Of Kith and Kin by Chicklette

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6148438/1/

Chapter One: Away She Flew, Home

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"Bella, sweetheart, what are you doing here?" Esme put an arm around my
shoulder, as Emmett took the paper tray full of cups of coffee from my hands.
Jacob handed over the pastry box filled with muffins that no one would eat, but
that I felt compelled to bring.

"Esme, I had to come. How is she?"

"She's stable, Carlisle says she's stable." The corners of Esme's eyes crinkled with
a smile that wasn't real. A doctor's wife, she'd long since learned the trick of it.

The hospital waiting room was quiet. It was filled with institutional furniture that
was decades old, magazines that were years old, and Emmett, Rosalie and Esme.
I glanced around for him, but didn't see him anywhere. His abrupt departure from
the bakery left me shaken, though as Jacob placed his hands at my elbow and
the small of my back, I pretended that everything was fine. He'd unhanded me,
but the worried crease between his eyes never went away.

"How are you?" Esme asked, placing a hand lightly over my stomach. Since I'd
become pregnant, I'd grown used to these invasions of my personal space.
Everyone in the extended Cullen-Hale-McCarty family felt they had the right to
put their hands on me, and it had gotten to the point that I didn't mind it so
much. I felt like community property.

"I'm good, Esme," I answered. "The drive wasn't so bad. I left early enough to
miss the traffic getting out of Seattle." In truth, the drive up from Seattle had
been long, and I suspected, it would be one of the last times I'd make that trip
for several months. I'd planned on staying in Forks for the last two months of my
pregnancy anyway. Of course, with…Alice, it only made sense to move up the
timeline. My assistant was already busy, calling clients, rescheduling shoots, and
making arrangements for my absence.

"I hope you didn't drive yourself," she said, clucking over me, leading me to a
chair. Rosalie gave me a stern look before patting the seat next to her. I sat and
leaned into her shoulder and she put her arm around me. Her eyes caught mine,
full of worry. I tried to put on a calm front but…he was there, somewhere. The
corners of my mouth twitched down and Rosalie searched my face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice full of concern, her eyes scanning me up
and down.

"It's nothing, I'm fine," I said, filling my voice with confidence that I didn't feel.
"My back hurts," I said. My heart was still hammering. Here, here, he's here.

"We saw-" Jacob began to speak and I silenced him with my eyes. I was mother,
older sister and lover, rolled into one. After all of our years of friendship, he knew

better than to defy me. His secrets were only kept by my good graces, though I
knew that he tended my own secrets well.

"I need to get back to work," he said. "I just ran into Bella at the bakery, and I
wanted to stop in and say hello." He nodded to Rosalie and Emmett. "We should
be getting the sheetrock up in another day, so you'll have your wall back by the
end of the week."

Em nodded, thanking Jacob for his work. In the years since graduating high
school, Jacob had built up a nice little business, doing odd jobs all around Forks,
La Push and even some in Port Angeles. He was the one everyone called for any
major household renovations, or even chores as simple as clearing the rain
gutters. In the past few years he'd added two people to the payroll full-time. He
was taking his General Contractor licensing exam in three months. I had no doubt
he'd ace it.

Jacob approached, kissed the top of my head and gave my hand a squeeze, and
in that moment I could not wait for the baby to be born. It was too much, all the
kind gestures and touches, the quiet concern. I hungered for the freedom I used
to know, when I was untethered, unbound.

I sighed. "Thank you, Jacob." I looked into his brown eyes, so dark they were
almost black, thanking him for everything. I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for
this man who'd stood by me my whole life, ready to take my hand, to be my
protector, my best friend. Jacob was tall, eclipsing even Emmett in height, and he
wore his thick, black hair long, tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. I
leaned into his chest, feeling his arm come around me, filling me with strength.

His eyes shone back at me, and we both understood, the words unsaid. He
walked over, whispered something to Emmett, and left. A moment later, I
followed behind him.

"Jacob," I called, reaching out for his hand. His long strides had carried him too
far away, too fast.

He turned and looked at me, the smile gone from his face.

"Thank you," I said.

"Did you know he was here?"

I shook my head and clutched at his hand. If I'd known, I probably wouldn't have
had the courage to come.

"I don't like this. You should tell them."

"Jake, come on. It's been so long. I'm just trying to let it go."

"Yeah, well, letting go is one thing, avoiding it is something else, and Cullen
didn't look like he was letting anything go."

I thought back to that moment earlier in the bakery. Jacob's hand his hand on my
belly, making me laugh, and when I looked up, Edward was there. It had been six
years since I'd seen him, and still I felt like a child under his gaze. He'd looked
just as shocked as I felt, and after a mumbled hello and goodbye, he walked out
of the bakery, but I knew there was no avoiding it. Edward Cullen was back in my
life.

"I don't know, Jake. I'm sure he's just worried about Alice. I doubt he wants to
rehash all that old stuff anyway."

Jacob turned my hand over in his, swallowing it in his big palm. "Just be careful,
Bells. That's all."

"I promise," I said, looking up at him.

He kissed me on the top of my head, then walked away.

When I returned to the waiting room, I took up roost next to Rosalie. She gripped
my hand, and Emmett took the seat on the other side of me. He put his arm
around me, snuggling me into his side. I breathed deep, then let out a loose
breath.

"I need to get back," Esme said, her voice cracking. I was out of my chair in an
instant, pulling her into my bloated embrace. The scent of Esme, of mother,
wafted up to me as I stroked her hair, rubbing her back as she rested her head
against my shoulder. I heard her breathy sob and held her harder, my own tears
slipping silent down my cheeks. Family. This was my family. I surrounded her,
welcoming her, pushing back to her every kindness that she had ever given me.

"It'll be okay," I whispered, low, working to convince us both. "It'll all be okay."
She gripped me tighter, and I pulled her closer into me. We stood, silent comfort,
until we both could draw a clean breath. Esme'd been my mother since my real
mother gave up the task, almost twenty years before. Any comfort that I had to
give was hers, absolutely.

I pulled away and looked into her eyes. Those green eyes. His green eyes. The
knife didn't twist in my heart, but it did pierce. After all this time. For a moment,
I hated him. My family now, I thought. You can't claim them. You gave them
away.

Rosalie tugged my hand, pulling me back down to a chair. Her eyes probed,
pleading. I held her hand, cut my eyes to Esme, and then back to Rosalie,
begging her, not now. My secrets were still mine, and I wouldn't surrender them
just yet. Despite my bulky flesh, I was feeling quite thin.

Esme excused herself to the ladies room. As Doctor Carlisle Cullen's wife, she
presented herself with a certain amount of decorum. It wouldn't do to have
raccoon eyes, and I knew it was not vanity, but respect that she was trying to
convey.

As Esme left, Rose squeezed my hand again.

"It's okay," I said. "I'm fine, I promise." I pushed my mouth into a smile and
Rosalie relaxed some. Emmett came to sit next to me, his arm back around me,
pulling me close. No wonder I thought I could take on the world. Between Jacob
and Emmett, who could harm me?

Then I remembered green eyes and while my smile did not falter, all of my
courage flagged. I found myself in search of escape, not ready to see him again.

"Can I go see her?" I asked, looking between Rosalie and Emmett.

"Yeah," Emmett replied. "It's just Jasper and Esme. You go on."

I stood and they stayed, Rosalie furrowing her brow at me so I turned and made
a face at her, eliciting most of a smile. Emmett chuckled and reached out to hold
her hand in his.

"We'll be here," he said, and I nodded.

Making my way down the hall, I worked hard at blocking out the smell of the
place. Underneath the Lysol and the antiseptics, I smelled the rusty scent of
blood and the bitter tang of urine. Since I'd become pregnant, it seemed my
sense of smell was on overdrive; I picked up things only a dog should be able to
scent and it often left me disoriented.

I opened the door to Alice's room, my fingers tentative on the handle. The last
time I'd been here, it was Rosalie in a bed, her strong body laid low and
Emmett's red-rimmed eyes greeting me from the side of her bed. I steeled myself
to see Jasper in his place, the sorrow deep in those fathomless blue eyes, where
only smiles should be.

.

The autumn air hangs thick and still with rains waiting to come. First day at
school, first day of high school, and I am inadequate in my skin, having grown
not at all, feeling like an eighth-grader playing dress up in the real world. Alice
stands next to me, and I want to clutch her hand, but instead I hang loose at her
side. She leads, I follow.

I close my eyes to the wet air and draw myself up inside. Edward drove me and
Alice to school is his old silver Volvo, a hand-me-down from Esme that retained a
hint of her Oscar de la Renta perfume, floral sweet, despite the cigarettes of both
kinds that he'd hot-boxed since getting his license last June.

We stand, Alice and me, watching as people filter into the school. I ask what
we're waiting for and she shushes me, saying that he's almost here. I wonder
who she's talking about, but I don't question my friend, all pale skin and dark
hair, standing a head short of me, and yet, still bigger than life.

A beat up Jimmy truck, black, rattles into the school parking lot. Alice becomes
more animated, her red mouth working a piece of gum and she runs her palms
down the front of her jeans. She dips her nose down into the turtleneck of her
sweater, Edward's sweater, so big it hangs down past her thighs and swallows
her hands until only her fingertips show.

A boy steps out of the truck. He's very tall, with wavy blond hair that falls down
to his shoulders. Stacy Peralta, I think, the way he looks like lean muscles and
California waves. He walks toward the school, and by extension, us. Out of the
corner of my eye, I spot Lauren Mallory. She's already a sophomore and the last
year was nice, not being at the sharp end of her stick. She makes a noise, low in
her throat and whispers "fresh meat" as the blond boy passes us by.

Alice drops her books, then turns and looks at me. Her eyes are wide and dark
blue like a storm is coming and she says to me "there went my one." The bell
rings and I help her pick up her books before we head into the school for the first
day of classes.

At lunch we meet in the quad and she approaches Edward. He is already the big
man on campus, but he doesn't shun her, nor would he ever. Loyalty eclipses
status in his eyes, and she is his blood. He will never desert her.

He bends low so that she has his ear, and she whispers into it. Emmet leans
against the brick planter, all muscles and dark hair, and flashes his dimples at
me. I flush and eye the toes of my shoes and I hear him chuckle. A moment
later, he whistles long and low, like something out of a 40's movie, and I look to
see him staring at a girl I've never seen before. She is tall and blond and moves
her body with the careless grace of knowing that the world is watching, and that
it doesn't matter, because she's the most beautiful thing they've ever seen. She

reaches the edge of the cafeteria, quails a moment, then pushes forward. A
second later Emmett is in motion, shifting glacier, chasing his sun.

Alice and Edward have ended their conference, and I watch as Jessica Stanley
approaches, then flees in a fit of giggles. Alice winks at me and I smile back. My
love for her brother is a covert thing, and if she knows, she overlooks that
weakness.

Alice takes a seat on the brick, and I move to her side, where I can gaze at
Edward unobserved. He wears a black leather jacket covering a gray, waffle-
weave thermal. His dark jeans are almost too long and the cuff is frayed, but not
torn. His hair is wild, as always, but the damp is making it heavy, and a piece of
it flops down over one eye. A hot breath of air pushes it up and out of the way,
but it falls right back down again.

I hear a gasp to my right and pull myself out of my head. Alice's mouth is caught
between a frown and a smile, as the blond boy from this morning exits the
cafeteria, an apple in the palm of his hand. Lauren Mallory begins her descent
from my left, all long legs and long hair, skinny t-shirt emphasizing her breasts,
which are bouncing with her steps. There's a trail of sweet-tart scent in her wake,
chemical fruit. Does she want them to bite her?

Alice whispers "no," and launches herself at the boy. Before he knows what's
happening, she's jumped up in his arms, her mouth leaving red ovals on his
cheek as she peppers it with kisses. I slide down from the brick wall and step
closer.

"You've been keeping me waiting," she says, as she straightens her legs and
slides down his body. Edward tenses next to me. He's never seen his baby sister
with a boy before. I guess he doesn't like it.

Alice slips her hand into his and pulls him forward. He follows, dumbstruck, and
Lauren watches, mouth open, as the two march past her on their way to us.

"Everyone, this is Jasper," she says, dropping his hand.

He stares at us all, then looks again at the small girl beside him.

"That was for your own good," she says. "Lauren was about to pounce, and I
don't think you want a social disease your first day at a new school, right?" The
blond boy glances across the quad at Lauren. She's caught seething and tries to
fake a smile, but we can all see that it's unreal. He turns back to us and it's
introductions all around. I watch Alice watching him, and I see something in her
that I've never seen before. The woman inside is budding. Under the blue eyes of
this boy, she will bloom.

.

I walked inside and took in the tableau before me. Alice, tiny Alice, lay swathed in
blankets, her arm bound with white gauze, an IV in her other hand. Jasper was
hunched over her, his head on her lap, his arms at her sides. Esme stood at her
head, stroking Alice's dark hair back from her pale, pale face. She had one hand
on Jasper's head as well, needing to touch them both, to confirm that they were
both still hers, safe. I identified with her need, the maternal urge to protect them
from this, and was surprised.

Esme looked up when I came in, her face brightening for just a moment before
she turned back to her frail daughter in the bed. Jasper looked up at me sleepily,
blinking several times before he fully took me in.

"Hi mama," he said, his mouth reaching for a grin but failing. I patted my belly
and gave him my own smile. I reached him quickly and he stood, his tall frame
unfolding like a butterfly from a chrysalis, until his arm swept around me, pulling
me close.

