Tips for Better Living by adorablecullens

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5792015/1/

Summary: Edward is a self-centered college drop-out, waiting on tables and
living an empty life. Redemeption arrives in the guise of a quirky customer who
offers him some much-needed advice for happiness. Does Edward have the
character to rise to the challenge?

January

It was 3:30 p.m., and Edward Cullen was leaning against the lunch counter,
staring at Rosalie Hale's ass. It was a very fine ass, peach shaped and firm. She
was squatting and the black pants they all wore in the restaurant were riding low
enough for him to see her thong and …

"I'm done here. Rose, take your dinner break please. Edward, stop staring at
Rose's ass. Table 12 has been waiting for a warm-up for about 10 minutes now."
Poppy, the owner of Poppy's Deli and Edward's boss, smacked him none too
gently up the back of the head as she sailed past on her way to the door. Rose
spun around and glared furiously at him.

"What?" he said with a smirk. "Just admiring the view." His coworker gave him
the finger and stomped away to clock out for break, her blonde ponytail bobbing
behind her. Edward laughed. Women loved him. They all loved it when Edward
Cullen paid attention to them, no matter how they protested. Maybe Rose is a
lesbian, he thought sagely.

"Excuse me," came a voice behind him. He sighed and turned around with a
phony smile plastered on his face. "Could I get some more coffee please?"

I hate this shitty job, he thought glumly, taking up a fresh pot from the burner.
Edward trudged over to Table 12 and freshened his customer's coffee.

But shitty as it was, waiting tables at Poppy's seemed to be the only work
available for college drop-outs in their early 20s with very few skills and even less
ambition. He'd been fired from his last job for showing up late (and stoned) one
too many times. His father never failed to remind him how many favors he'd had
to call in to get him the job at Poppy's.

He knew his parents, Carlisle and Esme, were in despair over him, although he
was quite sure they were making a fuss over nothing. He was 22, and there was
plenty of time yet to work and get serious about life. For now, he wanted to have
a little fun – what was so bad about that? Yeah, he had flunked out of a couple of
college programs. Some minor run-ins with the law for being drunk and
disorderly, or for smoking a little weed. Broken a few hearts … OK, maybe more
than a few hearts.

But it had been the issue of money – and its remarkable ability to slip through
Edward's fingers – that had paved the road to Poppy's Deli. Besides himself, the
thing Edward loved most in this world was spending money. Expensive clothes,
the latest electronic gadgets, Grey Goose vodka and his seemingly endless
appetite for recreational pharmaceuticals – Edward burned through every penny

his parents gave him and much, much more. After Edward's latest binge on the
party circuit had come to light, Carlisle Cullen's seemingly endless patience for his
beautiful, self-absorbed oldest son finally ran out.

Edward had been faced with a choice – get a job and start paying back the
massive bills he had run up, or find his belongings on the curb with the door locks
changed on the family house. With winter coming on in Chicago and nowhere to
crash, that choice was no choice for Edward. Resentfully, he had fallen back on
the only kind of work he had ever known – waiting tables.

He hated it. Long hours on his feet in an ugly polyester uniform being treated like
shit by people Edward wouldn't normally be caught dead around. Blue-haired old
ladies who smelled like mothballs and handed out miserly tips. Crabby parents
with their bratty, out-of-control kids. Women – and men – groping him when he
brushed by their tables. All this for a pathetic wage and anemic tips that he had
to hand over to his parents for payment of his debts? It was a good thing he
pushed a little weed on the side, or he'd have no mad money at all.

Coffee pot still in hand, Edward glared out the front window. It was showing signs
of getting dark and it wasn't even 4 p.m. yet. Winter in Chicago was a grim affair.
Working Saturday nights at a neighborhood deli made it that much worse. The
restaurant was dead quiet right now – Edward hadn't realized there was anyone
in there until Poppy had pointed out Table 12 to him – and likely to remain so
until the senior citizens showed up around 5:30 for their blue plate specials. He
sighed heavily and looked down at his lone customer in the diner.

It seemed that he couldn't catch a break there either.

The woman was thin and plainly dressed. (Edward prided himself on wearing only
the coolest clothes and brands, and this woman definitely wasn't sharing any of
his fashion taste.) Her jeans weren't a recognizable brand, and she was wearing
scuffed, clunky snow boots. The winter jacket hanging over the back of the chair
was non-descript. The end of a Burberry scarf poked out of one sleeve – probably
fake, he thought with an inner sniff of disdain. Her frizzy brown hair was bundled
into a lopsided pony tail that was sprinkled with gray.

As Edward stared off into space beside Table 12, the woman seated there cleared
her throat and looked up at him inquiringly. He realized he had been wool-
gathering and started guiltily. Then he looked down at her, and his heart gave a
sudden, great leap.

Her face was as plain as the rest of her. Pale skin, no make up, a few wrinkles
around the eyes. Edward was lousy at guessing ages; all he could tell was that
she was older than him and definitely not hot. But her wide brown eyes were
deep and intense as she looked at him – looked at him. For the first time since he
had started at Poppy's six weeks ago, Edward felt like someone had actually seen
him – not as her personal purveyor of coffee and corned beef sandwiches, but as
a human being. The feeling was so unexpected that he jerked backward, slopping
coffee on the table in the process.

"Sorry," Edward mumbled. He fetched a rag, wiping up the coffee which had
fortunately not spilled on the documents she had strewn on the table in front of
her. Glancing at the pages, he wondered if she was a student – it looked like she
was writing an essay.

"Thanks," the woman said when he was done, her voice mild and polite. But both
the moment and the feeling had vanished, and Edward's chronically short
attention span had drifted to his sudden, powerful desire for a smoke. He
retreated behind the counter for a few minutes, fidgeting impatiently. Rose

wouldn't be back from her break for another 30 minutes. He couldn't wait that
long for cigarette!

Edward rang up Table 12's coffee bill and dropped it on the table in front of the
woman, hoping she'd take the hint and pack up. He shot the shit with the dude
washing dishes in the kitchen for 15 minutes. Ducked out of the kitchen to check
- no sign of Table 12 leaving.

Fuck it, he suddenly thought. She won't even notice I'm gone. Grabbing his
leather jacket, Edward slipped out the back door. He shivered in the alley as he lit
up his Camel Light, inhaling the smoke greedily. It tasted so good that he figured
Table 12 could wait while he smoked a second one.

Ten minutes later, his face red with cold and his reddish brown hair wind-blown,
Edward ambled back into the dining area. Table 12 was empty. Probably a dine 'n
dash, he thought. Good thing it was only a coffee.

Glumly, he walked over and picked up the little black tray with the bill in it. A
bottomless cup of coffee at Poppy's cost $1.68 – and there was a stack of coins
on top of the bill that totaled exactly $1.68, right to the penny. Peering down, he
could see something written on the slip. He picked it up, his lips moving silently
as he read to himself.

Tip #1: Never judge a book by its cover.

"Thanks a lot … fucking cheap bitch," he cursed, tossing the plastic tray back on
the table. Coins bounced in all directions, and the invoice slip fluttered off the
tray to the floor.

Underneath the slip was a crisp $20 bill.

Edward froze, confused. He picked up the bill slowly, squinting at it. There was
something more written on the money.

Tip #2: And never make assumptions either, kiddo.

Edward spotted a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced
up at the big window at the front of the restaurant. Outside in the fading winter
light, he saw a woman walking away down the sidewalk, the ends of her scarf
fluttering wildly in the wind.

He looked back down at the $20, his heart thumping uncomfortably and a strange
sensation stealing over him. No one had ever left him a tip that good on just a
coffee order before. His tips tended to be small; the generous ones usually came
from hot cougars or gays looking to get into his pants. Sometimes they even
wrote their phone numbers or email addresses on the bill, hoping to score some
young ass. But big tips certainly didn't come from shabby customers whom he
had basically ignored and then abandoned.

The feeling in him got stronger as he stared at the Jackson in his hand. It took
him a moment to place it because it had been so long since he had felt anything
remotely like it.

It was shame.

February

The $20 lasted about as long as his impression of the mysterious woman who
gave it to him. In other words, not very long at all.

Edward gleefully showed the $20 to the dishwasher, who told the story to Rose
when she came back from her supper break. Who told Jessica the next day, who
told everyone else who worked at the diner. Twice. Consequently, when Edward
arrived on Wednesday for his evening shift, all his coworkers congratulated him
on landing such a big tip. Poppy, standing by the kitchen door in her wide apron,
gave him the stinkeye.

"She must have been in a generous mood," she said doubtfully, wiping her
hands.

"Maybe Edward gave her something extra with her coffee," leered one of the
busboys.

"Gross," said Edward, making a face. "She was old. Like, you know … maybe in
her 30s. Or even her 40s." Poppy's face went slightly purple and Edward realized
that he had just made an error. He sidled away, and took the long way around to
the kitchen to get his order pad.

Needless to say, no one else tipped him $20 that week, not even the big table of
10 with the screaming twins. But the week ended well anyway with a wild party
at a dance club downtown. Edward and his posse had partied until the wee hours.
He woke up Sunday morning, hung over, with a vague memory of getting blown
by some girl whose name he didn't remember – if he had ever gotten it at all.

Sunday was the busiest day of the week at Poppy's, with customers lining up
outside the door for corned beef hash, platters of eggs, and lox and cream cheese
piled high on toasted bagels. And coffee … lots and lots of coffee. Edward hustled
as best he could with a thundering headache and a mouth that felt like it was
lined with cotton batting.

Things slacked off a bit after 1 p.m., and Edward was wondering if he could take
his break when Rose and Jessica suddenly came squealing with excitement
around him. He winced at the shrill sound of their voices.

"So how much didja get?" asked Rose.

"Yeah, what did she leave you this time?" Jessica chimed in immediately. Edward
stared at them, wishing they'd leave him alone so he could go have a smoke.
They looked back at him expectantly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. Rose looked at him a moment longer,
then her expression hardened.

"You little prick," she said in a low voice. "You didn't recognize her, did you?"

"Recognize who?" he asked, bewildered.

"That lady … the one who left you the $20 you were bragging about last week.
You just served her breakfast and didn't even recognize her. Even I recognized
her, and I saw her a lot less than you did last weekend." Edward gave his head a
shake, trying to clear the cobwebs. He had just done what? Rose eyed him more
closely. "Dude, you're not high, are you?"

"No … no, I'm not. Really, I'm not." Well, he didn't think he was. He was pretty
sure he wasn't. He cast his mind back, trying to remember. "Which table?" he
asked.

"Table 8," said Rose, pointing behind them. "She left not five minutes ago." They
all turned to see the busboy clearing away the little table for two. Edward thought
for a moment, then laughed at Rose.

"Dumb ass," he said. "That wasn't her. That was some lady with her kid." He
hadn't been paying attention to his customers today with all the rush and the
hangover, but he remembered for sure that he had served a woman and a kid at
that table. Edward didn't like children – they were loud, demanding, and they ate
the lowest priced things on the menu. They required more work than adults
(especially when they made messes), yet their parents never seemed to realize
this and tip accordingly. But this one had struck him as being a bit more tolerable
than most.

A little girl, he remembered, with brown hair. He had no idea how old she had
been – old enough to order from the menu herself. Her mother … her mother had
been …

"Eddie," called the busboy, waving the plastic tray at him. Edward plucked the
tray from his hands. The bill was $23.01; the lone penny slid from one corner to
the other as he picked up the twenty and three singles. With Jessica and Rose
peering over his shoulders, he flipped up the little invoice then slammed it back
down again.

"Ooooooooh!" shrieked Jessica. "Another $20 tip – and there's a NOTE on it!" She
reached out with her manicured claws and snapped at the tray like an adder.
Edward smacked her hand away roughly.

"Would you two just fuck off?" he snapped. "That's my tip and my receipt. Piss
off." He held the tray against his chest, signaled to Poppy that he was taking his
break, and fled to the men's room. He locked himself in the stall, feeling
strangely nervous. Suddenly his headache felt much, much worse as he held up
the invoice to read what was written there.

Tip #3: Always make eye contact with people. Don't just look – see.

Edward let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Eye contact, sure. She
must have noticed that he didn't recognize her, and was telling him that he
needed to pay attention to her. Just like all women wanted. This mystery figured
out, he picked up the $20 and looked at what was written there. Probably her
phone number.

Tip #4: Starting with yourself. Right now. Go look.

Irrationally, Edward looked over his shoulder as if he expected his customer to
come popping out from behind the toilet. He was quite alone. But why did it
suddenly feel like she was standing right there with him, waiting for him to do as
she'd written? And why did he feel so uneasy at her instructions?

Slowly, Edward opened the stall door and stepped out into the washroom. He
shuffled up to the sink, leaned over and looked in the mirror. His reflection stared
back at him, merciless under the harsh fluorescents.

He looked … terrible.

Edward automatically checked out his hair first; it was artfully tousled as usual,
with just enough gel to keep it from falling over his eyes. He knew it was one of
his best assets, and he was very vain about it. But closer inspection showed it
was dull and a bit clumpy on the side – he hadn't much time for proper personal
hygiene after oversleeping this morning. His skin had an unhealthy tone to it, his

normally high color muted by the excesses of the night before. All the smoking
seemed to be catching up with him too; he could see tiny wrinkles developing
around the corners of his mouth. Then he looked up into his own eyes.

He looked back at himself, his eyes bloodshot from last night's weed. Even the
green of his irises looked weary. But the worst part was how dead his eyes were.
It was like looking into the eyes of a character in a video game – blank, flat and
empty. The comparison bothered him, and he turned away just as the door
creaked open. It was Jasper Whitlock, one of his coworkers.

"You okay?" he asked. Edward nodded.

"Yeah. Just a bit hung over, is all." Edward splashed some cold water on his face
and followed Jasper out the door. He took care not to look in the mirror again.

Two cigarettes, three glasses of water and a smoked turkey sandwich later,
Edward went back to work. So … eye contact, he thought warily. It couldn't hurt
to try. A couple entered the restaurant and he plucked two menus off the stack
and approached them. Looking people in the eye and not sliding his glance away
a few seconds later proved harder than he expected.

"Table for two?" he asked. The man smiled pleasantly and nodded. He noticed as
he led them to a table that the woman was pregnant. She caught him looking at
her bump and Edward smiled at her. The woman grinned back and patted the
bulge in her middle.

"Soon it'll be a table for three," she said laughing. Edward handed them the
menus and went to fetch coffee. They seem nice, he thought vaguely.

He spent the last few hours of his shift trying to remember to look people in the
eye. Sometimes he forgot or his mind wandered, as it so often did. Or a pretty
girl would walk by and his eyes would flicker away to look at her bum. (Edward
was an ass man, always had been.) Plus, he discovered that it was really hard to
pretend to be nice to people when he was this hung over. But he tried. He wasn't
totally sure why he did.

His shift ended at 5 p.m., and he cashed out wearily. After all was said and done,
he'd had a pretty decent day, with above-average tips. Did that eye contact shit
really help? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was coincidence – Sunday was the best day
at Poppy's. Still, it was interesting.

Exhausted, he drove home in his Lexus (ok, it was his father's Lexus), and
arrived just in time to eat dinner with his family. Normally this would be an
occasion to avoid for Edward, but tonight he was just too tired and hungry to
complain. He sat down at the table with the rest of them.

He had been working so hard to look people in the eye throughout the day that
he found himself unable to stop. As the potatoes and meat were passed around
the table, Edward looked his mom full in the face for several seconds.

"Jesus, Mom, you look really tired," he blurted out. "Are you OK?"

There was total silence. Everyone at the table froze. Edward's brother, Emmett –
four years his junior – suddenly kicked him hard under the table. Fourteen-year-
old Alice tittered nervously as Edward jumped in his seat and gave Emmett the
finger.

"Well," said Esme at last, putting aside the salad she had been serving herself. "I
guess I do look tired. So do you. Did you have a busy day at work?" Everyone's

head swiveled back toward Edward, and he started to feel intensely nervous
under the scrutiny.

"Yeah," he grunted, slouching in his chair. Several moments passed, and things
slowly went back to normal. After dinner, Edward went out on the back porch to
have a cigarette; Emmett came out right behind him.

"Why were you guys so weird at dinner tonight?" Edward asked as he lit up.
Emmett looked at him warily. Edward, still stuck in eye contact mode, examined
his younger brother. Jesus, he's really getting big.

"Why were we being weird at dinner? Bro, you were the only one acting strange.
That's the first time in ages that you've asked how anyone else felt. Or talked to
Mom or Dad without telling them how much you hate them." Emmett continued
in this vein for a while, but Edward tuned him out, distracted by how long he
could make his cigarette ash before it fell off. Eventually, however, he heard
Emmett say something in the background that caught his attention. He jerked his
head up, dropping his cigarette altogether.

"Wait a minute. What did you just say?"

"That Mom's really tired from the weekend shift she's added to her schedule, and
you need to …"

"What weekend shift? Why is Mom working weekends all of a sudden?" Emmett
didn't answer, he just looked at him for a moment with a funny expression on his
face. When he spoke again, it was like he was talking to a child.

"Mom took an extra nursing shift in Maternity on the weekends just before
Christmas," he said softly. "It was her contribution toward paying off the family
debt." Edward felt a hot rush of blood come to his face, and he looked away from
Emmett, angry and ashamed all at the same time. His brother stood there a
moment more, then turned and went back into the house, leaving Edward to his
thoughts.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully. Edward continued to work on his eye
contact with mixed results. Overall, his tips did seem to be up, and he had an
easier time remembering what his customers looked like. On the downside, a
huge guy with no neck threatened to bash his head in for staring at his girlfriend
on Thursday afternoon.

During the lunch rush on Saturday, he glanced up from punching in an order to
see Poppy bearing down on him, an odd expression on her face. Edward's first
instinct was to run away, but he realized probably wouldn't get far.

"Edward," Poppy said. "Table 17 is yours."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice echoing with disbelief. "They asked for you. Said that
you were such a pleasure last time you waited on them that they'd love to have
you again if you were free."

Edward looked slowly over his shoulder, almost afraid of what he'd see. Sitting at
Table 17, smiling brightly, was the pregnant lady he'd served last week with her
husband beside her. A wave of relief came over him.

"Oh. Them. Yeah, they were really nice," he said, closing off the order and picking
up his pad. But Poppy touched his shoulder first.

"You've done a good job this week, Edward. Keep it up." Startled, Edward nodded
and went to serve his customers.

Sunday passed in a blur of customers. Edward had agreed to a double shift, but
was wishing he hadn't by the time the lunch rush was over. He was wondering if
he could hide the fact that his tips were increasing from his parents (and thereby
keep the extra money for his own purposes), when he heard the sound of the
front door opening and closing. He came out from behind the counter.

"Table for one?" he asked, looking her in the eye. The woman looked back, one
eyebrow raised expectantly. He paused, confused, then recognition flooded in.
"Oh!" He smiled, a real smile, one that didn't feel wrong on his face.

"Hi, kiddo," she said, smiling back. "Just dropped by for coffee." Edward seated
her and fetched a coffee. When he returned, she was tapping away on a
BlackBerry, so he tended to his other customers. His benefactor sat quietly at her
table, minding her own affairs, and Edward felt very awkward indeed. Was he
supposed to talk to her? Thank her? Ask her if she always went around giving
wait staff advice off the cuff? Jesus, I need a cigarette!

"Sweep the floor, would you?" Poppy said, putting the broom in his hand.
Relieved at having something to do, Edward swept up with great intensity.

"How is it that people make such big messes in restaurants?" he asked as he
swept around the woman's table. "I mean, do you think they make messes like
this at home?"

"No," she replied, amused. "That's the whole point of going to a restaurant.
Someone else does all the work." She waggled her empty cup at him. "Can I get
some more, please?"

And so it went for the next 30 minutes. During this time, Edward felt like a
complete fucking idiot because he had no idea how to carry on a conversation
with … well, with an older woman who didn't appear to be actively attempting to
get into his pants. But she must be, right? Why else would she do this shit?

The woman, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to read on her
BlackBerry, trade desultory conversation with Edward and drink coffee. Which she
did in great quantity, steadily throwing back five cups of the stuff, black, in the
time she was there.

The bell rang in the kitchen, indicating an order was up. Edward went in, picked
up the meals for one of his other tables and delivered them. (He even
remembered who had ordered which meal.) After trotting back and forth for
ketchup and soda refills, he turned back to his mystery woman to see if she
needed cup number six yet.

The table was empty.

"Holy shit," he mumbled. What was she, the frigging Flash?

"Oh, don't worry about your table, Edward," said Poppy from behind the counter.
"She got a call about a family emergency and had to leave. I comped her and
sent her on her way."

"You did WHAT?" Edward said, loudly enough to make the table he had just
served look over at him. Poppy gave him a warning look and came around the
counter.

"I comped her," she repeated. "We do that for regular customers sometimes,
especially when it's just a coffee order. Besides, she had to be on her way in a
hurry. She seems to be a nice woman, has a family, looking for a neighborhood
place to call her own. And she's clearly got money."

"But …" Edward sputtered, "where's my tip?" Poppy looked at him, disgusted.

"Maybe you didn't hear me clearly," she said dangerously. "She got a call about a
family emergency and had to leave."

"Oh," said Edward, belatedly realizing he had fucked up. He thought about the
situation for a moment. "Well, maybe she'll come back later and give me my tip."
Poppy threw up her hands in disbelief and stalked back toward the kitchen.
Edward thought some more.

"Wait!" he called. Poppy stopped and glared back at him. "Did she leave like … a
note? Or give you a message for me?"

His boss's face went from anger to … something else. Suspicion, maybe. Surprise.

"She did."

"Why didn't you say so?" said Edward, outraged. "Where is it?"

"She didn't have time to write one," said Poppy. "And she told me only to tell you
if you asked specifically for it – not if you only asked for the money." Edward
wondered how the woman always seemed to be able to predict his reactions to
things.

"Well, what did she say?" he asked, suddenly feeling foolish.

"She said to tell you that practice makes perfect. And that she'd be gone for a
while, but not to worry, she'd be back."

March

Practice makes perfect.

I know what I'll be practicing tonight, thought Edward as he took down
someone's brunch order. It'll be fucking perfect all right.

True to her word, Edward's enigmatic customer had vanished from the radar
screen three weeks ago. During that time, he practiced a lot of things – many of
which had nothing to do with making eye contact or being attentive to customers.
His tips slid accordingly, although not back to the same level they were before
the helpful stranger had entered his life and started giving him advice..

"I just seated Table 7 for you, Edward," said one of waitresses as she whizzed
past.

"Thanks baby," he answered absently, taking the brunch order to the kitchen. He
walked over to Table 7, wondering if the girl hired last week would be coming out
to the club with them tonight. She had a nice rack and seemed to be fine with his
attention, so maybe he'd be able to …

"Good morning, Edward." He looked up, startled, into two sets of identical brown
eyes at Table 7.

"Oh … hey!" Edward smiled at his benefactor, then looked over at the little girl
sitting in the booth. The child looked back him with the same heart-shaped face

and brown eyes as the woman across from her. Her light brown hair reached to
her chin, held back with butterfly-shaped clips. She was coloring the pictures on
the kids' menu. "Is this your daughter?"

"Yes," said the woman. "Edward, this is my daughter Francesca. Francesca, this is
Mr. Edward." The child offered a little hand to Edward which he shook gravely.

"I like to be called Frankie," she said in a dainty voice. "Mr. Edward, do you know
the song that goes on and on and on and on?" Edward looked at the child's
mother, mystified. On and on and on and on? What the hell does that mean?

"Don't Stop Believing," the woman said with an amused grin. "She likes the Glee
soundtrack." Frankie smiled at him, batted her eyelashes, and went back to her
coloring sheet.

"Wow," said Edward. "She could give my little sister a run for her money. And
Alice is 14."

"So is she," said the woman dryly. "Six, going on 14. One day you'll have kids,
and you'll understand better."

"Yeah, not so sure about that right now," he said. "Do you need some time with
the menu, or do you know what you want already?"

"Coffee for me," she said. She placed her own order then gestured to Frankie,
who didn't look up from her coloring sheet.

"Lox and cream cheese platter, please." Edward shot a look at her mother, but
she didn't seem to think there was anything odd about a six-year-old ordering a
$15 plate of smoked fish. He soon found out why when Frankie solidly munched
her way through the platter, leaving only a few bits of bagel and some of the
tomatoes behind.

"I bet you like sushi too, don't you Frankie?" he asked, squatting down beside her
to look at her coloring work. This kid was easy to talk to; she reminded him of
Alice at that age.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I like tempura and sashimi. Not the rolls. Or the
disgusting eel that Mommy likes." Edward laughed out loud, and bantered back
and forth with Frankie until he was called away to another table. But he was
delighted enough with her company that he found his way back to the table
several more times during the meal.

"Do you work here full-time, Edward?" asked Frankie's mother as the two of them
chattered.

"Pretty much," he replied, glancing up. "I'm … uh … taking a break from school
right now. I needed some time to figure out what I want to do with my life." He
felt his cheeks redden a bit at the lie, but she didn't need to know the whole
story.

"That's a good idea," she said encouragingly. "Sometimes you need to take time
out to get perspective. And you're clearly putting that time to good use by being
productive and earning some honest money at the same time." Edward winced at
"honest money" and hastily turned back to Frankie, who was demanding his
attention.

He was almost sorry to see her go. Frankie high-fived him when it was time to
leave, and waved to him with a mittened hand at the front door of the restaurant.

"New girlfriend?" teased Jasper as he swung by.

"Younger chicks dig me," Edward replied. Eagerly, he picked up the tray to see
what his customer had left him.

Tip #6: Play to your strengths.

He pondered this for a moment, then hunted for his tip. There it was. He
wondered if this lady was actually a counterfeiter of $20 bills, and he was
unwittingly laundering money on her behalf.

Tip #7: Write them down on a list. It might take longer than you think.

Why would it take him a long time? he wondered. He had lots of strengths.

"Hey Emmett," said Edward the next afternoon as he and his siblings lay in front
of the television. Edward had the day off, and Alice and Emmett were both home
from high school. "What do you think my strengths are?" Emmett looked at him
like he'd just grown a second head out of his shoulders.

"Your strengths? What, are you answering a Cosmo quiz over there?"

"No, you dick. Just tell me what you think my strengths are."

Emmett laughed. "Let's see … does smoking up count? Spending money you don't
have? Screwing girls you barely know? Lying?"

"Lying isn't one of his strengths," interrupted Alice. "If he was any good at it, he
wouldn't keep getting caught by Mom and Dad." Both Emmett and Alice cracked
up laughing.

"Fuck you both," said Edward, throwing a pillow at them. "Seriously …"

"That was serious," said Emmett. "Those are the things you're best at." Edward
sat up and stared at Emmett.

"Don't listen to him," said Alice. "You have strengths. You're good at drawing.
Plus, all my friends say you're really hot, even if that grosses me out." Edward
rolled his eyes; Alice's little friends had started noticing him in a new way a
couple years back, and their unwanted attentions had been a pain ever since.

"All right, yeah, good at drawing. What else?" No one said anything for a long
moment, the sound of the television filling the cavernous silence. "Drawing?
That's it?"

"No," said Emmett. "You forgot smoking up, spending money you don't have …"
He threw his arms up over his face as his older brother advanced on him. "I'm
sorry! What do you want from us? You've spent the last few years being a party
boy and now you want us to tell you what a fabulous person you are? You don't
do anything, Edward, except wait tables and have fun."

"Yeah, and you're such a model citizen," Edward snarled. "I notice you never
complain when I buy you and your buddies beer or hook you up with weed."
Emmett had the grace to look embarrassed at that.

"Maybe that's true, but I'm going to college in the fall. And Alice is smarter than
the two of us put together." Edward stood there, scowling at his younger brother.
"I'm sorry, Edward," Emmett repeated. "I'm not getting this. Aren't you happy
with who you are, with what your life is? You've certainly fought hard enough

these last few years to keep your life the way it is. Now you're worried about
personal growth? What the fuck?"

Edward didn't know how to respond – to Emmett or to himself. Why was he doing
this?

She thinks I'm a better person than I really am.

He turned on his heel and left the room.

Edward stormed around his bedroom, looking for a piece of paper and a pen.
Eventually, he dredged up a stubby pencil and a torn piece of paper with a girl's
name and phone number on it. He couldn't remember who the girl was, only the
name of the club where he'd met her.

Frowning ferociously, he wrote Good at drawing on the blank side of the page. He
thought for a moment, then added Great dancer underneath it. There followed a
very long pause. Then Edward scribbled I dress good.

