~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~
Chapter 4
EPOV
"Are you waiting for someone?" the sweetest voice I've ever heard asks and I look around and then down to find the source.
"Ummm." I stammer because the ability to speak seems to have left me for the moment.
I've never been around kids, never had the opportunity to be, but the girl standing beside me, staring up at me with the greyest eyes I've ever seen, has to be, hands down, the most enchanting thing in the world.
Long, dark brown hair that's a wind-blown mess around her face, sun-kissed skin with a nose that has just the tiniest bit of pink tinged to it, freckles on her cheeks, and a smile that, no question about it, will bring grown men to their knees before she even knows how to work her womanly wiles on them.
She looks like she's part sprite, part tomboy, and suddenly I feel warm all over as she keeps smiling at me. If I never have to move, I think I'd be okay with that as long as the pretty little thing beside me keeps looking at me. I feel the corners of my mouth lift in an involuntary smile and I have the most insane urge to pick her up and spin her around in a circle just to see if her laugh sounds as sweet as her voice.
She looks around and then turns back to me, narrowing her eyes. "Are you lost?"
I sigh because I feel like a damn idiot. I shake my head then shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans. I've been standing outside the front door of the restaurant for more than fifteen minutes now trying to muster up the courage to step inside. I know that on the other side of that door is the key to my being able to stay in Corea and I can't help but feel terrified about that.
Carlisle assured me last night and again today before I left the boarding house that Charlie Swan's a fair man and is always inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt, but I'm still nervous as hell. Having someone hold your future in the palm of their hand isn't exactly the easiest thing to deal with; especially when it's a future you want more than anything.
I've had this feeling settle around me … in me … as soon as I passed the wooden sign welcoming me to Corea and I can't explain it even if I tried. It's this sense of calm and belonging and … coming home. Last night, lying in bed in the room that'll be mine for however how long, hearing the ocean as the waves brushed up against the beach, I felt more at peace than I can ever remember. In prison there's no such thing as silence, there's always something: men grumbling in their sleep, the guard's shoes thudding against the concrete as they walk up and down the corridor doing spot checks, the clang of metal doors opening and closing … the sounds of men finding the release of their sexual urges that aren't always voluntary. Silence had been an unknown commodity for seven years and while I laid there and watched the sheer curtains flutter from the light breeze outside, the only things I could hear were my own heartbeat, the sound of the waves … and nothing else. It was almost deafening, the absolute silence, and as I drifted off to sleep I wondered if I'd ever get used to it.
"Hey, are you okay?" the little girl asks as she tugs on the hem of my t-shirt.
I shake my head to clear it of the melancholy thoughts creeping in and look down at her. Just gazing at her innocent and trusting face, seeing her lopsided smile, makes every dark thought I'd just had fade away until there is only her.
"Can I tell you something?" I ask and bend down so I'm level with her.
She looks back at me and nods, staring at me with her steely-blue eyes and most of the tension I'm feeling melts away. Taking a deep breath I lower my voice and whisper, "I'm kind of scared to go in there."
Saying the words out loud is like letting all the air out of a balloon so it doesn't pop. I take another deep breath and feel a little bit more of my nerves settle.
"Why are you scared?" she asks me and tips her head to the side as her eyes travel the length of my face. I can tell when she sees the scar on my neck. I wait for her to cringe but she only scrunches up her button nose, and the spot between her eyebrows dips down like she's trying to figure out what happened. I see her shrug her tiny shoulders and the gesture makes my stomach flip-flop. My heart stutters in my chest when she doesn't run away screaming. She continues her perusal and her eyes widen when she sees the ink that curls around my right bicep beneath my t-shirt.
When she looks back up at me, her eyes are warm and inviting and I have the most insane urge to reach out and give her a hug. I refrain, mostly because it's so damn inappropriate, and also because I haven't hugged anyone besides Esme in … hell, more years than I can remember.
