An Emancipation Proclamation Outtake

Connections

“The more connections you and your lover make, not just between your bodies, but

between your minds, your hearts and your souls, the more you will strengthen the fabric

of your relationship, and the more real moments you will experience together.”

---- Barbara De Angelis

I stood quietly near the doorway, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my
chest as I gazed into the art studio in front of me. The room was large and looked
almost like a warehouse, everything painted white except for the dark concrete floor.
The florescent lights hanging from the ceiling were bright and the walls were covered in
paintings of every color imaginable, but nothing stood out more than what was in the
middle of the room.

Bella.

She sat on a small brown stool, a canvas set up in front of her with a bunch of paints
scattered around. There was crumbled up paper around her feet, sketches she’d
discarded, tinged with splatters of color from paint she’d spilled on the floor. She was
the messiest fucking person when she was working on her art, which was strange
considering she was the most organized person I’d ever met. She couldn’t let laundry
pile up, floors had to be swept every goddamn day and dishes had to be washed as
soon as they were dirtied. She believed everything had a place and should be in its
fucking place, but when she was painting all of that went out the window.

It was sort of like me and my music; I could lose myself in it and everything else faded
into the background like it didn’t even exist. When Bella was painting it was just her and
the canvas, nothing else. A tornado could hit and take the roof off of the building and
she wouldn’t flinch. Fuck, the apocalypse could come and Jesus could be standing
right fucking behind her, trying to take her to Heaven, and she would keep his ass
waiting until she was done with her work. No one fucking interrupted her, not even me,
which was why I just stood there, waiting by the door.

It really didn’t matter to me, though, because I enjoyed watching her. I could stand
there for hours without getting bored, and more than once I'd actually done just that. I
never admitted that shit, because I knew it was probably fucking creepy, but I found it
interesting.

Edward Cullen

Plus, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do with my time.

I still had a hard time believing she was really there, that she was a part of my life again.
It was fucking surreal because not long ago I’d been so close to giving up, ready to just
throw in the goddamn towel, but then she showed up right when I had needed her most.

And, Christ, how I fucking needed her… I wasn’t sure if she even grasped exactly how
much.

Bella sighed loudly, the sound exaggerated in the empty room. She stood up, pushing
her stool back, and started pacing back and forth in front of the canvas. It was a
painting of a tree and it looked fine to me, but I could tell she felt there was something
wrong with it. She added a bit more color to the trunk before blending some yellow in
with a few of the leaves and sat her paintbrush down as she took a few steps back.
She eyed the canvas intently, tilting her head to the side as if looking at it from a
different fucking angle would change what it was.

I chuckled under my breath and pushed away from the wall, strolling over to where she
stood. I paused behind her and she stiffened when she sensed me, taking a deep
breath before relaxing again. “How long have you been here?” she asked quietly, not
even bothering to turn around and look.

“A little while,” I responded, placing my hands on her hips. I pulled her body back
against mine and leaned my head down, nuzzling into her neck. “How did you know it
was me?”

“I smelled you,” she replied casually.

My brow furrowed and I stood back up straight, looking at her incredulously. “Are you
saying I fucking stink, Bella?”

She laughed at my question and nudged me playfully as she turned around. “Of course
not,” she said. “You smell good, you know that.”

"Yeah, I do," I said, smirking. "Like motherfucking sunshine, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't get cocky."

"Hmmm, why not?" I asked, pulling her closer. I pressed myself against her, groaning at
the feel of her against my dick. "I always liked being cocky with you."

She blushed, pushing away from me, and I frowned as she turned back around to her
painting. She said not a goddamn word about what I'd said, ignoring it completely.

I understood, I did. We couldn't just pick back up where we'd left off in Forks, because a
lot of shit had happened and we'd both changed. So I knew it was ridiculous to let it get
to me, but it still fucking hurt whenever she blew me off. It had been nearly six months
since my father's funeral -- since she'd come back into my life -- and I was still loitering
on third base, waiting for my chance to slide home. And with the way things were
looking, I probably wasn't going to be scoring any time soon.

Yes, I'd resorted to using baseball euphemisms. That was what happened when you
went without sex for over two years. Two fucking years. My dick was ashamed of me for
even admitting it.

"So a tree, huh?" I asked, looking at her painting. "It's nice."

"It's wrong," she said, cocking her head to the side again as she studied it. "Don't you
think so?"

"Uh, I don't know. It looks like a tree to me," I replied. "What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know," she said. "It's missing something. It doesn't feel like the same tree,
though, does it?"

"What tree?" I asked. The white tree of Gondor? The fucking whomping willow? She
was confusing me.

And it didn't escape my notice that I'd referred to both Lord of the Rings and Harry
Potter at the same damn time. Again, that was what happened when you didn't get
pussy. I was just a few steps away from being that motherfucker who whacked off to
photos of Wonder Woman.

Although, okay, Lynda Carter was kind of hot back in the day, so maybe that's not such
a fucked up thing after all.

"The tree in Phoenix," Isabella said impatiently, like I was supposed to already know
which tree she was talking about. "You didn't even recognize it, so obviously it's not
right."

"It's a tree, tesoro. Its got wood and leaves and acorns and shit," I said, shaking my
head. "I’d say it’s perfect."

"It doesn't have acorns," she said. "It's an ironwood tree. Does it really look like an oak
tree to you? They don’t look anything alike."

I sighed. How was I supposed to know? It was just like those damn baskets I went
searching for that first Valentine’s Day. A basket is a basket, just like a tree is a
motherfucking tree. “Bella, baby, you could tell me it was the fucking Joshua tree and I’d
agree, because I can’t tell the difference,” I said. “Not all of us have your memory. You
see some greenery and the picture of it is burned in your brain forever, but the only
greenery I can identify is the kind I can smoke.”

“You mean this kind?” she asked, picking up her paintbrush. She dipped the tip into the
container of green paint and quickly drew the outline of a marijuana leaf on the corner of
the canvas.

I laughed. "Yes, that kind," I said, "but you probably shouldn't have done that. You
fucked up your painting."

She shook her head, sticking her paintbrush in a small container of murky water. "It
doesn't matter, Edward. It was already fucked up."

I stared at her, stunned. There was no fucking way those words had come from her
mouth. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said that it was already..."

"Christ, tesoro, you can't fucking do that," I said, cutting her off before she could say it
again. It was one thing that had changed about her during our separation. She didn't
use the shit frequently, but every now and then she'd throw a curse word at me. "You
can't just say that shit. Do you know what it does to me?"

She smiled, blushing, and her eyes darted down to my crotch. Yeah, she knew exactly
what the hell it did to me. I groaned, frustrated, and she laughed, seemingly fucking
amused by my situation.

"I'd apologize, but I can't honestly say I'm sorry," she admitted.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't apologize then," I muttered. "You should always mean what

you say and say what you mean."

"But you never say anything mean," she added.

My brow furrowed. "That's not a part of the saying."

"It fits," she said, shrugging.

"No, it doesn't," I said. "It’s bullshit. Sometimes you have to say something mean."

She looked at me as if I were stupid. "There's never a time where you have to say
something mean, Edward."

"Yes, there is."

Her eyes narrowed. "When?"

"Plenty of times."

"Name one."

She was fucking challenging me. I didn't balk at a challenge, not even when it was her.
"When someone says something mean to you first."

"No, then you just walk away. Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Well, what if you can't walk away? What if those motherfuckers won't let you?"

"And you think saying something mean to them is going to help you if that’s the case? It
would just make it worse."

She had me there. "Well, what if you got something on you, like in your teeth or
something. Shouldn't I tell you that shit?"

"Yes, but that's not mean. That's helpful."

"What if it's something permanent though, like your nose? What if you have a crooked
fucked up nose?"

Her hand immediately went to her face, her fingers running down the ridge of her nose

as she eyed me hesitantly. I groaned, realizing it sounded like I was trying to tell her
that. I recalled how self conscious she'd been years ago about her nose and felt like an
asshole. Way to go, Cullen. Fucking insult her next time...

"Not you, tesoro," I said. "I didn't really mean you. Your nose is fine. Fucking great,
even. I'm just saying, you know, hypothetically..."

"Well, hypothetically, why would it be necessary to tell me? It wouldn't be hurting you,
so why hurt me?"

She fucking had me again. "Well, what if your painting sucked?" I asked. "Like this tree -
- what if it was honestly the worst goddamn tree ever painted?"

"It probably is."

"But what if it was for a grade, and I had to tell you the shit sucked so you wouldn't fail?"

"It is for a grade."

