Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts, theories, general complaints lol! See you next Friday!

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twelve
dress
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"Happy Birth—"

"Don't," Jasper says, cutting me off.

I'm unsure if he's in a bad mood because tomorrow's his birthday or because the other two bartenders called out sick so he's stuck working. It's likely the former, though.

I set the store-bought cake I picked up after work on the bar, and slide onto a stool, glancing around. The pub is filled with graying regulars and fresh hipsters, who likely found it on a list of "top ten dive bars in Seattle."

When Dad bought it fifteen years ago the place was named after the original owner, Ron. But Dad changed the name to Kate's Tavern, in loving memory of Aunt Katherine.

Behind the bar, Jas fills a pint for a customer.

"You want some white wine?" he asks me when he returns from dropping off the brew to an older man at the end of the bar.

I nod and he sets a glass in front of me, filling it so close to the brim that I have to sip from it before I can pick it up.

"Ah, shit," he says when he sees how much he poured. "Sorry."

I realize he's not in a bad mood, he's just distracted.

"What's up with you?" I ask. "You're acting strange."

He shrugs. "Nah. Nothing. Just… shit."

I don't push because I know his birthday is difficult.

I people-watch for a moment, absently playing with the thin gold chain around my neck. It was Rosalie's necklace, given to her on her seventeenth birthday by Mom and Dad. It was the last birthday we celebrated with her. My fingers trace the small, delicate daffodil—Rosalie's birth flower—that lies flat against my chest.

That same year I received one for my birthday, too, but with my birth flower—morning glory.

I have a faint memory of Rosalie and I swapping necklaces while she told me that no matter what, anytime we wore it, we'd be connected. Of course, that sentiment was more because she had college plans and would eventually leave me behind.

Now I wonder if, on some deeper level, she knew something bad was coming. Something more sinister.

I don't wear the necklace as often as I used to because sometimes it brings me peace, but other times it just makes me sad. But with Rosalie's birthday tomorrow, it felt fitting to dig it out of my jewelry box.

"Where's Dad?" I ask, glancing around.

"In the back."

From his absence, I take the opportunity to share my news with Jasper.

"So… I have a date," I tell him. "Tomorrow night."

"With who?" he asks, but my smug expression must give me away. "Really? Seriously?"

"Yes. And I'll have you know he stalked me today."

I recall the brief encounter to Jasper who isn't interested or intrigued by this new development.

"A match made in fucked-up heaven," he drawls.

I laugh, picking up my still-too-full glass and taking a long sip. "I'm having dinner at his place tomorrow."

"Cancel."

"What? Why? I'm finally making progress."

"Because I'm going out of town, dummy. You think it's smart for you to go over there alone when I can't be around to make sure you're okay?"

"It's fine," I insist. "I have that self-defense class under my belt."

He laughs. "The one free Krav Maga class where you had to leave early after I accidentally kicked you in the crotch?"

I wince at the memory. "I'll take mace. And whatever, I'll send you his address. I'll tell Chelsea where I'm going, too. I'm not stupid. Honestly, it'll be a nice distraction from the day."

"As in, you're looking forward to going on an actual date with him?" Jasper accuses.

"No. As in tomorrow could be an emotional day and if you're not going to be here, I'd rather be wined and dined and learning more information about Edward than sitting at home alone like a crazy cat lady."

His expression softens because he knows the day is hard on Dad and me, too.

"There are plenty of other things you could do with your time to distract yourself other than hanging out with him," Jasper insists.

"Like what? Being invited to a super secret birthday in the mountains?" I say with a pointed look. "Okay, sure. I'll cancel my date with Edward if you invite me."

"You know, I would invite you just to keep you from making a stupid mistake. But I'm bringing someone else and don't want you as a third wheel."

This sobers me. "Wait, wait? You never invite anyone."

"I know," is all he says.

"Who did you break your exception for?"

"Some guy. You don't know him."