"Love you," I said, gripping him tight, fierce in my determination that everything
would be okay. They were our perfect couple. This moment was…baffling, for us
all.

He sighed, and answered, "you, too."

"The kids?" I asked, not seeing either Daisy or Huck in the waiting room.

"My mom," he answered. "She got here late last night."

I nodded against his chest, relieved that they were taken care of, relieved that he
could be free to be there with the part of his life that needed him the most. I
stepped back, slipping one hand into his.

Looking at him, I reached my hand up to cup his face, trying to wipe away the
wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He's only two years older than me, not even
thirty. He looked forty in that moment, grief and pain etching his face into a mask
that all but obscured the man that I'd grown up with.

Searching his eyes with mine, I tried to find answers. He shrugged, but didn't
drop my hand. So lost, he looked so lost. And weary. I squeezed his hand, then
left him to give Ali a kiss on the cheek.

She was too pale. Her lips were chapped, and a bag of clear liquid dripped into a
tube that ran down into her hand. In the silence, the machinery clicked and
whirred and beeped. I stared at the monitors, not knowing what to look for,
wishing for absolution from whatever it was that held her in its thrall.

We sat together for a while, Jasper holding my hand, holding her hand, Esme
stroking Alice's hair. We were a constellation, revolving around her. Carlisle
entered and studied the monitors, picking up her chart. I stood and went to him,
folding myself into his arms, breathing in the scent that belonged mostly to him
but a little bit to Edward too, some innate body chemistry riding on the Y set of
chromosomes of the Cullen men. Like Esme's eyes, it pierced me a little that day,
fresh off seeing Edward.

There was a time when it was difficult to be so close to Carlisle, to look Esme in
the eye. But that passed, and it had been a very long time since taking a breath
full of family brought me anything other than comfort.

"What can I do?" I asked.

He patted my stomach and smiled at me. "You're feeling okay?" he asked. I
smiled and nodded at him.

"I'm fine, I promise. What can I do?"

He shook his head, golden hair falling out of place, dipping over his dark blue
eyes. "We're hoping she'll be released tomorrow, the next day at the latest." He
looked at his daughter, a flicker of sorrow in his eyes, before he resumed his
doctor's veneer of professionalism.

"You, Miss Swan, can take care of yourself. You're carrying precious cargo."

I smiled at him but groaned inside. I was tired of carrying precious cargo, tired of
being told to take care of myself. It was frustrating. I was pregnant, not an
invalid. I remembered then why I enjoyed living in Seattle, far from the watchful
eyes of those who loved me best. The freedom started out intoxicating, but
quickly grew into something necessary. An addiction.

I hugged and kissed them all, and made my way with Esme back to the waiting
room. Rosalie and Emmett still hadn't been in to see Alice, and it was only fair.
They'd been there first.

As we approached the waiting room, I saw him. His back was to me. He looked
taller, his shoulders broader. It had to be a trick, he couldn't have grown in the
last six years, but he looked it anyway. Jeans clung to his hips, and he wore a
tan, button down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. How had I missed that
earlier? I swallowed him whole with my eyes, staring until Esme called out
"Edward!" and he turned and looked at us both.

He glanced at me, my stomach, then swooped Esme up in his arms. I returned to
my seat next to Rosalie, and watched as Edward and Esme exchanged urgent,
whispered words.

Rose leaned into me, asking how Alice was. What could I say to that? Same as
the last time? Better? "She's okay," I answered. "They'll let her go maybe
tomorrow." I looked up and saw Edward flick his eyes over me, so fast I almost
believed I'd imagined it.

I looked around the waiting area, searching for my handbag. It was tucked under
Emmett's chair. Leaning forward, I dragged it out, pawing through it for some
hand cream. Since I'd become pregnant, my skin was always so dry. You'd never
know I held an ocean within my stomach.

Rose looked at the bag, then me, then gasped, her hand covering her mouth.

"Oh my god – where will you stay?"

Now, that was an excellent question. I usually stayed with Rose and Emmett, but
when I met Jacob at the bakery, he told me about tearing out the side of their
guest room to put in a bay window, so that was definitely out. I couldn't stay at
Jasper and Alice's – his mom was in their guest room, although I would have
enjoyed having the kids around. At this point, it was looking like Charlie's couch,
since Seth had taken over my room when Sue moved in. I know that Seth would
have given up his bed, but…it was too strange, being back in that room after all
this time. Besides, despite the fact that he was over twenty years old, it smelled
like teen-aged boy in there, and I didn't think my new super senses could take it
for a whole night.

I smiled at Rosalie and shrugged. "Charlie's couch, I guess."

Edward whipped around to stare at me. "What?" he asked.

I steeled myself, then looked him in the eye. "I usually stay with Rose-" I started,
before he cut me off.

"You're not staying with Jacob?" He spat Jacob's name.

"No, why would I-"

"I should have fucking known," he said, his face contorting into a sneer.

"Edward!" Esme's eyes widened as she stared at her son. "This is your father's
place of business," she said, her voice low and angry. "You will behave."

I stared at him, eyes wide. What the hell was he talking about? Did he think…?

He looked me over, eyes raking over my body, then landed on my feet. I'd kicked
off my flats the minute I sat down. At six months pregnant, my feet were already
swelling.

"Barefoot and pregnant in Forks. I somehow expected better of you, Bella." His
eyes were dark with anger. What the hell was he talking about? Better than
what?

"That's about e-fucking-nough," Emmett said, rising from his chair to stand over
Edward. "You're out of line."

Edward glared up at Emmett, jaw locked.

My lip trembled and I felt a fat tear rolling down my cheek. He'd been back in
town for, what? A hour? And I was already crying. It was a mistake to be there,
but I couldn't go back now. And this was my family too. He's the one who'd
walked away from us all. I was the one who'd made a point of being there, for
them. They were my family too.

I bent my face, furious and embarrassed, and Rosalie pulled me close, whispering
about what an ass Edward was and not to give him the time of day.

"What can you expect, anyway?" she asked. "He all but abandoned his family for
the last six years and then comes walking in here like he knows us." Her whisper
was low but fierce.

My breath trembled in my lungs, then pushed out in a single sob. Fucking
pregnant lady hormones.

"No, no, no," Rose cooed, dropping to her knees to look me in the face. "Come
on, sweetie, we can check you into the hotel, it'll be fine. Come on, we'll go now
and I'll run you a bath." She peered up at me, her eyes hopeful, pleading.

The absurdity of the situation struck me and I coughed a laugh. Rosalie Hale
McCarty, the toughest bitch in three states, was on her knees, pleading with me.
She looked up at me, hopeful.

"I'm sorry, Rose. Yes, the hotel's fine," I said, relieved to not have to take
Charlie's couch. "I don't know why I didn't think of it myself."

"Nonsense," Esme said. "Bella, dear, you'll stay with us. Our guest room is empty
and I would really enjoy the company." Edward gaped at her, stared at me, then
gaped at her again. Fishmouth, I thought, then frowned. I didn't want to think
about things like that, not now.

"I don't know, Esme," I said, my eyes darting to Edward before I could stop
them.

"Bella, don't be silly," she said. "We have plenty of room and I'm not taking no
for an answer." She smiled at me, then turned to her son. "Edward, I think now
would be a good time for you to see Alice, don't you?" He stared at her, then me
again, shook his head and left.

"Rosalie, Emmett," she said. "I'm sure Jasper would appreciate seeing you both. I
expect you'll be over for dinner tonight? I think a visit would do you all some
good." She phrased it as a question, but it was clearly a command.

"Of course," Emmett said. "We'd love to be there." He hugged me close, then
held Rosalie's hand.

"Rest, Bella," Rose commanded. "A nice warm bath. Did you bring the lavender
bubble bath I sent you? I have more at home, I can bring it tonight."

"Rose, stop. I'm fine. I'll rest. Don't worry."

She smiled at me and followed Emmett out.

As they left, I turned to Esme.

"Thank you, Esme, but really, I don't want to be any trouble. You already have
Edward staying there."

"Bella, you're family. It's no trouble at all. Just…." she paused. "Have a little
patience, Bella. He's been gone a long time." She looked down at my stomach
and I knew what she was saying was true. I didn't like it, but it was true.

.

.

Chapter 2 – Lovers in the Garden: Budding

.

.

Los Angeles, some other lifetime ago:

Stepping out of her car, she felt the warm evening settle around her. It was a
stark contrast to the too cold air conditioning of her car, and the too cold forced
air of her office. She'd spent the day bathed in cold, and the heat of the Los
Angeles evening was a welcome shift. As the warm fingers of air worked their
way in through her clothes, she began to relax. Moving onto the sidewalk, she
walked toward his house.

It was small and pink and otherwise almost indistinguishable from the others on
his street. The butterflies returned as she opened the waist-high gate that led to
his front door. Oh, God, what if this was a mistake? What if he was only trying to
be nice, and didn't really want to be bothered by her, practically a child still, but
pretending with all of her might to be oh, so grown up. What if he wished she
hadn't come? She swallowed and bent her head, studying her feet as they carried
her forward.

She slipped up the steps to his front door. It was solid and wooden, with three
panes of glass laid into the center in a staggered pattern. Before she could raise
her hand to knock, there was a dark flicker behind the glass and then he was
there, in front of her upraised hand, in front of her eyes, tanned and beautiful,
more beautiful than she'd remembered. Her mouth popped open for a second as
she stared, until he broke into his signature slanted smile.

"Looks like you survived your first day," he said, opening the door wider for her.

Her mouth snapped closed as a smile broke free on her face. She had so wanted
to play this cool, to be casual and worldly with him, but she couldn't. His smile
invoked her own, every time, and like a fool, she grinned, as he reached for her
hand and led her into his home.

The moment he touched her though, the smile fled her face, chased away by the
blush that began in the pit of her stomach and snaked ever upward until it
flushed across her cheeks, making her feel like an unsophisticated child again, so
eager to please him in any way.

"This is nice," she said, her back to him as he closed the door behind her.

The room, in fact, was not nice. I was sparsely furnished with thrift store décor,
chipped coffee table and worn couch, a bookshelf made of cinderblocks and
planks of wood. She had a hard time imagining him comfortable here. His world
has always been so pristine, immaculate. She wondered if he'd had the entire
place fumigated and steam cleaned before he'd accepted the lease.

He chuckled as he watched her inventory his home, her eyes belying the thoughts
behind her words.

"It's kind of a dive, actually," he said. "But the rent's cheap and it's close to
campus. Come on, I'm making dinner." He tugged her hand into his again, and
walked her past the dingy couch and the built-in glass curio, which housed a
collection of books, some fountain pens and welled ink, and what looked like a
flute, but she couldn't be certain; she didn't have enough time to look.

"So, how long are you here for?" he asked, as he pulled her into the kitchen. It
was tiny, the space made smaller by the two-person table tucked into the corner.
She cocked her head at it, noticing the plates and napkins already laid out. There
was a water glass holding a handful of geranium blooms, pilfered, she guessed,
from a bush somewhere nearby. Their red blossoms exploded against the dull
white paint of the wall. It took her a moment to recognize what she saw, to name
it: he was making an effort. For her.

"Uhm, twelve weeks," she said. "My, uh, internship is over in ten, but, uh, I don't
go back until mid-August."

"Oh," he answered.

She turned to look at him and saw that he was watching her. His eyes flicked
away almost before she caught him, and then he turned his attention to the
stove.

"So, ah, there's beer in the fridge," he said, the words trailing up at the end, like
a question. "There's sodas or…wine." He peeked under the lid of a pot, poked at it
with a fork, then closed it again. The poof of steam from his peek sent a waft of
warm, almost popcorn scented air toward her.

"Basmati rice?" she asked.

He turned and smiled at her. "Yeah, do you like it?"

She nodded and as her brain caught up with her eyes, she realized what she'd
been seeing in the five minutes since she'd walked into his house: he was eager.
The thought registered, producing a flutter in her chest and making her stomach
clench. The blush returned and she looked down at her feet again, trying to
escape his gaze.

"What are you drinking?" she asked, walking toward the refrigerator.

"Ahm…" he paused a moment, pouring dark oil into a hot pan. "I'll have a beer,"
he said.

There was a six pack of Tsing Tao on the shelf and she pulled out two, scanning
the battered white fridge for an opener.

"I need-"

"Here," he said, pressing the metal church key into her hand.

She flicked the tops off of the green bottles and looked around the kitchen.

"Up there," he said, nodding toward a narrow cabinet to his left.

She stood next to him and leaned up, on tip toes, trying to reach the pint glasses.
Something sizzled to her right and the smell of sesame oil, ginger and garlic filled
the air. Stir fry.

Her fingertips glanced off the glass and she arched, stretching further.

"Let me," he said and moved behind her, pressing against her to reach the glass.
Her body responded, growing heated and rigid at the contact, her heart pounding
and her breath held, silent.

She heard, and felt, the shaky gasp of breath from him, pressing his chest further
against her back. Her body released its tension, her arched wrist sagging against
the cabinet, her back pushing against his chest until there was no more space
between them. Her head rested beneath his chin and she slowly lowered herself
back onto her heels, her body flush with his. She felt his head dip down next to
hers, felt his nose stroke against her ear, as he breathed her in, taking her into
his lungs, and her spine danced with energy, excitement.

