Katinki graciously edited this story
Chapter 31
As I get to my feet and carefully make my way toward Tanya's office, I can feel every pair of eyes in the room on me.
In my peripheral vision, Kate from Accounting, who always seems to hang out on our floor for reasons no one can explain, freezes mid-step, staring at me. She's basically the office loudspeaker, and if she and her best buddy Garrett ever redirected their gossiping skills into something productive, like running an investigative podcast, they'd probably be rich and famous by now. Wincing at the realization that I've caught Kate's attention and will inevitably become a character in the office's latest drama, I lock my gaze on Carlisle.
Somehow, he looks slightly older in his elegant, expensive-looking glasses and a navy blue suit, yet he's even more dashing than I remember. He steps aside to let me in, closes the door, and opens his arms for a hug that I eagerly accept.
Impossibly, his embrace feels warm.
Tears rush to the surface, threatening to choke me.
"Good to see you," I whisper, my voice rough. "Damn it, Carlisle. Whenever we meet, I either already have a red nose from crying or I'm about to."
His eyes twinkle. "Luckily, paper handkerchiefs are free at our office," he says, patting my shoulder and handing me a pack of Ultrasoft. Our Marketing team once came up with a tagline for this one: "Ultrasoft Premium Facial Tissue: The softest thing since your cat!" But then the Sales department, clearly not cat people, didn't like it, so it never made it to the public.
As I pull a tissue from the pack and loudly blow my nose, Carlisle says, "Bella, may I introduce my wife, Esme? She's been dying to meet you."
Startled, I glance around the room—something I hadn't thought to do before. In the corner where Tanya placed a plush, cozy white loveseat (a weird thing to put in the office if you ask me), I spot a petite woman who looks to be in her early thirties.
I've only ever met one female vampire, Jane, who left a pretty big mark on me, and not in a good way. Jane was like a car crash: you just couldn't look away. I've also spent plenty of time imagining Rosalie as a vampire, wondering how insanely gorgeous she'd be if she was already that stunning as a human.
Unlike them, Esme is subtle. She's definitely pretty, beautiful even, but it's the kind of understated beauty that doesn't hit you right away. Her eyes are a dark honey shade that could easily pass for "normal" light brown. She has a classically proportional face with a cute, slightly upturned nose that gives her a youthful, girlish charm. But her best feature is her smile. She smiles just like Carlisle, and I feel a pang of longing when I see them drifting toward each other perfectly in sync, like they simply can't be in the same room without standing close.
"I'm so glad to meet you," I say, and mean it. Carlisle deserves all the happiness in the world.
"Likewise, Bella," she replies, beaming. She has that soft, melodic voice that I know is part of being a vampire, although it still astonishes me how their tone seems to resonate deep in my soul every time. "I've seen your photographs, of course, but they don't do you justice. It's a pleasure to finally speak with you, my dear girl."
There's something distinctly maternal in the way Esme speaks, and even though we're probably only a few years apart in human terms, I decide that I like that about her.
"Um, I'm terribly unphotogenic—or at least that's what I keep telling myself." I chuckle, wondering exactly which photos she saw and where. Then I turn to Carlisle. "So… what's going on? What happened to Tanya?"
Carlisle gestures for me to take a seat and sighs. "Tanya and Edward had a minor disagreement, and she decided to give him space," he says with a barely noticeable eye-roll. "Which is why your department is now under the supervision of yours truly, though I sincerely hope it's a very temporary arrangement. I'm sure Tanya will come around in a year or fifty. She always does."
I gawk at him.
Holy shit!
"Are you saying… is Tanya a vampire?" Eyes wide, I whisper-yell the last word.
Apparently, my expression is so ridiculous that Carlisle and Esme both burst out laughing.
