Six

EDWARD

Dinner at my parents' place was usually predictable—Esme would cook too much, Carlisle would pick at his food while checking his phone, and Alice would swoop in with her overly enthusiastic attempts to keep everyone's spirits up.

But tonight, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Carlisle and Esme were taking jabs at each other between bites of the roasted chicken Esme had spent all afternoon preparing.

"Well, maybe if someone didn't work fourteen-hour days, they'd remember to call their wife back," Esme said, her fork clinking against her plate.

"And maybe if someone didn't spend those calls complaining about everything I do wrong, I'd be more inclined to pick up," Carlisle shot back, not even looking up from his food.

Alice winced, her gaze darting between them. "Okay, let's just… maybe we focus on how good the chicken is. Right, Jasper?"

Jasper, ever the diplomat, nodded. "Best I've had in a while, ma'am."

Emmett, who was tearing into a drumstick like a caveman, glanced at me with raised eyebrows. It was the silent 'You're going to say something, right?' look.

I sighed, pulling Bella's card out of my pocket and setting it on the table in front of Carlisle.

"What's this?" he asked, picking it up and reading the name aloud. "Bella Swan. Cupid's Counseling?"

Esme's brows furrowed as she leaned over to glance at it. "A marriage counselor?"

Alice perked up immediately, her eyes widening. "Wait, you talked to her? That's amazing!"

Carlisle looked from me to the card, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. "You're suggesting we… go to counseling?"

"Not just suggesting," I said, my tone firm but not unkind. "I'm saying you need to go."

Esme's mouth opened, then closed again, and she leaned back in her chair, clearly caught off guard. "Edward, I don't—"

"You don't what?" I interrupted gently. "Think you need it? Mom, you and Dad have been like this for months. Maybe even longer. And I know you still love each other. I know you do. That's why I talked to Bella."

"Bella?" Esme asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

"She's the counselor," I said, looking at Carlisle. "She's amazing, and she knows how to help people find their way back to each other. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but it's worth trying."

Carlisle's jaw tightened as he set the card down. "I don't know if—"

"You have to try," Alice said, cutting him off. Her voice was quieter but filled with conviction. "You're the foundation of this family. If you two crumble, we all feel it."

"Exactly," Emmett said, nodding as he finally set down his drumstick. "We love you guys, and we know you love each other. It's obvious. But you're both so caught up in… whatever this is that you're forgetting what's important."

Esme blinked, her lips trembling slightly. "You really think we're that bad?"

I reached across the table, placing my hand over hers. "I think you're worth fixing. And I think Bella can help you do that."

For a moment, the table was silent. Carlisle stared at the card in front of him, his fingers lightly tapping it as he mulled over our words.

Finally, he let out a sigh, lifting his gaze to meet Esme's. "What do you think?"

Esme hesitated, glancing at Alice, Emmett, and me before looking back at Carlisle. "I think… maybe we owe it to ourselves to try."

Carlisle nodded slowly, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Okay. Let's do it."

Alice clapped her hands together, beaming. "You won't regret this!"

Emmett grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Teamwork makes the dream work."

I leaned back in my seat, the tension in my chest easing for the first time all evening.

Bella's words from our last meeting echoed in my mind: They can find their way back, but they have to want to make it work.

It looked like they were finally ready to take the first step.

As I placed the last of the plates on the counter beside the sink, I glanced at Esme, who was carefully loading the dishwasher. She moved mechanically, her eyes distant, like her mind was somewhere else entirely.

"Mom," I said, stepping forward and gently taking the plate from her hands. "Go sit down. I've got this."

She blinked, startled out of her thoughts, and looked at me with a faint smile. "You don't have to do that, Edward."

"I know," I said, nodding toward the island. "But I am. Sit."

Esme hesitated for a moment before sighing softly and pulling out one of the stools at the kitchen island. She sat, folding her hands in her lap, and watched me as I started rinsing off the plates and loading the dishwasher.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The quiet was only broken by the sound of running water and the clink of dishes being stacked neatly inside.

"I never realized until tonight," she said suddenly, her voice quiet but clear, "how much of a horrible example I've been setting."

I glanced over my shoulder, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

She shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "Your father and I… we've been so caught up in our arguments, our issues, that we haven't stopped to think about how it's affecting you kids. Especially you."

I turned back to the dishes, not sure how to respond.

"I know you've sworn off love," she said softly, her voice careful. "And I can't help but wonder if… if your father and I are part of the reason why."

I stiffened slightly, but I kept rinsing, letting the silence stretch between us for a moment.

"It's not just you and Dad," I said finally, my tone measured.

"Tanya," she said, nodding as if the name explained everything.

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "She cheated on me, Mom. That's not exactly something you just brush off."

Esme shrugged, her expression thoughtful. "And normally, people bounce back. They get back on the horse again. They give love another chance."

I turned to face her fully now, crossing my arms over my chest. "Maybe I'm not most people."

She tilted her head, studying me like she used to when I was a kid and she was trying to figure out what was really going on in my head.

"Why won't you open your heart, Edward?" she asked, her voice soft but insistent. "Tell me, darling."

I sighed, leaning against the counter. "Because what's the point? People cheat, people leave, people disappoint you. Love is just a liability."

Her face softened, and she reached out, placing a hand over mine. "Love isn't perfect, Edward. It's messy and hard and sometimes painful. But it's also worth it. It's what makes life meaningful."

I looked away, not wanting to meet her eyes. "Maybe it's meaningful for some people. But not for me."

Esme's voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. "It could be, if you let it."