He breathed her name against her ear, a rough whisper full of need, then nudged
it again with his nose before dipping down to place a light trail of kisses from her
earlobe to the crook of her neck. Her hands fell to the counter as he placed one
hand on her waist, the other in her hair, sweeping it off her neck. He kissed, then
nipped, then licked the sensitive skin, then blew on it, producing a bloom of
goose bumps across her skin.

His hand snaked up her side, around her front, pulling her tight to him, pressing
her hips into his thighs before wrapping his other arm around her waist. She
sighed as his hand ran up her body, over the flat of her stomach, brushing
roughly over her breast, his fingertips burrowing under the V-neck of her shirt,
his palm coming to rest over her heart. He had to feel it pounding and for the life
of her, she couldn't bring herself to care. What mattered was this…connection.
His skin against hers, his mouth on her flesh, all of it. Him.

He held her there and she trembled, swallowed. If she turned around, there
would be no going back, she knew that. If she turned around, he would possess
her, body and soul, heart and mind. She would abandon herself to him, make a
house of herself for his shelter, make a meal of herself for his hunger.

If he discarded her, she would be lost. If he didn't…it would be worth it.

She pressed her hand to the counter and pushed back against him. She turned
around.

.

.

Chapter 3

But Where is Home?

.

.

Fall in Forks is a lot like every other season – cool and damp, with moments of
sunshine that startled you out of your daydreams and into the moment as the
warmth played across your skin. Leaving the hospital parking lot, I noticed that
the sun was refusing to shine. And who would blame it? I thought of Alice, small
and white in the hospital bed, and appreciated the lack of blue skies.

Esme's request that I stay with the Cullens was really more of an order, but I
wasn't quite ready to head over there. Instead, I found myself driving through
the streets of Forks, reminiscing about high school days, thinking about how
different everything was back then. There was the library, where I'd met Alice.
The park that had seen every 4th of July celebration, every salmon bake, and the
occasional failed attempts at ice blocking. The baseball diamond with its metal
bleachers, our boys muddy from playing in the rain. And in the marrow of all of it,
Edward.

I thought that the only thing that hadn't changed was Emmett and Rosalie. They
were still as much in love as they'd been back in high school. It was a hopeful
thing, seeing them so happy for so long. But then, I supposed seeing Alice and
Jasper together was a hopeful thing too. No matter how tough things got, the two
of them plugged away. I don't know how he did it. A lesser man would have been
long gone, and probably taken the kids with him. But Jasper – he was resilient,
and relentless. He would never stop fighting her demons.

I thought about Edward, how angry he'd been at the hospital. He could barely
even look at me, his disgust apparent. I didn't understand what I'd done to earn
his enmity, and I was angry at myself for the way that just looking at him could
make me feel like an awkward, bumbling teenager again. I was an adult woman
who made my own decisions and accepted their consequences. Who was he to
judge me? At least he wasn't going to be in town forever.

I turned onto the road that would lead me to Charlie's house. I wasn't ready to go
back to Esme's just yet. Edward would be there. I wanted to gather my strength
before facing him again.

.

I arrived at Charlie's and found Seth home. I grinned at my 'baby brother,'
shocked again at how much of a man he'd become. Not long after I'd relocated to
Seattle, Charlie and Sue had a small back-yard wedding, formalizing a
relationship that we all knew was years old, but that they'd kept quiet,
nonetheless. Seth and Sue moved in with Charlie, and Leah kept the house on
the Res.

I looked into the living room from the entry way. Charlie's big screen stood front
and center, and against the back wall was the back killer: a slightly ratty green
couch that Charlie'd had for over a decade. I didn't understand how Sue could
stand to let him keep it, but, I figured it was her home to run. It wasn't my
responsibility any longer.

Seth gave my hair a tug and I turned and smiled at him. He stood a few inches
shorter than Jake, but still towered over me. His shiny black hair and brown skin
made them look like brothers, and in a way, I guess they were. They were my
brothers. Two men that I knew I could count on, always, no matter what.

"Bella!" he yelled, then picked me up into a bear hug. "Haven't seen you in
weeks! How are you?"

I squealed and then popped up to kiss his cheek, noticing that his skin was warm,
like Jacob's.

"I'm good. I'm fat, but good." I smiled. I don't think he understood my decision
to have the baby, but, in the end it didn't matter. He'd supported me, fully. I
found myself wishing again that Charlie felt the same way.

"How long are you in town for?" he questioned, then drew back, the corners of
his mouth pulling down. "Are you staying here?"

I laughed. "Don't worry, kid, I'm not after your bed. I'm staying with the
Cullens."

His features relaxed and the broad smile returned.

"Good. That couch is hecka uncomfortable."

I laughed and gave him a light slug to the arm.

"What are you doing home now, anyway?" I asked, trying to prolong the
inevitable trek to the Cullens.

He shrugged. "No classes today."

"How's that going?" I asked. He shrugged and smiled.

After graduation, he'd spent a few years bouncing around – working construction,
doing some auto body work, a little bit of everything. Finally Jake convinced him
to take advantage of the multiple scholarship opportunities and at least try going
to community college. Charlie and Sue were happy to let him live at home, rent
free, until he was ready to transfer to UW. Although things hadn't gotten that far,
he knew he could shack up in my spare bedroom once he transferred. I didn't
want him worrying about money if he was serious about school.

"So what brings you back to Forks?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Alice is…in the hospital."

The smile fell from his face. "Again? That sucks, Bells."

"Yeah." We both stared at our feet for a minute.

"What happened this time?" he asked.

I shrugged and sat down on the couch. "I guess she's been off her meds for a
while now. She had some kind of…freak out and threw a bottle of perfume at the
mirror. There was glass everywhere and some of it ended up in her arm." That
was the official story, anyway. The one that would keep her out of another 3-day
psych eval lockdown. If Carlisle was willing to lie about it, Charlie was willing to
believe it.

Seth was silent, drawing his own conclusions. Formal education or not, the kid
was bright.

"Hey," he said, his voice brightening. "I just got Mario Party and I don't have
anyone to play with. You up for a game?" His face shone with eager excitement.
How could I say no?

An hour later, I stood up from the couch, stretching my back. God, there was no
way I'd be able to spend a night on that thing. My back made rude noises, and
my body disapproved, yet my heart felt lighter. The stress I'd been carrying,
heavy weight in my throat, had evaporated under the manic pace and
competition of the game.

"You heading out?" he asked.

"Yeah, I want to make dinner, and stop by the station to see Charlie. I know he's
covering the night shift."

"Okay," he said, his voice colored with disappointment.

"I'll be back tomorrow," I said, raising an eyebrow to him. "You'll be around?"

"Not until later –after three."

"Okay then," I said. "Let's plan on dinner. Make sure your mom's here, maybe
invite Jake?"

Seth's face lit up. Despite being a full grown man, Seth still looked at Jake as a
hero, and Jacob encouraged it. As heroes go, Seth could have done a lot worse.
Jacob was not just encouraging Seth to go to school, he'd also promised him a
summer job at Black, Limited – Jacob's construction firm.

"Okay," he said. "Yeah. I'll call Jake."

I smiled, then held my arms open for a hug. "See you tomorrow, then."

.

A quick stop at the store and an even quicker visit with Charlie found me winding
up the gravel path to the Cullen's home. I didn't see Esme's Audi sedan, so I
wasn't sure who, if anyone, would be home.

I knocked, and when no one answered, I let myself in using the key that Esme
had given me years ago. When Alice adopted me as her best friend, I hadn't
understood what that came with. My mother left Charlie and me when I was
eight. The Cullens moved here that summer, and Alice and I become fast friends
within days.

Sunlight laces through the trees, dappling the sidewalk in front of me like an
Appaloosa's hide. Charlie dropped me off at the library and I have a whole hour
to myself before he'll pick me back up. I want to find a quiet corner and finish my
book, but I know I have to choose new ones as well. It's summer and I have so
much more time to read.

I chose three books, and then two more from the Young Adults section. I don't
know if the librarian will let me check them out, but they look interesting and I've
already read most of the books in the kid's section. I take my bounty to the
corner and get lost, knowing that Charlie will find me when it's time to leave.

I thumb over the page of my book, breathless. Will Karana spear the devilfish?
I'm nervous that she'll be hurt. My eyes are flying over the page when a girl sits
down next to me. She is small, maybe a few years younger than me, with a
pretty face and a pixie cut. I'm jealous. When Renee was here, she wouldn't let
me cut my hair short, and Charlie hasn't taken me for a trim all summer. I don't
think he knows he's supposed to.

"Whatcha reading?" she asks, setting a pile of books down into her lap. She
wears a blue dress with daisies embroidered on the front, and I want to reach my
finger out to touch them. They look real.

I fold over the cover of my book. "Island of the Blue Dolphins," I say. Her eyes go
big, so blue they're almost violet, and she says "Oh! Did you get to the part with
the devilfish yet?" I look at her again, and realize my assessment was off. She is
not a younger girl, only a smaller girl.

"I'm just there now," I say and she smiles, two rows of even white teeth, except
for one near the front, which is missing. I smile back with my own toothless grin.
"Want to read with me?" I ask, and she nods her head and half lies on my lap. I
hold out the book so that we can both see it. We finish the chapter and sigh in
unison.

"I'm Alice," she says, picking herself up from off of my lap. "Want to be best
friends?" she asks, and I don't have to think. Friend is a strained word in my
mouth, a word of failure, though I try. Perhaps if there were other children in our
neighborhood, or perhaps if my mother hadn't forgotten to take me to Jessica's
birthday party, or maybe if I didn't like books so much, I would have learned
better to play with the others instead of retreating to corners, my head filled with
adventures, girls my age or just a little bit older, doing extraordinary things.

.

The Cullens were the most supportive of anyone about my pregnancy, with
Carlisle holding my hand at every bump along the way, and Esme tending to me,
all motherly concern. I couldn't have asked for more, from either. Sometimes I
felt I deserved less.

I carried the paper bags into the kitchen, then retrieved my overnight bag. As I
hit the stairs leading to the third floor, I wondered again if I could talk them into
installing an elevator. Probably not, but it didn't hurt to dream.

Approaching the door of the guest room, I heard faint sounds of music coming
from Edward's bedroom. I closed my eyes and felt myself getting sucked right
back to high school, when I would sleep over almost every other night, creeping
to my bed late, knowing I'd be exhausted the next day and knowing it would all
be worth it, because I'd be sleeping just feet away from Edward Cullen.

Ali and I would hang around the house, me clicking photos with my camera or
toying with photo enhancement programs on Alice's laptop, all the while trying to
watch Edward as he came and went, living his older, much more glamorous life.
Everyone knew I had a crush on Edward, and I was grateful that no one called
me out on it. I'd never have been able to live down the embarrassment.

Most of the time, Alice would hang out, painting her nails, talking to Jasper on the
phone, or reading fashion magazines. For her birthday one year I'd Photoshopped
a dozen pictures of her wearing high couture, her head almost seamlessly grafted
onto the bodies of the models, then had them printed out on glossy magazine
paper. She'd screamed and laughed when she opened the gift, and a few of the

photos still hung on the wall of her "room," which Esme had turned into an office
years ago.

At night though, when we went to bed, I would sit up against the door of the
guest room and listen as music filtered out from behind the closed door of
Edward's room. Sometimes it was classic rock, sometimes classical, and
sometimes stuff I'd never heard before. Edward Cullen was inadvertently
responsible for my eclectic taste in music, because if he played it, I bought it. I
always wondered what he would have made of my CD collection when we were in
high school, if he'd ever discovered it.

I'd been crushed when he left for college in Los Angeles. Every time he came
home for a break, I'd manage to be there, hanging around, his kid sister's best
friend. I'd always wondered if he'd known how crazy about him I was, but if he
did, he never let on. Still, there were nights when Alice was up in her room with
Jasper, or on the phone with him, and Edward and I would find ourselves alone,
and he'd talk to me.

Sometimes he'd play his piano and let me sit and listen, but mostly we talked
about…everything. Music, a lot of the time, but sometimes we'd talk about the
books we'd read, or current events. He never talked down to me, or treated me
like I was too young to know what I was talking about. His kindness only served
to lure me further under his spell.

"I should get to bed," I'd say, knowing it was the last thing in the world I wanted.
"You don't need some kid hanging around."

"I don't mind," he'd say, then play a few notes on the piano.

"What's that?" I'd ask, and then he would answer, and an hour later I'd still be
there, rapt as he played a bit of a song before stopping to tell me about its
history. I ate it up, too. I could tell you that Chevy Chase was a drummer in the
band that eventually became Steely Dan, that Nietzsche considered himself a
better philosopher because of Carmen, and that Bach had twenty children by two
different wives.

Once in a great while, Edward would touch me. His thigh would press against
mine as we sat on the bleachers, watching Jasper play baseball. His hand would
tug at mine, leading me along as we went through the haunted mansion that the
Stanley's put up every year for Halloween. Once or twice, he'd put his arm
around my shoulders, pulling me in close when I'd shivered with cold at a football
game, or while picking out Christmas trees on the lot that the local Boy Scouts
ran. And each time, every time, it was like flipping a switch. My entire body would
come alive, every nerve standing at attention, longing for more contact, more of
his body against mine, more of his heat, his scent. Him.

There was no way I could seek him out, try to make him mine, but I could play
those moments when he touched me over and over in my mind, my skin recalling
the sensation and bursting into goose bumps again, just at the thought. I'd never
felt anything like it before or since.