"Oh yes, she absolutely is," Carlisle says with a wink. "She's our cousin. We've known each other for… well, a very long time. The thing is, Tanya's older than all of us combined and comes from a culture where age grants a certain privilege. She never hesitates to enforce what she thinks is best, but that's not exactly how things work, whether in business or personal life." He smiles, sending Esme a look of pure adoration.
What did Edward say about being near mated couples?
"Anyway," he continues, "Tanya will probably be out for a few weeks. We're working on finding a replacement but still holding out hope for the best."
I want to ask what Edward and Tanya were fighting about and why they mentioned me.
Actually, scratch that, what I really want to know is what kind of relationship they have.
That feels like a major breach of decorum, however, or maybe I'm just a chicken and afraid to hear the truth. Instead, I just say, "I hope she comes back. I must admit, she's really good at what she does. But wow... I never would've guessed—her eyes are blue. Contacts?"
"Yes. She figured it might seem odd if all of the upper management had the same golden eyes. We're a family-owned company, but there's a limit." Carlisle chuckles. Then his tone shifts. "But that's not why I called you. Esme and I would like to invite you to our house in Medina tomorrow night. You should meet the family, and… there are a few things we need to discuss. Some things have changed during your absence, but some haven't."
No kidding.
I can already think of at least two things that haven't changed—one of them being the fact that Edward and I broke up.
"Thank you so much for inviting me," I begin, addressing both Carlisle and Esme. "It's really nice of you. But… wouldn't it be, um, awkward?"
"Why would it be awkward?" Carlisle asks.
"You know. Will Edward be there, too?" They don't say anything, so I take that as a yes. "Look, let's be real, I'm his ex-fiancée. We broke up almost two centuries ago, but that doesn't change anything. Plus, I was technically the one who ended things, so he probably hates me…"
Carlisle arches an eyebrow. "You just had lunch with him. Did he look like he hated you?"
"Well, no, but—"
"No buts." He clears his throat. "If anyone were to ask my opinion, I'd say that you two need to sit down and have a real, honest conversation, but obviously, knowing my brother, that would be too easy… At least let me make one thing clear: nobody is ever going to fire you from Cullen Platt. That's simply not going to happen. Do you understand?"
"Wait… Did you hear my conversation with Edward? How… how good is your hearing?!"
"Not that good." Carlisle laughs. "But Edward texted me right after you finished lunch, asking me to reassure you." Right. Vampires use cell phones, too. Silly me. "So, there's that. You need to understand that we can't fire you. If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be a Cullen Platt. And, possibly, I would've never met Esme."
He squeezes Esme's hand and brings it to his lips. They freeze with that look of mutual admiration on their faces, and I can't help but start to feel a little sympathetic toward Edward.
"What do you mean? How am I responsible for all this?" I ask. "I wasn't even alive when your imaginary grandfather started the company."
Carlisle gives me a wide grin. "Remember how you used to complain endlessly about the subpar hygiene standards of the 1830s? How you muttered every curse imaginable under your breath about the ways, or sometimes lack thereof, people tried to keep clean and healthy back then? Well, I'm a vampire, so not only did I hear all of it, but I remembered it, too. When Edward and I finally settled down and decided to try something outside of medicine, I thought, what if we could contribute to making everyday life just a little easier, especially for women?"
He pauses, his expression brightening at the memory. "So, we started a personal hygiene company. We did our research first, of course. Looked at what was available in the post-war world and figured out where improvements were needed. When it came to consumer insights, Edward's mind-reading was incredibly useful. Don't get me wrong, building a full-cycle enterprise from scratch while maintaining our anonymity wasn't easy, but we managed."
"Well, actually, you did a little better than just 'managed,' I say with a snort. "Okay, I'm glad I apparently inspired you to do this. Not that I really suffered back then. It was just something I was used to and missed. But what do you mean you wouldn't have met Esme without me?" I glance between them, baffled.
"My maiden name is Platt," Esme says softly and then patiently waits for me to piece it together.
"Oh… Oh!" I finally say. "I see! Carlisle knew that the company where Edward would eventually end up as CEO was going to be called Cullen Platt."