She turns from me, plops down on the top step, and with no hesitation whatsoever, pats the spot next to her. I stand, staring at her until she quirks her eyebrow at me. I chuckle a little, then a bit more, when she rolls her eyes before she points again. Dutifully, because there's no way in hell I want this little firecracker angry at me, I sit down beside her. My eyes pretty much bug out of my head when she holds her hand out for me to shake. I slip her tiny but surprisingly strong hand in mine. She smiles and it lights up her whole face. I feel my cheeks lift in the biggest smile I can ever remember.
"Mama and Xavier say I'm not allowed to talk to strangers. My name's Peyton and we're friends now, so that means I can talk to you." I can't help but laugh at how direct she is.
"My name's Edward. It's nice to meet you, Peyton. I could use a friend. I don't have any of those."
There's no earthly reason why I just shared that with her and I sort of regret the words as soon as soon as they leave my mouth. Especially when she gasps, her eyes fill with tears, and her chin quivers as she whispers, "You don't have any friends?"
I have no idea why I'm about to spill my guts to this little girl that can't be any more than six or seven, but I can't help it … mostly because seeing the tears in her eyes is ripping my heart out.
Shrugging my shoulders, I make sure to keep my voice light. "It's okay. I haven't met a lot of people I'd like to be friends with for a while now."
She narrows her eyes at me and stares, keeping her mouth in a tight line. A part of me wants to laugh at how serious she looks, but she kind of scares me. How it's possible that this tiny wisp of a thing that barely comes up to my waist scares the ever-living shit out of me is beyond me, but there's no doubting that she does.
I roll my eyes at myself though and wonder where the hell my balls went and what the fuck I'm doing sitting here talking to a child. Of course neither one of those thoughts is enough to make me get up and leave. Miss Peyton has me wrapped around her little finger already and she doesn't even know it.
She nods her head and I can't help but feel like she's come to some sort of decision . It's one I'm fairly certain is going to change my life. I have no idea why that thought enters my mind, but as sure as I'm sitting here, hiding out like a scared little fucker, I know it's true.
"I'm your best friend now," she tells me succinctly.
Coughing because those words are the last ones I expect, I catch my breath and sputter, "Excuse me?"
Peyton rolls her eyes again, and damn if it's not the cutest thing ever. She starts slowly, as if she's talking to someone that doesn't understand English. "You and me," she motions between us with her hand, "are going to be best friends now. I have a lot of friends, but none of them are better than me. I mean, Brody always thinks he's better than me even though I totally beat him in a race today. Silly boy thinks just 'cause I'm a girl I can't run fast, but Xavier taught me how to run even faster by keeping my elbows tucked in. And I know Brody likes me cause he's mean to me. Xavier told me that, too, but he also told me to kick him in the leg if he tries to kiss me," she goes on without even stopping to take a breath. All I can do is wait until she passes out from lack of oxygen or runs out of things to say … whichever comes first. I'm going with lack of oxygen because she picks right back up again. "I can't tell Mama he said that, though, or else he'll get in trouble and she'll tell him he can't come for breakfast and that'll just make him sad, especially if it's French toast day. And you don't want to be friends with Cade or Andrew … Will might be okay, but I think he'd be scared of you." She stops long enough to squint her eyes and look me over.
I cough again and hide my smile behind my hand as I rub my mouth. Jesus, this girl's killing me.
"Lucy and Madison don't like playing football so they're out, too, because you like football, right?" she asks and gives me a look that lets me know if I answer this wrong I'm in deep shit. I nod slowly and can't help but chuckle when she nods and pats me on the head like I'm a puppy that just went to the bathroom outside for the first time. With one last breath I think she's about to wind down because she says, "So, Edward, we're best friends now and you're not alone anymore. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am." I about lose my shit when she holds her fist up and looks at me like I'm an idiot until I pound her fist. "Best friends it is."
God only knows why, but every last bit of the nerves I felt when I walked up the steps a few minutes ago are a distant memory. I stand up and Peyton stands with me. She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a good once over before she says, "I'm going inside. You coming?"
I grin at her unable to stop myself and shake my head. I need a minute to recover from the whirlwind known as Peyton before I can even think about approaching Charlie Swan.