"I'm sorry, what? Some guy? You're breaking your almost twenty-year tradition of spending your birthday alone for someone whose name you won't even share?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess I am."

I take another drink of wine, trying not to perk up too much because I know it'll spook Jas and I want him to open up to me. This new love interest might explain his distracted mood, though.

"So, you're dating someone," I say coolly, casually. Not at all like I'm dying to know more.

"We haven't defined it yet. That's such a straight-person thing to do," he says, and I catch the hint of a smirk.

I roll my eyes. "Where did y'all meet?"

"Here, actually. At the bar."

I glance around. "I bet he's here right now."

"No, Nancy Drew. He's not. Take a break from your detective work for the night, will ya?"

"I will not. This is huge. You don't get serious about anyone."

Jas sighs and wipes the bar. "Exactly. It's not serious."

"Being invited to your usually solitary birthday is serious."

Jas opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. Like putting on this front is tiring.

"I like him. Okay? So far, things feel good. But I'm not gonna spill my guts or doodle his name in a notebook or anything."

"And what would you write if you did doodle a name?" I ask because I can't not.

Jas smiles. "You're a nosy brat," he says, but his voice is affectionate.

My smile mirrors his. "And you're… happy?" I ask, my voice soft.

Jasper's eyes shift past me when Dad walks over and stands next to my stool.

"Hey, kiddo." He wraps an arm around my shoulder and I lean into his chest for a hug. "What's new? You haven't been around much."

Jasper forces a cough.

I look at him, narrowing my eyes.

"Isa's been busy. She was actually just stalking—I mean, talking—about this guy she's going out with tomorrow night," Jasper says and I give him wild 'what the fuck?' eyes.

He tosses me a look, one that I assume conveys that telling Dad I'll be out is for my own good, in case something happens.

Dad regards me. "Would I approve of this guy?"

"Not likely," Jasper mutters only for me to hear.

"It's just a first date so I don't even know if I like him yet," I insist. "He could be a deadly, deceptive man for all I know."

Dad laughs and sits on the stool next to me. "Give the poor guy a chance, maybe. You deserve a little happiness, Isa."

"It's fine. I'm fine." I shrug off his encouraging words that threaten to envelop me in a metaphorical hug, and remove the plastic cover from Jasper's small confetti cake.

Birthdays used to be big in our family. Special. We'd get woken up at midnight by everyone singing "Happy Birthday," and find our rooms decked out in decorations before eating cake in bed despite the late hour. It was magic, being woken up feeling loved and celebrated. Dad tried to keep up the tradition, but once Rosalie and Aunt Katherine were gone it just wasn't the same.

"I forgot the candles," I say to Jas, bummed. "But you should still make a wish."

Dad snorts a laugh. "So, we still get his spit on the cake without all the fanfare?"

"You're not going to eat any, anyway," I say, wordlessly reminding him of the diet his doctor recently put him on. "Go on, birthday boy." I nod toward the cake. "What's your wish gonna be this year?"

Jasper gives me a look like this is stupid, but relents and closes his eyes anyway, blowing out pretend candles.

I toy with the chain around my neck and think about how Rosalie would've been thirty-seven tomorrow.

I wonder what she'd be like if she were here today. If she'd have a career in journalism like she wanted. If she'd be a mom, or if she'd be married.

My next thoughts aren't so much a wish, but more like a mantra, or maybe even a prayer.

We love you.

We miss you.

Happy Birthday, Rose.

XXX

When I get off work the next day, I text Edward because I have no fucking clue what to wear for our date.

Normally, I'd talk to Chelsea or Jasper and weigh my options, but I figured I might as well just ask Edward. This thing between us isn't real anyway so it's not like I have to play by certain rules and impress him by being the aloof cool girl.

I can just be my neurotic, semi-charming self.

Bella: Hi. It's Bella.

To my surprise, he texts back a minute later.

Edward: Hi. I know.

Bella: I was wondering what I should wear tonight. Help a girl out?

Edward: I'm sure anything you pick will look amazing.