He looked at his list so far: short and not very impressive. He threw the pencil
down and played a game on his iPhone for a bit. Then he came back to the list
and added Very high scorer in Tap Tap Revenge.

Another long pause. Why the fuck am I doing this again?

Edward dropped the pencil, flipped over the paper, and punched the girl's phone
number into his cell. A moment later, a feminine voice picked up.

"Lauren?" he said. "Edward Cullen. We met at Crobar a couple of weeks ago…"

If she wanted him to play to his strengths, he would.

The next Sunday found Edward back at Poppy's. It was 3 p.m., and the
restaurant was very quiet. The door opened, and Edward looked up to see his
customer walk in.

"Hi!" he called, gesturing her over to the counter. The woman came over and
swung on to one of the counter stools, dropping her bag beside her. "Where's
your daughter today?"

"Frankie's with her father right now." Edward poured a coffee and pushed it
across the counter.

"That's nice," he said, beaming. "Are they doing something special today?" He
realized that this line of conversation wasn't going well as his customer's smile
vanished and she suddenly became very interested in her coffee cup.

"I don't know what they're doing, Edward. Frankie's father and I are … no longer
together. It's his week with her."

"Oh," he said lamely. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she replied, still looking down at the coffee. "I just don't know
what to do with myself when I don't have her, you know?" She glanced up and
Edward could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes. Crying women terrified
Edward, and his mind started chanting "Distract, distract, distract."

"I'm lucky 'cause my parents are still together," he said. "They're a really good
couple, you know? My mom, Esme, is a maternity nurse, helping women have
babies. And my dad, Carlisle? He's a real estate agent."

"A real estate agent?" the woman said, wiping her eyes discreetly. "That's a lousy
profession to be in right now. How's he faring?"

"Not too good," said Edward. "Things are lot tighter than they were a few years
ago. When the market was hot, he sold some really expensive houses." In an
effort to keep the woman's mind off her troubles, Edward regaled her with some
of Carlisle's biggest real estate sales, including a multi-millionaire dollar deal he'd
inked for one of the Chicago Bulls. "But things are different now," he concluded
glumly. If the economy hadn't gone into a slide, his dad could have paid off those
bills for him no problem. But instead …

"You're working here because of that, aren't you?" the woman said suddenly. For
a moment, Edward gaped at her, wondering if he'd said that last thought aloud.
"You're working here to help your family out while the economy is in the shitter."
She was looking at him with such admiration that Edward was momentarily
speechless. "You amaze me, kiddo. You're a good kid, you know that?"

Say something! his conscience demanded. Edward opened his mouth to negate
what she'd said, but another voice in his mind spoke up first. No, bigger tips if
she thinks you're working for your family!

His mind wrestled wildly with this dilemma until, too late, Edward realized the
conversation was moving forward without the misperception being corrected. His
guilty conscience pricked him, but he caught up with what she was saying and,
for the next half hour, kept both their minds occupied with stories about his life,
family and friends. He thought he sounded normal, but after a while he started to
wonder as the woman's face grew more serious, and her smile came less often.

I wish I knew her name.

He was a little relieved when the early dinner customers started drifting in, and
he had to leave her. She smiled absent-mindedly, and shooed him off to look
after the tables that were filling up. While he was serving his new customers, she
slipped away.

On his way back to the kitchen with the orders, Edward grabbed the tray and
examined it eagerly. Then his face fell.

You'll get your tip later this evening.

Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot.

Shortly before the end of his shift at 5 p.m., Edward felt a buzzing in his pocket.
Under the counter, he whipped out his iPhone to read the text message.

Check your Gmail when you get home.

He didn't recognize the number, and deleted the message without sparing it
another thought.

Later that night, Edward sat in his room, feeling discouraged. His customer had
never come back with his tip, which made him feel oddly betrayed. Like you don't
spend half your time blowing people off, he said to himself. Still, he had somehow
felt she was one person who would never bullshit him. Annoyed with himself, he
opened his computer to see what was happening with his friends. He suddenly
remembered the text message he had received earlier, and went to his Gmail
account first.

There was an email right at the top from an unknown address. The subject line
read "Important message for Edward" and he almost deleted it as spam before
changing his mind and opening it. He started reading, then stopped, his eyes
bugging in horror.

The email contained his personal information. Quite a bit of it. Full name,
birthday, address, phone numbers, the names of his parents and siblings … the
detail was staggering. But even more frightening were the pictures – not of him,
but of Alice and Emmett.

It had to be threat, one of the dealers he got his weed from. But he wasn't
behind by a penny. Why would they be threatening him now? Oh my God, if
anything happened to Alice...

Petrified, he scrolled down to the bottom of the email. Check your PayPal
account.

"Holy fuck," he mumbled, his fingers trembling as he zoomed over to PayPal and
logged into his account. He made it a rule to keep a zero balance (mostly because
he spent every penny he could lay his hands on), but still …

His password hadn't been changed, and the account seemed unmolested. He
peered at the numbers on the screen and frowned. Clicking through a few
screens, he stared in confusion.

He had a balance of $20. He hadn't been robbed … he had been paid. Baffled, he
opened the payment details and saw a note attached.

Tip #8: Be careful with your personal information.

Edward let out a huge breath of relief. He wasn't being threatened by drug
dealers. Then his chest froze up again. No drug dealers - instead, his beloved
customer was turning out to be a total stalking freak. He looked at the note
again. At the bottom it read: Check your Facebook account. It was signed "B".

He went to Facebook. There was a message waiting, and he opened it with great
trepidation.

Kiddo,

If I frightened you or made you uncomfortable in any way, please forgive me. But
this is the most effective way to demonstrate to people just how precious their
personal information is, and how easy it is for the bad guys to leverage it.

Information security and prevention of identity theft is an area of specialty for
me, and it alarms me when I see my friends being careless with their private
data. You are a trusting young man, and I never want to see you taken
advantage of.

I hope you will forgive me. I have deleted all the personal information I gathered
for the purpose of this illustration.

I sure hope we can still be friends because I really like the coffee at Poppy's.

Yours,

Bella

Edward slumped back in his chair, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He was
confused as fuck right now, and didn't even know how he should feel. Relieved?
Humiliated? Pissed off?

He was supposed to head out to a club with some of his friends tonight, but
suddenly, he didn't feel like it. Edward switched off his computer and phone, and
went downstairs to watch television with Alice and Emmett.

He just wanted to keep an eye on them.

April

"Fuck!" screamed Edward, laying on the horn in the middle of traffic. The person
in front of him gave him the finger in the rearview mirror. Traffic did not move.

He had been out at a club the night before, and stumbled home in the early
hours. After hitting the snooze one too many times and then getting stuck in
Sunday morning, rain-clogged traffic, Edward was late for his 10 a.m. shift at
Poppy's. With paralyzing slowness, he inched his way along the road toward the
restaurant. For this kind of delay, I want to see an accident, he thought. With
dead bodies.

He saw nothing of the kind, no reason whatsoever for the slow-down. He did,
however, see something else when he finally banged out of the kitchen to start to
his shift.

Bella. And Frankie. Laughing and talking to Rose as she served their breakfast
platters. Mine, he thought furiously. She's my customer. That's my tip!

Except for the last few weeks, Bella hadn't been his customer at all.

At first, Edward had been glad that Bella seemed only to come in on his day off.
And then that she had dropped by for an early morning coffee well before he had
arrived for his shift. He still wasn't sure about the lecture on personal information
– or the ease with which a virtual stranger had laid his life bare. So he willingly
took the space she seemed to be giving him.

After two weeks of this, however, Edward was starting to feel left out, and that
did not sit well with him. He missed the tips. He missed his favorite customer. No
one else paid attention to him the way she did. No one else even saw him.

"You've got the back section today, Edward," said Poppy. "And let's try to be on
time going forward, yes?"

"Yeah, sorry," he sighed, picking up his order pad. But his boss stopped him, and
put a strawberry smoothie into his hands. "Who's this for?" he asked.

"Your admirer over there. I think she'd appreciate it if Mr. Edward delivered it to
the table personally." With a smile, Poppy was gone. Edward looked up at Bella's
table and saw Frankie bouncing in her chair, smiling at him.

Here goes nothing, he thought. Grinning, he walked over and placed the
smoothie in front of Frankie with a flourish.

"Hi, Mr. Edward!" she chirped. "I loss a toof – thee?" Frankie opened her mouth
to show him a missing bottom tooth.

"That's awesome," he replied. "Did the Tooth Fairy bring you something for that?"

"That's the third tooth in two months," came the wry voice across the table. "The
Tooth Fairy is feeling the pinch."

Edward turned to look at Bella, feeling that same shock of awareness hit him as
he met her eyes. Her expression was the same as it always was – friendly, polite,
remote. But her fingers played with the brown hair curling over her shoulders,
and there was something in her expression that told him that she was nervous
too.

"It's good to see you," he said. Her face shifted, relaxed a tiny bit, he thought.

"You too," she replied. "Now, off you go, look after your tables." Bella's eyes shot
over his shoulder. "I don't want to get you in trouble with Poppy," she said
quietly. Edward glanced back and saw Poppy behind the counter. She wasn't
looking in their direction, but he had no doubt she was keeping tabs on him.

Edward made it back once more to freshen her coffee and tease Frankie, but the
Sunday morning rush soon took over. The next time he got a breather, they were
gone. Shortly thereafter, Rose sailed up and stuffed something into his belt.

"Unbelievable," she said, rolling her eyes. He looked down to see what it was.

Tip #9: This is one of those instances where punctuality has an upside.

It was written on a $10. He looked at Rose. "Did she tip you too?"

Rose smiled and waved a $20 under his nose. "I hear that particular upside is
running at $10 today."

The week passed, cold and rainy. Anyone who thought April was a nice month
had never spent time in Chicago in early spring.

It was dead silent on a Sunday afternoon, and Edward was reading the paper on
the lunch counter. Poppy's was deserted, with few people willing to venture out
on such a foul day. The door opened, bringing in a gust of damp wind that set his
paper flapping.

"Hello, Edward," said Bella, her hair windblown and sparkling with rain drops.

"Hi," he said. Bella sat down at the counter in front of him, as he poured a cup of
coffee for her. She cupped it, warming her hands and saying nothing. The silence
stretched out for a long while, as Edward wiped a counter that didn't need wiping,
and tidied salt and pepper shakers that stood in perfect order.

"How did you do it?" he finally asked. She didn't ask what he was referring to;
she already seemed to know. Bella took a long sip of coffee, then put the cup
down, knitting her fingers together. Edward could see a faint line around the third
finger of her left hand – the last vestiges of a fading ring mark.

"Well," she said. "I started with your name..."

Edward cut in abruptly. "How did you even know my name? I never told you it."
Bella looked up, surprised. She reached for her wallet and extracted a piece of
paper.

"My server's name is written on every bill I get from Poppy's. See? Edward C."
She held it up to him, pointing to it. He had to resist facepalming at his own
stupidity. "But really, it was the story about your father that made it easy. I
mean, how many real estate agents named Carlisle are out there inking deals for
members of the Chicago Bulls?

"Anyway … once I had your last name, finding you was easy. Way too easy." She
looked up from the counter. "You sure have a lot of hits on Google. Plus, your
Facebook profile is wide open – anyone can view it. Your wall is covered with
personal information. That's where I found your email address and cell phone
number. And … um … a bunch of other stuff."

Edward felt the flush creeping up his face as he thought about everything his
friends had posted on his wall. Everyone can see that? He shifted uneasily and
wondered if his parents ever ventured on Facebook.

"Your little brother Emmett has his profile more buttoned up, but there are still all
kinds of ways around it, especially with pictures." Bella waggled her coffee cup,
and Edward refilled it unthinkingly. "I can teach you how to protect yourself a bit
better, if you want. Maybe tighten up your personal information a bit." Delicate
pause. "Delete some of the more incriminating posts." Another pause. "Edward, it
wasn't my intention to upset you."

He opened his mouth to say that it was okay, but the words wouldn't come.
Instead, he blurted out the question that had been nagging at him since the first
day he'd met her.

"What do you expect from me?"

Bella looked up, surprised. "That's an excellent question," she said. "The answer
is this: I expect you to keep my coffee cup full. I expect you to bring me my food
as I've ordered it. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less." Her tone was sharp,
and for a moment, Edward thought perhaps she was offended by his implications.
But when he looked at her face, there was no anger there – just a thoughtful kind
of quiet. Then she smiled, and her whole face changed. "But I hope, Edward. I
have so much hope for you."

"Hope for me," he said stupidly. "Why? What do you hope for me?"

"I hope that you'll be happy," Bella said. The silence spun out between them
again. Edward wanted to protest, to say that he was very happy. "Careful," she
said. "You're not a very good liar, you know."

"How come you always know what I'm thinking?" he asked. Outside, the rain
lashed down against the windows, and Edward felt like they were the only two
people in the world. It occurred to him that maybe he should feel uncomfortable
with her unerring ability to anticipate his thoughts and words. But he didn't feel
that way. He felt … connected.

"Because it shows on your face," Bella replied simply. Her wide, brown eyes held
his a bit longer, then she drained her coffee cup and stood up. Edward turned to
punch in her order, knowing she would vanish as soon as he turned his back.
Sure enough, he heard the door open and close, and felt the blast of wind and
rain swirl through the diner before the bill had even finished printing.

He turned back around slowly, tossing the bill into the garbage. Through the rain,
he could see a car pulling out of the parking lot, a dark blur in the afternoon
gloom.

Bella had thoughtfully weighed the $20 down with a sugar container to prevent it
from flying away when she left.

Tip #10: Never give up hope. Especially in yourself.

He was still standing quietly at the counter, lost in thought, when the evening
shift arrived.

May brought spring with it to Chicago – real spring, with leaves on the trees, heat
in the sun, and the promise of summer ahead. Edward knew it was spring
because he was horny all the time. Accordingly, he started dating one of the
waitresses at Poppy's, a pretty strawberry blonde named Tanya. They spent most
of their time together fucking like bunnies, which made both of them supremely
happy. Tanya had a terrific ass.

May also brought Bella to the restaurant every weekend, either on her own or
with Frankie, depending on the week. Bella now seemed to be on a first-name
basis with everyone on staff, and Frankie never failed to skip out of the diner with
a few candies in her pocket or a warm chocolate chip cookie slipped from the
bakery case into her hand with a wink from Poppy herself.

But Mr. Edward was her favorite, and Frankie delighted in him dancing
attendance on her. She refused to sit in anyone else's section if he was working.
Once or twice, Edward had nearly been knocked off his feet when she came
dashing into the restaurant and threw her arms around his legs to hug him hello.
She was impossible not to love – even for someone as jaded and self-absorbed as
Edward Cullen.

One Saturday, Edward felt a familiar thump against the backs of his thighs as he
punched in an order. He looked down and around to see Frankie gazing adoringly
up at him.

"Hi sweetheart," he said, putting his hand on the top of her head. "Did you …" But
before he could finish his sentence, Frankie was gone. He swung around and saw
that today, Frankie had company in the form of two boys, slightly older that her.
He felt put out that he had been replaced, then realized that was an insane
thought. Bella and another woman were being seated at one of his tables, and
Edward wondered if this new person was Bella's relative or a friend. He didn't
know much about her family life, he realized.

Edward approached the table with a wide smile. The three kids were poring over
some kind of handheld electronic game, scuffling over whose turn was next.

"Hello ladies," he said brightly. The stranger looked up at him with a tight smile,
then darted a look at Bella, who finally raised her face to Edward's. He blinked in
surprise. She looked terrible.

"Good morning, Edward," Bella said quietly, turning away. Her pale skin was red
and blotchy, and her eyes were two puffy red slits. She'd clearly been crying. A
lot.

Edward looked at the other woman in alarm. She shook her head a tiny bit, as if
to say 'Don't ask.' Edward hastily handed out menus, took drink orders, and
scuttled away.

Edward spent the next hour torn between his natural instinct to escape from
woman-trouble, and an unexpected desire to hover over the table to make sure
Bella was okay. What was wrong? There was nothing obviously wrong with
Frankie – she looked healthy as a horse and was making all kinds of trouble with
the two boys. Is someone sick? Did she lose her job? Does she even have a job?

By the end of the meal, he still didn't know what was going on, and Poppy was
shooting him concerned glances. While Bella took Frankie to the restroom and the
two boys were occupied with their game, Edward saw his chance.

"Um … I don't want to butt in or anything," he said awkwardly to the woman
paying the bill. "But Bella – is she okay?" The woman looked up at him, her eyes
narrowing.

"Well … I guess since it's you, she wouldn't mind me saying. Her divorce from
Marcus was finalized on Friday. We all knew it was coming. It's been in the works
for more than a year now. But it hit her harder than expected, seeing it like that
on paper."

"Oh," said Edward lamely. "That sucks."

"It does," agreed the stranger. "It doesn't help that Bella has so little human
contact in what she does. It's a terrible time for her right now." Edward saw an
opportunity to obtain information.

"She doesn't have any family here in Chicago?" he asked innocently.

"Sweetheart, she doesn't have any family anywhere. Bella's all alone in this
world," the woman replied. "Frankie's all she has now. Outside of her friends of
course." She signed the receipt and handed it to him. "I just wish she didn't
blame herself for the marriage falling apart. It's not like she didn't try everything
and then some to hold it together."

"It's not her fault," Edward pointed out earnestly. "A lot of people get divorced.
Sometimes I think it's more about luck than anything else, keeping a marriage
together." The woman looked at him with an eyebrow raised, and Edward felt like
an idiot for saying anything.

"Yes, well," she said, picking up her purse. "That's the truth. Maybe you can
convince her of that." Frankie skipped past him, joining the two boys as they shot
toward the door. The woman hastily chased after them, leaving Bella standing
beside Edward at the table. He turned to look her, and felt his awkwardness
vanish at the sight of her misery. For the first time, he noticed that Bella's clothes
looked shabby because they hung on her too-thin frame, as if she had recently
lost quite a bit of weight.

Edward felt a sudden surge of compassion, and he had an overwhelming urge to
touch her. But waiters didn't go around hugging their customers, did they? He
didn't move.

"She told you," said Bella softly.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm so sorry."

"So am I," she said, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. Edward twitched
toward her, stopped, then moved again, unable to stop himself. Bella watched
him warily until she knew for sure what he was doing. Then she took a little half-
step forward into his embrace.

It was a brief, fleeting contact. He felt her head rest briefly against his chest, the
light pressure of one of her arms wrapped around his shoulder. He smelled
something sweet and pretty. Then she was out of his grasp.

"Thank you, Edward," Bella whispered. And she was gone.

As a rule, Edward rarely thought about Bella and Frankie during the week. (Truth
be told, he rarely thought about anyone other than himself most of the time.) But
that week, Bella's sadness nagged at him. He wondered how she was doing.

On the weekends she did not have Frankie, Bella usually came in on Sunday
afternoon for coffee. So he was surprised to find Frankie around his knees on
Saturday morning, grinning up at him. Edward looked back over his shoulder, but
Bella was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was an irritated looking man
bearing down on him at speed.

"Frankie, leave the young man to do his job," he said, peeling Frankie off
Edward's legs.

"Daddy, this is my friend Mr. Edward. We're buddies forever," she said, smiling
coyly. Edward tried not to let the shock show on his face as he realized that this
was Bella's ex-husband. This was the man Bella had been devastated by. This
man?

He's so old, thought Edward in horror as he found Frankie and her father a table.
If Frankie hadn't spoken up, he would have thought for sure he was her
grandfather. Smiling woodenly, Edward handed them the menus and escaped to
fetch the coffee carafe. Composing himself, he came back to the table and took
another look.

He was a large man, his heavy face sporting an impressive moustache. It was
snow white, like his full head of hair. He spoke with a noticeable accent – Italian
by the sound of it – and showed tobacco-stained teeth when he smiled (which
wasn't often, thankfully). Edward suddenly felt like he was serving someone from
The Sopranos.

The man (Edward hunted frantically through his mind for his name – Marcus, that
was it) was friendly to Edward. Clearly Frankie had spoken of him enough that
her father was aware of their connection and untroubled by it. But he was the last
man in the world Edward could have imagined Bella married to – or Frankie being
fathered by.

The thought of Bella and this man having sex made Edward feel sick for some
reason, and he busied himself with other customers to make the feeling go away.
He still felt off-balance when, 10 minutes later, he heard a hand slapping loudly
on the table and an angry voice raised nearby.

"Francesca, mio Dio, sit down!" Edward spun around so fast that he nearly
toppled over. Frankie was slowly sliding back into her seat, her head bowed. Her
father had a thunderous expression on his face. "Just because your mother lets
you wander around in here like a savage does not mean you will behave this way
with me. Edward does not need a little girl bothering him while he does his work.
Now sit and be silent!"

Edward felt rage shoot through his body. Who the hell does he think he is, talking
to Frankie like that? Putting the coffee down, Edward took a purposeful step in
their direction, but was abruptly halted. Hands had descended on his shoulders,
holding him still.

"Stop, Edward," came Poppy's voice in his ear. "I know how much you care about
Frankie, but she belongs to Bella and her father, not you." He stood frozen in her
grasp, pulse pounding in his temples. "Her father isn't hurting her. He's
disciplining her." Edward could see Frankie's pointed little chin quivering as she
cried at the table.

"He's hurting her," he managed to say. "She's crying, see?"

"Frankie's crying because her father spoke sharply to her," said Poppy. "She's
embarrassed that he scolded her in front of you, and upset that he's angry with

her. She's just a little girl, remember." Poppy released him, turning slightly to see
his face. "You have younger siblings – didn't your parents ever take them to task
for running wild in a restaurant or throwing a tantrum in a store?"

Edward thought about that for a moment. "Well, sure … I mean, sometimes Mom
and Dad still give Alice a talking to if she takes off while we're shopping
downtown. But Frankie's so little." Edward tried to remember if his parents had
ever raised their voices in that way to Alice as a small child.

"Every parent is different, Edward. Some people are more heavy-handed than
others. But unless a child is getting abused in my restaurant, we don't intervene."
She patted his shoulder in a motherly way. "You're a good boy, Edward. Give
Frankie a few minutes – she won't want you to see her when she's crying. I'll
take care of them for a bit. Why don't you take a break?"

Edward stepped out into the back alley and lit up a Camel. He blew out a big
breath of smoke and shook his head. The adrenaline kick he felt earlier had faded
away, and he was tired and confused.

The door creaked open, and Jasper poked his head out. "Hey," he said, stepping
out into the warm air. He took the cigarette Edward offered and lit it. They
smoked in companionable silence together. "So … you all right?"

"Yeah. I think so. I don't know."

Jasper nodded, as if Edward had said something intelligible.

"They've really gotten under your skin, haven't they? Frankie and Bella, I mean."
Edward's first instinct was to deny, deny, deny. But suddenly, he was too
exhausted to fight it anymore.

"Yeah," he said on a sigh. "They're just really cool." Of course, the instant he said
it aloud, he regretted it. I sound like a fucking idiot, he thought, his face blushing
bright red.

"There's nothing wrong with that, y'know," said Jasper, looking at him. "People
connect all the time. Sometimes connections look wrong, but feel right."

"That's a good way to describe it," Edward said, flicking his cigarette butt to the
ground. He glanced curiously at Jasper. "Hey, how do you know this shit? You like
a philosophy major?"

"Nah," said Jasper with a grin. "I watch Oprah."

Edward came back in time to wrap up the bill for Frankie's table. Her father paid
with a credit card - Marcus DiPalma. Much to Edward's surprise, he left a
generous tip (not quite as good as Bella, but better than average). Marcus
startled him more by shaking his hand on the way out.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Edward," he said. "Frankie and Bella have
said so many good things about you. Frankie woke me up at five this morning
because she was so excited to visit you." Edward smiled and led Frankie over to
the big bowl of lollipops and hard candies on the counter, lifting her up so she
could choose the one she wanted.

"Take two," he whispered.

"Thanks, Mr. Edward," she whispered back.

Bella came in the next afternoon, alone. No one else was around, so Edward
greeted her with a brief hug, then poured her a coffee.

"Your daughter was in yesterday," he said.

"I heard." Bella settled down in a booth, tucking her feet up underneath her. She
looked tired, but Edward was starting to realize that she almost always looked
tired. "Marcus liked you, said you were a nice young man."

"Did he?" said Edward, chuckling weakly. "That was kind of him. He wasn't too
happy that Frankie had woken him up at five in the morning just to get an early
start on the day."

Bella's smile blossomed, then faltered. "I never thought I'd have to learn about
what my daughter is up to from my waiter."

"What's it like?" Edward asked. "What's it like for you when Frankie is with her
dad?" Bella sipped her coffee and pondered that.

"You know, you're the first person to ask me that since Marcus left," she said with
a tiny smile. "There are advantages when Frankie's with her father, of course – I
can't lie about that. It's nice to sleep in, nice to have the house completely to
myself, to have my freedom again. But," she sighed, "even when I'm relaxing
and enjoying myself, it's like I can't get a full breath when she's not with me. It's
not until she comes back that I can breathe properly again. Then things make
sense again." Bella smiled as Edward topped up her coffee. "It's lonely without
her."

"You know, you can always come here," said Edward hesitantly. "You can bring
your book or your computer 'n stuff and sit here when it's not busy. You know …
when I'm here. It's not good to be alone all the time."

Bella stared at him for a moment, looking startled. For a moment, Edward
thought maybe he'd said the wrong thing (again). He was always doing that. But
then her face cleared, and her smile appeared again. Edward liked making the
smile come.

"Thank you, Edward," she said at last. "That means a lot to me." She paused.
"You're a good kid, you know that, right?"

Later that night after he got home from work, Edward dug through the crap on
his desk until he found the crumpled piece of paper with his short list of strengths
on it. He smoothed it out and, unknowingly poking his tongue out of the side of
his mouth, wrote I'm a good kid.

June

It was Sunday evening, and Edward trudged down the stairs to his father's office
in the basement. Time for his least favorite task of the week.

He stood silently in the doorway while his father typed on the computer. "Come
in, Edward," Carlisle said without turning around. Edward shuffled in and flung
himself down in the chair. His father winced but made no comment. When he'd
saved the document he was working on, Carlisle swung around to face his oldest
son.

"Shall we?" Carlisle said, pulling out a notebook. Edward dropped an envelope of
money on to the table without a word. Carlisle counted it out loud, glancing up at
Edward when he was done. His son nodded curtly to indicate he had calculated

the same amount. Carlisle wrote the dollar figure in the ledger, removing the
amount from the running total of Edward's debt. His son was out of his chair and
halfway through the door when Carlisle spoke.

"Edward, is business good at Poppy's?" Surprised by the question, Edward
stopped and considered.

"It's okay. A lot of people are starting to go away on vacation and to camp 'n
stuff, so we're not getting the weekend business we did before. But it's still all
right." He narrowed his eyes. "How come? You think I'm not paying you off fast
enough?"

"No," replied Carlisle evenly. "In fact, your income has been increasing slowly for
the last few months, and you're paying it off faster than I'd hoped. Either Poppy's
is getting busier, you got a raise you haven't told us about, or your tips are going
up. I'm guessing it's the latter." His father's face softened. "I'm glad you're doing
well, son."

Edward was silent, unsure of what to say. He knew why his tips were up.
Between Bella's increased presence at the restaurant and her timely advice, he
had somehow become a better waiter. It was, as she called it, "honest money",
and for once in his young adult life, he had nothing to hide from his father.

But his friendship with Bella and Frankie was private, a secret that he hadn't
shared with anyone outside the restaurant. Even his coworkers weren't fully
aware of how special their connection was. Are we friends? Or are we still waiter
and customer? Suddenly Edward realized his father was speaking again, and he
struggled to catch up.

"Hiring? Well, I mean, yeah, we're always looking for kitchen staff and busboys,"
said Edward hastily when he figured out what his father was asking. "No wait
staff right now though." He stopped, feeling uneasy. "Why? You looking to change
jobs?"

"No, thank you," Carlisle chuckled. "The real estate market is finally getting some
traction again, so I'm staying right where I am. But your brother says he'd like to
get a summer job, and I'm thinking he could do worse than working with you at
Poppy's."

Edward's jaw dropped. "Emmett?" he asked disbelievingly. "You want Emmett to
work with me?" Edward felt an embarrassing flush making its way up his neck to
his cheeks. How was he supposed to argue this without telling his father why?
"Dad … it's so not cool for me to have to work with my little brother."

To his credit, Carlisle didn't crack a smile. "I can appreciate that," he said. "But it
would make your mom and I feel a lot better knowing Emmett was with you,
especially if he's working late shifts."