I looked at her with disbelief before glancing back at the canvas. "You painted a
marijuana leaf on schoolwork?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

I looked at her again, stunned by how nonchalant she was acting. What the fuck did she
mean, it doesn’t matter? "There's something wrong with you."

She laughed. She fucking laughed. If she were ever going to prove me right, it was
then. There was seriously something wrong with her. “I can start over,” she said. “Do
something else. Maybe I’ll paint some mountains or something.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” I said. “I like this one.”

“Why?” she asked, eyeing the painting peculiarly again. “It’s just a tree.”

“But it’s our tree,” I said. Hadn't we just been through that shit? “We sat our asses
under that motherfucker when we were kids and you got me dirty. That makes it
special.”

The smile that curved her lips warmed me from the inside. I loved that smile. It meant

she was happy--that I’d made her happy. There was no better feeling than that. After
spending so many years doing nothing but fucking up, disappointing everyone who
came into contact with me, it was nice to do some fucking good for once.

“Okay, maybe I’ll paint over it.”

“Yeah, make some fucking happy clouds to go with your happy little magical tree,” I
said. She glanced at me with confusion and I chuckled. “You know, that guy on that
painting show on PBS? He always made scenery. When he fucked up he called it
happy accidents and made something out of it. I used to love that shit as a kid when my
mom watched it.”

I wanted to kick my own ass the moment those words came out of my mouth. Was I
seriously quoting the fucker from The Joy of Painting? I was getting deeper and
deeper. Pretty soon, I’d be eating ice cream from the carton and crying over goddamn
Steel Magnolias. Spoiler alert, motherfuckers -- the bitch dies at the end.

Yet another thing that happens when you go without pussy--you watch a lot of goddamn
movies, some of which you never want to have to see again. The aforementioned
included.

"Is that show still on?" she asked curiously.

"Uh, I don't know, but I'm sure it's out on DVD or something," I replied. I hadn't watched
PBS since I discovered Skinimax as a kid, but they had every-fucking-thing on DVD
now. "Or you know, you could probably just YouTube it."

Her brow creased, her eyes still focused on the painting, and I bit back my laughter. She
obviously didn't know what the hell YouTube was, but she didn't ask. "I'm sure I could,"
she muttered.

We stood there for a moment in silence before I grabbed a hold of her again and pulled
her to me. She spun around with a laugh, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. She
froze after a second when her hands slid down my back, reaching my waistband, and
she gasped.

"Oh God, please tell me that's not..." she trailed off, pulling out of the hug to look at me.
"Is that what I think it is?"

"Depends on what you think it is."

She gripped my waistband, her eyes narrowing. "You brought a gun in here?" she
asked, her voice a frantic whisper. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Why not?" she echoed with disbelief. "Because there's a sign on the door that says so!
You can't bring concealed weapons in this place!"

"Tesoro, relax. I carry it everywhere -- you know that."

"Yes, but here?" she asked. "It's unlawful!"

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Unlawful? Bella, we live in Chicago. Me just breathing in
the direction of a fucking gun is practically illegal. Would you rather I get rid of it
completely?"

"Yes."

Her answer was quick and firm, catching me off guard for a second. She looked at me
with certainty and I shook my head. She was being completely fucking unreasonable.
"So you'd prefer me out there on the streets unarmed? Unprepared? Completely
defenseless?"

She blanched. "Well, no, of course not."

"Then what's the big deal?"

"I just don't want you to get caught with it."

"I won't."

"You can't know that."

"But I do," I said. "I know what I'm doing, alright?"

"Alright, but..."

"No buts."

She huffed at the interruption and completely ignored what I'd said. "But why do you
have to bring it places like here? I get you need it for, uh, work, but why when you're
with me?"

I shrugged. "Better safe than sorry. You never know when something might happen."

"So? You never know when it might rain, but I don't see you carrying an umbrella
everywhere just in case."

I laughed at the absurdity, even though she was completely serious with the
comparison. "The weatherman usually warns me when that's gonna happen," I said.

"And you don't get warnings when something's gonna happen? Alec doesn't hint, there's
no intuition?"

"Yes, but shit happens, Bella. I can’t always plan. Sometimes I only have time to react."

She thought I was paranoid. Christ, I probably was fucking paranoid, but rightfully so. I
knew how ruthless the streets could be and if she were thinking clearly, she would see it
too. I understood, though. My life still scared her. Hell, it scared me just as much, but
the best way to deal was to always be prepared.

And regardless of what bullshit she insisted, sometimes you had to be mean to make it.
It was just how the game was played, so to speak. If you aren't the predator, you end up
the prey.

"Besides," I added, "last I checked, a little rain couldn't kill you."

"But lightening can if it's a storm."

"And you think an umbrella would help you, if that's the case?" I asked, throwing one of
her earlier arguments back at her.

I waited for her to respond, figuring she’d have something to say, but all I got was
silence -- completely tense, unnerving motherfucking silence.

"Do you trust me?" I asked after a moment, knowing we were at an impasse and getting
no-fucking-where fast.

"Yes," she replied.

"Good. Then just trust me about this, okay? We can argue about trees and phrases and
any other goddamn thing you feel passionate about, but just give me this. Trust that I
know what I'm doing when it comes to this."

She sighed, frustrated, but I knew that sound meant she was giving in. "Fine," she
muttered, "but I get to pick where we go tonight."

I frowned. "Yeah, about that..."

She looked at me with disbelief. "What now?"

It was a Friday, which over time had become our day. Our schedules conflicted a lot,
with her in school and me out doing whatever the fuck I was told to do, but Friday nights
were the exception. It was when the two of us got together and did all the shit that
normal couples did, like seeing movies and going to fairs. It was the one night a week
when we put everything else aside, where we didn’t have to think about all the shit we’d
been through and the chaos in our lives, and we could just be. Alec seemed to
understand we needed it, so he usually left me alone that day.

Usually being the key word, of course. Sometimes he threw a fucking wrench in my
plans.

"There's this thing tonight. Everyone's supposed to be there."

"What kind of thing?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Just a thing," I said, shrugging. "The underboss's son is getting married or whatever so
they're having a get together at Sicillitas."

Usually those kind of events took place at the Boss's house, but Alec wasn't like the
guys who used to run shit. He tried to keep the Mafia out of his home, so special
occasions were often spent in someone's business now. Sicillitas was an upscale Italian
restaurant owned by one of the Capos. The Borgata fucking loved the place but I never
went there, because I refused to pay $50 for a goddamn plate of food.

"So you have to go," she said quietly.

"We," I corrected her. "You're supposed to come, too. Alec specifically said 'you and
Isabella' when he called."

She frowned. I didn't blame her. I didn't fucking wanna go either, but Alec was all about
showing a strong front. He'd gone out on a limb and vouched for Isabella, something
that made a few of the guys question his judgement. They thought he was getting soft
and I knew that was something he wouldn't put up with. Isabella being seen as
integrating smoothly into our world was important to him.

Plus, even if he'd never admit the shit, I was pretty sure he actually liked her being
around.

"We won't stay long," I assured her. "The first chance we get, we'll get the fuck out of
there and do whatever you want to do."

"Fine," she grumbled. I stood there and watched as she started gathering her stuff,
cleaning up paints and throwing away the discarded papers. I felt bad for not helping,
but I knew I'd do more harm than good. This was her sanctuary, and you just don't go
fucking with someone else's safe place.

She put on her coat and grabbed the painting of the tree before turning back to me.
"You ready?" I asked. She nodded and smiled softly, but it didn't reach her eyes. No,
they were filled with dread, the happiness I'd given her just moments earlier completely
forgotten.

It made my chest ache. I needed a fucking drink. Or two. Or ten. Whatever. Something
to dull the pain.

I led her out of the studio and she got into the passenger seat of my Mercedes, clicking
her seat belt in place as I climbed in beside her. The drive home was silent, an
awkwardness surrounding us. It felt like it seeped through my skin, taking over my
insides and leaving me fucking twisted. I hated when shit got like that between us,
because I never knew what to say. 'Sorry you're annoyed, tesoro. I can't help I'm a
loser' or 'Get used to the disappointment, since I'll probably keep doing it' or hell, 'My life
is shit, sucks you got dragged into it' just didn't seem to cut it, even though it was how it
usually made me feel.

She said not a single word when we arrived home, grabbing her things and starting out
of the car before I could even shut off the engine. She used her key and unlocked the
front door, disappearing inside. She left it wide open for me and I took my time, seeing
she was nowhere to be found when I finally made my way into the house.

It took a moment for me to find her, the upstairs bathroom door closed and the light on
inside. I heard the water for the shower start and I grabbed the doorknob, but it wouldn't
fucking turn. Locked.