"Exactly." Carlisle nods. "In early 1911, I was working night shifts at a hospital in Columbus, Ohio. One morning, as I was leaving, my eyes fell on the list of patients assigned to the next doctor on call. One name caught my attention: E. Platt, a young woman with a broken leg. Driven by curiosity—and perhaps a deep-seated premonition—I decided to stay. At the time, Esme was only 20. We didn't start dating until years later, but that moment changed everything."
He presses a gentle kiss to the top of Esme's head. "So… thank you, Bella," he says, his voice carrying deep, genuine emotion.
"You're very welcome," I say, "but again, I don't really see how I deserve any credit. You two were probably destined to meet one way or another. Or maybe exactly that way! I'm honestly so happy for both of you."
"And you'll make us even happier by coming to our house tomorrow. Will 7 p.m. work? A car will pick you up from the office at 6:30," Carlisle says as if I already agreed. "You have no idea what all this waiting has done to us… all of us. We look forward to having you back."
XXX
It's finally 5:00 pm, and thank goodness for that.
I grab my coat and purse and run to the elevator, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. Carlisle and Esme left the office minutes after I'd returned to my desk, and as if on cue, Garrett immediately pounced, eager for intel. I had to tell him I was specifically asked not to discuss anything that had been said in Tanya's office. Meanwhile, Kate set up camp near the cabinet where we keep product samples, pretending to write something while sneaking sharp glances my way.
At least she didn't try to approach me directly, but the whole atmosphere was beginning to wear on my already fragile nerves. Every time the air conditioner kicked on, I jumped, no longer used to the sound.
All in all, the end of my first day back at the office couldn't come soon enough.
As I walk to the bus stop, a message from Alice pops up on my phone screen.
"I'm cooking spaghetti Bolognese! Jasper is here, too. I hope you don't mind! He wants to meet you. Don't be late. Love, Aly."
I should have lost my capacity for surprise ages ago, what with time travel, vampires, and more time travel, but her message manages it anyway. Alice never, and I mean never, cooks. Not for herself, not for her boyfriends.
This Jasper must really be something.
And although I'm absolutely exhausted and all I want to do is crawl into bed and slee—okay, replay my conversation with Edward and then sleep, I brace myself for more socializing tonight, all for Alice's sake.
When I try to unlock the door, my key doesn't go in. This usually happens when we have guests and someone forgets to take the key out from the inside. So, I knock instead. After a few moments, I hear the key turn, and Jasper appears in the doorway.
He's probably six foot two or three, lean and subtly athletic, with soft blond curls and gentle features that bring to mind the word "seraphic." His casual outfit, though understated, clearly comes from a budget at least five times higher than mine or Alice's.
Only I notice all of that much later. The first thing that strikes me is his eyes.
They're the color of butterscotch.
I open my mouth to scream, but he presses a finger to his lips. His gaze is equal parts pleading and placating, and, to my own surprise, I stay quiet.
Apparently, I'm nice like that. Or maybe just too tired.
But seriously… what the fuck?
First Tanya, and now my best friend's boyfriend?!
"Bella, is that you?" Alice calls from the kitchen. "Come here! Have you met Jasper?"
"Um, yeah. Hi, Jasper," I shout back to her, all while glaring daggers at the vampire.
He mouths, "I want to explain," wearing a remorseful expression.
Instead of bursting into flames like I want to, I'm startled to feel a sudden wave of calm wash over me. How strange, I think and take a deep breath. "You'd better," I mutter as we step into the kitchen.
Every single piece of kitchen equipment Alice and I own is scattered across the counter, along with piles of vegetables, dirty dishes, spices, and so on. Like I said, cooking is not Alice's forte. Despite that, whatever's bubbling in the large Le Creuset pot—a graduation present from Charlie—smells very appetizing.
Not that it would make any difference to Jasper.