"I know … but … I … Dad …" He blew out a gust of air, sending his hair flying up
on his forehead. Carlisle was unable to stifle a laugh. Edward groaned and
dropped his head back against the doorframe.

I am so fucked.

Which is how Edward ended up spending the first week of June watching his
brother being trained as a busboy at Poppy's. Emmett didn't look much like
Edward, which at least meant he didn't have to put up with customers instantly
recognizing them as brothers and marveling about how they much looked alike.

As for how he would handle the situation with Bella … well, he didn't want to think
about that. So he didn't. Edward was very good at avoidance.

The first weekend, he dodged the bullet when Bella came in with Frankie; the
restaurant was busy, and anytime Emmett came near his section to warm up
customers' coffees, Edward found a way to distract him. The next weekend, Bella
came in on her own on Sunday afternoon, as she usually did, and Emmett wasn't
around.

Edward's luck ran out the next Saturday.

He had just served a table of four and was looking to see if the rest of his tables
were taken care of when Jasper sang out "Incoming!" Edward turned just in time
to catch Frankie, who had run the length of the restaurant to jump into his arms.
Jasper's shout made everyone look up, so every eye in the place was on him and
Frankie.

"Hi, Mr. Edward!" Frankie cried, giving him a sticky kiss on the cheek. Edward
carried her back to Bella, who was leaning against the hostess stand, chatting
with Jessica. She plucked Frankie out of his grasp and greeted him with a casual,
"Thanks, sweetie." He got them seated, settled Frankie with crayons and a
coloring sheet, and made sure Bella had a hot black coffee before turning his
attention back to the rest of the restaurant. He caught Emmett's backside
vanishing into the kitchen. Oh please God, let him have missed the entire thing.

No such luck.

Ten minutes later, as he collected Bella and Frankie's orders from the kitchen,
Edward saw Emmett listening intently to Jessica. The next time he saw his
younger brother, he was catching an earful from one of the busboys. Shortly
thereafter, Edward entered his section to find Emmett warming up Bella's coffee
and teasing Frankie. Edward was at his brother's side in a flash.

"Back the fuck off, Emmett. This is my table and they're my customers. I can look
after them myself," he murmured into his little brother's ear so Bella couldn't
hear him. Emmett looked back over his shoulder with a huge grin as he hustled
away with the coffee pot.

"So I hear, big brother. So I hear." Edward cursed very quietly and turned back
to Bella, who was looking at him over her cup. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"My brother is an idiot," he blurted out. Bella's other eyebrow flew up to meet the
first.

"That's your brother? Really?" She looked at Emmett's retreating form, then back
at Edward. "So which one of you is adopted?"

"I wish," he said sourly. He desperately wanted to change the subject, but Bella
seemed stuck on it.

"But I've seen him before," she said, puzzled. "More than once. Hasn't he been
working here for a few weeks now?"

"Yes," said Edward tensely. Please just drop it. Please.

"Huh," she said. "Okay then." Bella seemed preoccupied for the rest of her visit;
even Frankie noticed that her mother was withdrawn, climbing into her lap to pat
her face and ask for a cuddle. Edward didn't know what had caused this change

in demeanor and didn't know how to ask. His attempts at conversation went
nowhere.

He brought the bill at last, realizing he was wasting everyone's time, including his
own. Bella startled him by producing a credit card and dropping it into the tray. It
was the first she had paid with anything other than cash. He ran his finger over
her name: Bella DiPalma. He wondered if she would change it now that she was
divorced.

Bella gave him a stilted smile as she departed. Frankie blew kisses at him
through the window. He waved, then picked up the tray. His eyes widened. The
tip was $25 this time. It was accompanied by a tiny note on the receipt.

I'm sorry. Me, not you. There was a little heart drawn beside it.

Edward and Emmett drove home together after their shift was over. Emmett
didn't bring up Bella, but Edward knew better than to hope it was forgotten. His
brother was just biding his time until the opportunity was perfect. That arose
after the salad had been passed, and his parents were talking about plans for the
Fourth of July weekend.

"Do you want to bring your girlfriend, Edward?" asked his mother as they
discussed whether they wanted to brave the crowds at Taste of Chicago that
year.

"Which one?" asked Emmett triumphantly. There was an awkward silence as
Edward felt his face go scarlet.

"I was thinking of Tanya, from the diner," said Esme carefully. She was well
aware of the transient nature of her oldest son's relationships. "Are you not
dating her anymore?"

"Yes, I am," said Edward firmly. And equally as firmly, Emmett said, "But she's
got competition. A COUGAR!" Edward stood up so fast that the chair beneath him
fell backward. Alice let out a startled yip.

"Shut it," Edward said as calmly as he could, willing himself to stay in control. He
pressed his fists against his body to keep from punching his brother in the face.
"Bella is a good customer at Poppy's, and a nice friend to me. Don't make her
sound like some kind of slut because she's not." There was silence around the
table as Edward glared at his brother.

"I was just joking," said Emmett defensively, looking to his parents for support.
There was none forthcoming. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Edward picked up his chair and set it upright, finishing his dinner in silence.
Carlisle and Esme exchanged a glance, but said nothing.

Three days later, Edward came in for a late afternoon/evening shift. Poppy was
heading out. She was, he noticed, a bit distant with him. As he cleaned off the
front counter, he found out why - one of Carlisle's business cards was propped
against a set of salt and pepper shakers.

Edward knew what he had been in asking about. He wasn't surprised, then, when
his father told him the following week that he would be dropping by for breakfast
on Saturday.

It wasn't just his father who walked into Poppy's that Saturday. His mother and
Alice were with him as well.

I've got this, he told himself.

Several times that week, he had come close to writing to Bella and asking her not
to come in that day. Somewhere along the way, Edward and Bella had become
friends on Facebook. In contrast to his own profile, Bella's page was devoid of
personal details. She went under "Just Bella," with a picture of an anonymous
tropical setting as her profile picture. There were pictures of Frankie, but nowhere
was her daughter's name mentioned.

They exchanged the occasional message. Bella made a point of letting him know
in advance if she wouldn't be in for a few weeks. Edward had no idea where she
went when she travelled, only that she went away regularly and it had something
to do with her work – whatever that was.

In the end, Edward decided not to warn her off of Poppy's that weekend. He was
doing nothing wrong with Bella. They were friends, and for the first time in the
last three or four years, he had nothing to be ashamed of. He had faith that Bella
could hold her own with his family.

His parents were seated and enjoying coffee, with Alice drinking a Diet Coke (like
she needed the caffeine). Emmett was talking with them when Edward saw Bella
and Frankie walk in. He had only a brief moment to pray that he hadn't made a
huge mistake, and then Frankie was around his knees.

"Good morning, kiddo," said Bella as he greeted her with a light hug and a smile.
He felt intensely nervous knowing that his family had to be watching them.
"What?" she asked, looking at his face. He kept his back to his parents.

"My family is here," he said. "Emmett told them about you and Frankie, and I
think they want to make sure that …" She put a hand on his arm.

"I think understand," she said. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," Edward replied. "You're my friend, and I have nothing to hide." Bella looked
at him for a long moment, then smiled. Edward felt the surge of their strange
connection, and the rest of the world faded into the background. Distantly, he felt
a tugging on his jeans.

"I'm HUNGRY!" announced Frankie, worming her way between Bella and Edward.
They both chuckled at the intrusion, and the moment was broken.

"Let me help with this," murmured Bella, taking Frankie by the hand. "Where are
they?" Edward half turned and gestured toward the table where his parents and
sister sat, Emmett standing behind them. Without hesitation, Bella walked over to
the table with a smile. She headed straight for Emmett.

"Good morning, young Mr. Cullen," she said, tapping him on the shoulder with
her newspaper. "I hear the whole family is here today, and I wanted to meet
everyone. I'm Bella DiPalma, and this is my daughter, Francesca."

Startled by this head-on approach, Carlisle rose to shake Bella's hand. "It's very
nice to meet you, Bella. I'm Carlisle Cullen. My wife, Esme. And our daughter,
Alice." Bella shook hands all around as Frankie peeped shyly from behind her
legs. Edward stood back, watching for a signal from Bella as to what he should do
or say. Mostly he was amazed at how smoothly she was handling the entire
awkward situation.

"It's so nice to meet you at last," she said. "Edward has told me so much about
you. Your son is an absolute pleasure. He's been so kind to me and my daughter,

making us feel so welcome. You must be very proud of him." Without missing a
beat, she turned to Edward with a smile. "I don't want to take time away from
your family get-together. Why don't you get someone else to take our table
today?"

"Uh … sure," said Edward. "Whose section would you like?"

"Oh, how about Rose? Or Jasper?" Like magic, Jasper appeared at their side.

"I gotcha, Ms. Bella," he said, chucking Frankie under the chin. "Who's my best
girl?" Jasper asked, leading them off to table in an adjoining section. "I bet you
want a smoothie today, don't you?" Edward watched them go, then turned back
to his family. Everyone was sitting at the table looking a bit stunned.

"Ready to order?" he asked brightly.

The Cullen family spent a couple of hours enjoying Poppy's cooking and chatting
with their two sons as they worked. Poppy herself dropped by to greet them and
sing Edward and Emmett's praises.

In the midst of the brunch chaos, Bella and Frankie made a quiet exit from the
restaurant, pausing only to bid the Cullens a polite farewell. A few minutes later,
Jasper sidled up to Edward and handed him a folded bill.

"Sweet deal," he said in a low voice. "I do all the work and you get the same tip I
do. Remind me to convince her to mentor me one of these days."

"Find your own," Edward retorted. Jasper laughed and headed back to the
counter.

About 10 minutes later, Edward dropped by his family's table and smiled at his
parents. "Are you all done here? Can I get you anything else, Mom, Dad …"
Edward trailed off, looking at the empty seat. "Where's Alice?"

"I don't know," said Esme, a small frown creasing her forehead. "She said she
was going to the washroom, but she should have been back by now." Carlisle
looked around, then stood up. A moment later, he spotted his daughter's inky
black head at the counter.

"She's over there," he said. "She seems to be … uh … talking to … hmmm." His
face got a bit darker. "Talking to your … ahem … colleague, Edward. Please let
your sister know we're leaving. Now."

Edward strode over to the counter and put his arm protectively around Alice.
"You're leaving now," he said in a voice that brooked no argument. He shot
Jasper a death glare.

"Bye, Jasper!" sang Alice, sliding off the stool and scampering back to her
parents.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" Edward hissed at his friend. "She just
turned 15, for God's sake. What are you, some kind of pervert?" Jasper shook his
head wildly, looking confused.

"It's not my fault! I was just doing my own thing and she came over and started
talking to me!" Jasper ran his hands through his blond hair in agitation. "Man,
you need to lock that girl up. The things she said to me … you would not believe."

"Uh huh," said Edward darkly. "I know what I don't believe. You. Don't go near
her again until she's at least 25. Maybe 30."

It wasn't until the end of his shift that Edward finally began to relax. Between his
parents, Jasper's fuckery with Alice, and Bella's visit to the diner, he felt like a
mass of snarled knots from his head to the base of his spine. All he wanted now
was to go to Tanya's, smoke up a bit, maybe have a few shots of whiskey, fool
around … and relax.

Wearily, he cashed out, and suddenly remembered Jasper had given him a cash
tip from Bella. Where is it? He went through his cash carefully, flipping over each
bill looking for a note. There!

Tip #14: Have fun while you're young – it's the best time for it.

Oh fuck yeah. You read my mind again, Bella. Then he saw a little arrow pointing
to the back of the bill. He turned it over.

Just promise me nothing harder than weed. I don't want to lose you.

His heart jumped a bit inside his chest. He knew what she meant, but it gave him
pause anyway.

July

"Um … where should I put this?" asked Edward. He had a hot coffee in hand and
was hunting for a place on the paper-strewn table to put it down. Bella shuffled
things around to make a spot for the mug.

"Thanks, honey," she said absently, turning back to her work.

Outside, Chicago sweltered. The heat and humidity had pushed the temperature
into the triple digits, sending everyone fleeing to air conditioned quarters. How
Bella could drink hot coffee in weather like this was beyond Edward's
understanding. But it was what brought her into Poppy's on an otherwise dull
Sunday afternoon, and that alone was enough to make him accept it.

Edward leaned against the table beside Bella's and tried to read some of her
papers upside down. She didn't look up, but he could see a reluctant smile appear
on the corner of her mouth.

"Yes, Edward?" she asked.

"Just wondering what you're working on." After six months or so of being friends
(or whatever they were), he figured he was entitled to ask a few questions.
Whether she would answer them or not was another question, he thought, as the
smile faded from her face. She looked at the pages for a moment, then drew a
sheaf of them out.

"Here you go," she said, handing them to Edward. "A topic near and dear to your
heart." He looked at the pages. They looked like some kind of play - blocks of
text with names beside them and descriptions of what the action should be.
Edward's eyes glazed at the huge chunks of text. It reminded him of
Shakespeare, and he had hated that fucker.

Bella watched his reaction thoughtfully, then took the papers out of his hands.
She dug through her messenger bag and pulled out a slim binder.

"This might be more interesting," she said. Edward leaned over her shoulder to
look as she opened it. His face brightened.

"Hey," he said. "It's like a comic book." Each page held a series of boxes, some
with sketched figures, some with words and diagrams. "This is cool." His lips

moved silently as he read down the page. "There's a quiz at the end. Just like
school."

"Yes," she answered, flipping the page. "Like school. This is a storyboard for a
corporate compliance video on information security." Edward smiled and nodded,
and hoped his total lack of comprehension didn't show on his face. Bella cocked
an eyebrow at him and waited.

"Okay, I have no idea what you're talking about," he finally admitted. "What's a
compliance video?"

"It's a video that employees of a company have to watch. Then they answer
questions about the material in it so that their employer knows they understand
the subject." Bella pointed to the boxes on the page. "The storyboard tells you
what's going to be in the video, scene by scene."

"Cool," said Edward. "So you produce videos for a living?"

"No," she said. "The video company asked if I would be the narrator for the
video. See?" Bella pointed at a box with a sketch of a dark haired woman in a
business suit. "That's supposed to be me. Here's what I have to say, right here."
Edward read a few lines then laughed.

"Oh, it's about Internet stuff … like not telling other people your password or
personal information. Like you showed me." He paged through the binder,
fascinated. "Do you like go to a studio to record this?"

"Something like that," Bella said. "It's tedious, but they pay me well. And it's
supposed to be good for me to do this stuff."

"Why is it good for you?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, well," she replied, "I'm supposed to be an expert in information security.
Their employees find it amusing or interesting, I guess, that I'm doing the
voiceovers for these things. It's not my favorite thing to do though."

"Then why do you do it?" Edward persisted. Bella put down her pen and sipped
her coffee, looking amused.

"Why do you wait tables here? Because you love it so much?" She gestured to the
quiet restaurant.

"That's different," Edward said. "I work because I have to. For money, you
know?"

"And I don't?"

"Well, no. You're rich!" Bella stared at him for a moment, then burst into
laughter. Edward didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or simply revel in the
sound of her laughter, which he rarely heard and was almost exclusively
provoked by Frankie and no one else.

"Oh, sweetheart," Bella finally managed. "I'm not rich. Comfortable, maybe.
Reasonably well-off. Regardless, where do you think the money comes from? A
trust fund? I earn it, kiddo, by working – just like you. There are no free rides in
this life."

"Well, that's not true," he said. "Some of my friends don't work. They never have.
Their parents are really rich and they'll never have to get a job. They just get to

do whatever they want – you know, open online boutiques, rep for nightclubs …
cool stuff like that."

"Really?" asked Bella, fascinated. "I don't know anyone like that. Imagine that."
She lapsed into thought for a moment, then came back to reality. "I don't think
I'd be very good among the idle rich. I mean, what's the point of life if you don't
work?" Edward could think of a great deal of merit in a life that never required
one to get out of bed before noon, but he didn't think Bella was asking for specific
examples. "Back to the question at hand. Do you plan to wait tables for the rest
of your life?" She asked it like it was a serious question, not a scolding.

"No!" he said indignantly. "No, that's not what I want. I'm just doing this right
now for the money."

"Nothing wrong with that," Bella said. "But what's next after this?" Edward said
nothing. What could he say? He had no idea what was next. "Not sure yet?" she
asked, her voice kind. He shook his head. "Nothing wrong with that either. You're
young – there's lots of time to figure out what you want to be when you grow
up."

"I am grown up," he protested.

"How old are you again? Twenty-two?"

"Twenty-three last month," he said defensively.

"Whatever. I've got a hangnail that's 23. Seriously, kid, no one expects you to
have it all figured out yet." It was the first time Bella had ever made a reference
to her age, and Edward's eyes widened. "What do you want to do?"

Nothing. Goof off. Do drugs and party all night.

None of these seemed like appropriate responses.

"I … um …" He stopped, deflecting. "My dad wants me to join his real estate
business."

"That's nice," she said blandly. "What do you want to do?"

"What do you do?" Edward countered.

"I run my own business. Which includes doing video voiceovers for Internet
security videos. What do you want to do?" She wasn't giving up.

"I don't know!" he blurted out. "I'm not very smart, and I'm lazy. So there's not
too much I can do. Don't you know that by now? I'm stupid." His voice rose until
he was nearly shouting, and he knew his face was red with anger and humiliation.
Bella looked at him in astonishment.

"Who told you that happy horseshit?" she asked. Edward was so startled by her
words that he couldn't respond. "Seriously, kid. Did someone tell you that you're
stupid and lazy?"

"My English teacher in my junior year said I was the densest kid she'd ever
taught." He shuffled his feet and looked away, feeling uncomfortable. "The guy
who fired me from my last job said I was an idiot." The air in the diner suddenly
felt too warm. "My dad says I'm a lazy ass," he said in a quiet voice, "but he's
pretty much right about that."

Bella said nothing. Edward glanced up; she was looking at him, a troubled
expression in her eyes. He waited for her to start in with it – an outpouring of
pity, a lecture, a pep talk. He'd heard them all before. Bella took a long drink of
coffee.

"Edward … answer me. What do you want to do?"

"Not wait tables for the rest of my life, that's for sure," he whispered. "I don't
want to be a real estate agent either."

"That's a start," she said. "What kinds of things do you like to do? I don't think
I'm going too far out on a limb to assume you're not interesting in becoming a
lawyer or a banker."

"I guess not. I'm not smart enough …" Bella cut him off before he could finish the
thought.

"Never mind what you can't do. Do you like to build stuff? Take things apart and
put them back together? Fix broken stuff?" He made a face. "No, huh? What
about creative things? Do you enjoy writing? Painting? Playing music?" Edward
nodded at the last one.

"I can play guitar and piano. But not well enough to make money, see?"

"Okay, good to know." Bella pursed her lips for a moment. "Do you like math,
then? Ciphers? Fibonacci numbers?" Edward stared blankly at her. "Never mind.
It was a long shot. Let's keep going … you like to play music. Do you like other
artistic things?"

"I can draw," he said. "I'm pretty good at that." Bella's face lit up.

"What do you like to draw? People? Or things?"

"Both, I guess," said Edward. He waited for her to ask another question, but
there was nothing forthcoming. Bella's gaze had moved up, over his shoulder. He
felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.

"Okay, Edward," said Poppy kindly. "I need you to come back to work." In horror,
Edward spun around and realized the blue plate hour was in full swing, and he
had been sitting there talking on the job for almost 45 minutes. I am so fired!

"My fault, Poppy," Bella said. "I've been monopolizing Edward's time. Please
forgive me." Poppy waved her apology off.

"I saw you two were having a heart-to-heart, so it was no problem for me to take
some tables. But it's getting busier now, and I need my number one boy back."
Sputtering, Edward tried to apologize, but Poppy shushed him. "It's all right,
Edward. Off you go to work. Can you pick up the tables from the far section,
please?"

Unable to believe he wasn't going to get reamed, Edward grabbed his order pad
and scurried away without looking back. But he was acutely aware as he
freshened coffees and cold drinks, took orders and delivered food, that Poppy and
Bella had continued on, deep in conversation for several minutes more.

At the end of his shift, Edward cashed out wearily. His back ached and he wished
he could sit down for about 10 years. The thought of going out into the sticky
night heat disgusted him. Ignoring the chattering of his coworkers around him,
he focused on his cashing out, knowing that if he allowed himself to be
distracted, he'd fuck it up.

Edward slouched out to the parking lot and drove home. He showered – he had to
get the stink of the restaurant out of his hair – and flopped on to his bed in a t-
shirt and boxers. He knew he should call Tanya (he wasn't really enjoying her
company as much as he used to, maybe it was time to move on) or maybe
connect with his friends, hit a bar and unwind. Instead, he stayed on the bed,
dozing.

So tired…

He awoke with a start, disoriented. The room was dark and there was a light
blanket over him. Edward lifted his head and squinted at the clock radio – it was
just after midnight. So much for going out, he thought blearily. His eyes closed
and he started drifting away again, chasing the dream he'd been having before
he woke up. It had been nice and Bella had been in it, and …

Bella.

My tip. I forgot about my tip.

His eyes snapped open, and he reached across to the bedside table where his
iPhone sat. Struggling to a sitting position, Edward scrolled through a long parade
of waiting texts. Two irate ones from Tanya. Various friends asking where he was.
Two or three people who wanted to score some weed, despite the fact that he
hadn't sold any for weeks. And Bella's.

You were busy when I left, but wanted to say thanks for coffee and company. I'll
send you an email later.

Edward took a moment to marvel at the fact that Bella always spelled everything
out in her texts and never used short forms. Then he slid out of bed, shuffled to
his messy desk and opened his laptop. Bella's email was entitled "Some ideas".

Edward,

Think of these as inspiration for what you might want to do next.

Beneath this was a short list of jobs. A couple of them were familiar, and one of
them he'd never heard of (what the fuck is an AutoCAD designer?).

I forgot to ask if you were into computers. Every considered becoming a graphic
designer? Or a Photoshop artist? There's lots of work available there.

And let's see … what number are we at?

Tip #15: Don't believe everything you hear. Even from your parents. Everybody
says things they don't mean – even to the people they love most in this world –
when they're really upset or frustrated. That said, you can take this to the bank:
You're a hard-working young man with plenty of brains. You'll find your way.

Bella

Edward leaned back in his desk chair. That was a lot to think about all at once.
He yawned hugely, snapped the laptop closed, and went back to bed. Despite the
new ideas floating around in his brain, he was asleep in less than 10 minutes.

It never occurred to him to check his PayPal account to see if Bella had sent a tip
there. The thought of money hadn't even crossed his mind.

-#-

July slipped into August, and the hot weather continued. The unceasing humidity
wore on everyone at Poppy's – customers and staff alike.

"Your sugar momma is here, Edward," Jessica said snarkily as he was ringing in
an order. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Bella and Frankie
settling down at a nearby table.

"Fuck off," he replied in a low voice. "It's not like that."

"Sure, you're 'just friends.'" Jessica drew exaggerated air quotes. "What 23-year-
old guy is 'just friends' with some lady old enough to be his mother?"

Edward glowered at her. "She is not old enough to be my mom, you idiot."

"Oh yeah? Well, how old is she then?" Edward had no answer to that because he
didn't know how old Bella was, and couldn't bring himself to ask. Even he knew
that wasn't a question that sane people asked women. "See!" said Jessica
triumphantly. "You don't even know. She must be a real close friend." She
minced off, looking satisfied with herself.

Bella's age. Her profession. Where she lives. Why doesn't she tell me anything?

"Mr. Edward?"

He blinked and looked around. He was standing at Bella's table and Frankie was
looking up at him with wide, worried eyes.

"Sorry … just tired, I guess," he said. "How are you, Frankie?" She launched into
an excited description of a zoo outing. Edward glanced over at Bella, but she was
nursing a coffee and looking exhausted. There had been a lot of that lately –
whatever her job was (and Edward was willing to bet a week's pay that her main
occupation wasn't doing voiceovers), it was taking a lot out of her as of late.

He served brunch, joked with Frankie, and shared the week's news with Bella,
like always, but he could feel his resentment simmering in the background.

I just want to know …

Edward handed Bella the bill and, as usual, helped Frankie down from the booth
and walked her up to the counter to choose a treat from the big bowl. He lifted
her high in the air so she could make her choice. Frankie was chattering about a
birthday party she was attending later in the day, and did Mr. Edward like the
new dress she was wearing for the occasion?

"You look very sharp, Ms Frankie," he said with a smile, but suddenly, his mind
darted off in another direction.

It's wrong.

I don't care.

He set Frankie down carefully on one of the counter stools and then straddled
another, facing the little girl. He carefully positioned her so Bella couldn't see her
face.

"Hey, Frankie – when's your birthday?"

"December 19," she said, unwrapping the red lollipop she had chosen from the
candy bowl. "I'll be seven! Seven, seven, seven!" she chanted. "That's really
grown up, you know."

"It sure is," Edward replied, leaning in close with his most dazzling smile. "When's
your mommy's birthday?"

"In September," Frankie said around her candy. "September 13. Mommy doesn't
have a party, but sometimes she makes a cake."

"I love cake," he said. "Tell me, Frankie – do you know how old your mommy is
going to be next month? I want to get her a card and put the right number on it."

Frankie's eyes flew wide open, and her rosebud mouth formed a perfect O with
the lollipop stick in the middle.

"Oooooh," she said breathlessly. "Mommy said if you ever asked me that question
that I shouldn't answer." She looked scandalized. "You know, that's not a
question you should ask a lady. Just like you shouldn't ask if a lady has a baby in
her belly, just in case you're wrong."

Edward's heart staggered in his chest as he struggled to keep the horror from
showing on his face. For a moment, he contemplated asking Frankie not to tell
Bella, but he knew that was even creepier than what he'd just done.

"Um … ah … you're right," he said lamely. "I shouldn't have asked that question."
He put on a very contrite face. "I'm sorry for being rude."

"That's okay, Mr. Edward," said Frankie, holding out her arms. He swung her
down to the floor, and watched as she skipped back to Bella. They gathered their
things and slipped out of their chairs. Face frozen in a smile, he waved to them as
they headed out. Bella was looking at him quizzically over her shoulder, like she
could tell something was amiss. As a result, their eyes were still locked together
when Frankie said something to Bella that made her face go from mild confusion
to panic. She froze, jerking Frankie to a stop. Bella knelt in front of her daughter
and asked her a question. The little girl's eyes widened as she shook her head no,
her brown hair flying.

After what felt like an eternity, Bella raised her head to look at Edward. His fair
cheeks burned bright red as she stared at him with disbelief. Before he could
move, she jumped to her feet and flew out the door, Frankie stumbling behind
her.

Shit.

Edward walked over to Bella's table and picked up the tray. The back of the bill
was covered in her writing.

Tip #16: Everything shows on that face of yours. I can feel the tension vibrating
off you across the restaurant. Learning to show a calm face to the world, even
when you're being eaten up with nerves inside, is one of the hardest lessons in
life to learn.

The twenty underneath filled Edward with shame, not excitement. More so when
he read what she had written.

You can always talk to me if something's bothering you.

He wasn't sure if this offer was open anymore.

Pasting a smile on his face, Edward went back to work. He took orders and
delivered food expertly, making sure not to make a single mistake. Nothing
dissolved the hard lump of guilt and embarrassment in his stomach.

At 3:30, he got his lunch break. He stepped out back for a much-needed smoke,
and felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Edward pulled it out with trepidation. It
was like being called to the principal's office.

Never do that again, Edward. Not if we're going to stay friends.

Meekly, he keyed in his response.

Im so sorry. It was a relly dumb thing to do. I still want to b ur friend.

He waited a few moments, then the response came back.

OK.

Grinning with relief, Edward leaned against the wall and finished up his smoke.

The Cullen charm saves the day again.

-#-

He turned out to be very wrong.

He knew he had done a bad thing – hadn't he apologized to both Frankie and
Bella? Accepted responsibility for his mistake? Being genuinely guilty and
contrite?

Edward had been all of those things. Yet nothing was the same anymore.

Bella came in a few more times in August, but always when Edward wasn't
around, or the restaurant was so busy that he barely had time to top up her
coffee and give her a fast kiss on the cheek. Each time they saw each other and
didn't resolve the tension between them, things became more awkward.

It didn't help that Bella was busier than he'd ever seen her. When she was in the
diner, she was frequently attached to the end of her BlackBerry, which was
forever buzzing for her attention. Jasper said she had spent an entire afternoon in
the diner poring over huge sheets of paper, on which she had written many
notes. She had shouted at someone on the phone as she did so.

