Chapter 19

“Emily?”

Edward echoed Bella’s last word in stunned surprise. His brow furrowed for a moment as he tried to understand where that question came from.

“Your standing Thursday appointment,” she clarified, faltering a bit. “You said none of the women in that planner mean anything to you, but I don’t believe that. She’s the person you spend every Thursday with, no matter what. So obviously, she’s important to you, in some way. . .”

She trailed off, beginning to feel embarrassed, as if she’d overstepped. She felt even worse when she heard Edward’s reply.

“She is important. She means the world to me.”

Bella’s heart stuttered and flopped helplessly in her chest. “I see,” she managed to choke out, then reached for her coffee cup to take a drink.

Edward observed her with interest. Patches of pink mottled her cheeks, and her eyes reminded him of a wounded fawn’s. He felt a horribly perverse sense of satisfaction as he viewed the evidence that his feelings for her were reciprocated, even though she hadn’t spouted them in a fountain of word vomit like he just had. He marveled that she had somehow managed to gloss over the bevy of women he may or may not have bedded, and zeroed in on the one who existed entirely outside of that world. Could it be that ultimately she didn’t care where his dick had been, and was only concerned about who held his heart?

“You don’t think Emily is one of my clients, do you?” he asked.

Bella was startled at Edward’s tone. It sounded almost. . . amused.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. She’s the only one you see every week without fail, so I just assumed that she’s someone special to you.” Her face screwed up in consternation and she had trouble looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry, I never should have snooped in your appointment book like that. I’m a nosy bitch. It’s none of my business who you spend your time with, for work or otherwise.”

She hid behind her coffee cup again, taking another generous sip. She glanced over its edge at Edward with trepidation, and saw a tiny grin twisting his lips. He was amused. What the hell?

“I’m the one who put the damned book in your handbag to begin with, so I certainly can’t blame you for reading it. I hung myself in my own noose with that move.”

He had no time to elaborate further, because Lydia was heading their way with two large matching platters of omelets, bacon, hash browns and toast. He thanked the waitress politely after she served their food, while Bella unfolded her napkin in her lap and stared at the breakfast before her. It smelled delicious, but her appetite was lost in nervous apprehension. Still, she was glad for the diversion from their uncomfortable conversation, so she readily began picking at her food.

Edward took a healthy bite of egg-wrapped ham, veggies and cheese - damn, Mott’s still made the best omelet he’d ever tasted. As he chewed, he watched Bella listlessly lift a tiny bit of egg to her mouth. Even though he was still guiltily enjoying her jealousy, he decided he really should put her out of her misery.

“Emily is not one of my customers,” he informed her. He waited until Bella’s eyes jumped up to meet his before he continued. “She’s my grandmother.”

He paused to see if a look of relief would relax her features. When it did, he continued.

“I visit her every Thursday at Tranquility Gardens, which is just another fancy name for one of those places that masquerades as a picturesque retirement residence when it’s really just a glorified nursing home.”

Bella’s bit of egg got stuck in her throat for a second before she swallowed it down. “Edward’s granny” had been her number one hope for the identity of the mystery woman in his planner, but she certainly hadn’t wished for the circumstances to be what they were.

“Is she ill?” Bella felt stupid as soon as she asked. Obviously she wasn’t in good health, or she wouldn’t be in long-term care.

Edward nodded and turned his attention back to his food, unable to elaborate. He could never seem to talk about the insidious dementia that stole a little more of the woman he loved every day.

“I’m sorry,” Bella mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

Edward sawed at his omelet with unnecessary vigor. “Yeah, me too,” he said quietly before lifting the loaded fork to his mouth.

She continued to work at her own breakfast, even though the revelation about Emily had done anything but whet her appetite. She felt like she should say something else, but she wasn’t sure what.

“It’s nice that you go see her every week,” she offered at last.

Edward’s smile was wry. “My cousin and I are all she has,” was his brief reply before changing the subject. “How’s your breakfast, by the way? The omelets here are my favorites.”

Bella gave him a weak smile. “It’s delicious.”

“You don’t seem to be enjoying it very much,” he said reprovingly.

“I guess I’m not that hungry this morning. But it really is good, honestly.”

They ate in silence for a few moments, both remembering the tension of their last dinner together. Edward wondered how he would navigate the minefield of questions that were sure to follow his disclosure. And Bella’s mind was awhirl with them, now that Emily’s identity had been revealed. Chief among them was, Where are Edward’s parents? If he and a solitary cousin were all Emily had left in the world, then something must have happened to the rest of his family.

Something awful.

And if that were true, then that meant Edward had probably taken responsibility for Emily’s care. Suddenly the portrait of Edward Cullen became startlingly, depressingly clear: not only had he most likely suffered the untimely loss of his parents, he had become an escort so he could pay for his grandmother’s housing and medical bills. And perhaps he was the caretaker for his cousin as well.

Edward glanced up at Bella and grew sick inside at her expression. He knew it all too well. It was the reason he didn’t talk about himself, his life or his choices. He couldn’t take the inevitable reaction.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he ordered gruffly.

“Like what?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Like you feel sorry for me. I don’t want or need your pity.”

“I didn’t mean to. . .” she trailed off, not sure what she did mean. She hadn’t realized she was looking at him that way, but how could she not? His situation was pitiable.