I wished I could say I was surprised, but I wasn't.

I stood there for a minute, a part of me itching to break the goddamn door down, before
I took a deep breath and just walked away.

The kitchen was completely still when I made my way back downstairs. I went straight
for the refrigerator, pulling open the freezer door and grabbing the chilled bottle of Grey
Goose I kept inside. I pulled the top off, tipping the bottle back and taking a swig. The
liquor burned going down, warming my body as it made its way through my system.

I leaned back against the counter and sipped on the vodka for awhile, waiting. My chest
still ached, the alcohol doing nothing to soothe my guilt. I was a disgrace, an
embarrassment. No matter what I did, it wasn't enough and it never would be. She
deserved better than the bullshit my life had to offer, and I was just waiting for the
moment she finally saw the truth. Just waiting for her to finally have enough and walk
away, leaving me in the dust.

It was only fair, considering I'd left her in Forks. It would catch up to me sooner or later.
Story of my goddamn life.

I couldn't even begin to imagine what would happen to me without her, though. She was
my reason for getting out of bed most days, my reason for doing the shit I did. Without
her, what did I have? A whole fucking lot of nothing.

And that was exactly what I'd be without her -- nothing.

I heard footsteps in the second floor hallway and replaced the top on the bottle of Grey
Goose, slipping it back in the freezer as Isabella made her way downstairs. The
moment I saw her my heart skipped a beat. Her hair was still damp, a slight wave to it
as it fell down her back. She had on a plain black dress that fit snug, ending right above
her knees. Simple, but fucking beautiful. That was her.

She eyed me peculiarly when she saw me standing in the kitchen. "What are you
doing?" she asked, her eyes drifting to the freezer before settling back on me. I knew
exactly what she was thinking and I didn't blame her for it. She knew me well.

"Nothing," I replied. It was the truth. I wasn't doing a goddamn thing but standing there.

"What were you doing?" she clarified.

"Nothing," I said again. Not so true that time. I supposed we could add 'bold-faced liar'
to the list of adjectives that described me, but I wasn't in the mood to bicker about my
drinking.

Maybe bicker was a strong word. She never nagged me about it, but I knew she
believed my drinking was a problem. I begged to differ, though. It was only a problem if I
couldn't stop, and I was pretty fucking sure I could if I had to... I just didn't want to.

So no, my drinking wasn't the problem... most of the time it was the solution. The real
problem was everything in my life that led me to fucking drink in the first place.

Like I said, though, she wasn't shy about the fact that she disagreed.

“Uh, okay,” she mumbled, still watching me as she walked past me to the sink. She
grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured some water into it from the tap, taking a
sip. “Are you going to change before we go?”

I glanced down at my clothes. “Do I need to?” I asked. I had on a tie, at least -- seemed
good enough to me.

She shrugged. “I don’t think Alec would be happy about the shoes.”

My gaze shifted to my Nike’s and I sighed. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, pushing away
from the counter. I started to walk away but Isabella grabbed my arm to stop me. I
turned around, looking at her curiously, and she yanked me toward her as she stood up
on her tip-toes. The motion shocked me and I froze, fucking dumbfounded for a second
as she smashed her lips to mine. I groaned, instantly turned on, and parted my lips to
kiss her back. I nipped at her bottom lip and was about to deepen the kiss when she
abruptly pulled away, letting go of me completely.

She took a step back, staring at me, and the look in her eyes stung -- pure fucking
disappointment. “You were drinking,” she said, her tone flat. There was no anger, not a
fucking ounce of hate in her voice. She wasn’t accusing me of shit -- it was a simple
statement of fact.

I’d been drinking.

“A little,” I replied. She nodded and turned away from me to look out of the window. I
stood there for a moment, but she didn’t speak again. The subject was closed and
there was nothing else to say.

I headed upstairs to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror, surveying my reflection. I
looked exhausted, with dark, heavy bags under my eyes. I’d slicked my hair back that
morning with some sticky ass pomade and it was a shade darker than normal, making
my skin seem pale. I was so pale, in fact, that it made me look like I hadn’t seen the
sun in years.

I went into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of black shoes from my closet, sitting down
on the edge of the bed to put them on. Isabella walked in while I was tying them and I
glanced at her, seeing her scrunch up her nose. “Your shoes are scuffed,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’s not like the military where I need to shine the sons of
bitches.”

“Are you sure?”

I chuckled, standing back up. “Yeah, I’m sure,” I replied as I glanced at my watch. It
was already fast approaching eight o’clock, which was when he’d told me to be there.
“Anyway, are you ready? We shouldn’t be late.”

I waited as she slipped on a pair of black heels, and we both grabbed our coats before
heading out again. She was quiet as she got in the car, not speaking as I started it up
and pulled away from the house. I fiddled with the radio anxiously, needing a
distraction, and Isabella just stared at me with a frown on her face. She huffed
eventually and I glanced at her, her expression getting to be too much. I was already
on edge from the silent treatment and couldn’t take much more.

“What now?” I asked, annoyed.

“Nothing.” She stressed the word, her answer speaking volumes. She was sending a
message with that motherfucker. It was a ‘You asshole, who do you take me for? I can’t
believe you thought you could fucking fool me’ kind of nothing.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I know you are,” she replied, reaching over and stroking my cheek before running her

fingers through the hair near my neckline. She hit a snag and I grimaced. “I hate when
you do your hair like this. It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know,” I said, glancing in the rear view mirror at myself. "I look like my fath..."

I stopped speaking and gripped the steering wheel tightly, just the thought of him
fucking hurting. It had been 6 months... about 24 weeks... 160-something goddamn
days... and the wound was still as raw as it had been that fateful day. I saw the shit
sometimes when I closed my eyes, reliving the moment he'd taken his last breath. Alec
had pulled that trigger so many times in my nightmares that I'd lost count, and each time
was just as painful as it had been when it was happening. Sometimes it was so hard I
couldn't fucking breathe, in so much pain I felt like I was the one with the bullets in my
chest. It felt like it was me going through it and sometimes, when it got to that point, I
almost wished it had been.

Isabella massaged my neck as I focused on the road, trying to get myself back under
control. "So since someone's getting married, does that mean I can have whatever I
want?" she asked, obviously trying to distract me.

My brow furrowed. "What?"

"Isn't it true that when someone gets married, you can ask a Mafia Boss for something
and he can't refuse?"

It took a moment for what she'd said to actually register and I laughed. "Have you been
watching The Godfather?"

She blushed. "No."

"Well, it's not true, anyway," I said, shaking my head. "They say the day of the Boss's
daughters wedding he can't refuse anyone a favor, but it's bullshit. Maybe back in the
day it worked, but motherfuckers these days don't care."

"Oh," she mumbled.

"Besides, Alec doesn't have a daughter."

"Not yet," she said with a small smile. "Hopefully soon."

"Yeah, maybe," I replied. Esme and Alec were trying to adopt the kid Isabella knew in

California, but they were hitting roadblocks left and right so I wasn't sure if that shit was
gonna work out. It was weird, really. I couldn’t imagine him with a kid. "Where'd you
hear about that, anyway?"

"An episode of Family Guy."

I looked at her with shock. "When the hell were you watching Family Guy?"

"I saw some episodes at Emmett’s once," she replied. Whenever I went out of town she
usually went to Emmett's place for a while to hang out with him and Rosalie.

"Should've known. He loves that stupid shit."

"I actually enjoyed it," she said. "The baby was kind of funny."

"Stewie?" I asked, amused she liked that shit. "You do realize any kids I have will
probably be just like that little fucker, right?"

She laughed like I was kidding, but I wasn't. My kids were bound to be fucking crazy.

"So what would you want?" I asked curiously after a moment. She looked at me with
confusion and I smirked. "If you could have one wish granted, what would you ask for?"

She sighed. "I don't know. What about you?"

"I'm pretty happy,” I replied. “There isn't really shit anyone could give me."

She looked at me incredulously. "There is something Alec could give you. Actually, it's
probably exactly what I'd ask for."

"What's that?"

"Your freedom."

I looked at her with surprise, unsure of what to say to that shit. I was grateful she cared
but felt fucking guilty -- she was given her freedom only to be restricted by my life in the
end. "Well, too bad it doesn't work that way, tesoro."

"Yeah, too bad."

The awkwardness crept back in and my skin felt like it was crawling from the tension in
the car. All of the unspoken words, the questions we were afraid to ask, battered us
from the inside but neither of us were brave enough to broach any of it. I didn't want to
rock the boat, because I was pretty goddamn sure I'd accidentally capsize the
motherfucker if I did.