"Shouted," repeated Jasper in disbelief as they shared a cigarette behind the
restaurant one afternoon on break. "I didn't think she could shout. I've never
even heard her speak loudly before."

"Me neither," said Edward. "I wonder what's going with her."

"You should ask her," advised Jasper. "She must want you to ask. Why else
would she bring her work into the restaurant? I mean, she could do that shit at
home, right? But she comes here, where you are. She wants you to ask."

Edward looked at him, impressed. "You get that shit from Oprah too?"

"Nope," said Jasper, lighting a second smoke off his first. "I'm just better with
women than you are." He puffed for a moment. "Edward, don't you ever wonder
why Bella does this?"

"Does what?" he asked blankly. Jasper looked at him hard, as if he wasn't sure
Edward was serious. Then he sighed in exasperation.

"Why she tips you like a fucking king and gives you all this free advice and help
with your life? Aren't you the faintest bit curious about why, out of all the working
class stiffs in Chicago, she picked you?"

"Uhh … no, not really," admitted Edward. "Well, maybe little. But I mean … chicks
dig me all the time, right? So at first, I thought she was trying to pick me up.
Except that's not what she's doing, see. And now we're like friends."

"Dude," Jasper said, with an air of someone trying one more time to get through.
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Bella is in love with you?"

Edward looked at him for a moment, then shouted with laughter. "No," he
snorted. "What are you, stupid?" Jasper let out a cough that sounded suspiciously
like a strangled laugh. "She's so not in love with me," Edward insisted.

"How do you know?" Jasper asked.

"She never flirts with me, not even a tiny bit. She's never asked me out. Hell,
we've never even seen each other outside the restaurant!" Jasper didn't looked
remotely convinced, and Edward started to get irritated. "Listen, guy … she jokes
with me about my sex life. She met Tanya and was real nice to her. She even
offered to fix me up with a family friend. Who does that when they're in love with
the guy?"

Jasper stubbed out his cigarette. "Dunno," he said. "Maybe a woman who just got
out of a crappy marriage, who has no self-confidence left when it comes to men?
A woman who has no idea how to start her life over again?" Edward stared at
him, his face creasing into a confused frown. "I'm just sayin' … think about it."
With that, Jasper disappeared back into the restaurant.

Edward had only ever dated beautiful girls. Race, religion and political leanings
had no impact on his choices. Lack of immediate physical attraction, however,
was a show-stopper. There was no point without it, in his opinion.

Sure, he had woken up the night after a sick party to discover a dog in bed
beside him. More than once. Every girl looks hot after four or five shots of
tequila, right? A quick, quiet exit before she woke up took care of that problem
every time.

Had he ever snuck out on a woman like Bella before? A woman with class,
intellect and personality who maybe wasn't wrapped in the hottest package
going?

Bella was special. Edward loved spending time with her, hearing her talk, sharing
stories with her. She listened. She laughed at his jokes. She called bullshit when
she heard it. He felt so important when Bella – a wise, rich, successful woman –
hung on his every word. She had picked him. Not Jasper or John or any of the
other guys. Him, Edward Cullen.

She wasn't beautiful. She was plain. She didn't dress in designer clothes or have
her nails done every week. Bella didn't have a killer figure with a boob job and a
butt lift from her daddy for her eighteenth birthday. Instead, she had given birth
to a baby, and had a little paunch to show for it.

As Edward lay awake that night, he allowed himself to wonder what Bella might
be like in bed. Consciously or not, he had never gone there in his mind before,
and he wasn't sure how he felt about doing it now.

She would be a considerate partner in bed, he decided. Loving. She would think
of his needs too, and not just lie back expecting fireworks. Maybe she'd take the
lead sometimes. For a moment, Edward had a vivid image of being tied to the
bed while Bella worked him over with her mouth. The thought made him feel
horribly guilty and aroused at the same time.

She would know what she wanted and be able to tell him. And he would be able
to tell her anything – anything – in bed, without feeling ashamed. Bella would lie
beside him, listening intently with her dark eyes fixed on his, while he told her all
his fantasies.

She would know a thousand ways to please him, each one more exciting than the
last. She would know an equal number of ways to please herself, and would let
him watch while she demonstrated. Slowly.

With a groan, Edward pulled his hand away from his hard cock and shook his
head furiously. Surely this couldn't be right! Jasper had said to think about it, not
jerk off in bed to dirty fantasies of a woman who had shown him nothing but
friendship and respect. Ignoring the discomfort down below, Edward punched his
pillow a few times, rolled on to his side and closed his eyes.

He woke up the next morning with a guilty conscience, and a sticky mess in his
shorts.

-#-

A few days later, Edward had one of his rare days off. He spent it sleeping until
his mother finally chased him out of bed in the afternoon to help her carry the
groceries inside. Edward assisted, with bad grace. He lugged groceries in the
baking heat, then slumped against the side of the house in the shade while his
mother exchanged greetings with one of their neighbors, who was vastly
pregnant.

"Sorry, dear," said Esme, as she walked back up the drive and opened the door.
"Mrs. DeShane is due any day now, and she's worried about the babies.

"Babies," said Edward, thinking. "Does she have more than one in there?"

"Yes," smiled Esme as they unpacked groceries in the kitchen. "She's expecting
twins. She's wanted these babies for so long, and she's worried about them in
this heat. But she'll be fine, and so will they."

Edward opened a case of Coke and loaded the cans into the holder in the fridge.
"Mom, how old are most women when they have babies?"

"Oh," said his mother, stopping for a moment. "Well, that depends. I've delivered
some babies to teenagers. The oldest mother I ever delivered was 52, but she
was carrying a baby as a surrogate for her daughter, who was unable to have her
own children. Most women's best child-bearing years are in their 20s and 30s."

Edward thought this over as he emptied bags and filled the fridge. Bella must be
near the end of her child-bearing years. If he got together with Bella – and
stayed with her – she probably wouldn't be able to have his baby. That made him
feel funny inside. But the next thought that sprang to his mind stopped him in his
tracks.

Bella already has a baby. The person she settles down with gets Frankie for their
daughter.

-#-

The next day, in the quietest part of the afternoon, Bella came in. She sat down
at the counter, and Edward poured her a coffee. Neither of them spoke for a
moment.

"Things are busy for you," he finally said.

"Yeah," she said from deep inside her coffee mug. Eventually she emerged. "I'm
sorry that things haven't been easy between us these last few weeks. But I'm a
mother first and always, Edward."

"I know, and I'm sorry…" But Bella held her hand out, stopping him.

"You already apologized; I wasn't fishing for you to say it again. I'm just trying to
help you understand."

Edward wiped the counter, his brow furrowed in thought.

"I understand why you got mad that I tried to use Frankie that way," he said.
"But I don't understand why you don't tell me stuff. It feels like, you know, you
don't trust me."

"I trust you as much as I can," said Bella. Edward looked at her, feeling like that
wasn't much of an explanation. "It's hard for me to trust anyone these days,
especially men," she explained. "You know, you're the only male friend I've kept
in my life since Marcus left."

"How come you and Marcus got divorced?" asked Edward. Bella's eyes flashed up
to his. They were filled with the same panic he'd seen when Frankie had told her
that he'd asked about Bella's age. "What?" he asked, lost. "Is it that bad?" A
thought suddenly occurred to him. "Did he hit you? Did he?" His face was
suddenly fiercely protective.

"No, you dork," said Bella, chuckling. "Marcus never laid a finger on me and
never would. He's a kind and gentle man. You know, most marriages don't blow
up over something dramatic. There isn't a Big Betrayal, followed by a
Heartbreaking Discovery, followed in turn by a Giant Fight in Which One Partner
is Thrown Out of the House. That's crap. Most marriages die of neglect, withering
away until one day you wake up beside a total stranger. Which is exactly what
happened between Marcus and me." Bella stopped. "But that's not something I
want to talk to you about."

"See?" said Edward. "You always stop – you never tell me anything important."

"Maybe so," she replied gently. "I guess I don't want you to ever have to know
about this stuff in the first place. Or at least, I never want you to learn about
these things from me."

"I already know that life isn't all rainbows and unicorns. I'm not a child, Bella. I'm
23. Give me some credit for that at least."

Bella looked at him silently for a moment, then nodded.

"You're right. I apologize for treating you like a child sometimes. But that doesn't
change the fact that I'm an extremely private person, Edward." Her face was
suddenly blazing with intensity, and she reached across the counter and took his
fingers in hers. "This is me. The person you know here, right now, is me."

"I know it's you," he said with a confused smile. "How could you be anyone else?"

"You'd be surprised," Bella said wryly. "Just remember me. Remember who I
am."

-#-

##

September was a downer month for Edward. Some of his friends returned to
school; more of them were heading off into new career adventures with newly
minted diplomas and a last summer of goofing off behind them. He was still
young enough that September – not January – felt like the true new year. Labor
Day came and went for Edward, just another weekend in an endless series.
Nothing changed for him.

He was determined that this would be the last September like that.

Although he could barely admit it to himself (let alone his parents), Edward knew
that the past eight months working full time at Poppy's had been good for him.
For the first time in his life, he had taken a job seriously, and turned out to be
rather good at it as a result. His debt to his father was nearly paid off. And he
had met Bella.

It was the week after Labor Day, and Edward had made his decision. He would go
back to school next year – but this time, it would be on his own terms. While he
wouldn't end up with the university degree his parents had so desperately wanted
for him, he did hope he'd come out with the skills to earn a living – and not as a
server at the diner. Instead, he would try his hand at graphic design.

Edward had looked it all up on the Internet, and even picked up a course catalog
from a local college. Now he wanted to show it to Bella and get her opinion. Once
he had her approval, then he would go to his parents and tell them of his plans.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out under the counter and looked at
it. Speak of the devil. It was Bella pinging him.

Where are you? Tell me you're at the diner.

He grinned and quickly typed back. Yes, Im here. Come visit?

The response came flying back a moment later. I'm on my way. Be there in 20
mins.

Edward scoped the restaurant – it was the quiet part of the afternoon, so there
were only a few tables occupied. He made the rounds, freshening coffee and
drinks, ensuring that all his customers were happy. Poppy was in the back
somewhere, Jasper was out having his lunch break, but he knew Rosalie would
cover for him if he wanted to spend a few minutes chatting with Bella. He was off
at 4:30 today; maybe he and Bella could go for a drink together after his shift.

He went to the front door, writing the evening's specials on the white board in his
unexpectedly graceful handwriting. A few minutes later, he saw a black Town Car
pull smoothly up to the curb in front of the restaurant. The back door flew open,
and Bella scrambled out. Edward barely had time to put down his marker when
she came flying through the front door. Her toe caught on the door sill, but
Edward caught her neatly in his arms as she stumbled.

He expected her to pull away once she'd regained her balance, but instead, she
wrapped her arms around his body and clung to him fiercely. Bella's face was
pressed against his chest, her hair right below his nose. She smelled good, she

always did – like butterflies or spring flowers. For a long moment, Edward just
held her in his arms, soaking in her warmth and sweet scent. It felt so good to
hold her like this, although he was more than a little worried that the proximity of
a female body might make his dick wake up and take notice. But he pushed that
thought to the back of his mind and savored the moment.

Finally, Bella moved back a little, looking up at him. She was flushed, and her
eyes were full of some unknown emotion. Edward studied her face, wondering
what was different about her. She was dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, and
unexpectedly looked younger, sleeker.

"Hey," he said, a little off balance. "I haven't seen you for a while. I missed you.
And I have a lot of stuff to tell you. I'm thinking of going …"

"Edward," she interrupted, but he was in full flight now.

"… to this college to take a course in graphic …" She tapped his chest lightly and
locked her eyes on his to focus his attention.

"Edward," Bella repeated. "I can't stay long. I'm on my way to the airport." She
turned and pointed through the window to where the black car sat idling at the
curb. "The driver is waiting for me, but I've only got a couple of minutes."

"But I wanted to tell you about my plans for school next year," he said, giving his
best pout. Edward knew from experience that his pout was irresistible. For a
moment, Bella's eyes focused intently on his lower lip – but just as quickly, they
bounced back up again.

"You don't understand," said Bella. Then she paused and bit her own lip. "I wasn't
supposed to go until next week, but Alex called me in early and…" Bella stopped,
her face filled with anxiety. "I thought I would have more time to explain this to
you."

"Explain what?"

"I have to go away, Edward. I'm not going to see you for a while." Edward
smiled.

"You go away all the time, I know. It's okay. I'll be here when you get back."
Bella's face still looked anguished, and a tendril of unease started to stir in his
belly. "Like, how long are you going to be away?"

"For the rest of the year," she whispered.

Edward's jaw dropped in shock. "What? What do you mean, the rest of the year?
It's only September." He looked back out at the black car. "Where's Frankie? Are
you leaving her behind?"

"Frankie stays with her father when I do this. It's not the first time." Bella's voice
was steady but sad. "I get to come home sometimes, and Frankie will come
spend a weekend or two with me. She did the last time I went out on the road."

"You've done this before," breathed Edward. "What is 'this', Bella? Are you going
on a vacation?" His eyes suddenly burned fiercely. "No one is making you do this,
are they? You're not in any trouble?"

"No, little one. Not at all," said Bella with a tiny smile. "You're so dramatic. No,
this is work, that's all."

"What kind of work asks you to leave your kid and travel around for months at a
time?" he demanded, wanting to shake her until she told him the truth. Emotions
churned inside him – fear, frustration, sadness.

"My kind of work," Bella replied. "The kind of work that pays mortgages, private
school tuition, and big tips for sweet waiters." But Edward shook his head angrily,
coppery hair trembling.

"No, don't blow me off again. You tell me," he said, taking her hands in his own.
"You tell me where you're going and what you're doing." Bella looked away
miserably.

"Edward, no. Please. I'll tell you, but not now, not here. Not in the middle of your
work with the limo waiting outside. I thought I would have more time to tell you
my own way, but things just got away from me …"

"No … no, it doesn't matter, you need to tell me." Everything started boiling
inside him, making it harder and harder to think before doing. He had to convince
her to tell him! But Bella was looking up and over his shoulder, and Edward knew
that he had lost.

"Bella," came Poppy's voice behind him. "Everything okay here?"

"Yes, Poppy," she replied. "I've been called to New York a little earlier than
expected, so I had the limo stop on the way to the airport so I could say goodbye
to Edward." Bella glanced at her watch and made a face. "I need to get going if I
have any chance of catching my flight." Her thumb rubbed gently against the
back of his hand as she looked at him. "I'll call you, write to you. I promise."

Edward could feel the situation slipping away from him, feel Bella slipping away
from him. Helplessness and frustration took hold, and the urge to hit back at the
person who was causing him pain became imperative. He took a calculated guess
at what would hurt Bella the most, and then spoke.

"Call me?" he said. "Write? Why? What good are you without the tips?"

He could not have gotten a greater reaction if he had struck her. Bella flinched
away from him, dropping his hands like they were on fire. Her face crumpled, and
she let out a little sobbing gasp. She looked at him in disbelief, then the
expression faded from her eyes.

"Not much good at all, it seems," she said. Tears gathering in her eyes, Bella
looked past Edward. "Goodbye then, everyone," she said. She turned so he could
not see her face anymore "Goodbye, Edward." And she was gone. A moment
later, the limo pulled away from the curb into Chicago traffic.

Edward didn't move. He stood there, heart pounding as the adrenaline slowly
leaked out of his system. One of his few remaining customers got up, pressed the
little black bill tray into his cold fingers and walked quickly out. Edward could hear
the whispers of his coworkers, and the muted sound of television over the
counter.

There was a murmur behind him as Poppy shooed people back to work. Still
Edward stood, clutching the black plastic tray. Then he turned and walked blindly
through the restaurant and out the back door into the alley.

What just happened?

He played back the scene in his mind, watching it unfold in his imagination again
and again. He heard the words he'd said, watched them strike and shatter Bella's
fragile ego as clearly as if he'd stomped on a house of cards. Over and over.

She was the best thing that had come into his life in years. And he had destroyed
their indefinably magical relationship with just seven words.

With an anguished cry, Edward flung the black tip tray against the brick wall of
the restaurant where it shattered into tiny splinters of plastic. He pressed his face
against the warm bricks and tried not to cry. He was still there when Jasper found
him half an hour later.

##

When Edward woke up the next morning – actually afternoon, he realized,
squinting at the clock – he was face down in his own bed. He was alone. Thank
God, he thought blearily. He had a vague recollection of Jasper bringing him
home after an impromptu night out on the town.

He was still in his clothes, he realized as he rolled over slowly. Edward's mouth
felt like it was lined with cotton, and he had a thunderous headache. He shuffled
to the bathroom, drank three or four glasses of water and took a few aspirin. As
he returned to his bed, he spotted his iPhone on the bedside table. He had
another hazy memory of Jasper taking the phone away from him so that he didn't
drunk-text Bella and cause even more damage.

Suddenly, yesterday's ugly confrontation in the diner came back to him full force,
and he collapsed on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. Edward groaned – he had
been such an idiot! He needed to fix this, text her right now and apologize.
Hadn't she said she would call, text him? Didn't she always forgive him when he
slipped up? He would make it right and then they would be friends again.

He grabbed the phone and checked to see if Bella had already texted him to
initiate the conversation, like she usually did. Edward found not one but two texts
from her right away. He ignored the rest of his messages (including three from
Tanya, who had most likely heard what had happened at the diner yesterday).
They had been sent last evening, he noted. He clicked the first one open.

Not sure what happened earlier. Guess I made some wrong choices. You'll
understand why soon enough. I hope you can forgive me.

Edward was surprised. He had expected a royal ass-kicking, not an apology. He
opened the second text.

It's better if we take a break before we hurt one another any more. Be safe, love.

He frowned at the screen. Take a break. What did that mean? They weren't
dating, so she wasn't dumping him – no one did that to Edward Cullen anyway.
Take a break from being friends? Take a break from talking to one another?

Uneasy, he texted her back.

Im sorry to. I didn't mean what I said, I was angry. What u mean take a break?

Usually Bella responded to his texts quickly, but this time, she was away from her
phone. After a few minutes of waiting, Edward gave up and took a shower. He
checked the phone again when he was done. No response.

It wasn't until he was in the bathroom combing out his hair that he remembered
Bella had looked different yesterday. Younger, somehow. He looked at his hair,

turned dark brown by the water from his shower. When it dried, it lightened in
color, the red strands standing out brightly against the brown…

Bella's hair. It had been smooth and silky under his fingers. And entirely,
uniformly dark brown. There had been no frizz, none of the trademark grey that
he always saw standing out clearly in the soft fall of her hair. She had colored her
hair, and exceedingly well too.

He looked at his phone again, but there was still no answer.

##

##

For the first few days, denial came easy. But as the days passed, Edward realized
that Bella had meant what she said. There had only been one short message that
had come in the day after Bella departed.

I need to focus on work. You have some thinking to do about the future. Let's
give each other some space. Please.

He had been alternately furious and disdainful. He partied at all his favorite clubs,
carousing until the early hours. He scored some top-notch weed and indulged in a
line or two of cocaine at someone's house party. He screwed Tanya silly. Anything
to drown out the gnawing, empty feeling inside.

After a couple of weeks of this, Edward woke up, hung over and bleary-eyed, in
Tanya's bed. It was raining outside. His girlfriend was sleeping heavily beside
him, her face still streaked with make up from the night before. His hair reeked of
smoke and stale cologne.

Without a word, he slid out of bed, pulled on his dirty, wrinkled clothes from the
night before, and walked downstairs. Tanya's family was mercifully absent as he
slouched through the living room and out the front door. Edward walked home in
the rain, his mind blank. When he got home, he went straight up to his room,
ignoring his family. He pulled off his wet clothes, dropped them on the floor and
collapsed into his own bed, where he slept for the best part of the next 24 hours.

When he awoke, Edward was ravenous and clear-headed for the first time in
days. He also had no idea what day it was, and hoped like hell he hadn't blown
off any shifts at work. He checked his phone (no texts from Bella) and was
relieved to discover he had been off the last two days. He was scheduled to start
at 4:30 that afternoon. It was Thursday.

Stiffly, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, scrubbing at his
disgusting hair. The empty feeling inside was still there.

I'm lonely.

It was a strange admission for Edward, who spent most of his time constantly
surrounded by friends and pretty women who wanted to bed him. He realized
now that most of those people didn't know a thing about him. They were friends
as long as the booze flowed and Edward partied. But he couldn't imagine having a
serious conversation with any of them about his plans for school, how nervous he
was to flunk out again, or how much he longed to be good at something that
mattered.

Bella had been that person, the one who had always had time to listen and didn't
judge. But Bella was gone now, and Edward didn't know if she'd ever be back.

Somberly, he showered, dressed, and went downstairs to find some breakfast.
With an orange juice in one hand and a bagel in the other, he walked into the
living room and stopped short. His father was sitting in his arm chair, reading the
paper.

A year ago, Edward would have walked out without saying a word. Now, he
stopped, shifted indecisively on the spot for a moment, then cleared his throat.
Carlisle put the paper down, surprised.

"Edward. Sorry, I didn't hear you come down." An awkward silence filled the
room as they looked at one another. "You sure were tired."

"Yeah," said Edward lamely. He looked around. "Is Mom at work?"

"No," said Carlisle, folding up the newspaper. "She's just gone down to the
bookstore to do a little shopping; it's her day off." His father looked at him with
concern. "Did you want to talk to me about something?"

"Yeah," said Edward, shuffling over to the couch to sit. "I … um … wanted to talk
to you about … something." Remembering Bella's advice, he looked into his
father's face. He could see worry etched into Carlisle's face, and realized
belatedly that his behavior since Bella left must have been concerning to his
parents. "I … uh … I'm thinking of going back to school next year."

"I see," said Carlisle. "Do you know what you want to take?"

"Um … yeah." Edward got up, found his backpack in the kitchen, and rummaged
through it to find the brochures he had picked up. "I was thinking about, like,
graphic design. There's this course in … um …interactive media design? At the
Illinois Institute of Art? It's got like a good reputation, and I looked at their
website and I think maybe I could do it. They don't make you go to a lot of
theory classes, so I might be good at it …" He trailed off miserably, holding out
the brochures and feeling like a first-class idiot.

His father took the papers and looked through them.

"What would you do with this kind of training?" he asked.

"I could become a graphic designer and work in an ad agency, maybe, or a
design studio. Or I could get a job working for a big company that had its own art
department. Maybe start my own business." His father rubbed his chin and
looked at Edward speculatively.

"And how are we going to pay for this?" Edward knew his father would ask that
question, and he conceded – grudgingly – that Carlisle had every right to ask. His
parents had already handed over tuition for two different programs he had
flunked out of.

"Well," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'll probably apply to next fall's semester,
so I can finish paying off my debt to you. I guess I'll keep working at Poppy's
next year to earn part of my tuition. I took a brochure on like, financial aid and
scholarships and stuff?" Edward handed his father that booklet too.

"You didn't think we would help you financially with this?" Carlisle asked softly.

"I guess I figured you wouldn't want to because I fucked up the last two times,"
Edward replied, looking down at the floor.

"Well, I'd need to talk it over with your mother, of course, but I can see that
you've thought this out carefully, Edward. This seems like a good plan, and I'm
sure we can find a way to help."

"Um … well, thanks. Thanks." Edward wasn't used to thanking his father – or
maybe anyone – and he felt awkward. He rubbed his bare toe against the rug.

"Did you talk this over with anyone else?" asked Carlisle. "Bella, maybe?" Edward
felt his face flush, and for a moment, his throat tightened. He cleared it roughly
and took a drink of juice.

"I … uh … I was gonna. But in the end, no, I didn't." He glanced up and saw that
his father's eyebrows had shot up so far they were nearly lost in his hairline. "Me
and Bella had a … a fight, I guess. And now she's … well …"

"She's gone away, hasn't she?" asked Carlisle gently. Edward nodded, trying to
swallow away the tightness that had returned to his throat. It barely registered
with him that his father already seemed to know that Bella was gone. "Do you
not have any way of contacting her?"

"Yeah," Edward replied. "But she thinks it's better if we maybe don't talk about it
right now. If we don't talk at all right now." His voice faltered a little. "I said a
really bad thing to her, Dad. I don't think she wants to be my friend anymore."
His father looked at him questioningly. "She didn't say it that way. But I just … I
dunno. I just fucked it up."

"I think maybe you're reading too much into her words, son. Bella is a very busy
woman with a lot on her mind …" Carlisle broke off as the front door opened and
Esme walked in. She halted at the sight of her husband and oldest son sitting
together in the living room. For the past few years, it had been the scene of a lot
of fights between her husband and her oldest boy.

"Oh," Esme said, a little flustered. She put the book she was carrying down on
the table by the door. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, of course," said Carlisle. "We were just tossing some ideas around." Edward
shot his father a grateful look. "Find what you were looking for?" Esme began
chatting about her find at the bookstore and Edward took the opportunity to
make himself scarce.

He made his way upstairs to his room and sat down on the edge of the unmade
bed. More out of habit than anything else, he checked his phone. No texts from
Bella. There were, however, some very irate ones from Tanya demanding to know
where he had been since the morning before. Edward sighed heavily, knowing
he'd have to clean up that mess too. It was all part of this process of … whatever
it was that Bella had started him on the path of doing earlier that year. Becoming
a better man, he guessed. A better person.

He would finish what he'd started. But doing it alone, he was discovering, was so
very hard.

##

Everyone at the diner seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief when Edward
came into work for that shift – and his subsequent ones – without the hangover
and lack of touch with reality that had been his trademarks for the last couple of
weeks. He had no idea how many people knew about his confrontation with Bella.
All of them, he supposed, since people always talked. But everyone seemed to
realize that whatever had happened, Edward was starting to put it behind him.

It made what happened the following weekend no less difficult to see.

He was wiping up a spilled glass of water when he felt the collision of the little
body against his legs, making him stagger sideways. He looked down to see
Frankie beaming up at him. Like lightning, his head flashed around to see if Bella
was there. But the hope in his eyes went out like a blown candle when he saw
Marcus standing nearby.

"Just me, I'm afraid," Marcus said kindly. "Frankie was missing you very much,
and insisted I bring her to visit you today."

"Of course," said Edward automatically. He scooped up Frankie, who clung tightly
to his neck. "I'm glad you did. I've missed you, peanut." Poppy gestured to a
nearby table and he settled them both there, making small talk with Marcus.
After he placed their orders, Edward took a couple minutes in the kitchen to pull
himself together.

"Y'ok?" asked Rosalie unexpectedly as she passed through with a tray laden with
plates. Edward nodded and followed her out the swinging kitchen doors.

Talking to Frankie was bittersweet. She was impossible not to love with her quick
mind and adorable mannerisms, but too often, Frankie reminded Edward of her
mother, and her absence would prick his heart. As Frankie colored, Marcus looked
up at Edward with compassion in his steely eyes.

"You and my wife – pardon, my ex-wife – did not part on the best of terms, I
understand," he said. Edward gaped at him, shocked and embarrassed. It would
seem that everyone had heard of his fight with Bella.

"She told you that?" he finally croaked.

"Yes, of course," replied Marcus, looking surprised. "Bella and I get along quite
well. I could tell as soon as she called from New York that she was terribly upset.
She told me that you had words. But nothing else, you understand. She does not
betray a confidence." Edward puzzled through this for a moment.

"She didn't tell you what we argued about," he said at last.

"No, she did not. Only that she felt very bad about it. She cares about you very
much, you know. I'm sure you two will patch it up when she returns."

"I miss Mommy," sighed Frankie across the table. Edward crouched beside her to
get down her level. Frankie looked at him, then put down the crayon and patted
his face gently with her little hand. Edward was surprised by the sudden gesture.

"You look sad," she said by way of explanation. "Do you miss Mommy too?"

"Yeah," Edward said at last. "I miss your mom. She's a good friend."

"She'll be home soon," Frankie assured him, picking up her crayon again. "Every
morning, I cross off another sleep on the calendar, and I know that the day when
Mommy comes home is closer. Maybe you should do the same, Mr. Edward. It
might help."

Edward was genuinely sorry to see both of them leave after brunch. He let
Frankie choose two candies from the bowl and shook Marcus' hand on the way
out. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

"You're like a single parent for three months, aren't you?" he asked Marcus. The
older man smiled and pulled Frankie close. His daughter put her arms around her
father's leg and smiled up adoringly at him.

"Yes. We're having lots of fun together, aren't we Francesca?"

"Do you have someone to help out?" Edward asked curiously. He didn't know any
single fathers among his parents' friends.

