easier to get started."

"Okay, but how do you know who to touch?" I asked. "Do you just… feel it?"

Her gaze softened, and she nodded. "Sort of. It's hard to explain, but I can sense it—potential. I know when there's something worth growing, whether it's new or something long-established. Love has an energy, and I can feel when it's there, even if the people involved can't."

I leaned back, my arms crossed as I stared at her. "And you just… choose who to help? What about the ones you don't touch? Do they just fall apart?"

"Not always," she said. "Most people figure it out on their own. But sometimes, without a little push, those sparks fizzle out. That's what I try to stop from happening."

I shook my head, the enormity of her job sinking in. "So, you're not just fixing broken relationships. You're making sure the new ones don't break before they even start."

She gave me a small, tired smile. "Exactly."

I exhaled slowly, staring at her as I tried to piece everything together. "You've got one hell of a job, Bella."

She let out a soft laugh, her eyes meeting mine. "You don't know the half of it."