We arrived at the restaurant within a few minutes and I breathed a sigh of relief as I
parked the car, ready to get the shit over with. I led Isabella inside and saw my uncle
right away. He was sitting at a table in the back with Esme right beside him, a whole
slew of motherfuckers gathered around. Esme spotted us and waved, the movement
catching Alec’s attention. He looked over as we approached, his expression blank, but I
could see the annoyance flashing in his eyes.

“Up,” he barked at the two guys sitting across from them. They didn’t hesitate before
pushing their chairs back, vacating those motherfuckers with a quickness, and Alec
motioned toward the now empty seats. “Sit.”

Isabella immediately took a seat in the first chair, looking at me apprehensively. I gave
her a smile, trying to be reassuring, but the truth was that I was just as fucking nervous.

“You’re late,” Alec said, glaring at me from across the table.

I glanced at my watch and saw it was five minutes after eight. “I guess I am.”

“You guess you are?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I mean, I tried to be on time, but I...”

“But nothing,” he said, cutting me off. His voice was sharp and I shut up right away, a
few people quieting down as they looked in our direction. “There’s no excuse for
tardiness.”

“I know, I’m just saying...”

“I know what you’re saying, Edward,” he interrupted me again. “And I’m saying there’s
no excuse for it.”

“Yes, and I...”

“He’s sorry,” Isabella blurted out, the sound of her voice surprising me, and based on

Alec’s expression it caught him off guard, too. He looked at her peculiarly, his
expression unreadable, and Isabella started fidgeting.

“Is he?” he asked.

She nodded hesitantly. “Yes.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” he replied, turning his attention back to me. “Don’t be late
again, Edward.”

“Yes, sir,” I muttered. It was a lecture I'd gotten from him a dozen times, and would
probably continue to get on a weekly basis.

Things were tense as Alec continued to stare me down, Isabella still fidgeting and
making me even more anxious. After a moment Esme sighed and shook her head,
turning to her husband. “If you’re done throwing your weight around, I’d like to eat.”

He finally broke eye contact with me to look at her. “I’m not throwing my weight
around.”

“Yes, you are,” she said with a laugh. “You’re just a big bully. You act like he blatantly
ignored what time to be here. It was just a few minutes, no harm done.”

“This time,” Alec retorted. “It might not mean anything right now, but five minutes can
be a matter of life and death in other situations.”

“Yes, other situations,” Esme said. “Meaning not this one, so give the boy a break.”

“He’s not a boy, Esme,” Alec said, his expression darkening a bit.

“He is,” she argued, her eyes narrowing. “He’s my nephew.”

“He’s my soldato.”

“He was my nephew first.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s mine forever.”

Isabella and I both froze when Alec spoke those words, a sickness brewing in the pit of
my stomach. I’d witnessed a lot of ridiculous conversations in my life but having them

argue over me was fucking surreal. Had it not been so serious, I might’ve actually
found the shit funny.

Esme pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’m going to the ladies room,” she said,
walking away.

Alec shook his head and the underboss, who was sitting to his left, clapped him on the
shoulder. “Ah, chi non ha moglie non ha padrone.”

I smirked at his words and Alec smiled, but it was forced. I could tell he was furious at
the fact that Esme had challenged him in front of his men. He reached for a glass of
scotch from the table in front of him, taking a drink as Isabella leaned over toward me.

“What did that guy say?” she whispered, trying to be quiet but Alec overheard her. He
sat his glass back down and answered before I had a chance to respond.

“He said a man without a wife is a man without a master, Isabella.”

She tensed, looking across the table at him. “Oh. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I forgot you don’t speak any Italian. Have you ever
thought to learn?”

The color drained from her face at having been put on the spot, the eyes of everyone
nearby going straight to her. It grew silent, so fucking quiet you could probably hear a
pin drop. Most people within the organization knew by now that she was a principessa
by birth, even though few of them ever had any actual contact with her. They were
intrigued, naturally. I understood their curiosity, but that didn’t mean it annoyed me any
less.

“Uh, yes,” she said. “I’ve learned a little bit, actually."

“From Edward?”

She glanced at me and I immediately felt bad, seeing the panic in her eyes. She was
trying her best to stay cool on the surface, but I could tell she was a fucking mess
inside. “He’s taught me some, yes.”

“So I assume you know the bad things, then,” Alec said.

She nodded slightly. "I know other things, too, though. Not just, you know... bad
things.”

“Like?”

She looked at me again, like she expected me to rescue her, but I couldn’t. I wished I
fucking could, but even if I tried Alec would stop me. She realized after a second that I
wasn’t going to say anything and she turned back to Alec, chewing on her bottom lip
nervously.

“Uh, like ti amo and sempre.”

“And?”

“And ciao. Buongiorno. Grazie. Prego.”

Her pronunciation was spot on and I smiled to myself, proud. It was simple shit, but it
was better than nothing.

“Do you know any sentences or only the basic words?”

I groaned, wishing he wouldn't fucking interrogate her. Being around all of those people
was difficult enough without getting the fifth degree on top of it. I saw the color come
back to her face, her cheeks turning bright red with blush. “Uh, I know ‘nella vita-- chi
non risica, non rosica’, if that counts.”

Alec nodded. “It counts.”

“And uh, tira più un...” She stopped speaking mid-sentence. I knew exactly what she’d
been about to say and was stunned she remembered that shit. I shouldn’t have been
surprised, given she remembered every goddamn thing that had been taught to her, but
I could only recall her ever hearing it once. It was back in Forks years ago, during a
visit from Esme.

“Continue,” Alec said.

She sighed and fidgeted a bit. “Tira più un pelo di figa che un carro di buoi.”

Alec just stared at her, his expression so blank even I couldn’t read it. The silence
managed to grow even more fucking silent, the air around us awkward as hell. To be

honest I wasn’t even sure Isabella knew exactly what she was saying, but I got the
message clear as day.

A pussy hair pulls more weight than a bunch of bulls, meaning a motherfucker would do
anything for a woman.

After what felt like a goddamn hour, Alec’s expression softened and a smile tugged at
his lips. He let out a laugh -- a genuine fucking laugh -- and the sound stunned me. He
rarely found anything funny. “Very true,” he said, as others around us also laughed.
There was quiet chatter as everyone relaxed, my uncle’s demeanor influencing their
own.

The tension receded from the room and Isabella loosened up, her posture no longer stiff
as she sat back in her chair. Esme returned, she and Alec both relaxing as they
whispered to each other. I watched them, their natural chemistry obvious. Despite
everything, the fighting and violence and outright bullshit I knew their lives could
sometimes be, they were happy together. They loved each other and it was that love
that got them through everything else. As long as they had that, nothing would tear
them apart.

I glanced beside me at Isabella, reaching under the table and taking her hand. I
squeezed it and she smiled softly, gazing at me. I saw that same type of love in her
eyes, the kind of love that was damn near unbreakable. No matter the fighting and the
bullshit, we could be happy as long as the love was there.

I never thought I'd say it, but I hoped like hell we'd turn out like them someday.

There was food and drinks, conversation and laughter. Time passed swiftly and I found I
actually enjoyed myself. A smile continuously graced Isabella's lips as she talked to
people, not seeming at all nervous to be around my kind.

My kind. I hated saying it, but it was true. La Cosa Nostra was my family now. And like a
real dysfunctional family, I fucking hated them most of the time.

I looked around the restaurant, seeing all types of people having dinner. There were
couples and families, friends and obvious business associates. All seemed content and
relaxed, completely oblivious to the danger in the room with them. It was strange to me
how people didn't even flinch from our presence, like they were desensitized to violence
and pain. They seemed ignorant to the fact that they were surrounded by lifelong
criminals, their children and wives breathing the same air as cold, calculating

murderers.

Well, most seemed to be oblivious, anyway. My gaze fell upon a man sitting in the
corner by himself, his attention focusing on the tables surrounding us. His eyes locked
with mine after a moment and even across the room I could see the coldness. He
probably knew exactly who we were and he certainly wasn't what I'd call a friendly face.
I could practically feel the hatred rolling off of him and it made the skin crawl.

I stared him down for a while before he stood up, tossing some money on the table and
walking out.

The night continued on, as did the food and drinks. The crowd in the restaurant thinned,
thoughts of that man going right along with the others.

"Can I get you guys anything else?" a waitress asked eventually, stepping over to our
table. It was nearing ten in the evening already and Alec and Esme were a few feet
away, talking to the soon-to-be bride and groom.

Isabella shook her head, stabbing at the tiramisu on her plate with a fork. "No, thank
you."