"I'm almost done! We can start eating in 20 minutes," Alice announces, her face flushed and sweaty, either from standing too close to the fire or to Jasper—or both. She gazes at him like he's the eighth wonder of the world, and, much to my annoyance, he looks back at her with the same mix of awe and adoration.
What is it with me and all these lovestruck couples I've had to deal with today?
Is this some kind of special torture the universe cooked up for me because I failed to die from meningitis?
"Smells great!" I tell Alice in the most cheerful voice I can muster, and turn to the vampire. "Don't you agree, Jasper?"
"It does," he replies, wrapping an arm around Alice's waist and kissing her hair.
I grit my teeth and take a couple of deep breaths. "So, how did you guys meet? Were you working at the Seattle Opera when Alice joined?"
"Actually, I joined right after Alice—maybe a month later," Jasper says.
"It must have been fate!" I exclaim, sarcasm dripping in my voice. "So, you're an artistic director, correct? I asked Google, and apparently, the average age of people in your profession is 40, while you don't look a day older than 25. How did you pull that off? Do you have special talents?"
I just can't resist.
Thankfully, Alice is too preoccupied with her dish.
"I guess I just look young for my age," Jasper says with a polite nod, unphased. "I tried many fields before I found what I really love."
"Of course, you have," I mumble.
The next moment, Alice lets out a loud shriek, and both Jasper and I jump.
"Oh nooo!" she wails, frantically waving the printed recipe in the air. "I forgot to buy the Parmigiano Reggiano!"
"Jesus Christ, Alice!" I yell back, pressing a hand to my chest. "You scared the crap out of me. I… I can run to QFC and grab some for you. Do you need anything else?"
"Oh, you're the sweetest!" She lunges at me and plants a kiss on my cheek. "Yes, bring some red wine—I've used everything we had in the sauce. And some white, too. Oh, and we'll need milk for tomorrow."
"Um, okay, hopefully the bags won't be too heavy."
The grocery store is a ten-minute walk from our house, so we usually order heavier items online.
"Jasper can walk with you and help, right, Jazzie?" Alice says his nickname in a blatantly flirtatious tone, and I have to fight the urge to gag.
On second thought? Yes! Jazzie should absolutely walk with me.
"Aww! Would you please help me?" I ask him, mimicking Alice's voice. And, okay, laying it on a bit thick.
"Sure," he replies, still completely unbothered. "Lead the way."
"We'll be back soon," I tell Alice as I throw on my coat and head for the door. "Let the Bolognese simmer for another 15 minutes. It'll only get better."
Once we're outside, I stop and give Jasper a stern look.
"Now talk. Who are you? What's your real name? And what the hell are you doing near Alice?" I say, folding my arms. "I think that's enough for starters."
He sighs. "Let's keep walking. I don't want Aly to wait."
"First, I want to make sure that you have the right to call her Aly, mister," I grumble. "I know what you are. Fill me in on the rest."
The audacity!
After a brief pause, he says, "Jasper is my first name. I go by the last name Hale right now, but my real name is Whitlock."
My eyes widen. "Are you somehow connected to Rosalie Hale?"
"We're not related by blood, but I consider her my sister. Currently, we're posing as twins and Esme's cousins."
"Oh." I blink, processing that unexpected tidbit. "So… that means you know Carlisle?" Then I frown. "That still doesn't explain your relationship with Alice. It's clearly not a coincidence, so don't waste my time trying to convince me otherwise."
"I'm a proud member of Carlisle's coven, yes—though, as you know, we call ourselves a family," Jasper says as we walk. "As for my relationship with Alice, before I say anything, you need to understand that she's become the most important person in my existence. There's no me without her. I believe you know enough about our kind to grasp the meaning of those words, so if you're concerned about her safety, you shouldn't be."
He falls silent.
"What are you saying?" I shake my head. "Never mind. I'm not going there until you explain the rest."