Bella: I need a real answer, not a line, please.

Edward: I wasn't giving you a line.

Bella: It's a first date but we'll be at your place and aren't going out. So I could be casual or I could be done up.

Edward: I was going to wear a button-down and slacks. Does that answer your question?

Bella: Yes, thank you. Should I bring anything?

Edward: Just yourself.

Bella: Okay, see you in a bit.

Edward: I'm looking forward to it.

I send him a heart-on-fire emoji because fuck it.

No rules.

Anything goes.

I take my time getting ready.

Hair—glossy and blown-out.

Makeup—subtle and smokey.

Lipstick—dusty nude.

Dress—black and tight.

Blood—white wine.

I was nervous so I had a large glass while I got ready. Not so much nervous to be around him, but nervous to fuck something up. To say the wrong thing or give away too much.

A car shows up for me right on time.

I text Chelsea on the way across town.

Bella: Hey, I'm heading to Edward's. I'm sharing my location with you just in case. Can never be too safe these days!

Earlier, I shared my location with Jasper before he left for the mountains. I was hoping the guy he's seeing would stop by and I could meet him before the trip, but Jasper rudely coordinated to pick him up, likely so I'd avoid meeting him.

Chelsea: Sounds good! Have the best time. I wanna hear all about it tomorrow at work! If you make it to work, that is ;)

Bella: If I don't make it to work tomorrow, contact the police.

Chelsea: LOL!

She thinks I'm joking. And fine, maybe it is funny in a morbid way.

Edward's waiting outside his building for me when I arrive.

He opens my door.

"How'd you know I was here?" I accuse.

To him, I might sound flattered by his chivalry, but I'm actually alarmed.

"My driver let me know you were close."

"Your—" My eyes dart toward the man in the front seat. "I thought this was an Uber."

I glance around the vehicle and recognize that the black car is more luxurious than an Uber. And that the man behind the wheel is wearing a suit jacket. I guess I just figured Edward sprung for one of the more expensive rideshares. Not that he had his own fucking driver.

"Wait. This is the same car that picked me up from your place weeks ago and dropped me off at work," I realize.

Edward smiles a little like my surprise is cute. "Yeah."

"You lied to me? You said you ordered an Uber that day," I say, and maybe it's comical how slighted I feel considering everything. But outright lying is one thing when I'm merely lying by omission.

"You'd hit your head, so you're probably confused," he says breezily. "I had said I arranged a car for you. You probably just assumed it was an Uber."

"Because normal people send Ubers."

"I never said I was normal. Pete's worked for me for a while," he says nonchalantly.

I mildly panic, replaying the ride over here. If I said anything, or let on that I'm partaking in something shady. But no. We rode in companionable silence.

"Well. Pete, is it?" I sit forward on the bench seat and address the older man. "Thanks so much for the ride," I tell him, and he merely nods in acknowledgment.

Edward extends a hand to help me out of the car.

I place my palm in his and he shuts the door behind me.

He's wearing a crisp white dress shirt and black slacks, his hair perfectly messy, and his jaw so sharp it's almost deadly.

Why couldn't he be balding? Or less chiseled? Or just plain old ugly?

Then again, this probably wouldn't be half as fun if I wasn't attracted to him.

It feels more dangerous that way.

"I was right," he says, almost smug as he interrupts my thoughts.

"Right about what?" I ask warily.

"About you looking good in anything you'd pick," he compliments, his gaze skimming over me.

"Yes, it doesn't hurt that I'm wearing a form-fitting dress," I say dryly.

His eyes deliciously darken. "It doesn't hurt that you're beautiful."

My traitor heart picks up in my chest.

He's upped his charm tonight it seems. Which means I need to be even more diligent and not fall for it.

"Thank you." I do a little spin to give him a better look, then say, "And the best part about tonight's ensemble is that it doesn't come with a side of concussion."

Edward exhales a soft laugh and we share a smile, and it almost feels like we have an inside joke.