The waitress glanced at me and I nodded, picking up my glass and holding it out to her.
She walked away without a word, returning a moment later with another glass of vodka
and Coke. I thanked her, taking a drink as she moved on to the next table.

Isabella sat her fork down and looked at me, her eyes wandering past me after a
moment. "Do you know how they met?" she asked, motioning toward the couple Alec
was talking to.

"It was arranged," I replied.

Her brow furrowed. "An arranged marriage? They do that?"

I sighed, shrugging and nodding at the same time, not really sure of how to explain it.
"They've known each other since they were kids. They were just... put together, I
guess. I don't know if that makes sense or whatever, but it's how most of them do it.
They kind of just pair off with other people in the life. They don't have to, but it's easier
for them that way."

She looked downright fucking perplexed for a moment before understanding crept into

her features. "Like Jane and Charles."

I nodded. "And their parents before them. Pretty much everyone in here did it, even Alec
and Esme to a degree. They don't usually like outsiders coming in, so they just stay in
the inner circle. My father broke protocol on the shit."

"So did you," she said.

"I don't know, tesoro. You're one of us."

"But you didn't know that, and I definitely wasn't in your inner circle."

"True."

"Would you have, though?" she asked. "Would you have come back here and found
someone like everyone else did?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because there's no one else for me," I replied. "These people care about bloodlines
and rank and power and shit, but none of that matters to me. I'd never pursue a woman
because of who her father is. Chances are I'd just fucking hate her, and she'd probably
grow to hate my ass, too. In case you haven't noticed, most of the women in the life are
spoiled, uptight bitches who feel like people owe them shit. And I refuse to accept the
fact that I owe anyone a goddamn thing. So no thanks."

"So you'd just... be alone?"

I nodded. "I'd rather be alone than be with someone who'd just make me miserable," I
said. "But why are you asking me this shit? I don't even want to think about life without
you."

"I don't know. I was just wondering about it all," she replied, still watching the couple.
"Do you think those two love each other, at least?"

"It's possible," I replied. "I mean, it doesn't always go wrong. Sometimes what they feel
is real. I know Esme wouldn't stay with Alec if she didn't love him, so it's possible those
two will get married and be happy, too."

"And you don't think you would have ever tried? You'd rather just spend the rest of your
life indifferent?"

Her questions were making my fucking head spin. "I guess, yeah. I'd rather be numb
than suffer."

"But don't you think it's important to have someone around who understands you?"

Before I had a chance to even think about how to respond to that, Alec and Esme
started back in our direction. Esme took her seat across from us while Alec paused
beside me, eyeing me warily. "How many drinks have you had?"

I hesitated, looking at the half empty glass of vodka and Coke. "Uh..."

"The fact that you have to think about it is answer enough," he said impatiently, holding
out his hand. "Give me your keys."

My heart started pounding hard in my chest as I took in his stern expression. I reached
into my pocket, pulling out the keys to the Mercedes. He snatched them from my hand,
continuing to stare me down for a moment before turning his attention to Isabella.

"Here," he said, tossing the keys to her. "Make sure he gets home safe."

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, clutching the keys tightly in her palm.

"There you go throwing your weight around again," Esme commented.

Alec let out a slightly bitter laugh. "Well he doesn't have a wife yet, so I'm the only
master he's got for the time being."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and picked up my glass, downing the rest of my drink
as Alec was called away from the table. I turned to Isabella, who suddenly looked
nervous again. Her eyes were darting between me and the keys like she was worried I
was going to be upset she had them.

"You ready to drive Miss Daisy, tesoro?" I asked. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at
me and I tensed, realizing what the fuck I'd just said. Way to go, Cullen. Fucking offend
her twice in one day... "I mean, you know, are you ready to play Travis Bickle and cart
my ass around?"

There was no recognition in her expression and I suddenly felt like an idiot, trying to
make light of the situation but was failing horribly.

"Who's Travis Bickle?" she asked.

"The taxi driver in Taxi. Robert De Niro's character."

"Oh." She still looked confused. “Wasn’t he crazy?"

I sighed, attempting to run my hand through my hair out of habit. My fingers got tangled
in the hard locks and I groaned, pulling my hand away again. "Uh, yeah, he was. Just
ignore me and I'll just shut the fuck up now."

"I think that's probably a good idea, kiddo," Esme said, smiling gently. "You know, you
two should get out of here. It's Friday night. I'm sure there are better things you could be
doing."

"Yeah, definitely," I replied, standing up. I reached in my wallet and pulled out some
cash, tossing it on the table for the waitress. The food and drinks were all being paid for
by Alec -- I'd hate to see that fucking bill. "I've had my fill of family for the time being. No
offense, of course."

"None taken," Esme said, waving me off. "Go, have fun.”

Isabella stood up and smiled. "Thank you, Esme," she said as we started to walk away.
We almost slipped out undetected, but Alec spotted us as we neared the door and
called my name. I turned to face him, hoping like hell he wasn’t going to stop us from
leaving.

"Be available and ready in case I need you," he said. I nodded, not at all surprised, and
turned back toward the door when Alec's voice rang out again. "And next time wear
cleaner shoes. How hard is it to shine them? It takes all of five minutes."

"Uh, yeah. Wasn't thinking, I guess," I muttered. Isabella looked almost fucking smug
about it, but her expression shifted quickly when Alec spoke once more.

"Isabella?"

She went completely rigid. "Yes, sir?"

He hesitated, eyeing her intently. "You did well. It's been a pleasure."

A smiled tugged at the corner of her lips as her eyes lit up. "Thank you, sir. I'm glad you
invited me."

He nodded but said nothing else, turning away from us as he went back to whatever
he’d been doing. I grabbed Isabella’s hand and tugged on it, wanting to get out of the
door before he decided he had something else to say. “Were you telling the truth?” I
asked as we strolled through the parking lot. “Are you really glad he invited you?”

“Yeah, I am,” she replied, still smiling. “I had a good time. I mean, they were all actually
really... nice.”

“Um, sure,” I mumbled. Nice certainly wasn’t a word I’d ever heard to describe La Cosa
Nostra before. “The nicest motherfuckers I know, tesoro -- like rainbows and sunshine.”

She laughed, bumping against me playfully. “You know what I mean, Edward. They
weren’t cold to me like I thought they’d be, since I am... or I mean, I was...”

“What you are, Isabella Marie Swan, is my girlfriend,” I interrupted her, squeezing her
hand. “And those motherfuckers aren’t stupid. Alec would kill them if they disrespected
you.”

She seemed a bit taken aback by my response and stopped right beside the car,
looking at me. “He’d really do that?”

“Of course he would,” I replied. “You remember how we said Alec didn’t have a
daughter earlier tonight?”

“Yet...”

“Yes, yet,” I said. “Well until he does have one -- if he ever does, that is -- you’re the
closest thing he's got."

Her eyes widened with shock. “Me?”

I nodded. “He vouched for you. In their minds, he gave you your life. You’re basically
his surrogate daughter. I mean, come on, Bella. He demanded your presence tonight
at this shit. He only does that with family.”

“I thought I was invited because I was your girlfriend.”

“No, if you were just my girlfriend he wouldn’t give a shit if you attended. He isn’t one to
meddle in love lives,” I said. “You’re his family, whether you like it or not.”

“I think I do,” she said quietly. “Like it, I mean.”

I smirked. “Good. Now come on, let’s get out of here. Keys?”

I held my hand out for them and she laughed dryly, pushing it away. “I don’t think so.
You heard Alec -- I’m driving.”

She gave me a playful wink as she walked around to the drivers side, unlocking the
doors and motioning for me to get in. I rolled my eyes and grumbled, feigning
annoyance although I frankly didn’t really give a shit if she drove. I trusted her.

She started the car up as I put on my seat belt, knowing damn well she wouldn’t leave
the parking lot until I did. She adjusted the mirrors and fiddled with the seat so she
could reach the pedals and I held my tongue, refusing to get upset over something so
petty. Years ago I would’ve snapped about it, but having lost her once gave me a new
outlook on things. A seat could be fixed, as could the mirrors. The entire fucking car
could be replaced, for the matter.

But her... she was one of a kind.

I glanced around as she situated herself, spotting a form trudging through the parking
lot. My eyes narrowed as something clicked in my mind, recognition dawning. It was
the man that had been sitting in the corner watching us in the restaurant, the one that
had left at least an hour before. It was dark and he kept his head ducked as he weaved
through the cars, but there was no doubt in my mind that it was him.

I watched as he slipped into a dark colored Chevy Camaro, starting it up and pulling
away quickly. He drove right past us and I looked at the car, getting a brief glimpse at
the license plate. All I could make out were the first two letters, JK.