"Very well," he says calmly as we turn the corner. "As to how I found her, you're right. Initially, it had to do with you. My brother asked me to keep an eye on you."
My heart jumps right into my throat.
Instinctively, I know that this "brother" is not some random vampire or a Volturi spy, as it would be logical for me to assume.
Anger begins to surge through my veins, but just like the first time, it vanishes as quickly as it flared up.
"Your brother," I say slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. "What's his name? And what did that 'keeping an eye' on me actually involve?"
"His name is Edward, although I'm sure you've already guessed that," Jasper replies evenly. "He left the US the day you were born. I won't comment on his reasons. They were valid for him at the time, and I'm not one to question them. But… the truth is that he couldn't stop worrying about you. He wanted to know you were alright, so he asked me to watch you—from afar, in the most non-invasive way possible."
Jasper slows his pace and turns to face me. "I have never, ever violated your privacy. Edward would've torn my head off for that. He just needed to know you were alive and well."
I exhale shakily, my head spinning. "He said that?"
Jasper silently nods.
"Well, that's an interesting revelation. However, dating my best friend doesn't exactly sound like watching me from afar, not to mention that it's really low, using her like that."
Jasper looks away. "I admit that at the beginning, I approached Alice because I knew you were roommates and that eventually, you would go to the first night of Norma together. I also knew that Alice worked on the production of Norma, so I made it my priority to get a job at the Seattle Opera as well."
I'm really curious how he managed to pull that off. Being an artistic director requires a very specific and unique set of skills and experience. But I decide not to interrupt him. Our time is limited after all.
"However, the moment I saw her, I knew there was no going back for me. I knew she was my mate," he says simply as we walk the store aisles.
I wince as the splinter in my chest painfully twists, reminding me of its existence. "You seem awfully sure. Mating is supposed to be rare. I heard that straight from the Vampire King's mouth, so it must be true. And yet, in your coven, or family, nearly everyone seems to have found their mates within a few years, and among humans, no less…" I can't stop the bitterness from creeping into my voice.
"Carlisle believes that abstaining from human blood might have something to do with it," Jasper says. "Whatever the reason, I have no doubt that Alice is the one."
"So, she's your mate, but you keep secrets from her, and big ones at that. Unbelievable!" I shake my head. "I guess it runs in the family."
He sighs again. "I was going to tell her right after Norma. We were almost certain that Isabella Dwyer would show up in the twenty-first century instead of you. I was all set to intervene and explain everything to Alice. But the moment the performance ended, I realized it was still you—and I stalled."
He has the decency to look sheepish.
"How did you know…" I start to ask but cut myself off again. "Never mind. You've got two days to come clean, or I'll do it for you. She deserves better. She cooked you a meal, for God's sake!"
I square my jaw, toss a chunk of parmesan into my basket, and head to the self-checkout. Jasper trails behind me, carrying the rest of the stuff.
"I know. I won't need that long," he says and makes a gesture that looks suspiciously like a bow.
I narrow my eyes at him. "How old are you, anyway?"
"I was born in 1844, in Houston," he says so quietly only I can hear. "Turned at the age of 22."
"So, you're practically a baby." I smirk. "Don't forget to mention that to Alice. And… I'm just begging you, Jasper of Houston, please don't break my friend's heart. Mate or no mate, that's not off the table, as you very well know."
I grab the bags and the receipt and head to the exit, tears threatening to spill yet again, but this time it's probably from sheer exhaustion. It's a miracle that I'm still standing on my feet after a day filled with so much sensory overload and nonstop interactions.
"You have nothing to worry about," he says, easily plucking the bags from my hands and walking beside me. "I've learned a good deal from Edward's mistakes—possibly just as much as he has himself. Nice ring, by the way."
His words catch me off guard, and my pulse skyrockets as I quickly shove my left hand into the pocket of my coat. Jasper glances at me, concerned, but I force a smile and say, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow at Carlisle's. And remember, two days."
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