"She has many cousins and friends to play with, so we go visiting," said Marcus.
"But I'm happiest when we're together on our own." He smiled at Edward with a
sharp eye. "I'm not quite the ogre you thought I was the first time we met, am
I?"

"N-no, sir," stammered Edward, realizing at the last minute that he had just
insulted the man. But Marcus tipped back his grey head and roared with laughter.
Frankie blew kisses to Edward as she followed her father out the door.

"He seems like a totally different guy," remarked Edward to Poppy, who had
come up beside him.

It never occurred to him that the change had been in himself, and not the people
around him.

##

The next week, Edward split with Tanya. What started out an unhappy but
necessary conversation slid rapidly into an ugly confrontation, with insults on
both sides. At the end, Tanya flounced out the door, screeching like a harpy to
the entire neighborhood that Edward Cullen was a lousy fuck with a tiny dick.
Edward was just happy to see her gone. He leaned against the door, feeling
shaky in the knees and vaguely sick.

"That didn't seem to go very well," said his father dryly, entering the room.

"It could have been better," Edward agreed.

When he arrived for his shift at Poppy's the next day, Edward learned that Tanya
had quit without notice that morning, leaving the restaurant short-handed until a
replacement could be hired. Edward couldn't help but notice that he was assigned
a disproportionately high number of Tanya's old shifts. He kept his mouth shut.

As a result, he very nearly spent every waking hour at Poppy's for the next 10
days. He wasn't sorry; the work kept him busy and Poppy was giving him more
responsibilities. She had him working on everything from receiving shipments of
goods in the morning to drawing up schedules for the coming week. It made the
time pass more quickly.

By mid the following week, Edward could barely remember his last day off. He
signed for a package from the UPS man who had arrived unexpectedly at the
front door, handing him a coffee-to-go and reaching for the shipment Poppy was
receiving.

"Careful, that's heavier than it looks," warned the courier. Edward carried the
heavy little box back into Poppy's office and dropped it on the desk. The
restaurant was already gearing up for lunch, so he was back at his tables a few
moments later, not sparing the package another thought.

At the end of his shift, he poked his nose into Poppy's office and found her
perusing a book. She put it down immediately and gestured him in.

"You've been working a lot lately," she said with a frown. "Take tomorrow off,
would you? Tanya's replacement is catching on fast, and we should be okay
without you." A greasy spoon not far from Poppy's had closed up the week
before, and Poppy had picked up one of their more experienced servers to fill
Tanya's spot.

"You sure?" asked Edward.

"Yeah, we'll be fine. But maybe keep your cell phone with you and stick around,
just in case we need you."

"I'm probably going to sleep all day anyway, so no worries there." Edward
nodded at the book on the desk. "Is that one any good? I think my mom is
reading it too. Must be popular."

"It's interesting," said Poppy briefly. "Off you go now. Get some rest."

##

Edward got up after noon, ate some leftover pizza, and played video games. He
knew he should probably get together with some of his friends and hang out, but
he just didn't have the strength. Instead, he flopped down on the couch and took
a nap.

His phone woke him up some time later, ringing annoyingly loud beside his head.
He squinted at the display; it was Jasper.

"Fuck you, I'm not coming in," he said by way of greeting. He could hear the
bustle of the restaurant in the background, the clatter of dishes, and the sound of
the television over the counter.

"Edward, you need to watch Oprah," said Jasper, ignoring what Edward had said.

"What the fuck? You woke me up from a great nap to tell me to watch fucking
Oprah? Are you nuts?" Honestly, the touchy-feely stuff from Jasper was getting to
be a bit much.

"Dude. Listen to me," Jasper answered, sounding strangely alarmed. "You need
to get to a television and turn on Oprah right fucking now."

Cursing, Edward rolled over and found the television remote on the coffee table.
Grabbing it, he flicked on the television and found the right channel. The show
was just coming back from commercial, and Oprah was jawing on about some
novelist who had "done for personal information security what Dan Brown had
done for cryptography." Edward was pretty sure he didn't know who Dan Brown
was and he sure as fuck didn't know what cryptography was.

He had dropped his phone in the cushions of the couch, and it took him a minute
to dig it out. If Jasper was still on the end of the line, he was going to rip him a
new one for this stunt.

"Please welcome Isabella Swan to the show …" The audience gave way to wild
applause as the author entered the studio. At the same moment, Edward found
his phone, picked it up and was about to start yelling – but didn't.

She was slender, flushed by the response from the audience. The tailored suit she
had on looked like it was made for her. She looked sophisticated and sexy, head
to toe.

And she was Bella. His Bella.

##

##

November

"Bro, come on. We're gonna be late." A cushion sailed across the living room,
catching Edward in the side of the head. He glared at Emmett, who was waiting
impatiently in front of him. "Come on," his brother repeated.

Edward folded the corner down on the page, put the book on the coffee table and
headed out with his brother. He drove to work, listening to Emmett talk about
random crap all the way to the deli. Mostly Emmett talked about Rosalie. Emmett
had it bad for Rose, despite the five-year age difference between them.

But I'm not one to talk about age differences, am I?

Edward blew out a long sigh; Emmett looked at him, but said nothing. There were
a lot of topics that weren't wise to bring up with Edward these days. Like Bella.
Like age differences. Like books.

For the past month, Edward had been reading all three of Bella's books. He had
finished the first and was almost done with the second. It was a slow and painful
process for someone with ADD and little interest in reading novels. Yet day after
day, Edward read his allotted 30 pages, driven by a storm of emotions that he
could barely name, let alone understand.

##

Previously

Edward had been sitting on the couch alone when Carlisle came home. Emmett
and Alice were somewhere in the house, avoiding their older brother. His father
took one look at Edward's face and came straight into the room, shrugging out of
his raincoat and tossing his briefcase to the floor.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Edward struggled to form a thought, any thought,
that made sense.

"Bella was just on Oprah," he finally managed. Carlisle gaped at him, astounded.
For a moment, Edward couldn't help but enjoy the look of shock on his father's
normally calm face.

"Okay," Carlisle finally said. "Oprah. What was she doing on Oprah?"

"She was talking about her new book," Edward mumbled. "She writes novels
about Internet crimes and identity theft and shit like that. Under the name
Isabella Swan. This new one she just wrote was on the bestseller list before it
was even released. She's really popular."

"Isabella Swan," his father breathed. "My God. Poppy was right." Edward looked
up at Carlisle, his face twisting with anger.

"Poppy knew? Poppy knew who she was … and she told you, not me?

"Whoa, slow down," said Carlisle, holding his palms up. "She told me a long time
ago that she thought Bella was an author because of some of the paperwork
she'd seen her handling in the diner. But honestly, Edward, she never mentioned
the possibility that she might be Isabella Swan."

"You know her stuff?" Edward asked. His father got up and went into another
room; he returned carrying two books.

"Yes. Your mother and I have read these two. The new one just came out, and
Esme is only about halfway through it. You've probably seen her reading it; it's
got a red cover?" Edward nodded. His father put the books down and sat beside
him on the couch. "How do you feel about all this, son?" A long silence filled the
room, so long that Carlisle started to think Edward wasn't going to answer.

"I feel like I never knew her at all," Edward finally said. His voice was distant.
"Like everything she shared with me was a lie."

"Did you find out …"

"I can't, Dad. I can't talk about this anymore. Please."

##

At the restaurant, no one seemed to know what had happened. Jasper said that
he himself probably wouldn't have noticed, except that Poppy had turned up the
volume on the television, catching his attention.

"When I saw the preview, I didn't recognize her at all. She was just some older
fox on TV, right? But I could see Poppy staring and then I heard the name
'Isabella' and then … well, you know." Jasper shrugged helplessly as the two of
them finished their smokes. It was about a week after the show had aired.
"Poppy told me to call you but not to say a word to anyone else." He looked at
Edward with burning curiosity. "Dude, did you know about any of this?"

"Nothing," said Edward, shaking his head. "She told me she ran her own
business. Did video voiceovers and shit like that." He tossed down his cigarette
butt and ground it out viciously with his heel. "She probably just pretended to be
friends with me – with all of us – so she could research her new book." He
laughed, but it came out sounding wrong, twisted and bitter.

"I don't think she was using you, or any of us," Jasper said. "I really don't see it
that way."

"Well, I do," Edward responded. "Why wouldn't she tell me that she was a writer?
Would it have killed her to say 'Edward, I'm a writer.'? What's so fucking hard
about that?"

"I don't know the answer to that," Jasper said. "Only Bella knows the answer, and
she's not here."

"Her name's not Bella," Edward said roughly. "It's Isabella Swan."

"That's not her name. That's her pen name, the name she writes under," Jasper
said gently. "Why can't you believe that the person who came to the diner – the
person you know, the person you've spent the last year being friends with – is
the real Bella?" Something his friend said triggered a memory in Edward's mind,
and his brow twitched in thought. "What?" Jasper asked.

"I … nothing. Nothing. I don't want to talk about it. I need to go back to work."

For the rest of the evening, Edward took orders, freshened drinks and looked his
customers in the face. He tried very hard not to think. And he tried especially
hard not to hope.

"Just remember me. Remember who I am."

##

November

Edward may have been able to put off his parents, his siblings and even Jasper,
but there was one person who would not be denied.

"Edward, I'll see you in my office at the end of your shift," said Poppy. It had
been a quiet evening, close to Thanksgiving, and most people weren't eating out
much. When Edward came into her office, he saw the red book on her desk and
stopped dead in the doorway.

"Sit down," Poppy said, gesturing at the chair.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm not asking you to talk about it," said Poppy sharply. "I'm telling you to sit
down." Edward slouched into the chair, looking rebellious. "You've been doing
quite well as of late. If you're interested, I'll teach you a few duties around
open/close that you haven't already learned. Then I'd like to give you your own
set of keys."

Edward's mouth dropped open a bit. Only two other people at the restaurant had
keys, and neither of them was a server.

"Cool," he said, smiling. "I'd like to do that."

"Good," said Poppy, pleased. "Now," she said, tapping the book. Edward's smile
vanished. "I know, you don't want to talk. So you'll listen instead.

"I've heard from Bella. She sent me a couple copies of her book, one of which is
for you." Edward figured that his feelings on the topic must have showed because
Poppy's eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about refusing it." She pushed it across
the desk to him, and he stared mutinously at the red cover.

"She could have just brought them by when she was in town filming fucking
Oprah," he muttered.

"I suppose she could have," agreed Poppy, "but she said in the note that came
with the books that she would be in and out in of Chicago in less than 36 hours, a
good chunk of which would be spent in studio. Any free time she had was spent
exclusively with Frankie. It was the weekend after Frankie and Marcus were in;
they didn't tell Frankie that her mother was coming in until the night before."
Poppy looked at him sternly. "Thought I'd tell you just in case you thought
Frankie was lying to you as well."

"I know Frankie isn't a liar," objected Edward, stung. "It's more than I can say for
her," he said, stabbing his finger at the book. "Why didn't she tell me, Poppy?
Why did she hide it from me? I thought we were friends!"

"That's something you're going to need to ask Bella," his boss said. "Edward, I
understand that you're upset and angry, and not without reason. But I also know
what it's like to be in Bella's shoes."

"What, you're a best-selling author too, and we just never knew?" he sneered. He
knew he was being rude, but he couldn't find it within himself to care.

"No. But I know what it's like to be a woman alone, with big responsibilities and
her best years behind her. You're so lonely that all you want to do is die, yet

you're too badly hurt to let anybody close to you. It's scarier still when there's a
little one in your arms, dependent on you for their every need."

"But Bella's not like that. She's rich and famous! She has everything."

"Maybe from where you sit, she does. But sometimes, appearances can be
deceiving." Edward looked back at Poppy, unconvinced. His boss sighed.

"Take the book, Edward. Read it, throw it in the garbage, sell it on eBay for all I
care. But you'll do one thing for me."

"What's that?" he asked sulkily.

"Spend a little time learning what life is like for Isabella Swan."

Edward grimaced and picked up the book. He started moving toward the door,
then stopped.

"Poppy," he asked, unable to stop the question from leaping out of his mouth. "Is
there like … a waiter … in this book? Or some kind of young, delinquent kid? A
character like that?"

Poppy looked at him kindly. "You mean – did she use you for research? For this
book?" He nodded, feeling like a complete fool. "Kid, I read this book from cover
to cover and – as much as I hate to break it to you – you're not in here." Edward
could feel relief and confusion battling it out inside him. "Edward, she's your
friend. What will it take for you to believe that again?"

"This is me. The person you know here, right now, is me. … Just remember me. "

"I don't know," Edward replied. "I don't even know how I feel about her. Whether
we're just friends or if I've started to feel …"

He stopped himself from saying anything further about how he felt. And then he
turned, and left the room.

##

When he got home that night, Edward reluctantly pulled out his laptop. Isabella
Swan. He hated the name. It seemed that everyone was talking about her. He
saw that red book everywhere he went, mocking him.

He opened up Google and typed in Isabella Swan. He had searched Bella DiPalma
before, of course … a handful of results, none of them relevant.

Isabella Swan brought back over two million hits.

Of course, she had her own website, showcasing her books. There was a single,
slick PR photo, her hair professionally colored and styled, make-up perfect,
expensive clothes. It didn't look anything like the Bella he knew – the one
wearing jeans and that cheap winter jacket of hers, no make-up and hair
untouched.

Isabella Swan had her own Facebook page, with more than a quarter of a million
fans. Same frozen PR shot. Edward scrolled through pages of comments. Most
were from adoring fans … but some were not. Some people were critical of her
work. Others used her fan page to promote their own books or get-rich-quick
schemes. There were even pleas for money and proposals of marriage.

Over the next hour, Edward found a site dedicated to telling the world how much
Isabella Swan's books sucked and another one that featured a petition to have
her latest book made into a movie. He even found a site full of something called
fan fiction.

The more he read, the more Edward wondered what it was like to be the focus of
so many people's attention. Isabella Swan wasn't a celebrity; the paparazzi didn't
camp outside her home. But some of her fans were really demanding, and a few
were frightening in their persistence.

What was that like for a woman as private as Bella?

He put the computer aside thoughtfully, and picked up the book he had placed on
the bedside table. The spine crackled as he opened it, and it smelled new. He
turned to the dedication page.

For my beloved daughter.

Edward smiled when he read that. He turned the next page. At the top, there was
something written in ink, in Bella's trademark handwriting:

To my dear friend Edward. All my love, Bella

A simple message. Simple like Bella. Just Bella.

Edward went back to his computer and looked at Bella's Facebook page, the one
he was connected to, the one she called "Just Bella". There was nothing to
indicate that she was linked to Isabella Swan. She wasn't a fan, and there was no
mention of her anywhere. Just pictures of Frankie, notes from friends, updates
from those silly Facebook games she played.

Just Bella.

God, how he missed her.

Edward got up wearily from his desk and walked downstairs to the den where his
parents' books were. He looked through the shelves until he found Bella's two
earlier novels, and took them back up to his room.

Who are you kidding? You'll never get through those. The last one is nearly 500
pages long!

But it was too late. He had, against his own will, already started to hope.

##

Which left just one thing that Edward didn't want to talk about.

During the Oprah interview, Oprah and Bella (it sounded utterly surreal to think
of them together like that) had discussed many things, including Bella's career
transition from an online banking security expert (which she had apparently been
before she became a writer) to novelist.

"It must have been tough to make that move, leaving a secure career like
banking to take one of the least secure jobs in the world as a novelist," said
Oprah.

"It was incredibly hard," said Bella. "I second-guessed myself constantly. My
daughter was only a few months old, and there I was at 34, deciding to leave my

job to chase a dream. I'm glad I did it, but sometimes I look back and wonder
where the courage came from."

She had given birth to Frankie when she was 34. Fast forward nearly seven
years.

Bella was 41 years old.

At the time, his reaction had simply been that it didn't matter anymore. The
shock of Bella's deceit in not sharing more of herself with him had overshadowed
the news that she was old enough to be his mother.

But as his anger and hurt at the betrayal started to recede back to manageable
levels, the 18-year age gap began to devil him more. Eighteen years. That made
anything other than friendship impossible.

Didn't it?

##

##

"Edward, I'm going to make the deposit. Are you okay to close up on your own?"
Poppy shrugged on her winter parka as Edward came out from the back section
of the diner where he was cleaning up. It had been snowing on and off all
evening, and the deli had been empty for more than hour.

"Sure," he said. "It's not like there's much left to do. D'ya have someone to take
you to the bank?" Poppy put a bulging deposit bag into her purse. Edward didn't
like the idea of her driving to the bank this late at night with that much cash on
her.

"Alejandro is going with me," she said, referring to the evening cook. "He'll follow
me in his car and make sure I get on my way safe." She smiled at him. "Go on,
finish cleaning. I know how to lock the door behind me after all these years."

Edward gave her the thumbs up and went back to sweeping. Alejandro walked
out of the kitchen, his boots thumping loudly on the floor. There was a murmur of
voices, a gust of cold wind, then the jingle of the keys in the lock.

It was December 10. Winter had come early to Chicago.

Putting the broom away, Edward went behind the counter to wipe down. He made
sure the menus were neatly stacked for tomorrow's breakfast. Salt and pepper
shakers full, little bowls of cream and sweetener filled and lined up, coffee
machines shut off. His eyes fell on a carafe, still half full of coffee, tucked on to a
shelf behind the bakery case. There you are, he thought. One of the new busboys
had an annoying habit of leaving carafes in odd places, and they were forever
coming up one short at closing.

He picked up the carafe and gave it a swirl; the coffee was still lukewarm. At
least it hasn't been sitting there all day. Those were disgusting and really hard to
get clean. Edward turned to dump the cooling coffee into the sink. In that
moment, he heard an indrawn breath, a sound of protest.

Surely there was only one person in the world who loved Poppy's coffee that
much.

Still holding the carafe, Edward raised his eyes slowly and looked toward the
door, not wanting to hope. He'd had too many disappointments since the day she
had left.

This wasn't one of them.

Bella was standing inside the door, wearing jeans and that ratty old winter jacket
that he'd first seen her in nearly a year ago. Her dark hair sparkled with melted
snow, and her eyes were huge and anxious.

Edward dropped the carafe into the sink (where it fortunately did not shatter) and
scrambled over the counter. He knew he had a boatload of conflicted feelings for
this woman that might never be fully resolved, but at that moment, he needed
her more than he had ever needed anyone in his life.

He reached out for her, feeling her arms go around his neck, pressing her tight
against his body. Edward buried his nose in her hair. Bella smelled sweet and
clean, like she always did. He knew he must stink of grease and sweat after his
shift, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Bella didn't seem to mind either
because her face was pressed against his shirt, holding him tight.

For those few moments, there was no age gap, no social differences, and
certainly no one around named Isabella Swan. They were just two people who
belonged together.

"How did you get in?" he asked at last.

"Alejandro was coming out as I arrived. Poppy said you were inside. I didn't know
if you'd even be willing to see me," Bella said in a muffled voice against his chest.
"I was so afraid …" She looked up at his face, her eyes shiny. "Come. Let's sit
down and talk."

They drew out a couple of chairs from the nearest table and sat down, facing
each other. Edward could feel some of the joy of their reunion draining away, and
he looked down at his hands, feeling awkward. There was a scraping of chair legs
and Bella's hands reached out to cover one of his.

"Talk to me," she said. "There's no right or wrong way to do this. Just talk."
Edward felt the weight of the questions and accusations buzzing in his head ease
a bit, and realized there was really only one question he needed to know the
answer to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He looked at her, some of the bitterness of the last few
months seeping in. "Didn't you trust me, Bella? Did you think I'd sell you out?"

"I know I should have told you earlier," she said softly. "I just couldn't figure out
when the right time was. Then I got called to New York early, and it was too
late."

"But why lie in the first place? Then you wouldn't have had to wonder what the
'right time' was."

"Because the Edward I met back at the beginning of the year probably wouldn't
have respected my privacy," she answered. "The one I know now would. But can
you honestly say you wouldn't have told people back when we first met?"

"Who would I have told?" asked Edward indignantly. "I didn't even know the
names of your books."

"You would have looked them up," Bella said. "If you had seen someone at the
book store browsing my books, or overheard some customers in the restaurant
talking about my new title coming out – what would you have done?" Edward felt
his cheeks redden. He would have said something, of course. Bragged that he
knew the author. Maybe mentioned that she was a regular customer at Poppy's.

"Exactly," said Bella, even though he hadn't said anything. "You couldn't have
kept quiet about it. After a while, it would have gotten around that Isabella Swan
eats at Poppy's Deli. I appreciate my readers very much, but I value my privacy
too."

"I guess," said Edward. "But that was at the beginning. Why didn't you tell me
later on?"

"I don't know," she replied with a sigh. "I guess I wanted one person – one friend
– who likes me for who I really am. I didn't think it was too much to ask…" Her
voice trailed off.

"Maybe," Edward said. "But I don't think it was too much to ask for me to learn
the truth from you, and not from watching fucking Oprah. That wasn't fair."

Bella's face crumpled at his words, making Edward feel like a first-class shit. He
rubbed his forehead; this was all very complicated. Bella was looking down at the
table, still not saying anything. He was about to apologize when Bella nodded.

"You're right," she finally said. "I fucked up, and I'm sorry. I promise to be more
forthcoming and honest going forward. Can you forgive me?" Edward's jaw
dropped. He couldn't remember the last time an adult had said that they were
wrong and he was right. Maybe no one had ever said that to him. "Edward?" Bella
prompted.

"Yeah, it's all good" he said, curling his fingers around her hand. "Can you forgive
me for saying what I did the day you left?" For good measure, he put on his best
pouty face as he asked. Bella's eyes widened, and she swallowed with a faint
clicking sound.

"Of course, little one," she replied faintly. "It is forgotten."

Edward frowned. "Don't call me that – 'little one'. It's not cool, you know?" To his
surprise, Bella flushed, looking more embarrassed than she had when he had
taken her to task on the secrets she had kept from him. I will never understand
women. "Hey, I'm not pissed or anything. I just don't know why you call me that
– I'm twice your size."

"I didn't mean to be demeaning. I call you that … I call you that to remind myself
of how young you are," Bella stammered.

"You need something to remind you of the fact that there's 18 years difference in
our ages?" Edward asked in disbelief. "What for?"

"So that I never forget you're way too young … for me."

Edward looked at her, not sure he understood correctly. Did she mean what I
think she meant? Her cheeks were going redder by the second as the silence
stretched out between them.

"Uh, Bella …" he started, then stopped, still unsure.

"Just forget I said that, okay?" she mumbled. Edward could feel her withdrawing
from him, and he held her hand tighter, just in case she decided to make a break
for it.

"No, I don't want to forget it," he said. "I want to know what you really meant by
that."

"No, actually, you don't," Bella said firmly.

Edward swiped his hair out of his eyes, frustrated. "What happened to 'more
forthcoming and honest'? Was that just bullshit?" She shook her head. "Then
what is it?"

"I'm sorry," said Bella. "It's just that you're so beautiful. It's impossible not to
have some … feelings like that for you."

There was a long, long silence in the diner.

"Bella, I …"

"You don't need to say anything, Edward," she interrupted. "I'm sure it happens
to you all the time. You're a very attractive young man, but that's not why I …"

"Bella, stop," he said. "What if I feel the same about you?" The words came out
of nowhere. Edward hadn't rehearsed any of this in his mind or thought about
what this conversation might be like. He just knew – knew – he needed her.

"Edward, don't," Bella said uneasily. "You don't have to say that."

"But I mean it." Edward dragged his chair closer. "I feel stuff for you that I've
never felt for any other woman."

"I don't know what to say, Edward." She looked down at their linked hands.
"You're very special to me, too. Special enough that I don't want to throw it away
on some one-night stand."

"That's not what I want to do either," he said. "I want to be with you. You know
… have a relationship with you."

"I'm 18 years older than you," Bella said, enunciating every syllable. "My youth is
over, Edward. Yours is just beginning!"

"But you made me a better man," Edward insisted. "I like who I am when I'm
with you. When you're not here, I feel like part of me is missing." Bella smiled
and reached up to touch his cheek, rough with five o'clock shadow.

"I didn't make you a better man, sweetheart," she said. "You made yourself a
better man. I just came along at the right time to give you a bunch of advice that
you'd already heard a thousand times before. You were ready to change, that's
all."

"I'm not so sure," he said stubbornly. "I think we're good together. Don't you?"

She didn't answer his question. "Tell me, what's the longest relationship you've
ever had with a woman?"

He thought that over for a few minutes, resisting the urge to count on his fingers.
"Uh … well, I dated a girl in high school for just over a year."

"That sounds quite reasonable for a person of your age," said Bella. "I was with
Marcus for 17 years. Seventeen years." Edward winced. That was almost his
entire lifetime!

Bella reached out and smoothed away the lines on his forehead. "I've never met
anyone like you, Edward. I feel things for you that I've never felt for anyone else
before too. But I've just come out of a divorce, and I'm not ready to date anyone,
no matter how flattering the offer is."

"But that's not really why you're saying no, is it?" he asked.

"No, it's not," she replied. "I'm saying no because I think you can do so much
better than me. I'm in my forties, Edward, and I've never been a party girl, even
when I was your age. My idea of a perfect evening is having friends over for
cocktails and dinner, and everyone leaves by 11 p.m. I haven't been to a
nightclub in years. Does that sound like a social life you could be content with?"

"We could meet in the middle," he said. "You could teach me to like the things
you like, and I'd share my life with you."

"Maybe so," smiled Bella. "But there are a million other issues to consider. You
live at home, for God's sake. My career can make life very challenging." She
looked at him in exasperation. "You're 23 – you should be out dating pretty girls,
looking for the right one to settle down with! Maybe doing some traveling,
figuring out what you want to do with your life."

"I can do all of that – well, not the pretty girls part – while I'm dating you.
Actually," he said, "I'm applying to a college program in interactive media design
for the fall."

"You are?" asked Bella, delighted. "That's great! That's a terrific field to get into
right now. I know you'll do well." Her smile filled him with warmth. "And that's
exactly what you should be doing at this stage in your life – going to school,
meeting people, living your life. Not tying yourself down to some old woman like
me."

"You're not old," he protested. "Forty is the new 30, everyone knows that."

She eyed him darkly. "Where'd you read that?"

"Cosmo magazine," he replied promptly. Bella cracked up laughing, and Edward
grinned at his own joke. "See, we love being with each other. How can that be a
bad thing?"

"It's not," she admitted. "But just because you're a boy and I'm a girl, and we
enjoy being together doesn't mean we have to spend that time as a couple." Bella
paused, then dragged out the heavy artillery. "What about children? If you stayed
with me, you'd have no children of your own."

"That's not true," replied Edward. "Frankie …"

"… already has a father," answered Bella softly. "Marcus may not have been the
best husband for me, but he is a very good daddy to Frankie. One day, you'll be a
terrific dad too – to your own children. I won't stand in the way of that, Edward, I
can't. Not if I really care about you."

Edward didn't have any way to argue against that. After all, what she said was
surely true. He looked down once again at their joined hands, her fingers slender
but weathered with time, his skin red and chapped with the day's work. Yet her

hand nestled so perfectly into his, warm and snug, secure against the ravages of
their complex lives.

"Give me a year," he said suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"It took you a year to change me." Bella started to object, but Edward waved her
off. "Okay, you say you didn't change me. But it took you a year to get me
started on the right path. Now give me a year to prove to you that we belong
together."

"Edward," she said warningly.

"I'm not asking us to be a couple," he said. "But close friends. Let me show you
my world outside this restaurant, Bella. You show me your life. Then at the end of
the year, we'll know one way or the other."

"Friends," she repeated, looking at him narrowly. "That means no sex."

"Well, there's friends with benefits," Edward said.

"Not with us, there isn't," she said. "If I have sex with you, I'll never be able to
stop myself from falling in love with you. And I can't do that, not right now."

"Fine, fine," sighed Edward, rising. "It's a deal."

"With one condition," said Bella. "I want to kiss you first."

Edward looked at her like she was crazy. "I want to know what I'm turning
down," she said firmly. "If we spend this year together – as friends – there's
going to be a lot of temptation for both of us. Let's get the kissing out of the way
up front so there's no mystery to it anymore."

Bella stood and tilted her chin up. She seemed very brazen, but Edward could see
her hands trembling.

He had just finished madly lobbying her for the last half hour to date him. Now he
had the chance to kiss her, and he felt like running away. Those 18 years loomed
larger than ever between them.