“Do you know that guy?” Isabella asked, noticing I’d been watching.

I shrugged it off. “No. He had a nice car, though.”

The drive home from the restaurant was a hell of a lot different from the drive to it.
Isabella did the speed limit -- if even that -- while I just lounged in the passenger seat. I
was relaxed, the alcohol leaving me a little buzzed. We talked and laughed, the air
around us light. The awkwardness had faded and we were back to where we’d been
earlier -- completely content.

It didn’t take long to get home, and she parked in the driveway before we headed in the
house. Isabella excused herself to the bathroom as I locked up, making a point to
enable the alarm for the doors and windows just in case.

I strolled into the kitchen and took out my gun, sticking it in a top cabinet where I usually
stored it when I saw at home. Grabbing the bottle of Grey Goose from the freezer, I
leaned back against the counter and pulled the top off of it. I took a swig and closed my
eyes, savoring the burn as it coated my throat. It was only a minute later that I heard
Isabella approach and I opened my eyes, seeing her standing in the doorway. “Whatcha
wanna do, tesoro?”

She said nothing as she slowly strolled in my direction, having discarded her heels
somewhere between the bathroom and me. I took a second drink as she paused in front
of me and she grabbed the bottle, gently taking it from my hands. She hesitated before
bringing it to her lips, tipping it back quickly. She grimaced as the liquor filled her
mouth, the swallow obviously painful by the look on her face. Reaching behind me, she
tipped the bottle and I watched with shock as she dumped the rest of it out in the sink.

I had a brief moment of panic, where everything seemed to stop. My insides seized up
and I felt sick to the stomach, watching the liquor disappear down the drain. I wanted to
yell but I pushed the feeling back as much as I could, refusing to let it control me. I
could stop if I wanted to... if I needed to. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were
more important things in life, and I didn’t need the vodka anymore to make it through my
days.

I closed my eyes again and started chanting that shit in my head, willing myself to
believe it.

The empty bottle clinked against the counter behind me and there was a brief moment
of complete stillness before I felt a sudden tug on my pants. My eyes snapped back
open and I glanced down, seeing Isabella on her knees as she fiddled with my belt.

“Christ, Bella, what are you doing?”

Again, she said not a goddamn word. She got my belt undone and pulled my zipper
down, immediately reaching into my pants. I groaned as her hand slid into the hole in
the front of my boxers, wrapping around my dick and pulling it out. That was all it took
to get me hard, her warm hand gripping onto my throbbing flesh.

I was stunned. Absolutely, positively fucking flabbergasted. For a moment I wondered
if I were dreaming and I pinched myself, the small sharp pain making reality sink in. She
was really there, in front of me, on her fucking knees. She was touching me... touching
it. No one had fucking touched it but me in years.

Years. I nearly came at the thought alone.

“You’re trying to fucking kill me,” I muttered as she stroked me a few times. She smiled
in response and I reached down, holding the back of her head as she took me in her
mouth.

That mouth... that hot, wet mouth. Like I’d said, there were better things in life than
alcohol, and that fucking mouth was most definitely one of them.

She took me in as far as she could, the tip of my dick sliding down her throat. I
groaned, running my hands through her long, brown hair as she started bobbing her
head. It was almost fucking torture how slow she went, the flat of her tongue
massaging the underside of my dick. I tried to stay still, relaxing against the counter
and letting her have control, but it was hard.

Fuck, was it hard...

After a minute she started working faster, taking me in with a bit deeper strokes. She
started humming as she sucked, sending vibrations through my dick that went straight
to my balls. “Ah, fuck,” I grumbled, gripping onto her hair. There was no way I was
going to last long at all. I was like a fucking virgin again, getting head for the first time.

She continued what she was doing, steadily picking up pace. She wrapped her right
hand around the base of my dick, stroking it, while her left hand slid back into my pants.
She palmed my balls, massaging them gently. The stirring was starting down below,
the heat already rushing through me. “Shit, I’m gonna...”

I couldn’t even finish the words. I gasped as the burst of pleasure hit me, bucking my
hips as I came down her throat. She gripped my thighs, trying to contain me, and
sucked until I couldn’t take anymore. I cursed and pulled away from her, tossing my

head back and taking a deep breath. “Fuck, that was good.”

“I’m glad,” she said, climbing to her feet. She brushed invisible dirt from her knees,
because the floor was always fucking spotless, and smiled sheepishly.

“What did I do to deserve that?” I asked, buttoning my pants quickly to keep the fuckers
up. I didn’t bother with the zipper or belt, too stunned to care my dick was still exposed.

“Well you made me happy tonight, so I wanted to return the favor.”

"Christ, tesoro, you always make me happy," I said as I pulled her into a hug and kissed
the top of her head. “Hmm, you know what would make me even happier, though?"

“What?” she asked, glancing up at me. I smirked and grabbed her by the hips, swinging
her around so we’d switched places. Surprised, she yelped as I picked her up, setting
her down on the edge of the counter. I knew I was taking a risk by trying to steal home,
but if I was successful the score would be worth it.

Again with the fucking baseball euphemisms. Apparently a blowjob wasn't enough to
make me any less pathetic.

My hands slid up Isabella's bare thighs, pushing her dress to her waist, and she lifted up
enough that I could pull off her panties. That simple movement, the slight shift of her
hips, was all the approval I needed. It was her way of saying it was okay, that she
finally believed that we could be like this again. Thank fucking God for that, I thought.
My dick started throbbing again, the anticipation nearly bringing me to my knees.

The panties dropped to the floor as I undid my button again, kicking both my pants and
my boxers off. My lips went straight to her neck and she moaned as I kissed her skin,
swirling my tongue around her earlobe.

“This,” I whispered, reaching down and grasping my dick. I pushed into her and she
cried out, throwing her head back so she was damn near laying down. She knocked
into the blender and shoved that fucker aside, throwing it right onto the floor as I thrust
again. She was so tight, the two of us still fitting together perfectly after so many years.
I reveled in the fact that I was the only man that had ever been inside of her... the only
one that ever would be inside of her.

“Oh, that feels good,” she whimpered.

“Fuck yeah, it does,” I groaned.

I started slow, so we could both adjust, but it didn’t take long for the moment to take
hold. Our lips smashed together, tongues merging in a sloppy kiss. It was frantic, pure
raw fucking passion spilling out between us as I filled her. When the position got to be
uncomfortable and I couldn’t go any deeper, I gripped her hips and pulled her off of the
counter. She clung to me, her legs wrapped around my waist as I carried her across
the room and set her down on the kitchen table.

“Edward, we eat here,” she panted as I pushed back into her without any hesitation.
She sounded like she was protesting, but she made no move to stop me. Instead she
moaned, spreading her legs wider so I could go deeper.

“So?” I muttered, kissing on her neck. “You cook over there and you didn’t say shit.”

“True,” she said, running her hands up my back, under my shirt. Her short nails
scraped against my skin, the sensation sending a chill down my spine. "God, you feel so
good."

The table rocked, shifting slightly across the linoleum floor from the force of our
movements. I grabbed her legs, lifting her calves over my shoulders as I drilled into her,
filling her with every inch I had. Her cries echoed through the silent house, the noises
barely restrained by my kisses.

“Oh Edward,” she moaned, the sound of my name tumbling from her lips nearly sending
me over the fucking edge. I could tell she was getting close so I reached down between
us, my fingertips grazing across her swollen clit. I rubbed it and her noises grew louder,
her legs tensing up as she gripped onto my hair. It fucking hurt, her fingers tangling
with the hard locks, nearly ripping the shit apart that was unnaturally stuck together. I
didn’t care, though. I enjoyed the pain. It made everything feel real. It made me feel
alive.

She made me feel alive.

Small tremors shook her body before her legs seized up and she screamed my name.
Her orgasm shook her hard and I continued what I was doing, working her through it.
After a moment she relaxed back onto the table and I pulled my hand away, focusing
on thrusting inside of her again.

“Fuck, I’m close already,” I murmured against her skin, nipping at the flesh of her

collarbone. A few more hard strokes and I felt the familiar heat, my second orgasm
more intense than the first. My knees fucking buckled for real that time, my weight
going right on top of her on the table as I spilled into her. Pleasure rippled through me,
twisting my insides and leaving me drained.

I stopped moving when it subsided, feeling myself softening. I pulled out slowly,
groaning sadly at the loss of contact. I started to get up but she clung to me, keeping
me there. I said 'fuck it' after a moment and just lay on top of her on the table, closing
my eyes.

