Every head in the Cullen house turned toward the door when they heard Carlisle's car. All of them moving to the edge of their seats when they heard the distinct sound of him humming. Carlisle hadn't hummed in months. The only music they'd heard drifting from his study had been Billie Holiday's most miserable hits. If they had a dollar for every time they'd heard Solitude, they'd never have to invest again.
But Carlisle wasn't humming Billie Holliday. Not even close. Strangers in the Night.
"That's Sinatra." Rosalie whispered, smacking Emmet as she did. "He's humming Sinatra!"
"I don't understand." Bella whispered to Edward.
"Carlisle loves Sinatra." Alice answered quietly, "He hasn't been able to listen to him since—" She cut herself off as Carlisle moseyed in, waving on his way through.
"How was work, Carlisle?" Emmet asked with a grin on his face.
"Terrible." Carlisle replied though there was quite literally a skip in his step, "A man died in emergency surgery." His tone was just a little too jolly.
"That's awful." Alice said resting her cheek in her palm, "What else did you do today?"
"Not much." Carlisle replied flippantly.
Each of them shared a look. "Carlisle," Jasper said with a look, "Not only do you feel like you just took an upper, you reek."
"I don't reek!" Carlisle defended incredulously, "This is the—" he cut himself off. "Ah." He rocked on his heels a little clasping his hands behind his back, a shy grin spreading across his face as he realized he was caught. "I may have crossed paths with Minerva for an hour or two."
Luckily, Emmett was there to take just a little bit of the sweetness out of the moment. "You get lucky?" All of his siblings groaned in unison, Bella just looked a little alarmed.
"In a sense." Carlisle said, trying his best to ignore the suggestive look Emmett was giving him. "Lucky that she can stand the sight of me again."
"Boring." Emmett muttered earning a hard elbow to the ribs from Rosalie. "Ow."
Rosalie gave him a meaningful look, "I'm really happy for you, Carlisle." All he could do was offer a slightly embarrassed smile before he carried on upstairs.
"He's acting like a teenager." Emmet snorted softly, "He's going up there to twirl his hair, kick his feet and doodle her name in his diary."
"Shut up!" Carlisle's voice carried down the stairs. It struck him, as he closed himself in his study, how different things had become. How many times had the scent of rosemary and yarrow on his clothes been an elephant in the room? How many times had he held her name under his tongue? How many times had he quelled his ardour in the name of everyone else's comfort?
It felt surreal to just come home, to not skulk upstairs with his tail between his legs. To have Rosalie of all people say she was happy for him? Maybe, he was dead.
Dead again, rather. Properly dead this time and off to heaven. Though, it shouldn't have been much of a surprise. After everything in March, Rosalie had given him an earnest apology which wasn't something she often doled out.
He was a bit like a teenager, a young lovestruck fool. Carlisle wasn't going to kick his feet and draw hearts around her name but boy, was he ever giddy. He'd felt this way when he'd first gotten to know her but now? With everything out in the open? No more secrets? Nothing stood between them. All he had to do was bide his time, prove he was worthy of her trust and then tell her he'd loved her since he first laid eyes on her. Easy peasy. Simple as pi.
Super easy. Really.. easy.
Carlisle reached into the top drawer of his desk, his hands closing around the sole occupant of the drawer like he was handling something sacred.
He knew exactly the poem he wanted.
Hither hither, love—
'Tis a shady mead—
Hither, hither, love!
Let us feed and feed!
Hither, hither, sweet—
'Tis a cowslip bed—
Hither, hither, sweet!
'Tis with dew bespread!
Hither, hither, dear
By the breath of life,
Hither, hither, dear!—
Be the summer's wife!
Though one moment's pleasure
In one moment flies—
Though the passion's treasure
In one moment dies;—
Yet it has not passed—
Think how near, how near!—
And while it doth last,
Think how dear, how dear!
Hither, hither, hither
Love its boon has sent—
If I die and wither
I shall die content!
He'd read it before, from this book too many times to count. He was well acquainted with her annotations, there were only a one on this poem. Next to the last lines of the bottom stanza. If I should be so lucky.
Note: Another short one but consider this my apology tee hee, I'm gonna pick up the pacing a bit. <3
YOU ARE READING
la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen
Fiksi Penggemar. ୨⎯ She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna-dew, And sure in language strange she said- 'I love thee true'. ⎯୧ Magic exists in every corner of the world, a long lost art w...