"I'll be in in a minute." Before I can say anything else, she zips inside. I'm left staring at the door behind her wondering if I'd just imagined the whole damn encounter.
Little thing sure can move fast. After taking one more deep breath, I square my shoulders and go through the same door as Peyton.
As soon as I step foot inside the restaurant, a sense of déjà vu washes over me. Though I haven't been to Corea in more than fifteen years, I vaguely remember this place. When I used to visit, my grandparents always rented the same cabin and we rarely did much besides fish, cook, and play on the beach. I don't remember doing any sightseeing or anything like that, just spending lazy days on the water or in the kitchen with my grandmother. We would always make one special trip out to eat and it was always to this restaurant. I was too wrapped up with being nervous and talking with Peyton before to put two and two together, but now that I'm standing here, bits and pieces are becoming clearer.
The first thing I notice when I pull my head out of my ass is how quiet it is. It literally feels like you can hear a pin drop. The next thing I hear is Peyton's voice saying my name. I'm startled by that and when I finally locate her, she's talking to an older man. I can feel my eyes dart around the room, and my heart races. The walls that I've built to protect myself, the ones that I'd felt becoming less impenetrable over the past few days are suddenly back again … more fortified than ever before. I'm wholly uncomfortable because it feels like there are hundreds of eyes staring at me, judging me, and I know I'm failing some silent test. Of course when I look around the room again, I realize the restaurant is mostly empty.
My eyes are trying to take everything in at once. I tell myself to try to relax, but it's not working. The more I tell myself that, the more I can feel it as I close myself off. Gone is the guy that was outside just a few minutes ago laughing and joking with a little girl. Instead I'm once again the ex-con, the felon … the criminal. In the midst of my inner turmoil, I have the oddest sensation wash over me. I can't really describe it, but there's no denying what I feel. When my eyes connect with hers … I feel it even more.
Calm.
Warmth.
Home.
Of course the way she's looking at me completely contradicts everything I'm feeling. Her eyes are tumultuous and troubled … wary. She looks frightened and my heart slams against my ribcage, disgust seeping from my pores. Risking a glance at her again, I can't help by stare. She's gorgeous, but the way she looks like she's trapped in a minefield, wanting to run but not being able to, makes me sick to my stomach. I look back and forth between her and Peyton and there's no denying the fact that Peyton's her daughter. Both beautiful, both with the same perfect shape of their lips and the same long mahogany hair. The fact that the woman looks like she'd like nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow me whole sets me on edge more than I care to admit. I run a hand through my hair, my telltale sign of nerves for as long as I can remember and try to take a deep breath, but it's painful.
Steeling myself, I begin to walk toward Peyton and the man I'm convinced is Charlie Swan. The way he's hanging on to Peyton, the way his eyes track her mother, the way they all resemble one another is a dead giveaway. Before I can even get there, the woman's standing between me and the table and the anxiety she's feeling is as obvious as the neon signs that light up the strip in Las Vegas.
"But, Mama, I want to talk to my new friend, Edward," I hear Peyton say and the little whine I hear in her voice cracks through the façade I've erected.
I open my mouth to tell Peyton I'll see her again, but one glance at her mother stops me dead in my tracks. The woman is barely holding it together and it's like a punch in the gut. She thinks I'm no good and doesn't want her daughter anywhere around me. The emptiness I feel at the thought of never talking to the little sprite ever again damn near brings me to my knees.
There's a roar in my head as I imagine myself screaming no at the top of my lungs but somehow I manage to hear Peyton's sweet, "Bye, Edward." I watch, helpless, as her and her mother walk back into the kitchen, and jump when the door swishes closed behind them as they disappear.
"My granddaughter seems rather taken with you," I hear a deep, crusty voice from in front of me say.
When I turn my head, I'm looking into eyes that are the same color as the ones that had just held me spellbound, but instead of troubled and wary, these are hard and warning.
The way he's sizing me up and the tone of his voice indicates he expects an answer to what he's just said. I swallow past the lump that has seemed to take up permanent residence in my throat. "We … uh … met outside. She, um … talked to me for a minute. Nothing happened though," I'm quick to point out and then want to curse myself for sounding so fucking nervous.