A few minutes passed, and the only sound that could be heard was our heavy
breathing. Her body started shaking underneath mine eventually, first subtly and then
more noticable. I got up quickly, about to panic. I worried I’d hurt her, afraid she was
crying. A dozen scenarios hit me, the most intense being regret. It was one of my
worst fears, that she’d finally take that step with me again, take the plunge off the edge
of passion, only to regret it when it was over... regret me when it was over.

I looked at her, almost afraid of what I’d see, and was shock when I realized she was
actually laughing. The sound of her giggles bounced off of the walls and she looked at
me, a big smile on her face.

“What the hell's so funny, Bella?"

“The blender,” she said, glancing over at the object on the floor. I looked at it, seeing the
glass was cracked and a piece was obviously broken off. “We had sex and broke the
blender.”

“Yeah, I guess we did,” I replied. “We can always buy a new one.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t ours, Edward,” she said. “I borrowed it from Rosalie and she
specifically said 'don't let Edward break my blender'."

“Oh, shit,” I replied, chuckling. “Its a good thing I didn’t do it -- you did.”

"She'll still blame you," she said. "She'll take any opportunity she can to yell at you."

Truer fucking words had never been spoken. "Yeah, well, Rosalie can suck my dick."

"No, she can't," Isabella replied. "It's mine and only mine."

She blushed as she spoke those words, the redness spreading across her cheeks and I
ventured to guess extended down her body. My eyes scanned her for a second,
desperate to fucking see but the dress was in the way. I grabbed the bottom of it and
pushed it up further, exposing her smooth stomach.

Isabella grabbed my tie and yanked on it, pulling me to her roughly. She kissed me, her
tongue brushing across my lips before she bit down on the bottom one gently.

"You're awfully fucking feisty, tesoro," I said. "You keep that shit up and we might have
to go again."

She smiled a seductively wicked smile that sent the blood rushing straight through my
body. She knew exactly what she was doing to me and she was enjoying every minute
of it.

"I don't think there's any might about it," she said playfully, standing up from the table.

Somewhere between the kitchen and the upstairs bedroom, we both managed to lose
all of our clothes. We just left them discarded on the floor, not giving a fuck as we fell
into the king sized bed.

This time it was different. The passion was still there, but this time it was about love. It
wasn't just the physical need we were satisfying, it was the emotional one as well. We
had sheet tangling, sweat soaked love making, full of moans and grunts and whispered
sweet words. Centuries could've passed and I wouldn't have fucking noticed, time
standing still for us as we merged together into one. It was that cliché bullshit they
always talked about in chick flicks -- the sex that altered universes and turned
everything upside down. I half expected fireworks whenever she moaned my name, the
world fucking celebrating that she was once again mine.

We lay in the bed together after we were through, both of us utterly fucking exhausted
and sweaty. Her head was on my chest, her hair a tangled mess all around. I rubbed
her back as her fingers explored my stomach, stroking the trail of hair. It tickled and
made my dick stir a bit, but I was pretty sure nothing would get that motherfucker
standing at attention again yet.

"I love you," Isabella whispered after awhile.

"I love you, too," I said. "Sempre."

"Sempre," she replied. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Edward. I
don't know what I'd do without you."

The best thing. It was a far fucking cry from the disgrace I felt like earlier. The conviction
in her words made me want to believe it. Even though I still believed she deserved
better, that she deserved more, I wondered if maybe --just maybe--I could really be
good enough. Not perfect, but just enough.

"You don't have to know, because it'll never happen," I said. "You'll always have me."

"But what if..."

"No, fuck that," I said. "There are no what ifs. I'm not going anywhere. Ever. You're
stuck with me. As long as you want me, anyway."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

It was a promise I was determined to keep, no matter how irrational it was to make in
the first place. Shit happened, a lot of which was uncontrollable, but one thing I couldn't
accept was the idea of ever being without her again.

She fell asleep eventually, her soft snores filling the room. I lay there holding her, but
despite my exhaustion I couldn't go to sleep. My mind was working a million miles a
minute, a feeling overtaking me that I couldn't push away. It was one Isabella had
questioned me about, one that couldn't be ignored no matter how hard I fucking tried.

It was my intuition.

It invaded every inch of my body, putting me on edge. I was alert, noises outside
intensifying the paranoia. Something was off -- I could feel it deep down into my bones.
It was a sensation that started in my gut before taking over entirely, my hairs standing
on end as I felt like I was being watched.

Carefully, so as not to wake Isabella, I slipped out from underneath her and climbed out
of the bed. I tip toed across the room to the window and pulled some slats of the blinds
apart to look out into the night. It was nearing three in the morning, the sky still pitch
black and the city quiet. I surveyed the street, looking for any sign of trouble, and tensed
when my eyes fell upon a car sitting right out front.

A vaguely familiar looking dark Chevy Camaro, at that.

I stepped back away from the window and gave Isabella a quick glance before heading
out of the room. Instinct took over, every move calm and calculating. I found my pants
downstairs in the kitchen and pulled them on, grabbing my gun again. I made sure it
was loaded before quickly and quietly slipping out the back door. I headed around the
house and came up behind the Camaro, glancing at the license plate. The moment I
saw the letters JK, my adrenaline kicked into overdrive. There was no coincidence, and
I knew exactly what my intuition was telling me -- we were being fucking stalked.

Staying in the shadows, I watched the car for a bit. The man was alone with the drivers
side window down, his attention seeming to be focused away from my house. Every
time headlights flashed nearby he'd eye them intently until they passed. He was waiting
for something, but what I wasnt sure until finally a set of headlights shined our way. He
seemed panicked and ducked as a black Mercedes sped by us before swinging into a
driveway about a block away.

Alec.

I wasn't sure what to do then, torn between reacting quickly or letting Alec deal with the
problem, but I didn't get much time to consider my options. The driver's side of the car
door opened and the guy climbed out, keeping his head down as he started down the
block. Without even thinking I went after him, ducking beside houses while trying to
keep up with his pace. The man slowed when he neared Alec's house, staring at it
peculiarly like he was trying to assess how to get inside. The living room light was on
and I could see shadows, Esme's laughter faintly filtering out.

The man ducked beside Alec's house after a moment and I hesitated, taking a deep
breath and clutching my gun before darting right behind him. He was almost to their
back yard when he finally heard me coming. He started to swing around, alarmed by
my presence, but it was already too late.

I grabbed him from behind and slammed him into the side of the house, shoving my gun
against his head. "If you move, I'll blow your fucking head off."

He cursed and immediately started shaking as I patted him down, pulling everything out
of his pockets. I found a gun in his coat and made sure the safety was on before
sticking it in my waistband. Grabbing his wallet, I flipped it open and yanked out his
driver's license.

"Amun Kebi," I said, reading it. "What kind of fucking name is that?"

"Don't hurt me," he begged, the fucking coward already on the verge of tears. "I'm not
looking for trouble!"

"Bullshit," I spat. "You don't lurk around this neighborhood with a gun if you aren't
looking for trouble."

"I swear, it's a mistake!"

"What is?"

"This!"

"What the fuck is this?" I asked, pulling him away from the house and shoving him into
the back yard. He stumbled but caught himself before he fell, and hesitated for a second
before he took off sprinting through the yard. I panicked, fucking stupid for doing that,
and aimed with my finger on the trigger of my gun. I lowered it after a second and just
took off after him. He was pretty fucking fast and I barely caught him, tackling the
motherfucker in the grass. He swung, trying to fight me off, and his fist connected with
the right side of my jaw. Pain ripped through my cheek, the feel of it sending me over
the edge. I was exhausted, annoyed and on edge, and now I was just fucking pissed on
top of it all.

I pulled my arm back that clutched the gun, slamming him straight in the face with it. He
cried out as I beat him, busting his nose and battering his face. Blood poured from him
as he started sobbing, and I pulled him across the yard before forcing him on his knees
right outside Alec's back door.

"Stay there, motherfucker," I spat, giving him a swift kick in the side out of frustration.
My jaw was aching and I was out of breath, flecks of blood splattered on my hands and
gun.

"I'm certainly glad you decided not to shoot him."

The voice caught me off guard and I looked up, seeing Alec standing motionless at the
back screen door, watching me.

"Fuck, how long have you been there?" I asked.

"Long enough."

"And you couldn't help me?" I spat, annoyed that he'd just fucking watched.

"You seemed to have it handled," he said. "Besides, it was quite entertaining seeing you
take him down."

I glared at him. "Entertaining? There's nothing entertaining about this shit!"

"I have to disagree."

"Well, you're wrong," I said, reaching into my waistband for the guys gun. I cursed yet
again when I realized it was gone and glanced around, realizing it had fallen out during
our scuffle. I found it a few feet away and picked it up, handing it to Alec when he
stepped outside. "He could've fucking killed me, you know."

