Chapter 25: Of Blood and Fire
“Edward was a…contemplative young man… he was very studious,” Carlisle said, selecting his words carefully.
“He was a dork! A geeky little man, who stayed home on Fridays practicing piano and burning through biology books the way most teenage boys burned through Playboys,” I declared.
Bella snorted and slapped her hand over her mouth.
“He read those, too,” Carlisle defended with a snicker. “Found that stash when he was seventeen. Tried to tell me he was gathering data, assessing the female form in the name science, of course.” He stifled a laugh.
Bella’s face was red from holding her laughter in, but her body shook with effort. She was fucking adorable and completely perfect for my son.
“And if I remember correctly, my dear husband, you clapped him on the shoulder and then suggested he try Penthouse for a more…how did you put it? In depth assessment?”
“No, no. If you’re going to tell the story, get it right, woman. I suggested Hustler for a more complete assessment.”
“So no rebellious days?” Bella asked, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.
“No, not really. Oh, but that one night…the uh, Roland’s boy had that party. Christ, what was that kid’s name?” I asked Carlisle, slapping his chest.
“Gentle hands, lamb,” he said in a soft, overly sweet voice. Jack ass. “And his name was Peter.”
“Peter, yes,” slap, “with the sandy hair, all tall and wiry.”
“Um, ouch!” Carlisle, my husband, my lover, my friend, but certainly not my defender. So sensitive.
I ignored his cute little whimper and continued on with the story. “So, Edward comes home Friday afternoon, all jacked up about lord knows what. When I ask, he announces that he’s going to a party. Well, colour me shocked. The boy rarely went anywhere, let alone a fuckin’ party. For a quick second I thought about calling the local Catholic Church, see about an exorcism or such thing, then I remembered he was a seventeen, nearly eighteen, year old boy. So, I told him to have fun and if he needed a ride home, to call.”
Carlisle chimed in, “He called home at two in the morning.” A big, nostalgic grin spread across his face.
“Shit faced?” Bella asked, mixing a drink for herself.
“Yup. So very far from sober,” Carlisle confirmed.
“He piled into the car, singing that ridiculous song…”
“I get knocked down, but I get up again. You’re never gonna keep me down,” Carlisle sang, pumping his hands in the air little fool. God I love this man.
“Tubthumping!” Bella shouted and sang along with Carlisle.
“That’s the one. So he’s all, ‘pissin’ the night away’ and suddenly he goes dead silent.”
“Oh, no,” Bella said, shaking her head.
“Oh yeah. I turn in my seat just in time to see the apple of my eye chuck his cookies in the back seat of Daddy’s brand new BMW.”