He grunts and stares at me some more, not indicating whatsoever if what I've just told him is right or wrong. After a few very uncomfortable moments in which I'm left standing in front of him like a kid whose been called down to the principal's office, I rock nervously from foot to foot.
"Sit," he orders me and kicks out a chair.
I do as I'm told and look him in the eye. He might hold the key to my future in his hand but I'm not going to let him know I'm scared of him or what he could do to me if he wants to.
His eyes widen just the slightest when I don't cower from his intense gaze. The corners of his mouth twitch just the tiniest bit before he schools his features and his face is as impassive as it was before.
"You're Edward Masen, I presume?"
I nod my head and hold my hand out, saying, "And I take it you're Charlie Swan." He squeezes my hand so tightly I can feel the bones grind against one another, but I make sure not to give him the slightest indication that he's hurting me. It hurts like a motherfucker of course, but there is no way in hell I'm letting him know that … I'd rather take a knee to the balls than give him the satisfaction of knowing it hurts like hell.
We gaze across the table at each other, neither letting go, until finally he releases my hand. It takes everything I have in me not to rub my hand to get rid of the throbbing pain in it. I manage to casually sit back like my hand hasn't just had every bone in it disintegrated into dust and wait for him to speak.
After one last penetrating look everything about him relaxes. "Let's cut the bullshit, Masen. Carlisle has told me a bit about your situation, so I know where you've been and I know what you're doing here in Corea."
I hunch my shoulders as I imagine the worst, but he surprises me when he begins to speak again. This time his voice has lost just a bit of the bite from before. "If Carlisle didn't trust you, I wouldn't even give you the time of day, but because he does, I might be willing to give you a chance."
"Tha … " I sputter before he slaps his hand on the table and gives me a look that makes my balls shrivel to the size of raisins.
"Don't thank me yet," he warns. This time the bite is as sharp as razor blades. "I said might, I didn't say I would. The fact that Peyton seems to like you says a lot because my granddaughter can smell bullshit from a mile away and is the best judge of character of anyone I've ever met. That alone tells me that you deserve a chance." He sits back in his chair and doesn't say anything. The silence that looms between us is as uncomfortable as any I've ever experienced. My mind's racing, my nerves are frayed, and though I don't smoke, I can't help but wish for something, anything that would give me some relief. At this point I'd be willing to settle for numb.
When his eyes meet mine again, there are a hundred emotions flashing in them but they're gone so fast I can't give any of them a name. "This restaurant has been in my family for as long as anyone in Corea can remember. There's been a Swan behind that counter … and a Swan that brings in the food that's cooked here for more years than you and I have been alive, combined. I was born and raised on the water. Hell, I probably have more seawater flowing through my veins than blood by now. My family's always lived here. My wife and I have raised our kids here and now we're watching Bella raise hers. Everything I love, everything that is the reason for my existence is inside this restaurant right now and in this town and you're asking me to trust you? To trust you with my livelihood, with everything that matters … with my family?"
His words are harsh. They sting and make me want to leap from my chair and run as far away from him and his doubts as I can. I understand them; of course I do. The man is obviously no fool. Only a fool would accept someone like me at face value, based on the good word of a man he doesn't know and one he does. No one in their right mind would expect any less, and though I wish it wasn't the case, I know where he's coming from. I know what Wayne and Carlisle have asked of him, and, if anything, it makes me want to prove myself to him even more.
"I can't make you give me a chance, but I can promise that if you do, I'll never give you a reason to doubt me. I'll work hard, I'll do whatever I have to, whatever you ask of me. This is my chance, my one shot to move on and leave the past behind me."
I want to beg him, but there's no way in hell a man as good and proud as Charlie Swan wants to hear that.
He gaze is deep and penetrating, but I don't dare move. I don't even breathe. Finding out I was being moved to the Pre-Release Center, hearing that my parole had been granted, discovering that I'd been given a hundred thousand dollars … none of it made me feel like I have ice in my veins or makes my chest feel like an elephant is standing on it the way it does as I wait for Charlie to decide my fate. My life is literally in his hands, and it's fucking terrifying.