"Okay," he said, more to himself than to Bella. Edward put his hands on her
shoulders and gently drew her up against him. He held her there for a moment,
warm and soft against his body. Her scent flooded him again, sweet and inviting.
Jesus, what if it's like kissing my mother? The fleeting thought was gone as soon
as it occurred, and he dipped his head down to take her lips in his.

Bella kissed him very slowly, not letting him rush it. Her lips brushed against his,
her tongue skimming ever so lightly along his bottom lip. Edward caught his
breath, and felt her fingers dig into his long hair and pull him down more firmly.
Her tongue was doing all kinds of warm, tickly things in his mouth, and he could
feel himself stiffening against her.

All too soon, Bella was drawing back, raining little kisses around his mouth as she
did so. They stood there in each other's arms for a long moment, breathing
heavily with desire.

"I have another condition," said Bella huskily.

"Is it another kiss?" he murmured, nuzzling in her hair.

"No. I need you to heat up that coffee you were holding when I came in. Just
throw it in the microwave. I really need some of Poppy's coffee."

Edward let out a shout of laughter. "That's disgusting," he said, but he let her go
and went behind the counter nonetheless, pouring the coffee into a mug and took
it into the kitchen to warm up. While Bella greedily drank it, Edward went into the
employee washroom and changed out of his uniform. He reappeared a few
minutes later, Bella was washing out her cup behind the counter. She looked up,
then did a double take.

"What?" he asked.

"I've never seen you in person in anything other than that uniform," she said. "I
didn't recognize you for a minute."

Bella waited as Edward flipped off the lights inside the diner. He walked over to
the alarm panel and prepared to enter the code. Before he did, he looked up at
her.

"Where are we going? Do you maybe want to go grab something to eat
together?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. "Do you like sushi? I know a great place that's open late."

Edward grinned. "I love it. See? We're getting along already." He looked back at
the alarm panel, then looked over at her once more. "You know, you've never
told me why you picked me."

"Picked you … what do you mean?" she asked, puzzled.

"You could have chosen any waiter or waitress in the city to help out. Why did
you choose to help me?"

Bella looked at him in the semi-dark, her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears.

"You always say that I'm the one who helped you, who made you better. But
Edward, all along, you were the one who saved me."

He looked at her in wonder. "What do you mean?"

"That's a long, long story that can only be told over a bottle of red wine." She
chuckled at the impatient look on his face. "Don't worry – we have a year,
remember?"

Smiling, he gave her the finger, and she laughed in response. Edward punched in
the alarm code, then walked over to open the door for her. Together, they
stepped out of the restaurant, and into the night.

##

A/N: I owe special thanks to philadelphic for her support throughout this story.
And of course, lots of love to my dear friends Algie, Feisty and Ms K as well.

I may add one more chapter to this story – this time in Bella's POV, showing
where and when this all began.

I am participating in the Fandom Gives Back auction this year – I'm offering a
one-shot and an outtake of the winner's choice (with a few parameters). Visit
thefandomgivesback dot com, click "Stories" and then look for my name.

All funds raised go toward Alex's Lemonade Stand, a charity that supports
research into childhood cancers and provides resources for families struggling
with these terrible diseases. I hope you'll consider a bid on my stories or on any
of the other wonderful items up for auction.

Thanks to all my readers, especially those who took the time to review or send
little notes my way. I appreciate you so much.

##

##

Bella asked for three rules:

No sex.

No hard feelings if either of them met someone else during the course of the
year.

Nothing illegal.

"No sex for a whole year?" asked Edward disbelievingly. Bella chuckled over her
coffee cup at his expression. They were sitting at her kitchen table. It was
January 2, and weak afternoon sunlight filtered in through the blinds.

"I didn't say that," she pointed out. "I said no sex with each other. You're free to
have sex with others during the course of the year. We're friends, remember?"

Edward pondered this for a moment. The thought of having sex with other
women while he was courting Bella seemed wrong. The thought of having no sex
at all for a year also seemed wrong – or at least, very unfavorable to him. "You
could have sex with other people too," he said at last.

"I don't see that happening right now for me," she replied. Edward waited for her
to elaborate, but Bella said nothing further.

"Nothing illegal? What's that all about?" he asked. "I can't run a stop sign for a
year?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of not engaging in illegal activities when
we're together or when you're in my house," she said. Edward looked blank. "No
drugs. No drinking and driving. That sort of thing," Bella explained. "Getting
arrested isn't my thing."

"You need a relax a little, Bella," said Edward.

"Probably," she said. "But I'll find other ways to relax." She gestured to him. "Do
you have any ground rules for the year?"

"Only one," Edward said. "No lying." Bella looked affronted. "I mean, no hiding
the truth – is that better? No more keeping important stuff from me. No more
treating me like a little kid. I want you to talk to me, Bella. I want to know you."

She was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

##

"So, you want to go out tonight?" Edward asked after Bella had put her coffee
cup away. He pulled up movie listings on his phone. "How about a movie?"

They caught a late afternoon show of a big-budget thriller that had enjoyed a
successful holiday run. As the lights went down, Bella took one of Edward's hands
in hers. Her slim fingers were warm and soft under his, and he could feel her
body shiver as he ran his thumb softly over her palm. If he were with any other
girl, he would have pushed things a lot further in the darkness of the theatre, but
he knew that wouldn't fly with Bella. Besides, just holding her hand felt strangely
satisfying for him.

They drove home after the movie in the winter darkness. Edward had been visibly
disappointed when Bella's garage had opened to reveal a black Volkswagen
sedan. He had envisioned a Porsche, a BMW, maybe a Jaguar. But a Volkswagen
CC?

"I thought you'd have a sexier car," he had said with a long face.

"It's Chicago in winter," Bella had pointed out practically. "Did you expect me to
drive a convertible?"

Now that he was maneuvering through the snowy Chicago streets in the CC,
Edward could understand why Bella had chosen it. It was solid and safe beneath
him. Plus it was fully loaded with heated seats. And she let him drive it.

"Did you like the movie?" Bella asked, turning to face him in her seat.

"Yeah, it was good. How about you?"

"I enjoyed it very much. I like movies with lots of shooting in them," she replied
unexpectedly, making Edward grin. "I wanted to see this director's latest." She
paused for a moment. "My agent says they might go after him to direct the movie
of this latest book I wrote."

Edward glanced at her in shock. "They're making your book into a movie? Holy
shit, that's really fucking cool!"

Bella made a face. "It's not as cool as you might think. Yes, we've sold the movie
rights for this book and the one before it. But these things can take forever to
happen, so I'm not holding my breath."

"I think they'd both make really good movies," said Edward. "Maybe not the first
book you wrote, but the other two for sure." There was a long silence beside him.

"You read all three of my books?" asked Bella at last.

"Well, yeah. They're your books, right? I read them while you were away."
Edward focused on the road as he negotiated an icy intersection.

"That's probably one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me," Bella finally
said, her voice rough with emotion. "Thank you, Edward."

"You're welcome," he said, pleased.

They finished out the evening on the couch, talking and eating leftovers from
some New Year's Eve party Bella had hosted. Edward left before midnight,
knowing he had an early shift at the deli the next day. He pulled on his winter
jacket and scarf, and gave Bella a hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek, which she
returned.

"Good night," she said softly. "Thank you for a nice evening."

"Of course it was nice," Edward said. "We're good together. Didn't I tell you?"
Bella laughed and flapped a hand at him.

"This part is easy," she said. "Just wait until we're out in the big bad world,
dealing with our friends and family. If we're still good together after that, it'll be a
different story.

##

Opportunities to be together were few and far between for the rest of the month.
Bella was still doing promotional work for her latest book and was away for
several days. When she was home, she usually had Frankie – and even Edward
knew that he shouldn't intrude on that.

Admittedly, his work schedule in January was jammed as well. He took on as
many shifts as he could at the restaurant. It made the days go faster – and
brought him more rapidly than expected to a very important achievement.

"So my parents are having a little dinner celebration thing on Sunday night," said
Edward one afternoon as he wiped down the counter. Bella had just arrived from
New York City and stopped at the deli for a quick meal and a chat before heading
home. He looked at her a little shyly. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to
come?"

Bella looked at him, startled. "Won't your parents find it a bit odd if I suddenly
show up for their dinner party?"

"Not really," Edward said, looking sheepish. "The dinner is for me, and they asked
if I wanted to invite any of my friends. I thought maybe the best person to bring
was you because, you know, you helped so much."

"What's the dinner for?" she asked. "And what did I help with?"

"I … uh … finished paying off my debt to my dad," he said. Bella still didn't react.

"What debt?"

"What do you mean 'what debt?'" asked Edward impatiently. "You know, my …"
He trailed off mid sentence. Fuck. I never told Bella about it. I let her think that I
was helping my family out financially.

Bella arched her eyebrows, a humorless smile hovering around the edge of her
mouth. "Oh dear," she said, stirring her coffee. "Sounds like there's a story that I
haven't heard."

"Fuck," mumbled Edward. "Yeah. I … uh … well, I owed my dad some money.
Kind of a lot of money. That's why I got the job here." He cleared his throat.
"Can't believe I never told you about that."

"Uh huh," said Bella, her tone skeptical. There was an awkward silence.

"Hey Miss Bella," said Jasper as he zipped by. "You tired of this clown yet? Want a
new hot guy in your life?"

"There are days, Jasper," she said. "But no, I think I'll stick with my boy here."
Jasper winked and sped off with a tray of coffee and hot chocolate. "Edward, tell
your folks I'd love to join you for dinner on Sunday." He could feel relief spread
through him as Bella let it slide.

"Bring Frankie too," he said.

##

Bella and Frankie arrived at Edward's home on Sunday evening in the midst of a
cold snap. Bella reintroduced herself to Esme and Carlisle, and encouraged
Frankie to shake hands. Edward gave both of them a quick kiss on the cheek.
Everyone enjoyed a drink in the living room before heading to the table to ooh
and ahh over the spread Esme had put on.

Edward's head spun with sheer delight throughout the entire meal. He'd paid his
debt. His mother had made all his favorite foods for dinner. And Bella was at the
table with him. As he contemplated his newfound financial freedom, he let his
gaze wander over to Bella. She looked beautiful, her hair loose around her
shoulders. Edward noticed that it was still the same rich brown it had been when
she left for her book tour – she must be still coloring it. Emmett was teasing her
about something, and she flushed prettily, biting her lip.

So beautiful.

At that moment, he realized his mother was looking at him. Her expression was
not a happy one.

Edward jerked to attention, wine slopping over the side of the glass. "What?" he
asked loudly. Everyone stopped talking to look at him. "Sorry. Mom, what did you
say?"

"Nothing," said Esme. "I didn't say anything. I was just looking at you." Her
words were simple enough, but Edward could see a small frown lingering on his
mother's lips, and he felt uneasy. Then Frankie tugged on his sleeve for attention,
and he turned away.

After dessert, everyone sat back in their chairs, full and relaxed. Edward was
half-listening to Alice and Frankie debating the merits of strawberry versus
chocolate ice cream when he heard his mother speak.

"Your daughter is lovely, Bella. So well mannered. You and your husband must be
very proud of her." Edward twitched a bit; his mother knew that Bella and Marcus
were divorced.

"My ex-husband. Yes, she's the apple of our eyes. We try not to spoil her, but it's
challenging when there's only one."

"Yes, I have the same problem with Alice being the only girl," Esme said. "Have
you been divorced long?"

"Since last spring," said Bella. "We're still amicable, which makes it easier to co-
parent. It's a difficult job when you're on your own."

"Indeed," said Esme. "Are you dating anyone? I know a couple of doctors at the
hospital who are single parents as well. It would be ideal for you to meet some
nice men … nice appropriate men for you."

Alice and Frankie were giggling behind cupped hands and Emmett had jumped up
to find his cell phone, ringing somewhere in the living room. Edward sat frozen in
his chair, wondering if his mother had sounded as bitchy as he thought with that
last comment. He guessed that she did because his father had suddenly looked
up at his wife with a slightly shocked expression on his face.

Edward didn't dare look at Bella, but he also didn't know what to do. Then he felt
the warm touch of her foot against his leg, and knew instinctively that she had
this.

"Esme, that's very kind of you," she said calmly. "At this point, though, I'm not
interested in dating anyone." Edward thought he heard a little emphasis on the
last word. "I can't see myself considering it for at least another year. I like being
on my own, and I think it would be inappropriate to expose Frankie to new men
in her life, don't you agree?"

"Absolutely," said Esme, leaning forward to touch Bella's hand. "I shouldn't be
asking you such personal questions, dear. I just want everyone to be as happy as
Carlisle and me in our marriage."

"You're very fortunate," murmured Bella. "Frankie, what do you say to Esme for
preparing such a lovely dinner tonight?"

The moment passed, and Edward finally lifted his gaze off his empty cake plate.
His fingers were trembling, he realized, but he wasn't sure why. Anger. Fear.
Shock that his parents would be anything but welcoming of Bella's presence in his
life.

Edward pushed his chair back and began collecting the dessert plates. He needed
to get out of this room, at least for a moment. In the kitchen, he rinsed the
plates and bent to load them into the dishwasher. He heard the clicking of heels
along the floor and froze.

"I told you once before that everything shows on that face of yours," said Bella in
a low voice, joining him at the counter. "She saw it. She could see it in me too …
mothers can see stuff like that." Edward was gripping the edge of the counter
hard enough to make his knuckles white. Bella put her hand over his and rested
her chin against his shoulder fleetingly. "It'll be okay – she's just worried about
her kid."

"She doesn't like the idea of me and you … having feelings for each other," said
Edward bleakly.

"She's uncomfortable with the idea," Bella replied. "Edward, most people are
uncomfortable with it. Cradle-snatching. Cougars and cubs. Older women dating
much younger men is something society is barely coming to grips with. This will
be our reality if we get together." Edward could barely hear her, even in the
silence of the kitchen. "I don't want you to have to endure that. Not for me."

A light footstep sounded in the hallway, and Bella stepped away to the fridge to
examine the photographs there. Frankie came into the room and snuggled
sleepily into Bella's arms. "Past your bedtime, isn't it love? C'mon, let's get your
coat. It's time for us to go home."

"It snowed a bit during dinner," called Carlisle from the living room. "Your car
might need brushing off. Edward, could you please clean Bella's car while she
puts Frankie into her coat?" There was the usual bustle of bundling up and
farewells at the door. Edward handed Bella's snowy car brush to her after she had
Frankie buckled into her car seat.

"Thank you so much for inviting me," she said in a carrying voice. Edward figured
that this was mostly for the benefit of his mother standing at the partly open
door, despite the cold. "You've worked hard and deserve to celebrate a little. I'm
very happy for you, kiddo." Mindful of what Bella had told him about his facial
expressions, Edward smiled stiffly and accepted an air kiss from Bella, watching

as she climbed into the idling car. She busied herself with the defroster and
heater, then turned to look out the window at him.

For a moment, she let her carefully schooled, reserved expression fall away so
that Edward could see in her face what she was feeling. The warmth and longing
in her eyes flashed through him, making his head spin.

I don't want you to go.

He felt his sentiments returned.

Bella tapped the horn and waved goodbye to Esme at the door. Frankie blew a
sleepy kiss to him. As the car backed out, Edward jogged back to the house,
oblivious to the freezing cold, to anything except the rush of warmth he felt
spreading through his body.

##

##

Edward woke up slowly. Even with his face pressed down into the pillows, the
light coming in through his open blinds was painful. His stomach churned, but
thankfully decided against ejecting its contents all over the bed. He groaned.

Too much vodka.

He dragged himself up and shuffled to the bathroom where he took a long pee,
one arm braced against the bathroom wall. After drinking a couple of glasses of
water to rinse the sour taste from his mouth, he burrowed back into bed to catch
another five or six hours of sleep.

Wonder how I got home last night.

He lay there for a couple of minutes, drifting back toward sleep. Then abruptly,
memory descended and he flew upright in bed, his head shrieking in protest.

"FUCK!"

##

One week earlier

"Listen," said Edward, his green eyes sparkling with excitement. They were over
at Bella's house on a quiet Friday afternoon. "One of my old friends is coming in
from LA next week, and we're going to get a bunch of people out to celebrate. I
really, really want you to come with me."

Bella looked at him uneasily. "Edward, I don't think that's …."

"Don't even say it," he interrupted. "You agreed we'd meet in the middle. That
means that sometimes you have to try stuff that I like doing." He knelt on the
couch beside her, using his best pouty face for full effect. "Please? Just one night
out with me?"

"Stop that," she murmured, pushing at him half-heartedly with one hand, while
reaching up to tangle the other in his wild hair. "I know what I agreed to, but I'm
going to look like a fool beside you in a fancy night club. All your friends will think
you brought your spinster aunt with you. It's mortifying."

"They will not think that," he insisted, running a finger over her lips. Edward had
never flirted like this with Bella before, and he found it exciting. After more than
three months of self-imposed celibacy, he was wound as tight as he could go. The
unexpected swipe of her tongue across the pad of his finger nearly sent him
through the roof.

"Bella," he said. "Please …" He was no longer sure what he was asking for.

"Yes, Edward," she whispered back. "Whatever the question is, the answer is
yes."

##

Edward and his friend Simon arrived at Bella's house shortly after 10 p.m. on
Friday night. It had been close to two years since Edward had seen Simon, and
they'd spent the last two hours drinking and laughing their asses off.

"So who's this chick we're going to pick up?" Simon asked in the cab on their way
to Bella's house. "You've been awful quiet about her, so I'm thinking it must be
serious, bro." Edward flushed, and Simon hooted with laughter. "Holy shit, look at
you! Are you in love?"

"Shut the fuck up," he said, giving Simon a hard elbow to the ribs. His friend
doubled over, still laughing. "It's not like that," Edward said lamely. "We're not
dating. We're just friends." Simon finally came up for air and looked hard at
Edward.

"I have the feeling there's a long story behind this," Simon said. "Look, she isn't
married, is she? A big dude with tattoos isn't going to meet us at the front door
with a shotgun?"

"No, she's not married," Edward mumbled. "Not anymore. She has a kid though."

"Jesus Christ," Simon said. The cab was stopping in front of Bella's home. "This
ought to be good." He pulled out his wallet and paid the fare. Edward caught his
arm as the taxi drove off into the late winter night.

"Simon, she's important. Okay?"

"Yeah, I got that part. C'mon, introduce me to the love of your life." Edward
trudged up Bella's driveway with Simon grinning beside him. Belatedly, he
wondered if maybe this evening was a bad idea. But it was too late to do
anything about it since the door was opening, and there was Bella. Edward
stared.

She had on an elegant little black dress and modest heels that showed off her
legs to perfection. Her hair had long, loose curls in it. Edward hadn't seen her this
made up since Oprah; she'd even had her nails done. How had he ever once
found her plain?

"You're beautiful," Edward blurted out, then immediately cursed his lack of filter.
Bella blushed. Simon stood on the step, staring at both of them.

"You're beautiful too," Bella said with a wry smile. "You must be Simon. Please
come in." They shuffled into the entrance hall, out of the cold. "I'm Bella DiPalma.
It's nice to meet you."

"Simon Lee," he said, shaking her hand.

"Let me get my bag. I'll be back in a moment," Bella said. The minute she was
gone, Simon wheeled on Edward in disbelief.

"What?" said Edward irritably.

"Dude. She is totally not what I expected."

"Well, what did you expect?"

"I dunno … some crazy hot chick that you'd met at a bar one night. Fucking hell,
who is she?" Simon poked his head into the living room of Bella's subtly elegant
house. "This is her house, isn't it? Not her parents' place."

"Yeah, it's her place." Edward said, shifting nervously. "So what d'ya think of
her?"

"I think she's loaded, pretty unremarkable in the looks department, and much
older than you, in that order." Simon looked intently at his old friend. "I also
think she must be something really fucking special to have you this jacked up."

"She is," Edward replied, then looked up to see Bella descending the staircase,
pulling on an expensive-looking black coat he had never seen her wear before. It
looked like cashmere, and Edward prayed that it wouldn't get ripped off in the
night club. "Ready?" he asked.

"Not even close," Bella replied.

##

The Sound Bar was loud, smoky and rocking by the time they arrived. This was
Edward's favorite dance club; a quick nod to the bouncer and they bypassed the
long line to get in. In minutes, they were settling in at a private VIP booth just off
the dance floor.

Edward was in his element. Simon was here. Bella was here. And for the first
time in a long time, he could pay for his own drinks. He no longer had to fear
having his reputation as the life of the party replaced by that of being a first-class
mooch. This would be, he decided, a night to remember.

Bella looked on with sharp interest as their hostess appeared and began setting
up the bottle service at their booth. Over the thundering music, Edward explained
that having private service at the table meant they didn't have to line up at the
jammed bar to order drinks.

"Like this," he said, ordering all three of them a Grey Goose on the rocks. He
slammed his back, relishing the feel of the ice-cold vodka burning down his
throat. Out of the crowd came friends, waving in greeting. The DJ started a new
set, and Edward signaled to the hostess for another vodka.

After a few drinks, he coaxed Bella on to the dance floor. She danced well, better
than she had claimed she could. But just as Edward was warming up, she
indicated she was returning to the booth.

"Stay here," she shouted into his ear. "Dance with your friends, have fun. I'll be
at the table." Edward dropped a kiss on her lips. Bella grinned at him, and
wormed her way through the crowd back to the table. She was replaced on the
dance floor by a blonde and a redhead, both of whom Edward recognized
vaguely. He had a feeling he'd made out with the redhead once before. Maybe
more than made out. The girl spun and shook her generous behind in his
direction. Yeah, he had definitely had been with her. He recognized the ass.

Flinging his hair back, Edward danced.

##

Nearly an hour later, Edward returned to the booth to find it crowded with friends
and acquaintances. He expected Simon to be on the dance floor surrounded by
women; instead, he was in deep conversation with Bella. Or as deep as any
conversation could get in a night club.

Soaked in sweat, Edward plopped down into the booth and ordered an iced
vodka. Before he could even get his drink, the redhead from the dance floor sat
in his lap. Edward glanced at Bella nervously; she smirked at him and rolled her
eyes. He blew her a kiss.

Redhead (he couldn't remember her name) wound her arms around Edward's
neck a bit too possessively for his liking. She wriggled in his lap, unfortunately
causing his cock to come to life. These days, a stiff breeze could make him hard.

"Who's that lady with Simon?" cooed the redhead. "Is she Simon's sugar mama?
You'd think he'd be able to do better than that."

"She's my friend," said Edward coldly, standing up. The redhead fell out of his lap
and stumbled a few steps before catching her balance. "Now do you mind pissing
off?" Edward picked up his drink and walked to the edge of the dance floor,
ignoring the girl as she stomped away. He let the crowd flow around him while he
drained his vodka. A few moments later, he became aware of someone standing
quite close to him. Edward turned to see a tall man with a blond pony tail and
cold eyes.

"James," said Edward. "Good to see you. Can I get you a drink from the table?"

"I think not," said James with a thin smile. "You haven't been around much. I
thought maybe you'd retired from the scene."

"No," said Edward. "I had to take a temporary vacation because I was broke. But
now I'm back."

"So you are," said James. "You should celebrate. Anything I can help you with?"
Edward knew what James was asking: Did he want to buy any drugs tonight?

It was on the tip of Edward's tongue to accept the offer. James had been
supplying his club drugs for a couple of years, and his stuff was always reliable.
Except … he had promised. He automatically looked over his shoulder to catch
sight of Bella back at the table. She was listening to Simon but had her eyes on
Edward and James. Her brow was faintly creased, like she was catching a whiff of
what was going on.

"Not tonight," Edward finally said. He could see James had followed his gaze and
was looking at Bella with narrowed eyes.

"I see," said James. "Who is the charming individual Simon is talking to? The one
whose opinion you seem to value so highly? Do you have a patroness these
days?"

"A what?"

"A patroness," said James. "A sponsor, a backer of funds." Edward continued to
look blank, and James sighed in annoyance. "Is the old cunt paying your bills in
exchange for your cock?"

"No!" Edward said, horrified. "Jesus fucking Christ. She's a really good friend.
Don't talk about her like that." He looked at James in irritation. "Why does
everyone think that Bella is doing that?"

"Because she doesn't belong here," said James curtly. "And she sure as hell
doesn't belong with you." Before Edward could respond, James vanished into the
crowd, looking for greener pastures. Edward stood there a moment longer, then
went back to the table to order another vodka. A double this time.

His last memory of the night was sitting at the booth, a glass of water in his
hand. Simon had convinced him to switch, but Edward was already smashed.
Bella stood several feet away from him, talking with a couple of girls. She looked
blurry. Edward squinted, trying to bring the scene into focus. The two girls were
regulars, he realized, girls he had tried and discarded. Pin-thin (except for their
large fake boobs), dressed in barely-there dresses, perfect make-up and hair,
stiletto heels. Bella looked positively Mormonish beside them.

You mean she looks like a beat-up used car beside two Porsches.

Edward jerked backward as if trying to get away from the thought that had
popped unbidden into his mind. Bella instantly looked up at him. At his face. His
face that showed everything.

And that was where Edward's memory of the evening ended.

##

Fuck. What had happened after that?

Edward strained to remember, but there was nothing after that point except a
few confused flashes. Running … running after Bella in the club. Getting into a
cab. Someone shouting – at him?

This is bad.

Ignoring his queasy stomach, Edward slid across the bed to his night table. No
phone. He saw his jacket tossed across his desk chair, and brushed in disgust at
what appeared to be spots of vomit on one lapel. Phone in the pocket.

His first instinct was to call Bella, but the last few memories nixed that idea. Had
they fought? Had he done something stupid? Better to call Simon first to get the
details. Simon's phone rang a few times, then went to voicemail. Edward kept
hitting redial until his friend finally picked up.

"Fuck off, Edward," Simon snarled into the phone. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Uh … no," said Edward.

"It's …" He heard Simon moving around in bed. "It's … holy shit, it's two in the
afternoon. Fuck me." Edward was glad he had today off. "Still, fuck, I was
sleeping. What's wrong with you?"

"Simon, I need your help. About last night …" There was a silence on the end of
the line, then laughter.

"You can't remember what happened last night, can you? Can't say I'm surprised.
You were pretty trashed at the end. You're such a cheap date, Edward."

"Yeah, yeah," said Edward. "Look, I fucked up large here. Did Bella get home
okay? Was everything all right when we left? I remember some arguing."

"Hang on," said Simon, dropping the phone. Edward waiting, listening to Simon
take a piss somewhere off in the distance. "That's better. You really don't
remember, do you?"

Edward's stomach sank. "Simon, just tell me."

"I should fucking hang up and let you suffer for waking me up," grumbled Simon.
"Edward, you didn't do anything wrong. Unless you call that freak-out you had in
the club 'wrong'. We thought it was cute." Edward made a whimpering sound.
"I'm being a really shitty friend right now, aren't I?" said Simon gleefully. He
chuckled again then got serious. "I'm fucking with your head, you know that."

"I remember running through the club after Bella," said Edward. "And shouting. I
remember someone shouting at me."

"Bro, you were sitting at the booth all dopey like you get when you're wasted.
You're one of the happiest drunks I know. Bella was cornered by a couple of
chicks who were telling her what a manwhore you are. Then Bella excused herself
to go to the ladies. Next thing I know, you're on your feet and fucking racing
after her. I caught you before you could run into the ladies room and get us all
kicked out.

"You thought Bella was leaving without you, that she was pissed about something
you said or did. She came out in a few minutes, asked what the fuck was going
on, and decided we should get you home."

Edward processed this information. "What about the shouting? I remember that
part."

Simon laughed. "That was the cab driver, dude. He was sure you were going to
puke all over his car. Kept telling us if you threw up, we'd be walking the rest of
the way home."

"Did I puke?" Edward remembered the spatters on his jacket and figured he
already knew the answer to that question.

"Not in the cab. You barfed in your mom's flower bed, though. I don't think
Esme's gonna like that." Edward winced; Simon was right about that. "But
otherwise, you were fine. I got you upstairs and into bed so quietly that your
parents never woke up. You were unconscious before I left the room."

"You put me to bed?" asked Edward. "Why didn't Bella do that?"

"You think she was dying to undress you, Puke Boy?" asked Simon. "She didn't
want to come in the house. Said your mom wouldn't be happy if she caught her
in her son's bedroom in the middle of the night. That sounded like a good thing to
avoid, so Bella stayed in the cab while I did the dirty work."

Edward slumped back against the pillows. Things were okay. He felt the worry
fading away, then was struck with a horrible thought. "Fuck, Simon, the tab! I
didn't close the fucking tab!"