I breathed deep, trying to place the music I was hearing through his door. I was
pretty sure he was listening to Chopin, which meant he was upset. He never
played Chopin unless he was trying to calm down. Or, at least he never used to. I
needed to start reconciling myself to the fact that Edward Cullen was no longer
the boy I used to know. I hadn't seen him in six years. Things change.

I pushed the thought away and went downstairs to make dinner. I couldn't do
much to help with Alice, but at least I could save Esme the trouble of feeding the

crew she'd invited for dinner. I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen,
donning the spare apron that Esme kept in the pantry for me. Holidays were my
favorite time to cook in their kitchen, but when I still lived in Forks, she and I had
shared dinner duty more than once.

Two hours later, Esme had arrived, Edward was still locked in his room, and
Emmett and Rose had called to say they were on their way.

I pulled the chicken out of the roasting pan and set it on the serving tray,
covering it in foil. The roasted carrots, potatoes and onions went into a separate
dish, and I strained the drippings for gravy while rolls baked in the oven. Being
pregnant meant eating like a queen every damn day of the week, if that's what I
wanted. It was the one part of the pregnancy that I was really enjoying. Well,
that and the ice cream. There was no question that the ice cream was an
excellent perk.

"Oh my god, that smells amazing," Emmett called, as he walked through the
front door. He bent to give Esme a hug, then picked me up and swung me
around.

"Rosemary roasted chicken with lemon," I said. "My specialty." I grinned at them,
knowing that the meal would be heavenly.

"You're doing too much," Rosalie scolded, taking the whisk from my hand and
stirring the gravy.

"Shut it," I answered. "You know the doctor said it was good for me to keep my
normal routines. Besides, I hardly did anything – the oven did all the work."

Rosalie cocked an eyebrow at me, stared at the pan, then handed the whisk back
to me.

"You know I don't know what I'm doing," she said, before pulling a carton of Ben
and Jerry's Phish Food out of her handbag. "But I do know how to pamper my
girl."

I grinned at her, took the spoon that Emmett offered and scooped a not so
smallish bite into my mouth. "Heaven," I sighed, then put the container away in
the freezer. No matter what happened tonight, at least Ben and Jerry would be
there to comfort me.

I finished up the gravy while Emmett and Rosalie carried things to the dining
room and Esme set the table.

I walked out, carrying the chicken and noted only four places were set. I
shrugged. I guessed Edward wouldn't be joining us after all. I turned to Esme
with a question on my face and saw Edward appear behind her.

His jaw dropped as he took in the feast on the table. He stared at me and I
realized that without even thinking about it, I'd made his favorite meal. His eyes
flicked to mine and I gave him a small smile. Would he take it as a peace
offering? Did he deserve one?

Emmett was the first to break the silence. "I'll go get another place setting," he
said, turning back toward the kitchen.

"Wait," Esme called. "I'm actually heading back to the hospital. But you four stay,
and enjoy this beautiful dinner. It smells just delicious, Bella." As a group, we
watched her walk to the foyer, take her coat from the closet and put it on.

"I think you all have a lot to talk about," she said, before turning and leaving.

Wow. Sucker punched by Esme Cullen. Could this day get any worse?

We all moved in silence to the table and watched as Emmett carved the chicken.
We passed dishes back and forth, everyone afraid to be the first to speak. Until,
that is, Emmett took his first forkful of food.

"Hot damn, Bella, you know how to cook. This is…amazing." He popped a potato
into his mouth, groaning again as he chewed.

Rosalie smiled over at me, picking at the food on her plate. I was glad that
Edward was sitting next to me. I didn't want to see his face.

I chewed a bite of chicken, then dipped a potato into the lemony gravy. Rosalie
was watching every move I made, and every time I glanced at Edward, he was
staring at the couple across from him.

I took a sip of milk and he finally broke the tension.

"So," he said. "Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

.

.

Chapter 4: Lovers in the Garden – Blooming

.

.

Some other lifetime ago, in Los Angeles...

He stared into her eyes, searching. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low and
thick. "You don't…."

She nodded, her breath already a pant. "I do," she whispered. "I want…." Her
voice trailed off, she was unsure how to finish her sentence. She
wanted…everything. She felt like she was breaking apart, there under his gaze,
trapped between his arms, the hard edges of the countertop pressing into her
back. Couldn't he see it all over her? How she'd counted the minutes, the
seconds, the days? All in the hope of only seeing him again. And now this, him, it
was so much more than she'd expected but it was what she wanted.

Before she could try to find the words to explain her want, he was there, his
mouth a whisper against hers, the slightest, softest brush of his lips. She held her
breath, the fire inside already burning her up when he pressed harder, his mouth
urgent, telegraphing his own want, his own need. She felt her body become a
fluid contradiction as her muscles relaxed against him, while inside, she became
taut, a tight wire of anticipation.

He licked at her lips and she opened them, her tongue immediately seeking his,
feeling the connection pitch through her body. Just like before, she thought, it's
just like before. Except that it wasn't, it was better because this time she was
certain, she was confident. She didn't fumble. This time she knew what she was
doing.

He held his hands on her hips, stooping just a little to get to her mouth, before
putting one arm around her to crush her to him. She moaned and he swallowed

it, before burying a hand in her hair, his fingers at the back of her neck, then
cupping her head to his. She broke the kiss first, panting a rough gasp against his
cheek. He held her there, tilting her head so that he could kiss her neck, bending
further to lick at her collar bones, sucking a little at the hollow of her throat.

She took his cue and turned her head, her tongue slipping out to taste the skin at
his neck, salty and laced with smoke, like his scent. He picked her up and set her
on the counter and she sucked at the soft skin just behind his ear. His voice was
a whisper, chanting over and over and she pulled away from him to hear what he
was saying.

"Missyou Imissedyousomuch mygod Icouldn'tstandit I'vemissedyousomuch."

She couldn't breathe. It couldn't be right. He'd missed her? Missed her?

Her mouth sought his, hungry to taste him again, taste the words from his mouth
and yet even as she wondered at it she knew it was right. Of course he'd missed
her, like she'd missed him, every cell in her body, every muscle, every nerve.
She'd missed him to the marrow, needing to feel him against her again, his
mouth, his flesh, see his heart in his eyes, giving her his love.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up, drawing him in closer
and they both groaned as he pressed against her, hot with wanting him. "God,"
he whispered. "You're so-"

"It's you," she said, biting back a moan. "You do it. Only you."

His kiss became a crushing thing, brutal, consuming and she arched to him,
giving herself up to his hunger. Her head lolled back; she was dizzy with his need
for her, and she felt his teeth, hard and sharp against her neck.

"You don't know what you do to me," he said. She pulsed her hips against his,
feeling her effect on him. He groaned and his fingers became hard on her hip,
digging in, pulling her closer still.

"Baby," he said. "Fuck."

She cut him off with a kiss, her fingers moving across his chest, sliding against
his cheek, smooth under her palm. She wove her fingers into his hair, that wild
mess that she'd only touched once before, but in exactly the same way: with her
mouth on his, his body against hers. She moved her fingers to unbutton his shirt
when the scent of burning oil finally broke through her haze. He smelled it too,
acrid and sharp, and they broke the kiss, each looking over to the stove. The oil
shimmered in the pan, while blackened bits of garlic and ginger sizzled and
smoked. They looked back at each other, giggling like children caught making a
mess and he stepped away from her to twist the knobs on the stove to off.

"Take out?" he asked, the half smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

She hopped down from the counter and shook her head, then ran a finger from
his Adam's apple down to the last open button of his shirt, hooking her finger
inside and pulling him back down to her mouth. He kissed her once again, his
mouth still curved into a smile, his lips just brushing hers. He stood back and she
watched the fire in his eyes, the happiness there. He took her hand in his and
tugged, leading her to his bedroom. It was the only place she wanted to be.

At last, his bedroom looked like him. There was a wall of music, CD's and some
records, and there were prints of famous paintings covering his walls. The
bedding was dark grays and blues, bleeding into violet, and the entire room

seemed to welcome her, from the thick, plush rug on the floor to the spray of
white blossoms held in a juice a glass on the nightstand. He caught her staring at
them and smiled.

"Just in case," he said. "I'd hoped-"

"So did I," she answered, keeping her gaze level on his as she reached for the
buttons of his shirt again. When she was done it hung open, revealing a swath of
his chest and she ran her fingers down it, feeling his stomach muscles contract
under her touch.

"So beautiful," she whispered.

"No," he said. "You." His fingers found the hem of her shirt and then they found
their way under it. She gasped at his touch and the half smile came back to the
corner of his mouth. She remembered that from last time too – his excitement at
her responses, the cocksure grin that sent her stomach fluttering with desire. It
was in that smile that she surrendered, as he pulled her down onto the bed.

.

.

Chapter 5

Surrounded by the Sound

.

.

"So," Edward said. "Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

He startled me and I almost spat my milk out. Instead, I swallowed and choked a
little and he moved to pat me on the back. I flinched from his touch and he drew
his hand away, his face red.

Rosalie glared at him and Emmett watched her, then me, then Rosalie again.

"Shit," he said. "You know, you were supposed to come home for Esme's birthday
months ago."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Edward asked.

"Well, if you'd been there, we wouldn't be having this awkward as fuck
conversation now," Emmett replied. "But since you decided to pussy out on your
own mom's birthday, after you fucking promised you'd be here, well, here we
are."

"Pussy out? What the fuck, Emmett?"

"Yeah, pussy out. You know, you're never fucking here. Look, man, I get it. You
got an awesome job offer and moved to Italy to take it. Nobody faults you for
that – you followed your dream. But life here fucking moved on, and you can't
fault us for that. Things change."

"Are you fucking guilt tripping me now? Because I had the audacity to get the
fuck out of Forks?"

Emmett glared at Edward. I could see Em trying to get his temper back under
control, but I knew that this argument was a long time coming.

"Seriously, Emmett?" Edward asked. "I'm sorry if I didn't meet the love of my life
at Forks High, and I'm sorry if I went to off to get a fucking life away from here,
but where the fuck do you get off-"

"Dammit, Edward, you were best man at my fucking wedding and in the last five,
six years, I've hardly heard from you. You never come home to visit. Do you have
any idea what you're doing to Esme? And Alice and Jasper, do you know what
they live with, what they've been through?"

"Don't you fucking talk to me about my family. I know-"

I watched their argument escalate, both men growing red in the face, each
pushing the other's buttons. This was wrong. Edward's homecoming was not
supposed to be like this. Weren't things screwed up enough? How much more
could their family take?

I felt the tears begin to well in my eyes again, heartbroken for all of us.

"Shut up! Both of you." Rosalie's words were sharp with venom. I looked up at
her, my vision blurry with tears.

"Bella doesn't need any more stress today," Rosalie continued, her tone less
severe, but steely. "Edward, what I think my husband is trying to say is that
you've missed a lot over the last few years. It's obvious that Esme wanted us to
clear the air tonight, so if you two can keep your tempers in check, I'd like to
explain some things to you."

She stared at him, her face a mask of cool determination. He nodded, then stared
at his plate, toying with his fork.

"Did anyone tell you that I was in the hospital about a year and half ago?" she
asked. Edward looked up at her, surprise all over his face. Emmett scooted his
chair closer to her, taking her hand in his.

"We've been trying to have a baby since, well, since before the honeymoon," she
said. After about a year we went to the doctor and they found that one of my
ovaries wasn't working the way it was supposed to. It really reduced my ability to
get pregnant. But, we went through some treatments, a lot of tests and shots
and pills," she smiled. "I think Emmett deserves the man of the year award for
putting up with me that year. It was…quite a rollercoaster." Rosalie's face
softened a little.

"I wasn't ready to talk about it. I felt…ashamed, and…embarrassed. It's the one
thing I'm supposed to be able to do, you know?" She looked up at Edward and his
face was soft with sympathy, the little crinkle between his eyes showing his
concern.

"Of course, that meant Emmett couldn't talk about it either. It was very
isolating."

Emmett reached over to squeeze her shoulder, planting a rough kiss on her
cheek.

"Don't let her fool you – she was great. You wouldn't believe the stuff the doctors
put her through, and she just took it all in stride." He kissed her cheek again and
Rosalie met his eyes, the two of them sharing a private moment.

She turned back to Edward. "Despite the dire predictions, I managed to get
pregnant. Our home test came back positive. We thought…we thought it was our
miracle." Rosalie drew a deep breath and leaned her head against Emmett's
shoulder. I reached across the table to take her hand and gave it a squeeze.

She smiled at me, then continued. "It turned out to be an ectopic pregnancy. I
lost the baby and a fallopian tube. That's when the doctors told me that I
shouldn't try to have children, that I couldn't carry one to term."

Edward's mouth tightened into a grimace. "My god, Rose, I'm so sorry."

She offered him a small smile. "Thank you. The news was really hard on us and
we struggled with what to do next. We thought about adoption, but the waiting
list was so long, and even then, there are no guarantees. The expense…." She
shrugged.

We thought about becoming foster parents but…I'm selfish. There's no way I'd be
able to give a child back to parents who abused or neglected them. I just
couldn't.

"Finally, one of my coworkers suggested surrogacy." She glanced up at me and
Emmett beamed, holding my eyes with his. I couldn't help but smile back at him,
feeling genuinely happy for the first time all day. We were so caught up in our
little love fest that we'd all but forgotten that Edward was there, hearing this all
for the first time.