“Well, I’m sorry, but if you’re telling me what I think you are, it explains so much about you that I didn’t understand,” she blurted. “It’s been driving me crazy not knowing why you’re an escort when you could be so much more. When you want to be so much more. I mean, a lot of guys would consider getting paid to be a total player the ultimate dream job, but you’re not one of them.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, wondering how she’d been able to make a judgment call about his morality so quickly. And accurately.

“At least it makes sense to me now,” she continued. “You’re paying for your grandmother’s long-term care, and God knows what other kinds of bills she might have left behind when she got sick. Am I right?”

Edward didn’t know whether he was annoyed or relieved that she had figured everything out, for the most part. At least it spared him from going into further details.

“Excellent detective work, Miss Swan,” he commended her. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about this any more. It is what it is. Shit happens. People deal with it the best way they know how.”

The subject was obviously closed as far as Edward was concerned, but Bella couldn’t help but push her luck with one last supposition. “So I’m guessing that being an escort pays a lot more than being a concert pianist?”

His answering smile was stiff. “Unless you’re some kind of child prodigy or wunderkind who would draw huge, high-paying audiences, then you’re looking at about the same salary as a teacher would get. And I was fine with that until -” he cut himself off, lips pursing together, before he continued. “Until I needed a lot more money than that to make ends meet. End of story.”

Bella nodded and fell silent. She bowed her head over the remainder of her breakfast and set about finishing it, though her stomach felt like a lead balloon. Her heart ached for Edward, and a little for herself. Instead of being relieved at the explanation of his choices, she was only more anxious. On one hand, the reasons behind his line of work were much more understandable, perhaps even excusable. But on the other, she realized that those reasons were also nonnegotiable. Edward obviously took his responsibilities seriously and would not be swayed from meeting them. He would not be giving up the escort business as long as it allowed him to care for the only family he had left.

No matter how much their brief time together meant to Edward Cullen, if she were to issue him an ultimatum - his job, or her - she would lose.

She knew what the smart thing to do would be. She should walk away right now, before she got in any deeper. If she had entertained any hopes that he might give up the business for her, they were now dashed. She would have to take him as is, or leave him.

She gazed at him now, head bent over his plate, making quick work of his hash browns like they might run off with the bacon if he didn’t dispose of them both at once. His brows were pulled unhappily together and his eyelashes cast feathery shadows on his cheeks where the sunlight slanted across them. His impossibly pink lips made various silly-putty shapes in an effort to stay closed over his teeth as he masticated his food. She felt the same panic wash over her now as she had in the hotel bathroom last weekend, listening to his voice in the next room: she was horrified that this might be the last time she’d experience it.

As if reading her mind, he suddenly looked up at her, stopped chewing and swallowed. Their eyes began one of those silent exchanges that made her heart stop and her nerves spring to life. As she read the pain and uncertainty she saw there, Bella wasn’t sure she cared about doing the smart thing anymore. What she was considering might, in fact, be the dumbest thing she’d ever do. All she knew was that she couldn’t say good-bye to Edward Cullen. Not yet.

“I’m sorry if I was short with you,” he apologized, his voice as warm as the butter that had melted over her half-eaten toast. “I told you that you were important to me, and then acted offended when you needed something from me in return. It’s just hard for me to talk about certain things. And when I do, it usually throws a very effective wet blanket over what might have been a nice time.”

“Don’t apologize. I promised you last weekend that I wouldn’t push you about your personal life, but I keep doing it. It’s my fault,” Bella insisted.

He disagreed with a shake of his head. “You’ve been nothing but open and honest with me from the beginning. You deserve the same in return. You’ve been pretty patient with me, all things considered.”

“I think you forget how patient you were with me last weekend. I’ll try harder to return the favor.”

They were giving each other a reciprocal “you’re too good to be true” look when Lydia returned to their table, coffee pot in one hand and bill pad in the other. Edward looked to Bella for approval before waving away the coffee and asking for the check instead.

Bella glanced at her watch, then out the window at the uncharacteristically sunny weather. “We can still have a nice time, you know,” she encouraged Edward after the waitress left them. “I don’t have to go to work for another half-hour. Why don’t we go hang out in that little park across the street? I’ll let you push me on the swings.”

A strange look darkened his features for a moment, then quickly passed. “You’ll let me push you, huh?” he teased, that irresistible half-grin of his taking over. “I like that spin. I’ll consider it a privilege, then.”

“As you should,” she teased back. “Maybe if I get lucky, you’ll let me push you, too.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure luck is on your side, Miss Swan.” He was still grinning as he pulled out his wallet and threw a wad of cash on the table. Bella reached for her backpack to pay her fair share, but when she caught Edward’s resulting glare, she stopped short.

“I can pay for my own breakfast, you know,” she said crossly.

“I’m sure you can. But you’re not going to.”

His tone was decisive, even imperious. She found it oddly hot.

“What’s this ‘Miss Swan’ stuff, anyway? Aren’t we past the formal stage now?”

His grin became positively wicked. “I mean it only as a term of the utmost respect. But if you’d like me to be less respectful, I’m sure I can come up with something.”

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. “’Bella’ will work just fine.”

“All right.” He chuckled as he rose from his bench seat. “Are you ready to go, Bella?”

“Absolutely, Mister Cullen,” she replied smoothly, grabbing her backpack and getting up from the table to join him.

His answering laugh was loud and genuine. Damn if she didn’t give as good as she got. He hesitantly reached for her hand, but she didn’t see the gesture - she was already ahead of him, making a beeline for the door. He had the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be following her lead.

And he found that he rather liked it.