Thirteen
"Where have you been?"
Bella had just walked back into the house, finding Carlisle seated at the bar with a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.
"Just down on the beach."
He nodded. "Were you alone?"
"No, but you already know that, don't you?"
Carlisle grinned. "I saw you with the Whitlock boy. Thought I told you to stay away from him."
"He came up to me, not the other way around."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he said, putting a hand up. "There are more muffins in the microwave."
"You make them?"
Carlisle blushed. "No."
"Did Esme make them?"
"Yes."
"Guess that means your date went well?"
"I'm not discussing this with you, Birdie."
"You pushed me for details about my first date with Edward?"
"You are sixteen years old. I am an old man."
"You're not old," she scoffed. "You're barely ten years older than me, Carlisle."
He laughed. "Whatever."
Bella helped herself to a muffin and then poured herself a glass of milk before sitting next to her uncle. "Tell me about your date."
Carlisle rolled his eyes.
"She made you dinner, right?"
He nodded.
"What'd she make?"
"Chicken risotto."
"You're favorite," she teased. "Did she know that?"
"No," he laughed. "I helped her clean up afterward, and then we talked."
"Just talk?"
"Yes, Birdie, we just talked. I am a gentleman."
"Did you kiss her?"
Carlisle pressed his lips together.
"You did, didn't you?"
"Has that boy kissed you?"
"No," she admitted.
"He hasn't?"
She shook her head. "He's a gentleman, too."
"Guess he is." Carlisle took a sip of his coffee. "Do you like him?"
"I do. Do you like her?"
He nodded.
"When are you going to see her again?"
"Tonight."
Bella grinned, but before she could say anything, his phone started ringing. He dug it out of his pocket, glancing at her before answering it, saying, "Hey, Phil."
Bella tensed before she stood and walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Leaning against it for a moment, she blinked back her tears. She sat on the side of her bed and picked up her phone. Of course, Phil hadn't tried to call her. He hadn't made any effort to see her, talk to her since he sent her away. Why would now be any different, she thought.
Scooting back on the bed, she hugged her pillow against her chest and found Edward's number. She thought about texting him, but at that moment, she wanted to hear his voice, so instead she called him. The phone had barely rung when she heard a click followed by a hurried, "Hey."
"Hey," she whispered. "Sorry. I know it's early."
"I was awake. Are you okay? You sound, I don't know, kind of sad."
"I'm fine," she lied. "What . . . what are you doing today?"
"Well, I was planning on surprising this really pretty girl I've been seeing."
"Oh. I was kind of hoping we could hang out."
"Bella, I was talking about you," he laughed.
"You were?"
"Yes."
"You think I'm pretty?"
"I think you're beautiful."
Bella felt her cheeks warm. "Oh."
"So, do you want to meet me? We could go down to the arcade."
"Yeah, sure, okay."
"Eleven work?"
Smiling, she nodded, before realizing that he couldn't see her. "Yeah. I mean, yes."
Edward laughed. "I'll see in a little while, sweetheart."
"Okay."
Bella dropped her phone on the bed before she hurried to her closest, searching through her clothes to find something to wear. She'd just pushed a pair of jeans to the side when Carlisle knocked on the door, causing her to sigh before calling for him to come in.
When she looked back, she found him leaning against the doorframe. His eyes were guarded, cautious, and that made her nervous.
"Going out?" he asked.
"Edward and I are meeting at the arcade," she replied, yanking a T-shirt off a hanger and tossing it onto the bed. "What'd he say?"
"He asked how you're doing."
"What'd you tell him?"
"That you're hanging in there. Though it would be nice if he called you himself."
She snorted.
"He said he would."
"Yet, my phone hasn't rang, has it?" she quipped, adding a pair of jeans to the bed. "Does he just not love me, Carlisle?"
"What? Of course he does!"
"Then why hasn't he reached out to me?" she cried, though when he stepped toward her, she moved away from him. "He raised me. He fucking raised me, and then gave up when Mom died. How could he do that?"
"Birdie," he whispered.
"How, Carlisle? How?"
"I don't know, honey. I don't . . . I don't know."
And before she could move away, he had his arms wrapped around her, holding her when she cried — again.