"You're-" he started, looking over at me. "You're their surrogate?" His face
worked through emotions as he tried to comprehend what we were telling him.

I smiled and nodded. No matter what had happened in the past or what might
come in the future, I was proud of my decision to help. Certainly nothing Edward
Cullen thought or said was going to change that.

"It took us some time, but, finally we all agreed that it was the right decision. I
know it's…unconventional. But-"

"Unfuckingbelievable." Edward stood, tossed his napkin on the table and turned
away.

"Great dinner," he said, before storming up the stairs. A moment later, we heard
a door slam from the top level of the house.

Rose, Emmett and I all released a breath.

Rosalie turned to look at me, then Emmett. "Okay," she said. "So that went well."

I sat in the kitchen at two am, scooping bite after bite of Rosalie's Phish Food into
my mouth. The night had been a total disaster. Emmett helped me pack up the
leftovers while Rosalie did the dishes. I hadn't really considered how Edward
might react, but I certainly hadn't anticipated that. What the hell was he so
pissed off about?

I found myself searching my memories, trying to uncover the enigma that was
Edward Cullen.

The music is so inviting, I can't resist. I pull my portfolio over and huddle against
the wall just outside of the music room, listening to him play. I run my tongue
over my teeth, feeling the smooth enamel for the hundredth time today. My
braces came off this morning and my mouth feels foreign, like I'm feeling

someone else's mouth with my tongue, a stranger's, slick and smooth. Ha. I
blush at myself. I have never been kissed.

I flip through the images of the day before: the boys were playing baseball and
they are central to each frame, in turn focused, intent, smiling, concerned. I've
grown up stretching my neck back to see into their faces, each of them tall, none
of them noticing me, unless of course, it is as a target for their teasing, or their
protection.

Many of the photos came out well, and I am pleased that my birthday gift has
been well used and not wasted. I sort through the glossy prints, unaware that I
am humming and then singing along with the music, until the beautiful boy at the
piano strikes a discordant note and my voice filters out into the still air.

"I didn't know you knew that," he said.

"Fleetwood Mac," I answer. "Renee really loved that album."

He cocks his head at me. "Most people only know the Eva Cassidy version."

I shrug, and pull my eyes back to the prints. I don't want to stare at the piano
man.

No, that's not true. I just don't want to get caught.

He runs his fingers over the keys and it sounds like a tickle. I smile to myself, my
head bent low over my lap.

"Try this," he says. His voice is low, and I lift my eyes to his again as he plays.

"I've the face of a sinner, but the hands of a priest," I hum, my voice barely
audible.

He smiles. "C'mere."

So I do. And for minute upon glorious minute, that all stacked up would be no
more than an hour, I sit beside him on the bench. Sometimes his thigh brushes
mine, and sometimes his arm, and each time that it happens there's a hot
current running through my body, racing to inform every nerve ending – he's
here, he's touched her, rejoice!

He continues to play me songs, this and that, all pop songs, trying to stump me. I
guess many of them, but a few, I miss.

He launches into a Beatles tune, plucking at the keys, one at a time.

"Which one is you?" I ask, greedy, despite all that he's already given me. I know
the myriad songs that I would use to define him, but I want to know his answer
on the question. He fusses a bit, over the keys, finally picking out 'Blackbird.' I tilt
my head at him as he stares over the keys, his face earnest and yearning. I don't
think he's teasing me, but then he looks over at me, catches my gaze and smirks,
launching into 'I am the Walrus,' and I know that he is teasing me.

I laugh and knock him on the shoulder with my fist, a tap. He looks down on me,
his chin tilted to the side and I can't see the green of his eyes in the dim light,
only the dark of his pupils. "Time for all good girls and boys to be in bed," he
says, looking at me expectantly.

I rise to leave and notice he isn't following, so I turn and stare.

"I never said I was a good boy," he answers, then runs tickling fingers across the
keys.

I was lost in my memories of Edward Cullen, and startled when I heard soft
footsteps behind me as someone entered the kitchen. From my spot in the corner
of the breakfast nook, I watched as Edward stalked into the kitchen, wearing
nothing but a white t-shirt and a pair of dark blue cotton boxers. He headed
straight for the refrigerator, and I felt my entire body react to seeing him that
way, half dressed, and looking better than I'd ever seen him before. My eyes
traveled down the expanse of his shoulders to the narrowing of his waist and
finally fixated on the line where his boxers ended and his thighs began. He was
beautiful still, every inch of him.

"Rough night?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Edward started, bobbling whatever was in his hand before turning around to glare
at me. "Fuck."

"Sorry," I answered.

He shook his head, then turned back to the fridge. He pulled out the chicken and
a few other things, and started making a sandwich.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked, not looking at me.

"The baby?" I spooned another bite of ice cream into my mouth and shrugged. "It
was the right thing to do."

"Stopping at yellow lights is the right thing to do. This goes a little above and
beyond, don't you think?"

I sighed, suddenly furious. "Well, what's done is done, so…I guess there's no
going back now. Besides, what do you care? It's not like this affects you."

"No, I suppose not."

We stared at each other for a moment and I began to feel small and trapped. I
watched as he looked at me, taking in the length of my hair, the roundness of my
face.

"So how's Florence?" I asked, because that's where he's been, and where he'll be
going back to, and if he was answering questions, maybe he wouldn't look at me
like he could see inside of me.

"It's incredible," he said, and his face lit up as he began to talk. "The museum is
like nothing else, all that work, all those centuries of art, and it's still there, for us
to look at. The preservation is amazing. You'd-" He stopped short, and looked
down.

"I'd?" I prompted.

"You'd be better off eating real food," he said, then turned his back to me.

He shook his head and made an exasperated sound. "Utterly irresponsible," he
muttered. He poured a glass of milk and sliced an apple. Pulling another plate
from the cupboard, he divided the food, then placed the milk, half of the apple,
and half of the sandwich in front of me.

"You didn't eat two bites of dinner," he said, before taking away the ice cream
and lifting the spoon from my hand.

Before I could even process what he'd done, he was gone, leaving half of a
chicken sandwich, just exactly the way I liked it, in his wake.

.

.

Chapter 6

Your Space, So Sweet

.

.

I awoke the next morning to dim shafts of light fighting through a layer of clouds
to break through the thin curtains covering the window. Bits of dust danced in the
thin sunlight, swirling in an elegant waltz as I twisted and stretched on the bed. I
was still half asleep, chasing down the tail-end of a dream when my eye caught
the time.

I groaned. I'd wanted to be at the hospital half an hour ago. Stepping heavily
onto the floor, I gathered my toiletries bag and a change of clothes and slipped
into the guest bathroom down the hall. The hot water was soothing – my lower
back ached from sitting so long on the drive up, and my shoulders ached from
the tension of…everything.

As the jets washed over my skin, I caught myself thinking about Edward,
remembering how he'd looked the night before. His face was scruffy with stubble,
and I'd guessed he hadn't shaved in more than a day. His hair, always untamed,
was a little rough around the edges, making me think he was overdue for a cut
by a few weeks. I felt my stomach flutter when I thought of the rest of him, long
and lean as always, standing there in the kitchen, the subtle way his muscles
flexed as he'd shifted his weight.

As if feeling my excitement, or was it distress, the baby decided to kick. A smile
crossed my lips as I held my hand over my belly. I wanted to talk to the baby,
tell her how excited I was to feel her moving, but I stopped myself. This baby
wasn't mine to love in that way. I had to keep some boundaries.

Still, I hoped for this child. I hoped she'd have Rose's flaxen hair, and Emmett's
charming smile, dimples etching deep in her cheeks to indicate mischief or joy. I
hoped she'd be tall and athletic like both of her parents, that she would be sweet
and kind, like her uncle Jasper, and while she carried none of my DNA, I hoped,
nonetheless, that she'd carry something of me with her too.

I finished up my shower and dressed, running the blow dryer just long enough to
get most of the wetness out of my hair. When I was done, I tied it into a knot,
securing the ends with a bobby pin. I pulled on a light sweater, the only pair of
jeans I had that still fit, and tucked some hand cream into my camera bag. I
hadn't gotten off any good shots of Seth in months, and the boy was still growing
like a weed. Must be something in the Quileute water – all the boys from the Rez
grew like weeds.

I gathered my things and rushed back to the guestroom, only to collide,
headfirst, into one Edward Cullen.

"Shit," I said. "Sorry." I met his eyes for an instant before looking down again.

He held me by my elbows, steadying me.

"Are you okay, Isabella?" His voice was solicitous; I couldn't meet his eyes.

I swallowed, my throat balking at the action. He hadn't called me that since-

I bit the inside of my lip as my mind rebelled at the thought.

"I'm fine." I felt the blush creeping into my cheeks. "Sorry." I stepped around him
and made my getaway.

Back in my room I sat on the bed, a protective hand resting around my stomach.

Isabella. He'd called me Isabella. Why would he do that? I wrapped my arms
around myself, hands on my elbows, amazed at how it felt to have him touch me.

Like nothing had changed.

I stayed on the bed for a few more minutes, running through my options in my
head. I wanted to get up and get to the hospital, as planned. I was sure Esme
and Jasper could use the support, and I knew that Emmett and Rosalie were both
back to work today.

Instead, I picked up the phone and called my assistant, Bree.

"Swan's Eye View, this is Bree."

"Bree, it's Bella."

"Oh, hi, Bella. How is everything?"

"As well as can be expected. Listen, we need to talk about moving up my
maternity timeline."

Twenty minutes later, I was calm again. Bree had come to me, young,
inexperienced, and willing to learn everything. Two years later, she was a piece of
my business that I couldn't do without, and one which I was grateful for, always.
Her manner with our clients was calm, soothing, and sweet, and behind the lens
she captured things with an innocent eye, plucking out the one tiny detail that
everyone else had missed. A smudge of frosting on the cake-topper bride's
cheek; the way the groom was looking at the bride when he thought no one else
was around; the held hands of new parents, as I was snapping their infant.

She would be handling a few shoots on her own while I was on leave, and I was
worried for her. Yet, don't all chicks have to fly sometime? Surely there would be
no better time than this, when I would be setting all of my babes free.

I promised to be back by Monday morning, and hung up. Now I was ready to face
the Cullens, the Hales, the McCartys, and the Swans.

.

I spent time at the hospital; time where he and I took rotating turns, me with
Alice, he in the waiting room. He with Alice, me at the cafeteria. He with Esme,
me digging through photos on my laptop, hidden in the corner, struggling to
breathe, steady and calm.

I was walking back to the waiting room with cups of coffee for everyone when I
almost ran into him again. He stared at me, my stomach, the coffee, then my
eyes. He took the paper carrier from my hands. I hated being so out of balance
with him, hated feeling disjointed and awkward, like that schoolgirl in braces,
hoping to be invisible, hoping to be found beautiful.

"Hey," he said, and I paused. Fluttering stomach, maybe baby but maybe him,
and I didn't really want to know for sure.

"Look," he said, "we can't keep doing this." His voice was soft and earnest, and I
didn't want to hear him like that.

"Hmm?" Don't acknowledge, don't deny.

"Can't we call a truce, Bella?"

"A truce?" I asked. "Are we fighting?"

He huffed out a sigh, then ran his hand through his hair, once, twice.

"I guess not," he said, thrusting the coffee back into my hands. He stepped
around me and pushed the call button for the elevator. I carried my gifts to the
waiting room, pulling aside the decaf, and resumed my vigil.

.

I'm no stranger to hospitals, but as I walk through the doors of Park Shadelands,
I find myself ill at ease, and jumping at every sound. An overly warm receptionist
greets me, then ushers me through two sets of double doors.

Nothing here looks like a hospital. The workers don't wear scrubs and I spot more
than one pair of Birkenstock and white sock-clad feet. Everyone here is friendly,
and they all look like they want to give me a hug. The walls are pale blue, and
carpet is a darker blue, but with a low, institutional nap. It smells of vanilla and
orange peels, but sharp and chemical, not warm and soothing.

The second set of double doors gives way to a corridor. There's another nurses
station at the front end, and a payphone at the other. The doors on all of the
rooms are open wide. As I pass, I notice each room contains two built in desks,
two single beds and two nightstands topped with a lamp apiece. It is trying hard
to look comfortable, but it looks like an old dorm room instead. People are
lounging on their beds, drawing, reading books. One girl is writing a letter, and
has a sheaf of pale pink paper strewn around her, boxing her in.

I see some people visiting their families and it dawns on me that the corridor is
co-ed. I'm so surprised by this that I stop and stare at a man, maybe forty-five,
before moving on with a tight smile. Before long, the nurse stops at a door and
knocks. It looks just like the rest, but I can see Alice's touches: the small painting
of a butterfly so blue it's almost black; the scarf that I gave her at high school
graduation, tied around the neck of the lamp; the green pair of froggy slippers,
so old and worn that they can hardly be described as green anymore, slipped
under the side of the bed.

"Wait here," the nurse says, and walks off to the nurse's station. A moment later,
I hear a toilet flush, and shortly after that, Alice walks out of the small bathroom
in the corner. It takes me a moment to take her in. With her hair down and her
face free of make-up, she could be fourteen again, the way she looks, so small
and soft and defenseless.