"Oh!" shouted Simon. "I almost forgot about that. No, we closed the tab. It was
fuckawesome."

"How is closing a tab fuckawesome?"Edward's heart was pounding again. How
many bottles of vodka had they drunk? All those people at the table – had their
drinks gone on his bill? He had gotten into deep shit in the past before like this,
but somehow, he never learned.

"Bella asked for the bill, and it was fucking huge. So cool as anything, she asks
for the hostess and the manager. She goes through the bill with them, asking
whose drinks were whose and how all this extra stuff got on the tab. At first, they
were all 'not our problem, pay up', and then she fucking went to town. Not
shouting, just like super strict, saying that this was no way to treat a valued and
important client, that the club needs VIPs to be successful and this wasn't the
level of service she expected, blah, blah, blah. It was fantastic."

Edward sat frozen in horror. "VIPs … she told them who she was?"

"No, stupid. She was talking about you. God knows you spend enough money
there, plus the chicks dig you. Eventually, they fixed the tab so it was just you,
me and her. The rest of the bill went back to the people sitting at the booth.
Some of them were right pissed. They thought they could drink for free all night,
but Bella got rid of them like dickey birds off a rhino's back."

"Did she pay the bill?" Edward croaked. That would be so mortifying – like she
really was his meal ticket.

"No, she left it on your card. The total was about $600, after tip. She said you
could suck it up." Edward gagged a little at the number, but realized it could have
been much worse. "Look, I gotta tell you, Bella's pretty cool. Smart. She's a
keeper."

"Yeah, she is," Edward replied. "Listen … thanks. Thanks for having my back last
night. And for telling me this stuff."

"Sure," said Simon. "We need to do it up again before I leave, right? Last night
was sick."

"Yeah," he said faintly. "I'll talk to you later, buddy."

##

Edward was still exhausted but couldn't sleep after that roller coaster of a
conversation. After some thought, he sent a text to Bella asking how she had
enjoyed last night. Showered, got some food down. No response from Bella, but
that didn't mean she was pissed at him. At least, he didn't think so.

He spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around – watching television with
Emmett and Alice, fooling with the computer, nervously poking around in the
flower bed by the front door to minimize the damage. Called Bella, but it went
straight to voicemail. He left a message asking her to call him.

Edward fidgeted through dinner, checking his phone under the table. He wanted
to talk to Bella, needed to talk to her. Even if she didn't want to talk to him.

"May I be excused?" he asked suddenly.

"Certainly," said Carlisle as Edward leaped up from the table. "Going
somewhere?"

"Yeah, I need to go out for a bit. Can I take the car?" He was already in the
hallway tugging his jacket on.

"Only if you have it back by 5 a.m.," said Esme. "I've got an early shift
tomorrow."

"Never mind," said Edward. "I'll cab it."

"Take an umbrella; it's pouring outside!"

But Edward was gone.

##

It took him 10 minutes to jog to the nearest major intersection, and a further 15
to find an empty cab in the cold spring rain. As a result, he was soaked and
freezing as he walked up Bella's driveway. Praying that she wouldn't slam the
door in his face, he rang the doorbell.

"My God, Edward," Bella exclaimed when she opened the door. "You're soaking
wet! What on earth?"

"You weren't answering your phone," he said, feeling lame. "I was worried that
something was …" Edward froze, looking just past Bella and realizing that he
hadn't finished fucking up the day yet. In fact, he'd saved the best for last.

Standing wide-eyed with excitement in the hallway was Frankie.

"Oh my God, Bella," he said in a rush, trying to keep his voice down so Frankie
wouldn't hear. "I totally forgot you'd have Frankie. I'm so sorry to barge in here
like this. Fuck." Edward pushed his wet hair back from his face in frustration. "I'm
such an idiot."

"Maybe for going out without an umbrella, but that's about it," said Bella,
amused. "Frankie, should we leave Mr. Edward outside in the rain or should we
invite him in?"

"Invite him in! Invite him in!" squealed Frankie in delight. She darted past Bella
and pulled on Edward's hand to bring him into the house.

"I'm really sorry, honest …"

"You're full of apologies tonight, aren't you?" Bella said. "Frankie, upstairs right
now and get into your jammies or you won't be able to visit with Mr. Edward
before bed." Frankie flew upstairs. As soon as her daughter was out of sight,
Bella gave Edward a soft kiss on the mouth. "I'm not sure why you're here, but
I'm very happy to see you."

"I thought … your phone," he stammered at this unexpectedly warm welcome.

"My phone shit the bed so I had to replace the operating system," said Bella. "It's
upstairs reloading right now. I had no idea you were trying to reach me. I should
have emailed you." Edward's teeth chattered unexpectedly. "Stay here for a
second." She vanished downstairs, and returned with some clothes over her arm
"They'll be too big on you, but it's all I've got for men's clothes. Give me your wet
clothes and I'll throw them into the dryer."

Edward changed in the bathroom, cinching the sweatpants tight to keep them
from falling down. The shirt was loose but manageable. Everything smelled a bit
like Bella, which was a nice bonus.

When he came out, Frankie was sitting in the living room in fuzzy pajamas, a
bear tucked under her arm. She led Edward to her room, showing off her stuffed
animal collection, souvenirs from a trip to Disneyworld, and her latest artwork.

"Are you having a sleepover at our house tonight?" she asked. Edward shook his
head, flushing.

"No, I just came to visit your mom for a bit. You know, 'cause we're friends?"

"I wish you could stay. We have a guest bedroom right over there," she said,
pointing. "You could stay if you wanted to."

"That's really nice of you, sweetheart," he said, smoothing her hair. "Maybe one
day we can have a sleepover. We could watch movies, eat popcorn and stay up
really late together."

"Maybe one day we can do that," agreed Bella from the doorway. "But right now,
it's bedtime. Frankie, do you have a hug and a kiss goodnight for Mr. Edward?"
Edward bent to hug the little girl and receive an ardent smack on the lips. Then
he escaped downstairs to the living room while Bella tucked her daughter into
bed. He was wrapping himself in a throw on the couch when Bella came down the
stairs and stopped in the door.

"Are you here to break off our arrangement?" she asked abruptly.

Edward stared at her. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," she said, biting her lip. "You showed up here all of a sudden, said
you were trying to call. I thought maybe you wanted to get it over with."

"God no," said Edward. "I came here because I wanted to apologize for being
such a drunken ass last night. I thought you were mad at me and weren't
answering my messages."

Bella cracked up laughing. "We're a good pair, aren't we?" She walked over and
sat down on the couch beside him. "Let's start again. I'm not angry with you. I
had fun last night, and I'm glad you did too. You're supposed to get drunk with
your friends on Friday nights when you're 24. That's the whole point of being
young."

"Still, I shouldn't have left you to fend for yourself. It wasn't nice."

"I'm a big girl," said Bella. "I can look after myself. But apology accepted. Now, I
owe you an apology for meddling with the tab. I shouldn't have butt in the way I
did, but I was furious with the bar for taking advantage of the situation when you
were drunk."

"You saved my ass," said Edward. "No need to apologize. Just thanks for helping
me. And - I can't believe I'm saying this - thanks for not paying the bill." Bella
arched an eyebrow in question. "It would have felt wrong to me if you'd paid it.
Like you were … you know …"

"Like I was your patroness?" asked Bella dryly. Edward's head flew up in surprise.
What the fuck? "I had a very interesting conversation toward the end of the
evening with a guy named James," said Bella. "I didn't understand most of what
he was talking about, but he did ask me if I was your patroness. He seemed
disappointed in my response."

"What did you tell him?" asked Edward, his throat suddenly very dry.

"I told him that he had a lovely way with words and the wrong idea altogether
about you and me." Bella looked at Edward sharply. "I saw him talking to you
earlier, and he gave me the creeps. Doubly so when I talked to him in person.
Who is he?"

"Uh …" Edward felt his face reddening. "I buy my drugs from him."

"Oh," said Bella. "Well, that would explain why he seemed so skeevy." There was
a moment of silence. "Do you find yourself doing less business with him these
days?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to live life better. Not just for you, although you help a lot. But
because it's time." Edward fiddled with the edge of the throw for a moment.
"There was something else that happened last night. Just before you went to the
bathroom and I thought you were leaving." Bella didn't say anything, just looked
at him. "It was a really weird moment, and I got freaked out. I thought
something not very nice about you, and I figured maybe you could tell what I was
thinking."

"I see," said Bella. "I'm not a mind-reader, Edward. I'm very good at reading
people's facial expressions and postures. I'm observant. But I can't tell what
you're thinking all the time."

"I know. But you looked at me. You … saw." Bella was silent.

"I saw you take off your rose-colored glasses at one point and see me for what I
really am," she conceded. "I'm not young and beautiful, Edward. You shouldn't
pretend otherwise. You should have seen how long it took me to get ready for
last night – I spent a fortune at the salon just to have enough confidence to walk
through the door!"

"You looked great," insisted Edward. "You are beautiful."

"I'm not," she said softly. Edward scooted down the couch and took her hands in
his.

"You are to me. You're beautiful just like this, the way you are now. I like you the
way you are. I want you the way you are." Bella looked at him, a pink flush
creeping up her cheeks. For a long moment, the electricity crackled between
them. Then Bella leaned forward and kissed him.

It was hungry and passionate, driven by months of pent-up desire. Edward's
tongue was restless in her mouth. Bella made a sound of desire in the back of her
throat, and he pushed her back into the couch, his body tight to hers. His
erection pressed against her thighs, jutting out in his sweatpants. Bella's hands
were buried in his damp hair, and her hips pushing gently but insistently against
his. Edward's body was on fire; all he could think was how easy it would be to
remove her jeans, pull down his pants and be buried balls deep in her warmth in
seconds.

"I want you so bad," he mumbled against her lips. "Please …"

Bella's hands stilled in his hair, and she pulled back a little from him. Her face
was flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. "I want you, too," she murmured.
"But the first time we make love isn't going to be on the couch with my daughter
upstairs. I want you spread out in my bed, alone with me, so no one else can
hear you scream when I make you come."

Edward froze, afraid for a moment he was going to embarrass himself by coming
in his pants. "Don't say stuff like that," he said. "You're going to give me a
permanent case of blue balls." Bella chuckled against his neck, and rubbed her
hand in soft circles on his back. "That feels good," he sighed.

"It feels good just to touch you," she said softly. "I never want to stop."

"Then don't" Edward whispered back, feeling more relaxed by the second. He lay
there, enjoying the sensation of Bella's hand moving up and down his back. His
erection slowly subsided. After a while, things started to blur and fade into the
background. He was so tired, and it felt so good…

A sudden snore jerked him awake, making Bella giggle. "You're tired," she
whispered. "Did you drive here?"

"No," he said sleepily. "Took a cab."

"Will your parents be worried if you don't come home tonight?"

"No. They're cool with it," Edward mumbled.

"C'mon then." Bella got him to his feet and led him up the stairs. A few moments
later, she settled him into bed in a blissfully dark room.

"Stay with me," he whispered, his voice drowsy. "I want you to sleep in my
arms." Bella leaned forward and kissed him lingeringly on the mouth.

"I wish I could," she said. "But I don't think we'd sleep if I did that. I'm not ready
for Frankie to find us in bed together in the morning. Another time, love."

Whatever his response was to that, Bella never knew – Edward was already
asleep.

##

##

"You want to go where?" Edward asked.

"To a play," Bella repeated. "At the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre."

"Romeo and Juliet?" he asked hopefully. He'd seen the movie versions of that one
so he wouldn't have to stay awake.

"No," she replied. "Macbeth." She smiled at his sour expression. "Don't make a
face. It's not like I chose one of the historical plays. Even I can't keep those
sorted out."

"But Shakespeare is boring," Edward protested. He knew it was his turn to meet
in the middle, but why did it have to be some ancient play written by a dead guy
in a version of English no one spoke anymore?

"Yes, it can be boring," agreed Bella. "Especially if you're reading it from a book
in a stuffy classroom. You'd be surprised how much more interesting it is
performed live." Edward looked skeptical. "It's got witchcraft. Lots of sword
fighting and murder. And a tough battleaxe of a leading lady." She waggled her
eyebrows at him, making him laugh. "C'mon, we'll have fun."

"I guess," he said doubtfully.

##

Chicago was coming to the end of a beautiful summer marked by sunny weather
and less humidity than the city normally sweltered under. For Edward, it had
been one of the happiest seasons of his life. Couldn't have been a better summer,
he thought. A bit further south, his penis disagreed. You shut up.

He and Bella had continued to find their middle ground. They discovered that
they were both Cubs fans, and went to a few games together over the summer.
Saw several big summer blockbusters. Sampled a hot new restaurant with Simon
when he came into town on a weekend visit. Spent long, sweet evenings at
Bella's house doing whatever they wanted – watching TV, talking, reading the
newspaper together.

Visited the Lincoln Park Zoo – with Frankie.

"I thought you told my mom you didn't want to introduce her to any men,"
Edward had hedged when Bella first asked him to come along to the zoo.

"I told her I didn't want to introduce her to any new men," Bella had replied
archly. "You're not new – she's known you for ages."

And so Edward had ended up going to the zoo for the first time in years, seeing
everything again through new eyes as Frankie dashed from exhibit to exhibit. She
seemed to readily accept that 'her' waiter from the diner had somehow become
part of her mother's life.

He held her as she rode the carrousel, looked at gorillas, lions and penguins with
her. It had been an oddly exhilarating day for Edward, a glimpse into what life
could be like for the three of them together as a family. Scary and wonderful,
rolled up into one sticky, sleepy little girl package dozing on his shoulder as they
walked back to the car.

That said, Edward's cock was right – there was still no sex. There had been plenty
of stolen kisses and the occasional grope, but they remained true to the rules of
the year. Edward was getting calluses somewhere he'd never had them before.

Strangely, as the year passed, he began to better understand why Bella had
asked for them to get to know one another before becoming physically involved.
He had never been this connected to a woman before, not even the ones he'd
been physically intimate with in every possible way. It made him feel things he
didn't always understand and sometimes found very frightening.

Bella didn't go out clubbing with him again after their first time at the Sound Bar,
but she occasionally joined him for a drink before he headed out on the town.
She had no objections to him spending the night out with friends, although
Edward found that a couple of times a month was fine for him these days.

He knew his parents were pleasantly surprised by his tame summer. He also
knew they were curious where he spending his spare time outside of work. But
Edward had managed to duck out of most of their questions and, frankly, they
were pleased enough with him to turn a blind eye to a great deal. All it usually
took was a casual mention of the Illinois Institute of Art, and everyone's attention
was diverted.

Edward had been accepted into the fall session of the interactive media design
program.

It had been yet another source of happiness for him this summer, knowing that
he had something waiting for him in September. Poppy was sad to see her best
server leaving her full-time employ, but she had persuaded Edward to take some
weekend shifts during the school year.

A summer of changes, compromises and meeting in the middle … which is how
Edward found himself spending Friday night at a performance of Macbeth, instead
of out partying with his friends.

"I cheated on my senior year English exam," he hissed at Bella as they took their
seats before the performance.

"How about I make it worth your while?" she whispered as the house lights went
down. Bella's hand ran up his thigh, her fingers drawing patterns on the denim
just below his crotch. Abruptly, Edward moved her hand up, pressing it firmly
against his lengthening cock. Bella caught her breath, and Edward stifled a moan
of relief at feeling her hand touching him. Her fingers moved under his, tracing
the outline of his erection. He wondered if she could get him off right here
through his jeans; it probably wouldn't take more than a minute in the state he
was in.

Someone sitting a few seats down cleared their throat loudly, and they jerked
their hands back. Edward let out a sound of agonized frustration.

"No one ever died of blue balls," breathed Bella in his ear.

"I might be the first," he whispered back. Then the curtain opened, the witches
appeared, and Edward had to use all his limited concentration abilities to keep up
with the story. But when he found himself getting a bit lost, Bella would
instinctively be at his ear, murmuring a few quick words to keep him on track.
Each brief explanation would end with a nuzzle or a kiss against his neck, making
him long for more. When the play ended and the cast came out for their bows,
Edward was surprised to find himself sorry that it was over.

"Was that so bad?" asked Bella as they walked out into the warm night. He had
to admit that it was not.

"But I don't think I'll ever be a fan of Shakespeare, although you're right that it's
better when you see it performed live," Edward added, taking her arm as they
crossed the road. "I'm a lot more likely to become a fan of being close to you in
dark places. Maybe we can pick a spot with less people next time."

##

Bella dropped Edward off around 11 outside his house. He took his time kissing
her good night, and she made no objection. Then he headed into the house,
adjusting himself along the way. Unlocking the front door, he walked into the
living room and tossed his keys onto the table in the hall.

"Where have you been?"

Edward jumped at the sound of his father's voice; he hadn't seen Carlisle sitting
there.

"Jesus, Dad … " Edward stopped, confused. "Wait, you want to know where I've
been tonight? Aren't I a little old to have to answer that question?" Carlisle didn't
respond. He just looked at his son, a strange expression on his face. "I'm 24,
Dad. Go ask Emmett and Alice what they're up to, not me."

"You might be 24, but you still live under my roof," said Carlisle. "And you've
never been shy in the past about your relationships. Who just dropped you off?
Where were you this evening?" He eyed his son's clothing suspiciously.
"Especially dressed like that."

Edward looked down at his clean dark jeans, black shoes, white button-down
shirt and dark blazer. He had taken special pains to dress nicely for his theater
date with Bella. He'd even considered wearing a tie. What the fuck is going on
here? Impulse and emotion took over.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing? For Christ's sake, I was at a play!" Edward
sneered. "Fucking Macbeth! Should I have worn a tux?"

Carlisle stared at him like he was from another planet.

"You went to a Shakespearean play. On a Friday night in August." His father
rubbed his forehead, looking very uncertain. "Edward …" His voice trailed off and
he took a deep breath. "You're not dating Isabella Swan, are you?"

Edward froze, not sure of what to say or do next. This was something he and
Bella had never discussed, never planned for. He was on his own. Panic started to
set in, until he remembered the advice Bella had given him once for dealing with
stressful situations like this.

Don't react right away. Take a deep breath. Give yourself a moment to collect
your thoughts. If you have to, buy yourself some extra time – go to the
washroom, get a glass of water, light a cigarette. When you're ready, you'll be
more in control.

"Give me a minute, Dad," said Edward. He went to the bathroom, washed his
hands. Breathed deeply. Poured a glass of soda before joining his father in the
living room. He felt a little better. But only a little.

"So her name is Bella DiPalma," Edward said once he was settled. "And we're
friends."

"Did she take you to the theater tonight?"

"Yeah." Edward took a sip of his drink. "We do lots of things together. We take
turns trying stuff that the other person likes, and the rest of the time we do
things that we both like."

"And you're not romantically involved with this woman?" Edward didn't answer
right away, and his father gave him the hairy eyeball.

"I didn't say that," said Edward. "We're friends right now. I … well, both of us, I
think … want something more. But Bella didn't think it would be right for us to be
together that way. This year is our way of finding out if we really belong
together."

Carlisle looked away, clearly unhappy. "She's old enough to be your mother, for
God's sake. She should know better than to go around sleeping with children."

Edward felt his face flush with anger, and took a gulp of soda to keep from
sounding off.

"Dad, I'm not a little kid." Carlisle didn't say anything. "And even though this is
none of your business, Bella and I are not having sex." His father looked at him
disbelievingly. "It was something we agreed to at the beginning."

"You're not dating. You're not having sexual relations. You've obviously agreed to
curb your reckless behavior for this woman. What are you getting out of this
relationship?" A horrified look dawned on his face. "There's no money involved, is
there?" Edward drained his soda and walked into the kitchen for a refill to stop
himself from punching his father in the face.

"No, there's no money involved," he said through clenched teeth when he
returned. "The benefit is that we get to spend time together. I have the chance to
get to know her. I get to be with her. Can you understand that? Being with her is
what I want most of all. Just to be close to her."

Carlisle sat back in his chair. His face softened a little. "You're in love with her?"

Edward felt a rush of butterflies in his stomach at his father's words. Falling in
love was not a topic he felt like discussing with anyone, certainly not his father.

"Don't put words in my mouth," he snapped. "I have very strong feelings for her.
I like who I am when I'm with her." He wrestled with the odd, frightening feelings
inside him as his father watched.

"Okay then," said Carlisle at length. "Well." There was an awkward silence. "This
is very unexpected," he said. "Your mother has suspected for some time that the
two of you were involved in some way. But neither of us imagined that your
relationship was … like this."

"Like what?" asked Edward peevishly.

"We thought something less meaningful," said his father thoughtfully. "But after
talking to you, I think we were wrong." Hope must have flared on Edward's face
because his father held up a cautionary hand. "I'm not saying I'm comfortable
with you dating a woman so much older than you - and a minor celebrity at that.
But I am pleased that both of you recognize the challenges of a potential
relationship and are approaching it maturely."

Edward fiddled with his glass. "You gonna tell Mom about this?" Carlisle sighed
heavily and nodded. There was another awkward silence, and all Edward wanted
was to get out of the room."So … uh, thanks, Dad. Thanks for listening and
understanding my point of view." Edward rose and started sidling out of the
room. He was almost to the stairs when his father spoke again.

"If we had had this conversation six months, a year ago, you might have
smashed up the living room … or my face." Edward stopped with his hand on the
railing, startled by his father's words. "Did you change for her?"

"A little. But a lot of it was for me, too." Edward looked up the dark staircase,
glad that he didn't have to talk about this out in the open. "She made me want to
be a better person." There was a long silence from the living room.

"I'm glad," his father finally said. "I'll talk to your mother. Goodnight, Son."

Edward was upstairs and in his room before he realized he had handled the
difficult conversation entirely on his own.

##

"That sounds …" Bella threw the peppers Edward had chopped up into the salad
she was making and paused, looking for the right word.

"Awkward?" he suggested. He had just finished telling her about his conversation
with Carlisle from the previous week. It was Thursday; he and Bella had quiet
evening planned.

"Mmmm," she agreed. The timer dinged, and Bella opened the oven to produce a
fresh baked pie. Edward gazed at it longingly.

"Is that for dessert?" he asked.

"No," she said. "It's for tomorrow. My agent is in town, so I'm having her and a
few of my writer colleagues over for a barbeque."

"Oh," said Edward. Several minutes passed as he pondered what Bella had just
told him.

"Edward?" Bella asked, startling him out of his thoughts. "Dinner's on the table."
He took his seat and poked at his salad. "You seem to have something on your
mind," she said.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "You've never introduced me to any of your
friends. How come?"

Bella's eyebrows vanished into her hairline. She took a sip of her wine before
saying anything. "You're right; I've not introduced you to my friends. Is that
something you'd like?

"Yeah, maybe."

Bella thought for a moment. "Okay," she said. "Do you want to come tomorrow
then? Or are you working?" Edward looked startled by the invitation.

"It's your agent … is that like a work thing? I don't want to butt into that …"

"Perhaps you haven't noticed that I don't have much of a social life?" Bella asked.
"Most of my close friends live far away, Edward. The people I socialize with here
are mostly other writers. And Alex has been my agent for so long that she's
almost family. We have these get-togethers every now and then, and the host
frequently has her significant other or children as part of the gathering. You
wouldn't be butting in at all." Concern crossed Bella's face. "Some of these
women are very outspoken. They might be rough on you."

Edward smiled brilliantly. "That's okay. I'm good with women."

##

And indeed, by early evening, Edward had the five women at Bella's house eating
out of his hand. He was at his most charming. More than once, he caught Bella
rolling her eyes at him, but she seemed to be enjoying it as much as everyone
else.

"Will you be our chef tonight, Edward?" asked Bella, handing him a tray of food
for the barbeque. He gave her a killer smile and went out on to the deck to fire
up the grill. He could see that the kitchen window was slightly open despite the
day's heat, as if Bella wanted him to have the chance to eavesdrop while he
cooked.

Edward heard the clinking of glass as Bella refilled their wine. Then one of the
women spoke.

"Your Edward seems wonderful, Bella." That was Angela, the quietest of Bella's
writer friends. She had a gentle way about her that he liked.

"Yes, Bella," said someone else. Edward thought this was Vicky, the bold
redhead. She was older than Bella, with a potty mouth and a carefully preserved
face. When she smiled, he noticed that her forehead didn't move. "Edward's
prime. You had us all fooled; it's always the quiet ones, isn't it girls?" There was
laughter around the table. Edward grinned and began arranging chicken breasts
on the grill.

"He's a very nice young man," said Alex, Bella's agent. Edward wasn't sure how
he felt about Alex. Her eyes had widened noticeably when they had been
introduced, and her cool gaze had followed him around the kitchen all afternoon.

"Emphasis on 'young,'" said the younger blonde woman, Kate, in a knowing
voice. Edward didn't like her tone. It was the same one people used when they
speculated whether Bella paid Edward for his company.

"God, you are so lucky, Bella!" moaned Vicky. "He must be a stallion in bed!" The
other women shushed her and clicked their tongues disapprovingly, but Edward
figured they were also leaning forward, eager for details.

"I wouldn't know, Vicky," Bella said. Edward could hear amusement in her voice.
"I've never had sex with him." If she said anything else, it was drowned out in
the hooting of the women at the table.

"Are you crazy?" asked Kate. "What are you waiting for? Wait, he's not gay, is
he?"

"No, he's not gay," replied Bella. "We just didn't want to rush into anything."

"What's to rush into?" asked Vicky carelessly. "Unless it's his pants. It's not like
you want to have anything long term with a kid like that."

That's not cool, thought Edward.

"I think you misunderstand the nature of our relationship," said Bella in a delicate
tone. "Edward and I have been friends for almost two years now, and we're very
close. We're taking this year to figure out if we want to have a relationship
together."

There was a strange silence in the room that Edward didn't understand. Then
Vicky spoke.

"Oh honey," she said in a voice that sounded … sympathetic? "Oh no, no, no.
Edward is beautiful, he's hot, smoking hot! You should fuck him. But you don't
actually date him."

"Oh?" Edward recognized Bella's tone; she only used it when she was restraining
her anger. "Why shouldn't I date him?"

"C'mon Bella," Vicky said. "You can't date stupid. You can't love stupid."

"He's very young," added Angela tentatively. "He's not your intellectual equal. Do
you really think you could be happy with Edward on a long-term basis?" There
was a long pause. "I'm sorry … we've upset you. Please …"

"'Can't love stupid'?" said Bella in a choked voice. "Vicky, if Frankie had been
born with less than average intelligence, would I not still love her?"

"My God, Bella," replied Vicky in horror. "Frankie's your child. That's not what I
meant at all."

"Edward isn't stupid," Bella said fiercely. "True, he may not be my intellectual
equal on paper, but he has grown and changed in the last year in ways you can't
imagine. He has a capacity to learn that most of us could only dream of. And he
is most definitely worthy of my love and then some." She let out a tiny,
shuddering sob.

Edward had been frozen on the deck through this, but that little sound of
unhappiness moved him into action. Putting his shame and anger aside, he piled
the chicken breasts on to a clean platter, switched off the grill and yanked open
the door.

The women looked up, suddenly aware that the object of their uncomfortable
conversation was in the room. With ferocious effort, he schooled his features so
that his rampaging emotions didn't show (he hoped, anyway). He ignored the
other women, and sought out Bella's face.

Her cheeks were red and her eyes a bit glassy, but otherwise, she was holding
her composure. She had to know he had overheard that entire exchange. Edward
wanted to whisk her out of this room, away from these awful bitches and soothe
all her hurt away. But everything in her eyes told him that she didn't want them
to know that he had heard.

But they hurt you.

I'm okay. Just worried for you.

There were no word exchanged and barely a second had passed. Still, Edward
had his answer. With a wide, charming smile, he turned with a flourish.

"Ladies," he said. "Your dinner awaits." He put the platter of freshly grilled
chicken breasts onto the middle of the table. Bella had put out a spread of seeded
rolls, two kinds of salads, a plate of lettuce, onions and tomato slices, condiments
… everything her guests might want. Edward saw Vicky reaching for a chicken
breast.

"Be careful now," he warned with a humorless grin. "Those are smoking hot."

##

A couple of hours later, the last of Bella's guests were departing. Angela gave
Bella a warm hug and a promise to get together soon. Alex was friendly but also
told Bella that they'd need to have a business meeting in the very near future.
Edward felt a little skewered by the sharp look the agent gave him on the way
out the door. Vicky and Kate were long gone.

The door closed with a click, and Bella turned the lock. She didn't move from
there, so Edward came up behind her and pulled her close against him. Bella
didn't say anything; she just leaned against back him with a small sigh.