The sound of the chair scraping across the floor as he pushes away from the table makes my stomach drop out of my ass. When he says, "Don't make me regret this. Be at the dock, five A.M. sharp tomorrow morning," my whole body wants to sag in relief, but I keep still.
He stands up and strides away, not looking back. It's not until he walks through the doors of the kitchen that I take my first breath. I don't move, I can't, as the realization that the second chance I've been so desperate for is now a reality. I want to be here, in Corea, and without this job, the chances of being allowed to stay here were slim to none. The alternative, going back to Boston, working at some dead-end job someplace just to meet the requirements of my parole thankfully hasn't come to fruition.
I replay the conversation in my head and my heart sort of skips a beat when I realize Charlie said his daughter's name. Bella. The name's perfect for her. I wonder if it's short for Isabella or if people ever call her Izzy, and then shake my head at my idiotic brain. I have to shift in my chair because my jeans have suddenly become uncomfortably tight as I picture the way her jeans hugged her perfect ass and the way the sunlight that streamed in through the widows brought out the bits of red in her hair. The woman wants nothing to do with me but I can't help but appreciate the way she looks. It's been more than seven years since I've felt a woman's body and thinking about hers is definitely making that fact painfully clear.
Shaking my head and adjusting myself as unobtrusively as possible, I finally take a look around the restaurant. There are a few people scattered throughout and I watch as a woman with short black hair glances in my direction as she sets down a plate of food. She gives me a brief smile and then leans down and whispers into the ear of a man with shaggy blond hair. When she points in my direction, an action I'm sure I wasn't supposed to be able to see, he turns toward me, not even trying to hide the fact that he's staring at me. His gaze isn't hostile, but it certainly isn't welcoming either.
I resist the urge to glare back at him. I want to, a whole fucking lot, as I wonder what the hell difference it makes to him who I am, but I don't. As much as I fucking hate it, it's just something I'm going to have to get used to. He finally turns back toward the woman when I don't react to whatever the hell he was trying to do and I get up.
I want to find Peyton but know I can't. In all likelihood our brief but very meaningful conversation from before is the only one we'll ever have. Charlie may have given me a job, but that sure as hell doesn't mean that he's going to let me be around his family and certainly not his granddaughter. It surprises me how much that thought … fucking hurts.
With a quick glance at the clock on the wall behind the cash register, I realize it's getting close to dinnertime at the boarding house. When I get outside, I can't help but smile when I see my bike gleaming in the sun. The thing is gorgeous and riding her gives me a feeling I can't even put into words. Exhilarating, exciting … freeing. My grandfather would have loved it and that thought makes my smile grow. Before I start it up, I hear a squeal of laughter float through the air and I know it's Peyton even though I can't see her.
The sound's as sweet as I imagined it would be.
I wonder if I'll ever get to make her laugh that way and I vow as I ride off toward the boarding house that somehow, someway, I will.
~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~
"Edward, I hope you like fried chicken," Esme Cullen says when I walk into her kitchen a short while later.
To say that I was surprised by her and Carlisle when I arrived last night is an understatement. I have no idea what I was expecting, but the two of them are definitely not it. Carlisle is blond-haired, blue-eyed and looks like he'd be just as comfortable teaching in an Ivy League school as he would be working out on the boat with Charlie. Esme has long, light brown hair and the greenest eyes I've ever seen. She's a small woman but I have no doubt that she can hold her own in any situation. She has an air about her, one that makes her seem part mom and part lioness at the same time.
When I roared up on my bike the night before, they were standing on the front porch, welcoming me with smiles like I was their long-lost son home from being away too long. I'd barely dismounted before Esme had pulled me into a hug, and without any hesitation whatsoever, I returned it - even though every cell in my body cringed from her touch. People invading my space is something I'm definitely not used to. It took all I had not to push her away from me, no matter that all I wanted to do was stand in her arms indefinitely. There was something that was so comforting about the way it felt. It had been more years than I could remember since the last time a hug felt so good … since my grandmother died. Instantly I knew I didn't want to upset her if I could help it. The feeling was as surprising as it was disconcerting. With the exception of Wayne, I haven't wanted to please anyone in a long … long time.