We stare at each other for a moment, and then the awkwardness passes. This is
Alice. My Alice. I take her in my arms and she folds against me, everything about
her feeling fragile under my hands. I press her head to my shoulder and we just
stand, almost slow dancing, until the receptionist comes back, clearly delighted
that Alice has been "found."

She reminds me that I only have an hour, and then she leaves, trailing the scent
of pencil shavings as she passes.

"What the hell was that?" I ask.

Alice giggles against me and tells me all about Miss B., as she likes to be called.
Then she tells me about the cafeteria, the other nurses, the staff, most of whom
are Psych students fulfilling internship requirements.

"How are you?" I ask.

And the smile flies from her face and her eyes find the floor.

"Ali?"

She sighs and sits on the bed, and I see silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

"No, sweetheart, come on." I sit next to her and embrace her.

"I just…it feels like nothing is ever going to be okay again, you know? Like
nothing is ever going to be right."

We sit on the edge of the bed, Alice's soft sobs, my arms around her and I've
never felt more helpless. How can I comfort her? How can I make this okay for
her? For Jasper?

I pull her down onto the bed and we lay there, cuddling, for the rest of my
allotted hour, as I whisper in her ear. I want her to know how much I love her,
how much we all do. I want her to know that maybe everything won't be the
same, but it will still be good.

When the nurse comes to tell me that my hour is up, Alice clings to me, digging
her small fingers into my arms. "Make sure they're okay," she says, I know
exactly who she's talking about. "Take care of them."

"I will," I say. "I promise."

When I leave, I stop by the market and fill my basket with milk, bread, peanut
butter and jelly. I buy the ingredients for a dozen meals, and then I drive to Alice
and Jasper's little blue house. I let myself in the front door. Jasper is a hollow
man now, bereft without his one, and I've been tending to him and their children.

It strikes me as I'm dicing vegetables that this is a comfortable space for me.
That tending to their needs fulfils one of my own. It makes me feel useful,
helpful. It feels like this is my right place in their world.

Huck hugs my leg and I put down the knife to pet his blond head and pick him
up. He has been needy lately, clinging to me and Jasper, asking to hold Daisy
while I sit beside them, my arms around them both. At night, I read him stories
in bed, his babysweet scent filling my nose, pulling at something inside that I
refuse to name, or even explore. It's not time for me yet.

.

That night, I laid down in the cool sheets of the Cullen guest room, skin steeped
in exhaustion, muscles stretching with delicious relief. The hours at the hospital
were long, smelling of bleach, leaving the bitter grime of bad coffee in my mouth.
Holding hands only takes patience and quiet, but even those things took more
energy than I probably had.

I went to dinner at Charlie's, as planned, and was glad that Seth had coaxed both
Jacob and Leah to join us. Charlie didn't understand why I'd agreed to be a
surrogate, and things between us were awkward, and strained. At least I could
count on Renee to be her usual, absent self. Sometimes I wondered if she even
remembered that I was pregnant. If it didn't directly affect her, she had a hard
time assigning it importance and trivial facts slipped easily from her memory.

I wondered more and more often how she'd done it. How had she held me in her
body for nine months, nursed me from her breast and watched as I grew, and
then walked away? I didn't blame myself – it was no phantom deficiency on my
part – I was simply curious about how her mind worked. What was it about her
that made it so easy to walk away?

Dinner that night was delicious. Sue made Charlie's favorite Stroganoff recipe and
I had a second helping, though I knew the rich cream sauce would not set easy
on my stomach. I enjoyed the chance to watch Charlie with Sue. She tended to
him like a newlywed, solicitous of his every need. And I'd expected that. What
was surprising was the tenderness that he showed her. Always telling her she did
too much, always eager to help her in any way.

I remembered growing up, how Charlie would make a half-hearted attempt to
help with the dinner dishes, or how he'd forget to stop by the store on his way
home when I needed something. I never saw that man anymore. Now he was
earnest, fetching and carrying, and when I'd peeked in on them after dinner, I'd
caught him bumping her hip from the side, while she washed and he dried. The
faint clicking of the camera went unheard over the sounds of running water and
Sue's gentle hum.

I waited until it was time for dessert, then shooed them out of the kitchen. I'd run
that household for years and it felt strange to me, to be a guest in their home.
Still, it wasn't long before Sue came up beside me.

I'd plated the pie and had lined mugs up along the sink for decaf. I added sugar
and cream to the bottom of the cups and was moving toward the coffee pot when
I noticed her staring, an odd smile on her lips.

"What?" I asked, smiling back at her.

She shook her head. "You are so much like your father. If you didn't look like
Renee, I'd swear he'd made you out of wood and wished you life."

"What?" I asked again, a laugh catching in my throat. Though I shared Charlie's
dark hair and dark eyes, no one had ever said anything like that to me before.

"You are. He does the coffee the same way, to save washing the spoon."

I blushed and bit my lip, and Sue laughed. "He bites his lip when he's
concentrating. And he-" She cut herself off and I looked up at her again. "He
cares so much for the people around him."

She loaded her hands and arms with pie plates and carried them out into the next
room, where the others broke into applause. Sue's apple pie was legend in these
parts.

As I poured the coffee into mugs, I wondered at what she'd said. I'd never
thought of myself in terms of Charlie before. He was my father and I loved him,
but I didn't always understand him. I felt like I didn't really know him. On paper,
I had two parents. In my heart, I had four, and if someone had told me how
much I was like Esme Cullen, I would have been unsurprised, and very flattered.

It was strange, to think of myself as a piece of him. I saved the idea for later
inspection, and joined everyone in the living room.

We ended the evening with apple pie and coffee, and a promise to return for a
longer session of Mario Party. Seth grinned and pulled me in tight, unafraid of
hurting me and his strong embrace was welcome. I leaned my head against his
chest, this manboy waiting to become.

"See you soon, sis," he said.

"Soon, and I'll be here for the duration," I answer, patting my stomach.

He tipped his head down and I tousled his hair, then kissed his cheek. There were
awkward hugs from the others as well, each touch light and cautious, even Sue,
who should know better. Relief flooded through me as the engine turned over and
music, too loud, pierced the quiet. Lindsay sang about lying down in the tall grass
and I realized I'd been listening to Edward songs all day. I flicked my finger over
the IPod, cutting the music to quiet.

.

The night stirs silent around me, until soft footsteps come padding down the
stairs. My heart flutters as I do the math. Alice sleeps like death and Dr. Cullen
came home an hour ago, stepping a foot into the living room to smile at me in
the faint light. He admonishes me about my sleeping habits, then carried himself
away up the stairs, to Esme, who was waiting. Which leaves only-

"Edward," I say, voice low, shy and pleased.

He peeks around the corner at me, boxer shorts and plain white tee, face tired
and drawn.

"You're always up so late," he says, sounding like his father.

Nervous smile across my face, that the boy has noticed my habits.

"C'mon," he says, waving his fingers at me. I put down my laptop, a birthday gift
from the Cullens, and follow where he leads.

He pulls a black box from the cupboard and a small pot from the rack above. I
walk to the refrigerator and pull out the milk, and bring him the sugar bowl from
the table. I've logged enough late nights with him to know his recipe for sleep.

He stirs the milk and cocoa and I add measured spoons of sugar. He tilts the
shaker of salt into his palm, reads the grains, then dusts them into the pan. In
ten minutes, our mugs are steaming, cocoa, rich and bittersweet on our tongues
and he asks if I have Banner for Bio, if I've had to read Othello yet, and if I'm
going to the prom. He and Emmett are seniors, and one will be the homecoming
king, everybody knows. I tagged along with Alice and Rosalie when they shopped
for their dresses, Rosalie finally settling on some Jessica Rabbit number that
would surely cause Emmett pain by night's end. Edward was taking a junior girl
named Kate, and I hated her so much. I would have traded places with her in an
instant, if I could have. I was glad I wasn't going.

Cocoa gone and interrogation over, we wash and dry our dishes before he herds
me up the stairs. As I open the door to the guest room, I hear him, voice low and
angel sweet, saying "goodnight, Bella." That night I dream, my head full of a
bronze haired boy with dark green eyes, dressed in a tuxedo, come to take me
home.

.

I fell asleep that night with songs from another time filling my ears and images of
the seventeen year-old brother of my best friend dancing behind my eyes, bare
feet and long legs, smelling like a man and licking cocoa from his upper lip. In my
dream he leaned forward and winked, the crooked smile promising that any day
now, he'd be grown. In my dream, I hoped he'd take me with him.

.

.

Chapter7 - Lovers in the Garden: In Full Flower

.

.

Los Angeles, some other lifetime ago…

"Don't go," he whispered. "Stay." The bed was large enough for five, but they
clung to each other as though it was a tiny island, and they were lost at sea.

She smiled and groaned. "I can't. You know I can't."

"You're mean," he said, pouting his mouth to her.

She leaned over and nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, then licked over it to
soothe the injury.

He growled, soft and low in his throat, and in a fluid movement flipped her onto
her back, pinning her with his arms and legs. "Tell them you had a flat tire. Tell
them your cat is sick."

She tilted her head, giving his mouth access to her neck.

"Mmmm. Can't," she said. "I don't have a cat."

"We'll get one," he answered, dropping his head to her breast, his mouth teasing
the smooth flesh. She cried out, her desire rising fast and hot within her. He slid
his fingers inside of her, quick and without warning, finding her already slick and
swollen and she writhed beneath his hand.

"Baby," she whispered. Was she asking him to stop, or begging him not to? Did it
matter?

"You're mine," he said, his voice harsh against her neck. "Don't make me share
you today."

She groaned as his fingers moved inside of her, and she was helpless, she knew
it, the pleasure already encroaching on her logic, pushing away everything that
wasn't him. She pulled herself up onto her elbows as his head snaked down her
naked torso. His messy mop of hair tickled her stomach, his tongue running a
circuit around her belly button. He curled his fingers inside of her and she tossed
her head back, arching into him. He released the pressure and sucked on her
stomach.

"Linty," he said, pretending to pick something off of his tongue.

She laughed. "You'll pay for that one," she promised, but gasped as his fingers
moved inside of her again. "My god," she moaned. "What are you doing to me?"

His mouth found her then, and moments later she found the constellations,
shining bright, at seven in the morning.

Three hours later she'd successfully lied to her coworkers and had led him
through the Milky Way, so that he could see the constellations too. Twice.

"Now what?" she asked, her mouth still tracing words against his skin.

"Mmm," he sighed, his fingers toying with her hair before they raked up her neck
to massage her scalp. "Ocean?" he asked. "Museum? You've never been to
Venice."

She gave his nipple a playful tug with her teeth and he hissed. "I'm hungry," she
said. "Feed me baby, before I waste away!" Her words ended with a smile.

"Fat chance," he said, grabbing a handful of her thigh before sliding his hand up
to her ass, grabbing a handful of that too. He turned her over and brought his
mouth to her thigh, blowing raspberries against it until she shrieked with laughter
and begged for mercy.

"Let's go south," he said. "I know a great place, not far from the water."

And so they did. Down Pacific Coast Highway, passing the county lines, his silver
car sped until they reached blue waters and white buildings covered in
bougainvillea.

"It's so beautiful," she cried, escaping the car and spinning on the edge of the
cliff, looking out over the water. She caught a magenta colored bloom in her hand
and sniffed it, then stuck it in her hair. The breeze stole it away a moment later
and she watched it tumble down the hillside.

He smiled at her, then ordered milkshakes and French fries from the roadside
stand, famous for its date-flavored milkshakes and dangerous parking lot. They
ate as the breeze whipped their hair around, and she laughed in delight when
squirrels came to claim the fries that she tossed onto the ground for them.

"I love it," she said, staring into his eyes. "Let's never leave."

He grinned at her and then studied her face, his smile fading with the seconds.

"Never," he whispered, and then kissed her, his mouth urgent on hers, tasting of
peanut butter and chocolate and salt, his fingers fisting her hair into knots. After
a long moment they broke the kiss and he stared at her again, his fingers still
tight in her hair. There was something in his eyes that frightened her. It was big
enough to swallow the smile from his face, but as she searched it out, it
disappeared. His face relaxed and he brought his arm around her, staring out at
the foamy blue water.

That afternoon they played in the surf, she chasing whitecaps on the sand, he
tossing her about as though she carried only the weight of a feather. She
collected sea shells and sea glass, and she screamed and then cooed when he
placed a hermit crab in the open palm of her hand. It was so beautiful, all of it,
that she found herself pausing, time and time again, capturing the images in her
mind, trying to save them and store them, needing to keep them forever.

They returned home late at night, having drunk margaritas at another ocean-side
restaurant, devouring spicy Mexican food, then walking off the mild buzz in a tiny

artists community. She bought them ice cream cones for dessert and flicked the
tip of his nose with hers in a moment when he was distracted. He forgave her
when she licked it off, and that lick led to others which led to frantic fingers
beneath unbuttoned clothes in a darkened alley behind the city's library.

When they got home, and it was home, they made up for that urgency with slow,
languid movements, each taking their time, tasting everything, wasting nothing.
She fell asleep with his arms around her, his head on her chest, listening to her
heartbeat. Her sleep was filled with sunshine and ocean waves, and they crashed
to the shore in time with her heart, the constant, unrelenting promise of a
thousand tomorrows.

Chapter 8 – Ghost Has Got Me Running

.

.

"Don't feel like you have to be here all day," I said, admonishing Bree again.
"You'll get bored and then resentful. Just check messages and emails a few times
a day, and you know how to reach me."