"I'm sorry," they said at the same time.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Bella said. "I'm sorry that you heard that.
Sorry that you had to experience that kind of … whatever that was." Edward
moved Bella's hair away from her neck and laid a slow trail of kisses down her
warm skin. He nuzzled softly against her ear.

"You didn't do anything wrong either," he whispered. "I was the one who insisted
on coming here today. You told me that they might be harsh, and they were. But
you defended me…" Edward had to stop talking because his throat was getting
painfully tight with emotion. Bella tipped her head back against his shoulder and
looked up at him with her heart in her eyes.

"Of course I did," she said softly. "Vicky was wrong. They all were, to varying
degrees. You're not stupid, not at all."

Edward looked down at her, overwhelmed by emotion. He swallowed two or three
times and cleared his throat, trying not to tear up. "I feel … so much when I'm
with you." Edward bent his head down and kissed Bella's upturned mouth. "I love
you," he breathed against her lips. "I've never said that to a girl before and
meant it."

"It's hard to mean it when you don't love yourself," Bella answered. "You've
changed so much since the first day I laid eyes on you." She stretched up a bit
and kissed him tenderly. "And I love you too." Edward wanted to keep kissing
her, wanted to kiss every inch of her, but was keenly aware of his erection
growing bigger against the small of her back. He didn't think this was the right
time to try for second base or better, so he released her waist and put a little
space between them.

"Hard to believe it's been just over a year and a half since we first saw each
other," he said.

"Oh, it's been longer than that," said Bella with a tired smile.

"No," replied Edward, confused. "It was January of last year."

"That's the first time you really saw me," she replied. "The first time was in the
fall of the previous year." Edward's eyes widened in surprise. "Marcus and I were
making one last effort to save the marriage, but we were failing miserably."
Edward took Bella by the hand and led her upstairs to the living room, where
they settled on the couch. Bella snuggled into his embrace and continued talking.

"I should never have let him talk me into it. We'd been separated for a while, I
had the divorce papers all ready to go, but Marcus wanted to try one more time
for Frankie's sake. It was a difficult time for me already – I tend to get depressed
in the fall and I was struggling with the second edit of my book. The thought of
going back to him, living with him again … it was like being pulled back into a
prison cell after a few months of freedom." She sighed harshly. "I started having
trouble figuring why I should get out of bed in the morning. I had always thought
being Frankie's mom would be enough to keep me going, no matter how bad
things got. But this time, it just wasn't.

"One Sunday morning, Frankie wanted to go out for breakfast, and Marcus
suggested Poppy's. I sat there in the booth with him, watching Frankie color and
thinking the blackest thoughts. Then I looked up, and there you were."

"I never knew this," said Edward, feeling horribly guilty. "I … I don't remember."

"You were … well, you were a reasonably competent server who was easily
distracted. It was obvious that your mind was all over the place. How you even
managed to bring us our orders was a marvel." Bella's voice became very soft.
"You were beautiful. And so very lost. Just like me."

"Was that the only time you saw me before we … you know … really met?"

"No. I came back a few times that fall. To watch you, I admit. Yes, I know that's
gross and stalkerish." Edward grinned and started stroking her hair softly.

"I don't know what you saw in me," he said, as she relaxed under his hand. "I
was a little git back then. I was probably stoned half the time I was at work."

"Occasionally, you seemed a bit out of touch, yes," said Bella, amusement in her
voice. "And try as I might, I couldn't get you to notice me. Even when I wore
make up and flashed you some cleave. Eventually, I decided that the only way I
could get you to see me was to leave you an outrageous tip."

"Oh God," Edward moaned. "I am so fucking sorry. I was such a stupid, blind
idiot." He laid his head back on the couch. "Why on earth did you keep coming
back? Why didn't you just walk away?"

"I could see something in you," answered Bella softly. "Something bright. But it
was buried so deep inside that even you didn't know it was there. I wanted to
bring that light out in you." She nestled deep into his arms, her words slowing.
"You gave me a reason to keep going when things were at their worst. And you
were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my life…" There was a long
silence as Bella's breathing became more even and she relaxed completely in
Edward's arms. He stayed put, touching her hair, rubbing her shoulder. After a
long while, he stood up, boosting her up into his arms and carrying her up the
stairs to her bed.

"Edward?" she asked sleepily as he put her down on the covers. Bella had a huge
king sized, four poster bed with a million of those little pillows. He chucked them
on the floor and hunted around until he found a soft tank top and shorts that
appeared to Bella's sleeping clothes.

"I'm here, baby," he said. "Time to put your jammies on, okay?" Instead of
getting out of bed and going into the bathroom to change, Bella simply sat up
and lifted her arms up over her head, looking remarkably like Frankie as she did
so. "Oh boy," he muttered under his breath, praying he could hold it together. He
slipped her top off, unable to take his eyes off her body. She reached behind her
and undid her bra. In the semi-darkness, Edward could see her full breasts
appear, their wide brown nipples stiffening in the cool evening air. Unable to help
himself, he reached out to touch, but she sleepily slapped his hand away.

"Sorry," he said, reddening and handing her the tank top. "But they look so
good." She mumbled something that he couldn't understand, then clumsily
pushed off her pants and threw them carelessly to the floor. A moment later, she
had the shorts on and was climbing under the fresh sheets.

Edward leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then got up off the edge of the
bed.

"Don't go," Bella mumbled from under the covers.

"I won't," he promised. "I'll sleep in the other room."

"No," she said. "I … I need you with me tonight. Stay with me here, in my bed.
Can you do that without …?"

"Yeah," Edward whispered. "I can do that." He stripped down to his boxers and t-
shirt, used the guest bathroom and brushed his teeth, then got into bed. Bella
immediately slid over into his open arms and lay her head on his chest.

"Love you," she murmured. And then she was sound asleep.

Edward didn't reply; he just smiled in the darkness. He spent some time thinking
of his first memories of Bella, trying to dredge up an image from the time before
they knew each other. But the memories eluded him, and he drifted off holding
the woman he loved in bed for the first time.

##

##

It was snowing outside – big, fat flakes. Christmas snow. It was perfect.

The year was nearly over. It was a few days before New Year's, and Edward had
just finished his first semester of college. While he wasn't a straight A student,
his marks had been respectable. He'd even earned an A minus in his Photoshop

class – Edward couldn't remember if he'd ever earned an A grade in his entire
school career. His mother had wept with happiness.

He and Bella were slowly figuring out who among their friends was accepting of
their relationship, and who was not. It pained Edward to lose a few friends over
it. Bella's colleague Angela ended up being a regular around the dinner table, as
did – somewhat surprisingly – her agent, Alex. Edward found himself spending
more time with Jasper, Simon (when he was in town) and some new friends from
school.

His parents – especially his mother – still struggled with his relationship with
Bella. But they couldn't deny she had a positive influence on him. Or that she
made him deliriously happy.

There was no struggle to be had with Bella's family. Her mother had died of a
heart attack when Bella was in her 20s. Her father had long since remarried, was
quite elderly and had been distant from his only daughter for much of Bella's life.
There was no one close enough to her to approve or disapprove. This had
saddened Edward, but it made their lives somewhat easier to manage.

If he could just figure out why Bella was so reluctant to consummate their
relationship, Edward felt his life would be pretty much perfect. It was a puzzle
that he was determined to solve.

Tonight.

##

Downstairs, the front door slammed. "Edward?" called Bella.

"Upstairs," he shouted, smiling. He could hear her shedding her winter clothes,
then climbing the stairs. "How was the reading?" Bella had spent a couple hours
this evening reading excerpts from her most current book at a holiday charity
event. She participated every year; it was one of the few times she enjoyed doing
a public reading.

"It was good. We have a terrific turnout and …" Bella stopped dead in the
doorway of her bedroom, amazed. "What's this?"

"Hi," he said simply. The bedroom was spotless, the sheets changed and the bed
turned down invitingly. Bella's favorite scented candles were burning.

"This is wonderful!" she exclaimed. She stepped tentatively into the room, wide-
eyed. Edward greeted her halfway with a slow, toe-curling kiss. Bella's moan of
delight went straight south, making him instantly hard. When they broke apart,
her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes dark with want. Definitely perfect.
Edward reached up to the back of her dress and started to slowly pull down the
zipper. As soon as he did, Bella's expression changed. For a brief moment, he
could see real fear leap up into her eyes. The emotion were instantly replaced
with a brittle smile.

"Feeling naughty tonight?" she joked weakly, pulling away. Edward took her hand
and planted a kiss on the back of it.

"Naughty, and then some," he agreed. Her smile fell away completely. "Bella,
please. I love you. You have to know that this isn't a fling for me. Can't we make
love?"

"Oh, Edward," she murmured. "We can soon, but not tonight, okay? I need at
least a week's notice. I have to go to the salon and get everything done …"

"No, you don't," he said, gently but very firmly. "I want you in my bed, in my
arms, not Isabella Swan after she's been dyed, plucked, waxed and painted to
perfection." Bella looked very uncertain, and Edward had an uncomfortable
thought. "Unless it's like … you know … not a good time of the month?"

"No, it's not that," Bella said. "I just …" She trailed off, looking at him miserably.
"Let me take a shower first, okay?"

"Sure," he said. Bella vanished into the bathroom and Edward sat down on the
edge of the bed, feeling troubled and rejected.

Did he have this wrong? Could it be that Bella cherished him as a friend, but
wasn't sexually attracted to him? But Edward knew how her body responded
under his hands in the rare moments when the connection took over, how sweet
and willing her mouth tasted when he kissed her. He didn't know much, but he
could tell when a woman physically desired him. Until recently, he would have bet
the rent that Bella desired him very much.

Yet the closer they got to the end of their year, the more skittish Bella became.

Edward was still sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking hard, when Bella finally
emerged from the bathroom. She was wearing his vintage Cubs jersey and a pair
of his shorts, her damp hair braided and hanging down her back. Without a
sound, she climbed on to the bed beside him and huddled there. There was a
long silence.

"Bella," he finally said. "Do you not want to do this with me?"

"I do," she whispered. "But…"

"But what?" he asked.

"I'm scared." Edward looked at her, not sure what to make of this. He responded
the only way he knew how when faced with a frightened sex partner.

"I promise I won't hurt you," he said softly. "I'll be very gentle. I'm good at this."
Bella let out a funny sort of laugh, then burst into tears, something Edward had
never seen her do before. Alarmed, he took her in his arms. After many minutes
of rocking and petting, her sniffles tapered off.

"Better?" he whispered. She nodded. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you," Bella said. "I'm afraid that you won't like what you find.
I'm old and I've had a baby and my boobs sag and I have stretch marks ..."
Edward covered her mouth with his fingers.

"Stop," he said softly. "I love you, and I won't let you talk about yourself like
that." After a moment, he took his fingers away.

"But you're perfect," she said, her lip trembling.

"I'm not perfect," Edward said. "You've never seen me with my clothes off – you
don't even know what I look like! Maybe I have a lot of back hair or something."
Bella giggled at this suggestion. "I'm very moley," he said, standing up and
stripping off his shirt. "See? Look at them all!" Edward made a show of pointing
to his moles until Bella stood up, laughing.

"Stop," she said, taking his hands in hers. "I do want you, so much. But I'm
nervous as hell."

"I understand," said Edward, skimming his nose along her ear, nibbling as he
went. "But I really am good at this. Let me love you." He sat her down on the
edge of the bed and kissed her forehead. Then he washed up and turned out all
the lights, leaving just the flickering candles to light the room. Already hard, he
climbed into bed beside Bella, who gave him an uncertain smile. She came
willingly into his arms, but her body was stiff as a board.

This, at least, he knew how to handle.

Edward hummed as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks and down her neck. Bella
was quiet beneath his lips, but her fingers dug painfully into his shoulders.
Ignoring everything else, Edward dropped tender kisses on every inch of her skin
except her lips. Moving very carefully, he undid her braids, combing his fingers
through her damp hair until it was spread out over the pillow. Slowly, Bella's
fingers began to unclench, the stiffness in her limbs vanished and color seeped
back into her cheeks.

As he laid another trail of kisses across her cheekbones, Edward felt her face turn
slightly under his. Her lips moved, seeking his. He gently covered her mouth with
his, placing kiss after kiss against her lips. With a tiny sigh, Bella's mouth began
to stir under his. Edward touched her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, eliciting
another small sound from her. After a moment, her mouth opened beneath his,
her tongue reaching out to caress his. This time, Edward couldn't stop himself
from moaning. His raging hard-on was doing its best to escape his shorts.

He kissed her for what seemed like hours, feeling her body relax and then
respond to his. Finally, Edward slowly slid his hands down to cup her breasts.
Bella tensed beneath his touch. He confined his fingers to the outer swells and
undersides of her breasts for several minutes, willing himself to move slowly until
she was comfortable again.

When Bella relaxed again, Edward moved his thumbs up to find her nipples hard
with anticipation under her shirt. He ran his fingers over the sensitive points of
flesh, causing Bella to suck in a shuddering breath. Edward teased her until he
could feel her hips starting to move involuntarily against him. Then he undid a
couple of buttons on the jersey, gathered her breasts together and buried his
face in her cleavage.

I think I died and went to heaven.

Her breasts were incredible. Soft, warm, unexpectedly heavy … he shifted their
satiny weight in his hands, watching them wobble enticingly. Edward realized he
had spent far too much time in his life holding fake silicone tits. Nothing
compared to the real thing. On this happy thought, he nudged the shirt aside,
found one of Bella's enticingly big nipples and took it into his mouth. After
months of celibacy, this was paradise.

Edward was vaguely aware that he was humping Bella's leg as he lost himself in
her breasts. His dick had taken on a life of its own at finally feeling something
other than his own hand. He knew it would take very little to make him come at
this point, but he couldn't bring himself to stop rubbing against her.

He felt Bella's hands cup his head, and he looked up at her fuzzily. She gestured
for him to come up, and he kissed his way back up to her mouth. Edward's skin
felt wildly sensitive; the smallest touch was making his cock twitch. He knew he

needed to be careful with her, not hurt or frighten her, but his need was growing
so acute that he could barely contain himself.

Bella pulled back from Edward's hungry kisses and smiled. A moment later, he
could feel her hand sliding down his chest and belly, tracing the line of hair down
and into his shorts. He let out an embarrassingly loud groan as she wrapped her
hand around his hard cock and pulled him out of his shorts.

Obviously Bella had overcome her nerves.

"You have been so patient with me," she whispered, pushing him on to his back
and stroking him slowly. "And you shouldn't have to wait any more."

"I don't think there's gonna be a lot of waiting," Edward warned, thrusting up into
her hand. "I'm going to come so fucking fast. Oh God, do that again …" Her grip
was perfect, and she had this little trick with her thumb as his foreskin slid back
and forth over the head of his erection. In no time flat, the pressure started to
skyrocket, and he realized he was too excited to stop. Giving in, Edward let out a
shout of relief as his orgasm burst through him. He lay there, panting, as Bella
fetched a warm washcloth and wiped away the semen he'd just deposited on to
his stomach and chest.

As she leaned over him, Edward could see that her pupils were hugely dilated,
and her skin was flushed pink with desire. He reached into her shirt to capture
one of her breasts, sucking and nibbling her hard nipple. Her body arched toward
him, the wanting coming off her waves. He released her nipple and effortlessly
rolled her on to her back.

"Your turn," he said with a grin.

"Oh," Bella said, flushing an even deeper pink. "Don't you need a little time to …
recharge?"

"Well, yes," said Edward. "Twenty minutes or so should do it. But I'm not going to
make you wait." He ran a finger lazily around one breast and then the other, then
started to unbutton the rest of her shirt. Bella froze, but Edward held tight to the
shirt tail to keep her from scrambling away. "I know," he said softly. "But I love
you – all of you – even the parts that aren't as perfect as you'd like." His fingers
released the buttons and spread open the shirt, leaving it on her so that she
didn't feel exposed.

She had a roll around her middle, and her lower abdomen with riddled with
purple stretch marks. A year ago, Edward would have found that a huge turn-off.
Now, his viewpoint was different. That was where Frankie was, he thought
reverently. Knowing that Bella felt uncomfortable with his scrutiny, Edward laid a
few kisses on her bellybutton. Then he slid a bit further down the bed, and
tugged down her boxer shorts.

"Fuck," said Bella, sounding mortified. "I told you that you needed to let me go to
the salon first. Have you ever even seen hair down there on a girl before?"

"Yes, Bella," he said patiently. "Not every girl goes Brazilian these days." Edward
pulled her shorts off her ankles and tossed them aside. Then he spread her legs
and crawled eagerly up between her thighs.

The smell of her arousal was intoxicating. Getting down on his elbows, he spent a
moment looking at her sex. It was covered in a neat triangle of dark curly hair,
something admittedly Edward saw very little of these days. Her thighs were
trembling as she waited for him to touch her, her muscles clenching

spasmodically. Edward cupped her bottom in his hands and went exploring with
his tongue.

Bella was sweet, wet and luscious. He ran his tongue up through her folds, then
kissed her clit, sucking softly on it. Almost instantly, he could feel her twitching
under his mouth. Edward started flicking his tongue back and forth across the
tiny nub, driving her up and over the edge in less than a minute. She arched her
back, contractions rolling through her lower body as she orgasmed without a
sound. For a long moment, Bella shuddered against his lips, gasping. Finally, she
stilled. Edward rested his head on her thigh and waited for her to recover.

"Wow," she croaked at last. "That was just …" This was followed by silence.
Edward lifted his head with a grin.

"Did I make you speechless?" he asked. She nodded, her head thrown back on
the bed. "Best ever?"

"I can't even remember the last time someone … did that for me," she said shyly.
"So yes, I think you can consider yourself the best ever."

Edward paused over this startling bit of information, hesitant to bring up anything
that might ruin the evening's buzz. Curiosity won out. "Your ex didn't give you
oral?" he finally asked. "That's pretty selfish."

Bella was silent for a long while, and Edward started to kick himself for
mentioning her ex-husband while they were both lying naked on the bed in a
post-orgasmic haze. He was trying to figure out how to extract himself from this
awkward line of questioning when Bella finally spoke.

"Marcus wasn't that interested in sex, especially after Frankie was born." Edward
heard a sigh in the semi-darkness. "I guess he figured his job was done once I
had produced offspring. And once I was published, well … everything was well
and truly over then. He had so much anger about my success, and his own
perceived failures."

Edward frowned, puzzling this out. Frankie was seven; Bella published her first
novel when Frankie was still a little baby. That was years and year ago!

"Did you fool around on him?" he asked in a low voice.

"No," replied Bella, sounding weary. "I asked once for his permission, but he
forbade me, of course. By then, my self-esteem was too badly damaged for me to
put myself out there like that." She stopped, surprised when Edward crawled up
the bed to wrap his arms around her. "Are you cold?" she asked.

"No," he whispered. "I want to start making up for some of the love you haven't
gotten for all these years." He gave her a long, slow kiss, remembering belatedly
that his mouth had been all over her sex just a few minutes before. It didn't
seem to bother her.

He could go much, much slower now with the first frantic orgasm behind him.
Now he could lavish the love and attention on her that she so deserved, taking all
the time she needed to make her feel adored.

Several minutes later, Edward shifted against Bella's warm body and felt a wave
of pleasure lower down. Whoa, hard again.

"That was quick," murmured Bella, rubbing herself against his stiff cock.

"Yeah," Edward sighed, losing himself in the delicious friction. He wiggled over,
opened the bedside table drawer and fumbled around.

"Did you put condoms in my night table?" Bella asked, amused.

"I did," he said solemnly. "Someone here has to be a responsible sex partner."
Bella snorted and they both laughed for a moment. Then the laughter died away,
and they looked shyly at each other.

"I want you to make love to me," she whispered, her cheeks reddening with the
admission.

"Me too," Edward answered. Bella watched as he rolled a condom on to his cock,
then knelt between her legs. He positioned himself at her entrance and started to
push in carefully. She felt perfect. Not so tight that it pinched just getting in;
instead, she wrapped snugly around him, squeezing him softly. "Does that feel
okay?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice. "Big, but okay." Edward laughed a little
breathlessly, dying with the effort of not moving inside her. Bella stretched her
arms out to him. "C'mere," she said. Edward lowered himself until their chests
and then their foreheads were touching.

"Love you," he whispered against her lips. He felt like he was falling into her
eyes, sparkling in the candlelight. Except … Edward pulled back slightly to
discover that the sparkles were tears, and one was sliding down the side of
Bella's face. "What's wrong? Am I hurting you?"

"No," she gasped. "I just never thought this would happen again for me." Edward
reached up to wipe away a second tear that escaped.

"You mean sex?"

Bella smiled through her tears. "No, Edward. I mean love. I love you so much."
Then she smiled a bit wickedly, wrapping her legs around the small of his back.
Edward hissed with pleasure as he sank deeper into her warmth. "But the sex
part is really nice too."

Edward growled a little in his throat. "Now you're asking for it," he said, pulling
his hips back and thrusting hard into her. Bella caught her breath and moaned,
sending a blaze of fire down his spine. "Like that, huh?" He dug his hands into the
sheets and started to drive into her with long, grinding strokes. Bella rolled her
hips up to meet him with every thrust.

Edward watched Bella's face for any sign of distress, but he saw none. Her hair
was spread out in a cloud of brown across the pillow and her skin was flushed.
Shifting his angle, he saw her face contort with pleasure as he hit a sensitive spot
inside. "That was good, wasn't it?" he murmured, striking the same spot again
and again. Bella's face crinkled and her breath started to catch. Deep inside,
Edward felt a sudden twitch of her inner muscles, then another. Then her body
stiffened, the spasms squeezing him ferociously as her orgasm swept through
her.

"Oh shit!" Edward shouted as the contractions gripped his cock mercilessly,
exciting him past the point of endurance. "Shitfuckjesus … Belllllla!" His control
snapped, and he came in a huge rush, pouring out inside her. For a moment, he
hovered over her, his forearms shaking. Then Edward pulled out, removed the
condom and dropped it into the garbage can. He fell into a heap beside her.

"Holy shit," he finally managed. "When you came, it felt like … I can't even tell
you what it felt like. I could feel you come all around me. It was incredible."

"Yeah, that started happening after Frankie was born," Bella said, sounding
embarrassed. "I think I did too many Kegels or something."

"I don't know what those are," Edward said with a long sigh. "But never, ever
stop doing them."

##

Feels good …

He thrust his hardness upward, and the sensation grew. Warm, wet, tight, friction
in all the right spots. Far in the distance, he heard a moan and realized the sound
had come from him. Edward started to move his hips steadily, drowning in
sensation.

He heard a little humming sound, and felt the vibration all through his cock. His
nerves were on fire now, his orgasm growing quickly as it always did in dreams.

Don't stop, don't stop… wait.

Pulling himself up out of sleep, Edward flailed a hand around. He touched Bella's
leg in front of his face, and he realized she had turned around in bed and was
very sweetly sucking him off while he slept. Unwilling to come too soon, he pulled
himself out of her mouth reluctantly.

"Not good?" she asked timidly from the foot of the bed.

"Too good," he groaned. Edward gently spread her thighs and touched between
her legs, finding her wet and ready for him. "God, you're wet. Please …"

A few moments later, Bella climbed up and settled slowly down on his hard cock.
He saw her wince a little as she adjusted to him.

"Y'ok?" he asked huskily. She nodded and wiggled around on top of him, getting
comfortable. Bella still had the Cubs jersey on, but he unbuttoned it until her
breasts slipped out into his hands. Dropping his head back onto the pillow, he
rubbed his thumbs over her nipples and settled into a slow, easy rhythm.

He looked up at her through sleepy eyes, studying her face as she rode him. Bella
might be nearly impossible to read in regular life, but here in bed, she was an
open book. He knew that if he struck upward – there – her eyes would flutter
shut with the sensation. And if he held her by the waist and shortened his
strokes, she would bite her lip in frustration.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he murmured. Bella hummed in agreement, arching her
back a little as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. "For me too." Edward
closed his eyes, relishing the warm pressure of her around him. He wondered
what it would be like to fuck her from behind so he could grab her ass, maybe
spank her a bit to see if she enjoyed that. That made him think about reverse
cowgirl. Then he realized his ADD moment was doing nothing for his endurance,
and he needed to keep his head in the game.

Putting his pleasant fantasies aside, he released her breasts and reached down to
where they were joined. Bella let out a gasp when his thumb found her clit and
started rubbing little circles around it. Her breathing started coming in pants, and
Edward could feel the slow contractions of her inner muscles beginning.

"That's right, baby," he crooned. "All for you." Bella's face scrunched up
delightfully and Edward could hear her clenching her teeth together. "Scream for
me. Scream my name nice and … oh fuck, Bella, that's unreal." For the next
several seconds, Edward could barely keep himself from exploding as her
powerful orgasm poured through her. Somehow he managed to hold on. Bella
took several deep breaths and let her head fall back. She shifted, then her head
popped right back up as she realized he was still iron hard inside her.

"You didn't come," she said in surprise.

"No," he said in a strained voice. "But believe me, it wasn't easy holding that
back. You feel so fucking good inside when you come." She made like she was
about to start grinding on him again and he caught her waist urgently. "No, not
yet. Don't move too much yet. I'll go off for sure. Just give me a few minutes.
Then we can go another round. I really want to make you scream."

"But I just came," she said, wide-eyed. "It's not going to happen again so soon.
And I'm not a screamer."

Edward just grinned in response. But when he resumed his movements a few
minutes later, he was more serious. Bella's needs had been woefully neglected
over the years, that much was clear. She barely seemed aware that she was just
as entitled to gratification as Edward was. He had a strong desire to punch out
Bella's ex at that moment. Thinking of Marcus took the edge off his increasing
need to climax, which he supposed was a good thing.

He linked his fingers with Bella's as he gently rolled his hips. Her face was awash
in pleasure, a dreamy happiness on her features.

She had changed his life forever. He could never repay her for that. But at least
he could make her feel loved and adored.

For the first time, here in this bed, he had found something that he was more
experienced at. He'd be lying if he didn't feel a tiny bit of smugness at that.

And while Edward didn't make her scream that night, he did make her come
again in a gasping, shuddering rush that triggered his own violent explosion.

He felt reasonably sure there would be many more nights in future to practice.

##

Edward woke up slowly, not entirely sure where he was. It was dark, and he was
wrapped in blankets yet felt strangely bereft.

Bella. Where's Bella?

She should be sleeping, warm and soft in his arms. He should be waking her up
with kisses right now, maybe starting yet another round of lovemaking. Instead,
he was alone, the bed cold and empty beside him.

She's gone.

His mind blurry with sleep, Edward pushed himself up on his elbow. They had
made love – the most amazing sex he had ever had – and now she was gone.
Fear blossomed inside his chest. She had made love to him. And left him. She
had planned to do this all along, thinking it was best for him.

In seconds, Edward was on his feet, still mostly asleep. He stumbled into his
shorts and into the hallway. The house was utterly silent.

She's gone. I've lost her.

Bella was nowhere to be found on the top floor. Edward ran down the stairs to
the main level, his heart pounding. The adrenaline flooding into his system
started waking him up fully, and sense started to return to him.

This is her house. You can't fuck and duck in your own house.

He raced around the corner and found her.

She was lying on her stomach on the floor in front of the gas fireplace, still
wearing his Cubs jersey and nothing else. Her round white rump was appealingly
exposed. By the light of the fire, Edward could see a tablet of lined paper on the
floor in front of her. There was a thin sheaf of pages beside her, covered in her
handwriting from top to bottom. The pen in her hand was flying over a fresh
page.

"Edward," she said, looking up at him in surprise. "What's wrong, love?"

"I woke up … you were gone," he said, his voice thick with sleep. "I didn't know
where you were."

"I was right here," she said. "I woke up about an hour ago and needed to write. I
didn't want to wake you."

Edward looked at the pages, confused. "How come you're not using the
computer?" he asked.

"I'm writing," she said, then realized he didn't understand. "I've started my next
book," she explained. "At the beginning, I always write by hand."

He looked at her in the firelight, her hair gleaming and her eyes lit by a passion
that Edward could only begin to encompass. It was like seeing her – really seeing
her – for the first time all over again.

The way she had seen him on a late January afternoon in the restaurant.

"What's it about?" he whispered. Bella looked at him with joy in her face.

"It's a love story," she whispered back.

"How does it end?" he asked, suddenly aware that he was asking an entirely
different question.

"I don't know yet," she replied, her eyes shining. "It's only just begun."

##