Bella coughed as she leaned over the arm of the couch, and I held her hair out of her face. Alice brandished a bucket—the brunette hadn't been able to keep any kind of food down for longer than twenty minutes.
She leaned back, the bumps of her spine hitting my shoulder as I lowered her back down into a sitting position. I released her hair and offered her a tissue for her mouth; she took it, but her movements were slow and exhausted. I glanced at Carlisle, who was watching her from the corner of the room, and his jaw tightened.
She was barely mobile. She couldn't eat without throwing up. Her stomach had ballooned and sucked all of the flesh from the rest of her body, leaving her spindly and even more breakable. She used to be soft and now she was sharp.
I read to her, like I had on the morning of her wedding. We were interrupted by bouts of vomiting, cramps and rib pains, but she enjoyed it. She didn't even have the energy to be scornful, despite hating being babied. Rosalie hardly let anyone near her, other than me—and even that was a little dicey. She seemed to relax when she played with Ethan, but she wouldn't leave the room that Bella was in. Just in case.
I stood up and brushed my hair out of my face as Bella's eyes fluttered closed. I'd done a shift at the diner after waking up several times throughout the night—Ethan had a cough—and then volunteered to take over from Alice in watching over Bella; her headaches were getting worse. The more the baby grew, the sharper the pains were that pierced the centre of her forehead. She had to excuse herself more and more frequently each day, and sometimes Jasper went with her to try and ease it a little.
Esme had taken to spending a lot of time with Ethan—the distraction was welcome to her. She liked to look after people. She would constantly bring me food and coffee, check that I was warm enough, ask if I needed a nap. She sat with him in the corner of the room, looking out through the glass wall at the river and rocking back and forth with his head resting in the crook of her elbow. She looked peaceful, so I left her to it.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I talked to him. ~P
I took a breath.
How'd it go? ~I
We went for a walk on the beach. It was nice. ~P
I smiled.
Good. Proud of you. ~I
Fuck off. <3 ~P
Love you too. ~I
I haven't told him yet. ~P
Probably a good plan. Ease him into it. Might scare him off otherwise. ~I
Comforting. ~P
Logical. ~I
He didn't reply for a minute or so.
Love you, idiot. ~P
I almost dropped my phone.
Shut up. <3 ~I
I didn't notice that Carlisle had risen from his seat until I heard the front door open, and a pair of heavy boots step into the hallway. All heads in the room turned toward the sound as the footsteps got louder with increased proximity, Rosalie rising from her seat and stepping in front of Bella.
It was Jacob.
He looked scruffy—unshaven, a little dirty, and wild-eyed—but determined. He strode into the room without even wincing at the vampire smell, which he usually made a big deal about, his jaw set.
"Where is she?"
Rosalie took a step forward as he walked further into the room, her voice cold. "Close enough."
He reeled back, raising an eyebrow. "What's your problem?"
"Rose," Bella said, sounding so small. "It's okay."
I felt sick.
I knew that she'd told Charlie that she'd caught some kind of contagious disease on her honeymoon and that she was seeking treatment in isolation, but I had no clue what she'd said to Jake—if she'd told him anything at all, even.
Emmett shifted his weight, stance nonchalant but eyes narrowed. He seemed uncomfortable at Jake's aggression toward Rosalie, but nowhere near stepping in. The viciousness of her eyes was deterrent enough from trying anything.
Jacob stepped around her slowly, not attempting to hide his disgust as he looked her up and down, but then his eyes found Bella.
She was curled up on the couch, bundled in blankets, and from the angle at which he was looking at her, she didn't seem pregnant. She just looked sickly. Pallid.
"You look terrible," Jake breathed.
They shared a small smile.
"Yeah," she mumbled. "It's nice to see you too."
"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?"
I tensed.
Esme quietly excused herself from the room, taking Ethan with her. Bella took a breath and looked at Rosalie.
"Rose, you want to help me up?"
She threw the blankets off her legs and shifted forward on the couch, taking Rosalie's outstretched hands and levering herself up onto her feet.
His face was indescribable.
I'd never seen him look so horrified. So offended, so hurt. It shattered my heart, and riled red-hot anger in my gut.
In a split-second, he was in Edward's face, teeth bared and shouting, "You did this!". Emmett's hand was on his shoulder, then, stopping him dead in his tracks, but he smacked the hand away.
"We didn't even know it was possible," Carlisle said, attempting to reason.
Jake whirled around. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure. Ultrasounds and needles won't penetrate the embryonic sac."
"I can't see anything either," Alice said as she stepped into the room, obviously having heard the commotion. She sounded small with defeat. "And I can't see Bella's future anymore."
"We've been researching legends," Carlisle added, rubbing his eyes. "But there isn't much to go on. What we do know is that it's strong. And fast-growing."
Jake's lip curled. "Why haven't you done anything? Take it out of her!"
Rosalie was in his face again. "This is none of your business, dog."
"All of this fighting isn't good for Bella," Emmett said in a soft, quiet tone.