"It's fine, Bella, I promise. Stop worrying." The slight girl glanced down at my
ever expanding waist before wrapping the cord to my laptop up in a bundle.

"And don't forget – the Burke's will be back in three weeks. Please make sure
their-"

"-Album is delivered no later than the 23rd, so that it's there when they arrive.
I've got this, Bella." Bree looked up at me, confident. It caught me by surprise,
seeing her so certain. Two years ago, she hardly knew how to develop film. Now
she was a Photoshop expert and I was leaving my business, my real baby, in her
hands for the next three months. I should have been terrified, but I wasn't.

I was…eager. I wanted to go back to Forks. Back to Esme and Carlisle's white
house down the dusty drive. Back to Alice, and her new meds, Jasper's cookies
and Rosalie's fretting and Emmett's kindness and Seth's awkward bumbling. Back
home, to the too small town that was green, so green, everywhere I looked, the
color of him. Of home.

I'd planned to move up my maternity leave timeline by a few weeks after Alice's
incident, but when I got back to Seattle, I realized I had two bookings that I
absolutely could not cancel. Disappointing customers is not the way to get word
of mouth referrals or repeat engagements. So, I carried myself and my heavy
belly out to see my clients, and tried not to think about Forks, and all the things
that had happened, and the words that we'd all left unsaid.

Edward had returned to Europe the day before I left to come back to Seattle. We
stood in the Cullen's foyer as Esme fussed over his bags, tucking a sandwich and
a snack into his carry-on.

"I'll be back home soon," he said, and I despised him for lying to her. She would
go to the ends of the earth for her children, and he was breaking her heart, all
over again.

Alice had been released from the hospital and she stood, sheepish, in gray jeans
and white sweater, looking all of fifteen years old, unless you looked into her

eyes. She and Jasper both came forward to offer Edward hugs, as did Carlisle.
When Carlisle pulled away, all eyes turned to me. I bit the inside of my cheek and
went to him, letting him put his arms around me, holding my breath. The hug
was brief and one-armed. I patted his back twice and then broke, never looking
him in the eye.

"Safe trip," I said, eyes on the floor.

"You too, Bella. It was really good to see you again."

I offered him a tight smile and made way for Esme. I couldn't wait for him to go
and I hated him for leaving.

Shaking off the past, I grabbed my laptop bag, gave Bree a quick hug, and
headed out. I wasn't looking forward to the three hour drive, but it was the last
time I'd have to make it for the next twelve weeks. If all went well, I'd have the
baby in six weeks, and have the next following six weeks as a vacation. I smirked
at myself. Who was I kidding? As soon as I was able I'd be moving back to my
little flat in Seattle, which was drafty in the winter and unbearably hot if the
weather got over 80, and perfect in every way.

Four hours and three stops later, I downshifted and crawled down the winding
drive of the Cullen's big white house in the woods. Everything about this house
spelled home to me, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to a
little of Esme's TLC in the coming days. No one could make you feel loved like
Esme Cullen.

"Come on," she says, the slight girl that is my best friend. We emerge from the
path just inside the woods and it looms before me, large and friendly, white with
green shutters and a pebbled drive. The front walk is lined with daffodils, and
their yellow mouths make me think of trumpets; I wait for them to play.

She bounds up the steps, pure energy, and I follow, feeling shy. This house is so
large and open and it reminds me not at all of my own home, which seems dark
now, in comparison.

"Mom," she calls out, and then spins into the kitchen. She is taking ballet lessons
and so she spins almost everywhere, her small frame dancing, turning ordinary
sidewalks into stages for her show.

"Hello, sunshine," says a voice I've never heard. It is not laced with kindness or
edged with kindness. It is kindness. She looks over at me and I can see that she
is kindness. She reaches her hand out to me. "You must be Bella," she says, and
her voice holds the smile that lights her face. "I'm so glad to meet you."

Alice grabs my hand and pulls me to the kitchen table. It has six chairs but is
somehow still cozy. We sit and Esme brings us milk and cookies, and the cookies
are warm from the oven and I wonder if I've somehow stepped into a television
show, because I have never in my life come home to fresh-baked cookies.

Alice and I head up the stairs to her bedroom, which is white and yellow and like
a doll's house, so pretty. We do our homework and play with her toys and before
I know it, Esme is asking me if I want to stay for dinner. I quail because I don't
know if I should say yes, which is what I want, or if I should say no, in case
Charlie is lonely or sad without me there. I open my mouth, then close it, then
open it again.

"Why don't I call your father, Bella, and ask if it's alright?" I nod my assent and
smile, relieved that I don't have to make this decision.

An hour later I sit at the table and watch as another scene from television unfolds
before me. Mrs. Cullen – I mean, Esme – is wearing an apron around her waist
and carries covered dishes to the table. Dr. Cullen is sitting and talking about
sports with the boy who must be Alice's brother, Edward. He has pretty hair, kind
of gold and red and brown and he wrinkles his snub nose as Esme puts buttered
carrots on his plate. There's a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose
and his cheeks are pinked from the sun. It's the first time I ever thought a boy
was cute.

We sit at the table and I watch them talk about school and work, and when Dr.
Cullen and Edward start talking about the last night's baseball game, I surprise us
all by having an opinion.

"I thought it was an out," I say, and Edward's head bobs up and down with
excitement.

"See, Dad? See?"

Dr. Cullen looks at me for a moment, then chuckles. "Well I guess that's why
there's so many games in a season," he says. "So that a few mistakes can
average out."

"It's still not fair," Edward says, and pushes a fork full of potatoes in his mouth.

Esme redirects the conversation and Dr. Cullen offers to drive me home after
dinner. I want to tell Edward what Renee always told me: that life isn't fair. But
somehow that seems mean, and I like this boy with the bright green eyes and the
funny hair. I stay quiet and watch the rest of the meal, until Alice pushes away
from the table to dance an impromptu recital. I stand and she pirouettes around
me and at the end, we both bow. Everyone else smiles and claps, and my heart
fills with hunger for this, these people, this sense of happiness that fills their
home, pulling me in.

After dinner and dessert (strawberries and whipped cream) I gather my things
and wait for Dr. Cullen to drive me home. Alice and I say goodbye, and Edward
has already wandered off to his room to do his own homework. Esme pauses
before me and then gathers me into her arms. The smell of her knocks me over,
warm and floral, sweet and just good. Safe. She smells like a mom and I think
she knows it, too, because she holds on to me really tight and then when she lets
me go, she ruffles my hair and tells me to come back soon.

.

Six months later I was practically living with the Cullens, and for the rest of my
life, when I had a hurt, it was Esme Cullen that I yearned for.

My own mother was well meaning, but sporadic. Most often, she called to tell me
about her life, but seldom listened to anything about mine. By the time I was in
high school, I'd learned to say uh-huh in the right places. Eventually she'd talk
herself out and hang up. It had been years since her carelessness actually hurt.
Mostly I missed the idea of her love, of what it could have been. It had been a
long time since I'd missed her.

When I pulled into the drive I noticed Esme's Audi and a new car: a bright silver
coupe. Before I had time to wonder if it was a friend or neighbor, I saw the trunk
spring open. I looked up and saw Edward standing at the front door, arm aimed
at the car. He paused to watch me as I pulled in next to him.

My stomach fluttered. What the hell was he doing here?

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, as I got out of the car.

"Well hello to you too, Isabella." Edward stood back and smiled at me. His face
was open, eyes light green today. He wore jeans and a light, long-sleeved t-shirt.
He needed a haircut and a shave. He was beautiful.

"Really, Edward, what are you doing here? Don't you have pictures to play with in
Europe?"

Edward rubbed the back of his neck and eyed his shoes.

"Ah, so Mom didn't tell you?"

I made my way around the car to my trunk and popped the lid. "Tell me?"

"I took a position at U-Dub. It's in the art department, and while it's not exactly
my dream job…"

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"It's time for me to come home."

Home. After six years, Edward Cullen had come home.

Before I could respond, Esme opened the door and flew down the steps, tugging
me into her embrace. At once, I was surrounded by a cloud of sweet perfume,
vanilla and her warmth. The tension in my back ebbed as she held on to me, and
I felt like a child again, safe in the arms of mother.

Esme released me, only to tug me inside the house with her. I shivered as I
passed out of the sun and into the cool of the entryway.

"Edward's here," I said, wanting to ask the most important questions – why and
how long and why – but I let the comment lay as I caught the sparkle in her
eyes.

She smiled at me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder, guiding me into the
kitchen. "Isn't it wonderful?" she asked. "He's going to be home for the next few
months, until he starts at the university. I'm so happy he's home."

I looked up and realized it was true. Esme was delighted at having her boy home.
Who was I to begrudge her that?

A loud noise from the hall startled me and I realized Edward was bringing in my
suitcases. He poked his head around the corner, into the kitchen. "I'm just going
to drop these off in Bella's room," he said.

Esme nodded as I took him in. How could I spend the next two months in a room
only feet away from him? I sighed and thought about calling Rose, but I knew
Esme would be devastated. With me and Edward here, Alice and Jasper would be
spending a lot more time in this house. And Rose and Emmett would be by at
least every other day. Esme was going to have her whole family back under her
roof. She glowed with anticipation. I couldn't let her down.

.

It was late at night and I couldn't sleep, my mind spinning with thoughts of
Edward Cullen. I slipped out into the hall, opening the door with my hand against
the jamb, trying to be quiet, like a teenager. I walked down the stairs, avoiding
the fourth from the bottom, which creaks, and turned on the low lamp by the

couch. There was a wall of shelves, which Esme'd always kept full of family
photos and the odd knick-knack. My eyes fell on one of the last photos of the six
of us together, the day Emmett, Rose and Edward graduated high school.

"Kids, come on," she says, exasperation and excitement apparent in her voice. I
stand on the stairs, waiting for instructions. Sometimes we're standing,
sometimes crouched, but these group photos almost always feature the stairs.

Carlisle sorts us out, and I wait for my assignment, and then before I can
properly understand it, I'm sitting on the step below Edward, and he has his arm
around my shoulders, lighting me up, forcing my body into a rigid pose.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning his head down next to mine. His breath is warm
against my ear and I feel a jolt of excitement that radiates out from my stomach,
stretching up my spine, and settling between my legs. Edward feels my shiver.

"Hey," he says, and peers down at me from his seat on the step above me. I feel
trapped here, with him, and it's delicious. I'm sixteen years old, never been
properly kissed, and the boy who holds my world in his hands has his face inches
from mine, peering at me through long, dark lashes. Like a dream, he brings his
hand up and cups it against my face. I stop breathing, hands trembling and the
only thing I can see is his mouth. He tilts his head to the side and I make a noise,
some sound of surprise, low in the back of my throat. Everything around us has
disappeared. It's us, only him, his hand on my cheek, his mouth too near mine.

"You look – are you okay?" He asks. "Hey Dad," he calls and then Carlisle is
there, his hand on my face, fingers at my wrist. He pulls me away from Edward,
away from the group and looks me over. He tilts his head to the side, looks at
me, then back to Edward. I feel my face fill with blood.

"You're not warm," he says. "Are you feeling alright?" I nod and he smiles. It's his
indulgent smile, the one where he knows better than you, but is willing to play
along. "Okay," he answers. "Go get with the others."

I return to my perch beneath Edward. He gives me and Carlisle a quizzical look,
then puts his arm back around my shoulders and pulls me close. When the
camera snaps, there are six of us sitting on the Cullen's stairs. Alice and Jasper
have fingers laced and are beaming. Emmett is looking at Rose, and she's
wearing the grin that earned her "Best Smile" in the yearbook. But Edward, he is
wearing a smile that I have never seen before. His eyes shine and the look on his
face is relaxed and excited and peaceful and just…happy. He has his head in the
future, the promise of independence and a new city and a new life, far away from
us. From me.

When the photos are developed, Esme makes me a copy. I fold it so that it's just
me and him, and I keep it as a book mark. For a long time, before I fall asleep, I
look at it and pretend to myself that I'm his girlfriend, that he loves me, and that
we are happy.

.

When I woke up in the morning, Edward was sitting beside me on the couch,
gently shaking my shoulder.

"Rise and shine, sleepy girl." His voice was soft and low, and just exactly the way
I wanted to hear it.

I sat up and looked around, part of me dazed and still asleep, part of me
remembering that I hate Edward Cullen.

I groaned and looked around again. The house was quiet. We seemed to be
alone. "Why did you come back?" I asked.

He chuckled and took my hand in his. "Come on, there's coffee in the kitchen."
He stood and tugged on my hand, but I pulled it away as he walked toward the
kitchen.

Still, I followed.

.

.

Chapter 9: Laughter, Like Bubbles

.

.

I studied the coffee in my cup and willed myself not to look at him. He moved
around the kitchen wearing jeans and black button down shirt, his feet bare on
the cold tile floor. He had a day's scruff on his jaw, and I imagined how it would
feel against my hand before I shut down the line of thought that was beginning to
form.

"Back in Forks, huh?" I wanted answers.

He moved around the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher and giving me some
much-needed space. "Yeah. Just until January. I'll move to Seattle over New
Years."

"Why not go now? I mean, whole new city to learn and all?"

Edward sighed and came toward me. His mouth twisted up on one side, but not
into his signature slanted smile; this one looked something more like chagrin. "I
was a prick last time I was here. I'm sorry for that."