Carlisle was just as welcoming as his wife had been, though thankfully not as touchy-feely. A firm handshake and a pat on the back and we were done with the introductions. Dinner had been a simple meal of spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread but it was fucking delicious. Again it seemed like special arrangements had been made because I was the only one at dinner with them. As much as it made me uncomfortable to realize there were things that had been going on that I didn't know about, I was relieved just the same.
"Edward, dear, would you like lemonade or iced tea with dinner?" Esme asks me and I give her a sheepish grin because it's obvious I've spaced out for a few minutes.
"Lemonade will be great, Esme."
I watch as she seamlessly moves around the large kitchen. It's on the tip of my tongue to ask why she and Carlisle run this place but I don't. Most likely it's a very personal reason, and because I don't want them asking the same types of questions of me, I keep my mouth shut.
"It smells really good," I tell her instead.
She beams at the compliment and I want to roll my eyes at myself because I have no doubt if I look in a mirror, the tips of my ears will be bright red from embarrassment. How she makes me feel like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher, I have no idea and the thought is pretty damned discomfiting.
First Esme and now Peyton … I feel like I've turned into a big fucking marshmallow in the span of less than twenty-four hours.
Apparently she's not done trying to make me feel like a pre-pubescent kid because she smiles at me once she's done pouring lemonade into iced glasses and says, "You need to be sure to give me a list of your favorite meals and what things you don't like. I want to make sure you'll eat your dinner. You're much too thin, dear."
When she pats my arm as she passes me, like it's something she's done hundreds of times before, I realize just how isolating prison truly is. The more time spent behind bars, the more it eats away at your soul until you're nothing but a hardened shell that's empty on the inside. Before I got out, I worried that I'd changed into someone like that. The fact that meeting Peyton and Esme … even Wayne and Carlisle, has made the impression on me that it has, gives me hope. Hope that someday I will be known simply as Edward, not Edward the ex-con.
Carlisle walks in, and when he does, both of their faces light up like they haven't seen each other for weeks instead of merely hours. If they weren't so damned cute it would make me cringe, but the love they have for each other is as plain as day.
"Edward, good to see you," Carlisle says after he kisses Esme on the cheek … and pats her on the ass.
That I really could have done without seeing, and I pretty much choke when Carlisle winks at me, showing no shame whatsoever.
Without being asked, he and I help Esme carry the chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and freshly-baked biscuits to the table. From our discussion last night, I remember them telling me that most nights they eat together and then leave the other boarders to eat whenever they are done on the boats. As of right now, there's only me and one other guy staying with them - someone named Seth. So far I haven't seen him and I haven't decided whether I want to keep it that way or just get the introductions over with.
This whole integrating back into society thing sure isn't as easy as it sounds … in fact it's damned tough. Going seven years while trying to keep to myself as much as I could makes having to interact with others almost torturous. I want to stop second-guessing people's actions and looking for ulterior motives every time I meet someone, but I know it'll take some time before that happens.
Once we're seated and our plates are full, we dig in. Burgers, beer, spaghetti, fried chicken … lemonade … I feel like a king at a feast. Every meal I've had since being released tastes fucking delicious. It's amazing what seven years of eating food that's barely more than slop will do to your taste buds. I can't eat as much as I used to, though, so after a few pieces of chicken and a piece of corn, I'm done.
"So, Edward," Carlisle says as he puts down his napkin. "How did your meeting go with Charlie?"
I manage to not blurt out my first thought, which is Charlie Swan is one of the most intimidating men I've ever met in my life. I know Carlisle and Charlie are friends, obviously good ones, and I don't want to disrespect either of them so I merely say, "He's going to give me a chance. I start tomorrow morning."