"The foetus isn't good for Bella!" Alice countered, finding her volume again.
"Say the word, Alice," Rosalie snapped. ''Baby'. It's just a little baby!"
"Possibly," Jasper murmured.
"Carlisle, you've got to do something-
"No," Bella cut in, eyes resolute and fixed on Jake's face. "It's not his decision. It's not any of yours."
"Jacob, I need to talk to you," Edward said. His voice was strangled, and he looked like a madman as he strode across the room toward the door, Jacob followed him without hesitation.
~~~
I clattered through the swinging doors and dashed through the kitchen, ignoring the noises of surprise and irritation my arrival evoked from the kitchen staff and sprinting for the bathroom. Since having Ethan, I had little to no control over my bladder, so when I needed to go, I needed to go.
The staff bathroom was small—only one stall. The lock was hanging on by a thread, and I sent out a little prayer than it had fully broken when I saw that it was red instead of green. I tried the door and, sure enough, it was occupied, and I could have cried.
I lingered in the corridor a moment and squeezed my legs together, considering my options. The time limit meant I didn't think particularly hard.
"Excuse me!" I called, knocking on the door.
A muffled voice answered. "Occupied!"
"I know! Really sorry to disturb, but—wait, is that Will?"
There was a pause, and he sounded unsure. "Yeah."
"I'm going to be honest with you," I called, "a baby messes up your bladder and I'm literally about to pee myself. Is there any chance you're close to being done?"
"Uh..."
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and pressed my lips together. "Please? I don't want to ruin my uniform!"
The door unlocked. "Fine—Jesus, slow down!"
I rocketed past him and slammed the door shut behind me, almost ready to collapse in relief. As soon as I'd done my business, I realised how insufferably dramatic I'd been. As I washed my hands, I noticed the shelf above the sink was a little more crowded than normal. It was scattered with makeup products: a sponge and a half-empty bottle of foundation, powder and even some blush.
"Hey, did Claire get ready for work in here or something-
Will was standing very close to the door when I opened it, cheeks flaming. He seemed self-conscious that there might be other people in the corridor, and I guessed that the reason for that was the large bruise on his jaw. It was a dark, raging purple that flourished against his fair skin, and in contrast to the light tone of his hair. He slipped back into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. I hadn't moved.
"Uh..."
He barely reacted to my voice, ducking his head and resting a hand on the door. He was breathing slowly but his shoulders caved inwards—he seemed mortified.
"Were you in a fight?" I asked quietly.
He didn't say anything.
I paused a moment. "Do you want me to do the makeup for you? I might be better at blending."
He was once again quiet, but he turned around.
He wouldn't meet my eyes, but he didn't move away when I picked up the sponge and dabbed some foundation gently—ever so gently—on the bruised area. His cheeks were hot, and he stood rigid. The foundation blurred the bruise; it was a little mismatched to the colour of his face, but the powder evened it out. I dabbed the tiniest amount of blush above the bruise, to warm the skin so that the slight shadow beneath it wouldn't be as noticeable. From a distance, he looked the same as always. Up close, his face looked more textured than usual, but I doubted anyone would comment.
"There," I said softly, shutting the powder compact. "Is that alright?"
He turned to the mirror and assessed my handiwork, his jaw unlocking. "Uh, yeah." He cleared his throat. "Thanks."
I smiled at his reflection. "No problem."
We stood in silence for a few moments, unsure of how to proceed. As much as I didn't know him, or particularly like him, I found a softness for him. Embarrassment was all too familiar to me and seeing somebody else squirm and wriggle would always be unpleasant.
"How's your aunt?"
I blinked, taken off-guard by the question.
"I used to, uh, talk to her when she came in," he said quickly. "I miss her."
"She's okay," I said, watching his face. "Got some family stuff going on at the moment, though. That's probably why she isn't here as much."
"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry about that."
"Thanks."
Another long silence.
"She used to date my dad."
"Oh," I said, surprised. "Really? When?"
"Couple of years back," he said, looking down at his hands. "Wasn't for long, only, like, six months or so. But she still checks in on me." His lips twitched toward a smile.
I wasn't really sure what to say. I never really asked Meg about her romantic life, just as she never sought out to talk about it.
"Please tell her that I hope she's doing okay," he said, finally meeting my eyes.
"I will."
"You should probably get back," he said after a while. "Kevin might think you fell in the toilet, or something."
I let out an amused huff. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you later."
"See you."
I was uneasy for the remainder of my shift. I misremembered people's orders, poured them coffee just after they'd answered my offer of some with a definitive "no", and dropped two mugs. I couldn't get the bruise out of my mind; it was so vivid. A purple that shade meant force.
Of course, his embarrassment of it could mean that he was just in a fight with someone and lost. Fights were stupid in my opinion, whatever the context, but somewhat understandable. But the look in his eyes, his body language, and the way he could barely bring himself to look at me made me question it. And questioning it made me worry for his safety.