I didn't respond, the weight of her words settling uncomfortably in my chest.

She squeezed my hand gently before letting go, leaning back in her seat. "You're a good man, Edward. And one day, someone's going to show you that love isn't something to fear."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "We'll see."

Esme smiled softly, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and sadness. "I'll hold you to that."

Turning back to the dishes, I focused on the task at hand, ignoring the faint ache her words had left behind.

Esme's voice filled with a rare tenderness. "Your father…" she started, her voice trembling slightly, "I love him with my whole being, Edward. Even on our worst days—when we're yelling, when we're not seeing eye to eye—I'll never stop loving him."

I swallowed, the weight of her words hitting me harder than I expected.

She tilted her head, her eyes softening even more. "And I want that for you, son. I want you to find someone you can love like that. Someone who makes you fight for it, even when it's hard."

I let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "Mom, I don't think I'm cut out for that. I'm not Dad. I can't—"

"Don't do that," she interrupted gently but firmly. "Don't compare yourself to him. You're not your father, Edward, and that's okay. But you have his strength. And my heart."

I shook my head, looking away as I muttered, "Love just feels… risky. Like there's more to lose than to gain."

Esme leaned forward, her voice soft but unwavering. "Love is risky. But it's also the greatest thing you can ever have. And if you close yourself off to it, you're not protecting yourself—you're cheating yourself out of something beautiful."

Her words sat heavy in the air, and for a moment, I didn't know what to say.

"I know I haven't set the best example lately," she continued, her tone quieter now. "But if there's one thing I'm certain of, it's this: Love isn't about perfection, Edward. It's about choosing someone, over and over again, even when it's hard. And I see that potential in you. I see how much you care, even when you don't want to admit it."

I looked at her, my defenses cracking ever so slightly. "You really think I'm capable of that?"

"I don't just think it," she said, her smile warm and genuine. "I know it. And one day, you'll know it too."

I nodded slowly, her words settling somewhere deep inside me, even if I wasn't quite ready to accept them.

Esme leaned back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Just promise me you'll try, Edward. Don't let fear keep you from something that could change your life."

For a moment, I considered brushing her off, giving her some dismissive remark to end the conversation. But something about the way she looked at me—so full of hope, even after everything—made me pause.

"I'll think about it," I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended.

She smiled softly, reaching out to squeeze my hand one last time before standing. "That's all I ask."

As she walked out of the kitchen, I stood there for a while, staring at the half-loaded dishwasher and wondering if she was right—if maybe, just maybe, love wasn't as impossible as I thought.

The cool night air bit at my skin as I stepped onto the balcony, phone in hand. The city sparkled below, a million lights blinking like tiny stars, but for once, it didn't hold my attention.

I wasn't someone who got anxious. Ever. Not in board meetings, not during high-stakes negotiations, and definitely not in my personal life. But tonight, the tension in my chest refused to ease, no matter how many deep breaths I took.

Finally, I gave in, hit her name on the screen, and pressed call.

The line rang twice before her voice answered, slightly muffled at first. "Hey? One sec… Rose, don't touch my ice cream, you bitch!"

I blinked, startled.

Her tone shifted, professional and clear. "Bella speaking."

I couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at my lips. "Hey."

There was a brief pause. "Edward?"

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat, suddenly unsure why I'd called in the first place. "It's me."

"Hi," she said, her voice softening slightly. "Didn't expect to hear from you tonight. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I said quickly, leaning against the balcony railing. "I just… I don't know. I needed to talk to someone."

She was silent for a moment before she spoke again, her tone gentle. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, my fingers drumming against the cool metal. "It's my parents. They've agreed to book a session with you."

"Really?" she said, and I could hear the surprise in her voice. "That's great, Edward. I'm proud of them—and you—for taking that step."

"Yeah," I said, exhaling deeply. "It's… a big deal. And I think it's the right move, but it just got me thinking."

"About what?" she asked softly.

I stared out at the skyline, the words sticking in my throat before I finally managed, "About love. Relationships. My mom thinks I've closed myself off because of the way things have been between her and my dad. She said some stuff tonight that really stuck."

Bella hummed thoughtfully on the other end of the line. "What did she say?"

"That love isn't perfect," I said, my voice quieter now. "That it's messy and hard, but it's worth it. She told me she loves my dad, even when things are bad, and that she wants me to have that someday. And I guess… I don't know. I've always thought love was this liability—something that just gets in the way. But tonight, she made it sound like it's something I've been missing out on."

Bella was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and inviting. "Do you think she's right?"

I hesitated, my grip tightening on the phone. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Well," she said gently, "if you ever want to dive into the complexities of love and relationships, you know where to find me. After all, it's kind of my specialty."

I let out a soft chuckle, some of the tension in my chest easing. "Yeah, I know. But we can't. We can't cross into a zone where you're my therapist."

Her tone turned curious. "Oh. What's that?"

"Because then I wouldn't be able to ask you to dinner tomorrow night," I said, smirking even though my heart was pounding a little harder than I cared to admit.

There was a pause on her end, and I could practically hear her processing my words.

"Oh," she said finally, her voice lighter now. "Dinner, huh? Not very CEO of you to mix business and pleasure."

I grinned, leaning against the railing. "I'm off the clock."

She laughed softly, and the sound sent a surprising warmth through me. "Okay, Cullen. Dinner it is. But fair warning—I'm picking the restaurant."

"Deal," I said, my smirk widening.

As I ended the call, I stared out at the city, the tension in my chest replaced by something… lighter. For the first time in a long time, I was looking forward to whatever came next.