Alec laughed dryly. "You're exaggerating. You had him, no problem."

"You couldn't have fucking known that."

"Yes, I could. He's obviously an amateur. He parked right in front of your house."

"How can you..." I stopped, narrowing my eyes when it struck me what he'd said. "Wait,
you fucking knew he was there?"

"Of course I did," he replied. "He wasn't very sly, Edward. Even you noticed him."

"Son of a bitch," I grumbled, aggravated. "I did all of that shit for fucking nothing?"

"I wouldn't say it was for nothing," he replied, smiling with amusement. "Like I said, it
was entertaining."

I shook my head as the guy continued to kneel there, crying. His body was shaking, his
head down. "Who is this Amun Kebi asshole, anyway?"

"Is that is name?" Alec asked. I nodded and handed him the guy's driver's license. "I'm
assuming Russians sent him, possibly Irish. Is that right? Who sent you?"

The guy said nothing and Alec lost his patience, kicking him hard in the side. Amun

toppled over, hugging himself tightly. "Please! I'm sorry, just... Please!"

"Don't beg, it's ugly," Alec snapped. "Tell me who sent you."

"I don't know," he cried. "They paid me."

"Who paid you?"

"A guy, he said it would be easy!" he cried. "It was my initiation!"

"Your initiation?" Alec asked. "Someone sent you after me as your initiation?"

"Yes!"

Alec squatting down beside the guy and grabbed a hold of him. I could see signs of his
anger boiling over and took a step back. One thing Alec hated was being
underestimated. "Do you even know who I am?"

"Yes. Well, no. I mean, they gave me your address, told me where I could find you
tonight. They said if I couldn't get you that the other one would do... your nephew."

I shook my head, stunned by the idiocy, although a part of me was undoubtedly on
edge. It was unnerving hearing I was considered an acceptable substitution for a hit, like
some fucking murderous consolation prize if they couldn't take down the Boss.

"I hate to break it to you, but somebody wanted you dead," Alec told the guy. "They
knew you wouldn’t walk away from this... from me. You don't send an amateur after the
head of La Cosa Nostra and expect to succeed. I made you the moment you walked
into the restaurant."

My brow furrowed as I tried to think back, looking for any sign that Alec had been on
edge. I ran through the night in my mind before our very last conversation struck me.
"Motherfucker, you knew this would happen! When I was leaving you told me to be
ready in case!"

Alec glanced at me and smiled slightly, almost like he was fucking proud. Jackass.
Instead of replying, he waved his hand dismissively. "Go home, Edward. I'll take care
of this.”

I grumbled to myself and walked away, hearing the guy yell as I made my way around

the house. His cries were cut off damn near instantly by a small pop, almost like the
sound of those little snapping firecrackers that you throw against concrete. It was a
silencer, a single shot from what I could tell. I definitely wasn't hanging around to find
out any more.

Jogging home, I hoped like hell no one had seen me as I slipped right back in the back
door.

The house was quiet, everything still. Heading into the kitchen, I washed my hands and
cleaned my gun up quickly before tucking it back away for safe keeping. The empty
vodka bottle was still sitting on the counter beside the sink, taunting me. After what I’d
just gone through, I definitely could've used a goddamn drink.

I made my way upstairs when I was done, stepping over Isabella's black dress and my
shirt. The bedroom door was wide open and I paused, staring at the bed. It was nothing
but a mess of sheets and blankets, no Isabella anywhere to be found.

Quietly, I crept down the hall and saw a bit of light dancing on the wall from one of the
spare rooms. I paused in the doorway, seeing her standing in front of her canvas with a
paintbrush in her hand. She was wearing a pair of my black boxers and a plain white t-
shirt. They hung loosely on her, practically fucking swallowing her frame, but at the
same time they seemed to fit just right.

She was working on the painting of the tree again, the marijuana leaf magically gone
and blended into a stormy looking sky. I took a few steps closer to see what she was
doing, smiling when I noticed the small forms now under the tree. A scruffy little girl with
bloody feet was sitting in the dirt, and an awkward looking boy hovered over her, his
reddish hair sticking up all over the goddamn place.

“I'm surprised you're awake,” I said, pausing right behind her.

She nodded. “Yeah, well, ADT called and woke me up. Apparently someone went out
the back door and forgot to disable to alarm. Lucky I could get to it before they alerted
the police.”

“Oh, fuck,” I said -- that would’ve been a fucking disaster. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” she responded, turning around to look at me. Her brow furrowed as her
eyes scanned me. “What in the world were you doing? You’re filthy!”

I glanced down, seeing the dirt covering my pants. I shrugged and she laughed,
reaching over to pluck a piece of grass from my hair. I realized how fucking crazy I
must’ve looked -- barefoot and shirtless, covered in dirt. My hair was a mess, leaves
and grass probably sticking out of it, and I was pretty sure my jaw was already starting
to bruise.

“Just had some shit to take care of, tesoro.”

“Looks like you’ve been playing football.”

“I feel like I’ve been playing football,” I muttered, rubbing my jaw. "Either that or I had
my ass kicked."

"Is that where you go at night when you disappear? Fight Club?" Of course, that
fucking movie reference she'd get.

“Can't say, tesoro. You know the rules. We don't talk about Fight Club,” I replied,
laughing it off. I had no intention of telling her how I'd spent the last twenty minutes.
She need not have to worry about shit like that. “Anyway, the painting looks good.”

She nodded, turning back to it. “Yeah, I figured out what it was missing,” she said,
sticking her paintbrush into a container of water before motioning toward the two little
figures she’d made. “It was us.”

I smiled, wrapping my arms around her from behind and pulling her back into me.
Leaning down, I kissed the nape of her neck and she practically melted in my arms,
relaxing back into me. “Well, it’s perfect now,” I commented. “Absolutely motherfucking
perfect.”

“It is,” she said. “I’m surprised I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

“I’m not. Sometimes it’s hard seeing what’s right in front of your face, Bella. I know I’ve
fucked up a few times because I completely missed what should’ve been obvious.”

“Like...?”

“Like what you said earlier tonight, about how you need to have someone around who
understands you,” I replied. “Because you’re right -- it is important. When I left you
back in Forks, I thought I was leaving for that exact reason. I thought I was coming here
to be with people like me, who live the same life I do, but I was wrong. These people

don’t understand me. They can’t. They might know what I’ve been through, but they
have no fucking clue how it feels to have gone through it. How it feels to lose your
mother to this shit and to be robbed of a childhood. How it feels to want as far away
from this as possible, only to be sucked into the shit for life. How it feels to have to pay
for everyone else’s mistakes. They don’t get it and they never will, but you... you do.
You’re the only one who ever has. And I overlooked the fact that we were supposed to
be together. I mean, I knew it -- I knew we were fate -- but it just didn’t sink in how
important that was. I thought we’d be okay apart, that I didn’t need you to survive, but I
was sorely fucking mistaken because I do. I don’t need much, Bella, but I do need you.”

“I need you, too, you know,” she said, turning around to face me. She wrapped her
arms around me, nuzzling her head into my chest. “I’m happy with you. You make me
feel safe.”

I smiled, kissing the top of her head as I hugged her back. Twenty minutes earlier I was
practically staring down death, tackling a man who probably wouldn’t have hesitated to
kill me if given the chance, and yet she still felt safe with me. Despite everything, she
trusted me. She believed in me. She loved me.

And I loved her... more than anything in the fucking world. She’d given herself to me
again, every last barrier between us broken down. All of those unanswered questions,
all of the worry, every single fucking bit of it had been resolved the moment we came
back together that way. Because we were right. No matter what happened, we loved
each other -- we understood each other -- and that was the most important thing.

“Bella,” I whispered. “If I could have anything, I know what I’d ask for now.”

She pulled back from the hug to look at me with genuine curiosity. “What’s that?”

“You to marry me.”

And just like that, it felt like all of the air was sucked from the room. I immediately
wondered if I was fucking up, considering I wasn’t doing it the right way. I wasn’t down
on one knee, clutching a ring. I had a ring, my mother's, but I was too damn impulsive
to plan this in advance.

She stared at me with shock and my heart pounded furiously in my chest as I waited for
her to say something... anything.

After a few moments tears formed in the corners of her eyes, one sliding down her

cheek. I brushed it away quickly and she smiled, the sight if it instantly putting me at
ease. That smile was the only answer I needed.

"You wouldn't ask for your freedom?" she asked quietly. I shook my head, leaning down
to softly kiss her lips.

"Freedom wouldn't be shit without you."