A New Cullen Sister

Chapter 56

Esme could hear Carlisle pacing up and down in his study. The others had all gone out for the afternoon. Blythe had joined them. Amelia was taking a nap before afternoon physiotherapy. Just the three of them remained at the house, and Carlisle was clearly bothered by something. She climbed the stairs, and entered his study, greeted to the sight of him scribbling something down on a piece of paper that he held in his hands.

"What on earth are you doing, Carlisle?" queried Esme mildly. She was a little confused by his behaviour, it was so unlike him.

"Devising a speech to give young Mr Smith," he muttered, pen racing across the paper.

"Why ever would you need to do that?" Esme was surprised.

"Because it is my fatherly duty," retorted Carlisle, emphasising each word with a pen stroke, pausing to glance up at Esme when she burst into laughter.

"So what, are you going to read him the riot act or something?" she laughed, "Carlisle, he's just a teenage boy, not Amelia's life partner."

"My point exactly, he is just a teenage boy. With wayward hormones and thoughts and he is a football player too!" Carlisle glared at the wall with unnecessary venom, as though Steven's position on the football team made all the difference in the world, "I want to know what his intentions are towards my daughter. I've never done this before! I changed Emmett for Rosalie, and Alice and Jasper came to us as a mated pair already. There was never a need to give this fatherly speech," he threw his hands into the air in exasperation.

"Aren't you overthinking this just a little?" asked Esme, raising an eyebrow.

"What? No!" he exclaimed.

"Come on, Carlisle. You're the one who keeps saying that Amelia needs to live a little. They are watching a film at home, not going out for dinner in Port Angeles. We will all be there, listening in. What is the worst thing that could happen? He holds her hand?"

"What if he tries that cheesy arm-stretch manoeuvre midway through the film?" he thundered, horror struck that the teenage quarterback might even try to touch his daughter, let alone look at her.

'Aww, is someone becoming all protective over his baby girl?" cooed Esme. Carlisle glared at her. 

"Darn right," he sulked. Esme stifled a giggle and walked over to where her husband was standing, enfolding him in her arms.

"Carlisle, she's 16 years old, not six. I really don't think you need to worry about her so much. You are overthinking this."

"What if he tries something?" he asked, getting himself worked up even further.

Esme outright snorted. "Do you really see Amelia allowing things to progress beyond holding hands? This is our teenage daughter we are talking about. Have a little faith," she stated, giving him a kiss to shut him up.

"But Amelia-"

"Will be fine. Relax. She hasn't even set a date yet."

"But what if she wants to kiss him?"

"Then she kisses him. So what?"

"So what? So what?" he exclaimed, "have you ever heard of Infectious Mononucleosis? Cold sores?"

"Carlisle!"

Esme started laughing again. Once again, her husband was making her laugh. He looked so bewildered and almost scared. Esme felt a stab of sympathy towards him. At 364 years old, he was completely and utterly out of his depth, and he was so unsure of himself.