The fact that I have a job, that I have a reason to stay in Corea, makes me sit up taller in my seat. I have a purpose, something to work toward, and the feeling is heady.
"Oh, Edward!" Esme beams and reaches across the table to pat my hand. "That's such wonderful news!"
It comes as a shock how much it affects me that she's so pleased, and I shift a bit in my chair. All these new feelings I'm having are confusing the fuck out of me and now all I want to do is get some space.
Before I can make my escape though, Carlisle chuckles. "Yes, well, I can imagine Charlie made you squirm a bit before telling you that?" he questions with a raised eyebrow.
"Um, yeah … you could say that." I can't help but cringe as I remember Charlie's words.
Esme scoffs and then smiles at me. "Don't you let Charlie Swan fool you, Edward. That man is a big softy underneath all that huffing and puffing. If you ever seen him with his granddaughter, you'll see a completely different side of him."
My lips twitch and my heart does that stuttering thing in my chest again when I think about my self-appointed new best friend. I'm twenty-seven years-old and the fact that my only friend is a little girl should have me questioning my sanity … and my manhood if I'm being honest, but I can't find it in me to mind a whole hell of a lot. There are a lot worse things, I imagine, than having Peyton as a friend.
"Yes … I've met Peyton," I tell them both and I know I have a goofy ass smile on my face but I can't help it.
Carlisle and Esme both laugh and it seems as if the little sprite has more than just me wrapped around her little finger.
Esme claps her hands and practically bounces up and down in her seat at the mention of Peyton's name. "Isn't she just the sweetest thing? And smart as a whip, too, that one. Just like her mama, that's for sure. Bella's done such an amazing job with that little girl. After what happened before Peyton was born, we were all so worried, but Bella's one of the strongest women I know," she trails off. Her entire demeanor shifts with her last statement and her smile is instantly replaced with a frown.
I'm thrown by her words and wonder what in the hell happened to Bella. A flash of glinting brown eyes rips through me and I know at once how strong she is. Somehow I also know that behind the fierce façade is a woman still in pain. Pain from what, I haven't the first damn clue, but I know it's there.
The fact that I realize that, once again has me reeling.
"What's this about Bella?" someone asks and I look up.
The man is staring at me, blatantly so. He gives me the once over and like the blond-haired man from the restaurant earlier, doesn't even try to hide his perusal. His eyes narrow at the scar on my neck, even more so when he gets to the ink on my arms. When our eyes meet once he's through, I can't say that the look he gives me is intimidating but it's not exactly warm and cuddly either.
"Oh, Seth," Esme sweetly says as she gets up. "This is Edward. He's going to be staying here and will be working on the Isabella Marie with Charlie and the guys."
Of course Charlie named the boat after her.
Seth's stance loses a bit of its rigidness and he holds his hand out to me. Apparently if I've passed muster with Charlie, I'm golden, so I take his hand and shake it.
"Nice to meet you," he says and sits down.
"Likewise," I tell him, somewhat awkwardly.
After Seth eats for a few minutes, Esme says, "We were just talking about Peyton. Edward's met her also."
Seth takes a big drink of his lemonade and then sits back in his chair. When he smirks at me, I get an uneasy feeling, though I have no idea why. "Peyton is something else," he tells me, and his voice seems to be laced with some unspoken warning.
"Yes, she is," I tell him levelly. I have no idea what's going on, but I'll be damned if I let him know that.
"You meet Bella?" he asks, not taking his eyes off me.
This time I warily shift in my seat. "In a manner of speaking."
Somehow he's managed to clean his plate in the time we've been talking. He sets his now empty glass beside the empty plate and looks at me, not speaking for a few very tense moments. Suddenly his face breaks out into a huge smile and I frown, wondering what the hell is the matter with him.
"Wait until you meet Xavier," is all he says before thanking Esme for dinner. He takes his dishes to the sink and I watch, dumbfounded, as he puts them in the dishwasher and then leaves the room without looking back.
All I can do is stare at him, slack-jawed, as I wonder what the fuck that was all about … and who the hell Xavier is.
I'm not sure I want to know.
~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~
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