Only that? I cocked an eyebrow at him, then turned my face back toward my
coffee. "It's fine."

As I stared into the cup, I realized what this meant. Dinners with Edward at
Esme's table. Brunch with him and the Hales. Edward invading every corner of
the life that I had tended to in the years that he'd been gone. This was my life
now, my family. I begrudged him his easy return and my studio in Seattle
suddenly felt far, far away. I missed it, my heart keening for the small,
comfortable space where he had never been.

"Hey," he said. I looked up and realized that I had my teeth digging in to the
bottom of my lip – a habit I'd outgrown years ago. In that moment I understood
something: It wasn't Edward's presence that I was reacting to. It was who I tried
to become for him that had my heartbeat racing. I couldn't turn into that
awkward girl again.

I let go of my bottom lip and sipped my coffee. I knew I could avoid him. I just
had to work out how.

"So," I asked, my voice false with cheer. "What are you up to today?"

He looked at me, and I realized that I'd forgotten what it was like, to have
Edward Cullen spend his attention on you. It made my pulse quicken and my face

flush, and I felt bad, inside. I felt bad for reacting to him, when I'd worked so
hard to forget everything about him.

"I have to go to Port Angeles and order some furniture for my new place. Want to
come? I'll buy you lunch." His mouth held the soft, hopeful smile that I
remembered from a sunny, warm kitchen, years ago.

I shook my head. "I have other plans."

He grinned at me – the bastard – and gave me that half smile that always made
my heart pound. "You sure? We could make a day of it."

I stood and emptied my cup in the sink before placing it in the dishwasher. I
turned and looked at him. "I don't want to be your friend, Edward. Let it go."

I tried to walk past him but he reached out and grabbed my sleeve.

"I know you're trying to avoid me, but I'm not going to make easy."

"No? I thought that's how you liked things – easy." I was proud of myself. I'd
never before had the wherewithal to really tell somebody off, call them out for
their bad behavior. I felt powerful.

His mouth dropped open and he let go of my sleeve.

"See ya," I called as I headed up the stairs.

A half an hour and a delicious, hot shower later, I was drying my hair and getting
ready to head out to see Alice. Rosalie had the kids for the afternoon, so we were
planning a girls' day of just chatting and reminiscing. It always felt like my visits
were too rushed, so I was thrilled to have the time to just be with Alice.

I was sorting through some things in my handbag when a wave of déjà vu hit me
hard. This was just like being a kid again. Hiding out in Esme's guest room,
praying that Edward wouldn't notice me, and praying that he would.

Why did he have so much power over me, still? Why did I let him?

I slipped my bag over my shoulder and opened my door. Edward was sitting
across from me in the hall. When I opened the door, he jumped to his feet.

"Bella, wait."

I stopped and sighed, feeling defeated. "What could you possibly want, Edward?"
Didn't you already take it all?

"I just…you never told anyone? I keep waiting for someone to say something, and
they never do."

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. I wrapped my arms around my belly,
trying to protect us both from invisible swords.

"I…." I felt the morning's coffee churn and curdle in my stomach and I realized I
was about to cry.

"Why?" He asked. His eyes were soft and seeking and he looked bare, and
vulnerable. It stripped away time and left me with nothing but honest ground.

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, horrified that we were even having the conversation.
"I was embarrassed," I said, the breath leaving my lungs and sliding over my
vocal chords to come out as a whisper.

For the second time that morning he stared at me, slack jawed. Like he didn't
know how humiliated I was by the whole thing? Why would I tell anyone about
that? How I let him use me, and how easily he'd tossed me away?

Before my traitor tears could get the best of me, I fled, taking the stairs as
quickly as I could. I wasn't his plaything anymore.

.

Alice and Jasper lived in a neat, little blue house a few blocks from the bakery.
Alice's folks had helped them with the down payment for the house, when
Jasper's mom retired and left him in charge of the bakery. It was an ideal
situation. When Huck was small, before Daisy came along, Alice would work the
front register, leaving Jasper to do the baking. Jasper hired Jessica Newton of all
people to work the register when Alice was out having Daisy. And of course,
everything changed after Daisy.

As I pulled up to the curb, I noticed all the signs of suburbia: a row of rose
bushes, a tipped over tricycle, and a child's plastic shovel on the front lawn. It
sparked something low in me, these little symbols of family, in the middle of the
road, for everyone to see.

Before I could ring the bell, Alice was there, pushing through the screen door,
grabbing me up into a hug that was bigger than it should be because the woman
herself was so small.

"BellaBellaBella," she called into my ear. Her voice was soft, but so full, bursting.
Looking at her, I could see, could feel that the new meds were working. It was in
her voice, my Alice. She was back again from the abyss.

We smiled and walked into the house where she led me to the kitchen table. I
was unsurprised by the gift there – the simple red bag with yellow tissue sticking
out of the top, probably from Huck's last birthday party.

"What's this?" I asked, pushing the bag aside and settling down. Alice always had
a fresh pot of decaf for me, and I was grateful, both for the warm cup in my cold
hands, and for the busy-ness that a cup of coffee provided.

"Oh, just a little something. I saw it and thought of you," she said. I poked at the
paper and finally pulled out a new handbag. It was a dark brown satchel made of
leather so soft I wanted to rub it against my face.

"Alice, I have a handbag. I love this bag," I said, tossing my old fabric patchwork
purse onto the table. I'd gotten it from a street vendor years ago, and it was
perfect: It was like a "Felix the Cat" bag – I could stuff a seemingly unlimited
number of objects into it, and it never seemed to get full.

Alice leveled her gaze at me, and I knew there was no escape. "Bella, you've
been carrying that ratty thing around for years. Don't you think it's time to just
give it up?"

I swallowed and touched my fingers to the leather.

"Besides," she said, "look at all these great compartments! You can put
everything in that other bag in here, plus there's room for more, plus it keeps it

all organized. See?" I watched as she transferred everything out of my old bag
and into the new one. She was right, it was perfect.

"Thanks, Ali," I said. "It's beautiful."

She smiled and then the silence crept in as our laughter died out. After Alice's
first episode, I didn't know if I'd be able to talk to her. It was so scary, her
temper and the screaming and her tears, and Jasper's, and Daisy crying in her
crib.

.

The day is overcast and slate gray, but it's not cold, so I don't huddle into my
sweater like I usually would. I pull up to Alice and Jasper's house, which is darling
and the only place other than the Cullen's that's big enough to hold us all as we
gather to celebrate summer together. I scan the street for Jake's silver Honda,
but don't see it, or Emmett and Rosalie's old, red Jeep. Soon, our annual
barbeque will begin in earnest. I'm so focused on the good time ahead of us, that
it takes a minute for me to see that something's wrong. It's like one of those 'find
the differences' pictures you had when you were a kid. At first glance, everything
seems normal.

Then I hear the scream, and a second later, the baby's crying. Huck, three years
old and looking like a little fey darling, hurls out of the house and runs to the
gate. I sprint to reach him before he gets out on the street. His eyes go wide
when he sees me and then he's clinging to my pant leg, pressing his wet little
face into my thighs.

"Baby boy, what's going on?" I pick him up and feel his little body quake with
tears. There's another scream, and Jasper's voice, pleading, begging. I look up
and spot the difference. The front window is shattered, glass all over the front
lawn. I panic and tip Huck back in my arms, but his bare, baby feet are whole
and unscathed.

I shift him to one hip to call Emmett, but he and Rose have just pulled into the
spot behind my car.

I don't know what's behind Alice and Jasper's front door, and right now, I'm
afraid to find out. I stand at the steps, debating. The July air is warm around us,
the sun filtering weakly through the scant cloud cover. Do I go in and find out
what's going on? Do I stay here and protect Huck? My head is filled with the baby
sweet smell of the child in my arms. I take a step forward and the front door
opens. Jasper's face is drawn and pale, and streaked with tears.

"Thank god, Bella, thank god. Oh baby," he says, looking at the frightened boy in
my arms.

"Jasper?" I can't help the fear in my voice. Nothing about this scene makes any
sense to me, not in any way.

"She's…Bella, I don't-" He holds his hand over his stomach and in the background
I hear the sobs of my best friend. "I don't know how to help her anymore," he
says, and fresh tears wet his face.

"Come on," I say. "Come out."

Before he decides, Emmett and Rose walk through the gate. Rose comes to me
and Huck trades my embrace for hers, clutching around her neck with his chubby
arms.

Emmett comes around and through the gate and pauses, taking everything in. He
turns to Jasper and there's a look between them. Jasper shakes his head and
then opens the screen door.

"Bella?" Emmett says. "Will you come get Daisy?" His voice takes on the calm
tones of someone at ease with being in charge. I don't question his authority in
this situation.

Jasper walks out and sits on the front step, just beside the door. I step past him
and duck under Emmett's arm on my way into the house. Behind me, I can hear
Rose shushing Huck, talking to him like a she's a grown up. Like a mom.

The foyer is dark and cool, hard tile beneath my sandals. Emmett begins checking
the house. The master bedroom is off of the foyer, and he walks in, then walks
back out. I find Daisy in her crib, in her room, and the poor little thing is almost
purple with sobs.

"Come on, sweet girl," I coo. "Auntie Bella is here now." I pick her up and bounce
her a little in my arms. She is soft against me, and her baby head is covered in
down as I press it into the crook of my neck. I feel the rapid breaths she draws
against my chest and her cries peal in my ear. I stroke and rock her, and the act
pulls at something deep within me, but I don't have time to examine it now.
There's too much pain around me already.

As I walk out of the nursery I look around me. The house is in shambles. There's
broken glass, a cupboard door off its hinge, and what looks like cereal scattered
all over the kitchen and dining room floors. Daisy's calmed her crying and brings
her thumb to her mouth. I hear the soft gurgle of her contentment as I make my
way out of the house. Rose is playing with Huck, distracting him, and Jasper is
sitting on the front steps, looking like a refugee from some kind of war. The
despair in his eyes breaks my heart, and I feel tears well, then slide down my
cheeks. I hold a hand out to him and he takes it, lifeline or tether, or simply a
shelter built of love.

In the weeks that follow, there are accusations and recriminations. Tests are run
and pills are prescribed and Carlisle Cullen, one of the kindest men I have ever
met, decks his son in law. He would have hit Emmett too, if Emmett hadn't been
the one restraining him.

Jasper and Emmett have both known something was wrong with Alice for a while,
but they'd both agreed to honor her request that Carlisle and Esme not be
involved. She swore she didn't want to worry them, but now we know it was
more complex than that.

In the weeks that followed, we learned about her mania, which first manifested
itself as exuberance, and we'd all grown so used to her wild energy, that nothing
seemed out of place. It was only after Daisy was born, and some quirk in her
chemistry settled into this imbalance that left her permanently altered. Now,
instead of exuberance, she had mania. And instead of fallow moments of rest,
there were oceans of sadness, fraught with riptides that worked to pull her under
for good.

.

"Why'd you do it, Ali?" I looked at the woman who's my best friend, and tried to
understand her. She'd gone off her meds and blindsided all of us. "It seemed like
things were going so well."

She gave me a sad smile that aged her ten years, and I felt fierce in the face of
it. I wanted to fight something, but that something was inside of her, and I didn't
know how to find it.

"It's the worst part of all of this," she said. "You start to feel good, feel normal,
and you think, 'I don't need all these pills, I'm fine.'" She peered into her coffee
cup. "But I'm never fine," she said. "And the side effects of the drugs are so
shitty, and when you finally start to feel good long enough, it just…it seems like
it'll be okay if you just stop for a little while." She gave me a sad smile and I
reached over to hold her hand.

"And now?"

"Now's better," she said. "Now's when I start thinking about all the damned side
effects. Ugh." Alice waved a hand at the cut-glass cupboard. The ochre hue of
prescription pill bottles were the only thing visible.

"That bad?" I asked.

She walked to the cupboard. "Well, this one gave me headaches." There was a
thunk as the bottle hit the counter. "This one gave me cottonmouth." Thunk. "I
gained 24 pounds on this one." We both giggled, remembering how she'd looked
like a tomato on legs. "This one," thunk "gave me headaches and cottonmouth.
This one caused insomnia, this one lethargy."

She sighed and held her hands up.

"And the one you're on now?"

She sighed and sat back down at the table. "It's great, Bella, really. It's great and
I shouldn't complain. I feel good. Not drugged and not manic and not sad or
hopeless. I feel…just normal." She sighed again and rested her head on her
hands.

"But?"

"I can't come."

"What?"

"I can't- I can't orgasm."

I gulped my coffee and felt it scald the back of my throat.

"Oh! Jesus, Alice."

"No, I mean it!" Her eyes were big and blue and she looked a little desperate. "I
can't. We've tried. Oh my god, believe me, we've tried." And then the storm left
her face and she giggled. And then she laughed. And then? Alice gave a full on
guffaw.

I couldn't help myself; I had to laugh with her. One laugh turned into another,
and before I knew it, we were bent over the kitchen table, laughing at each
other, laughing at Alice who was laughing at who knows what. It that moment,
the years and the problems, the broken hearts and disappointments, all slid away
until it was just me, just Alice. Just best friends.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh God," she cried, slapping the table with her palm.

"Stop stop stop! Stop stop stop!" I clutched at my stomach, my sides aching and
I felt the baby give me a solid one-two kick. "Oh," I panted, wiping tears from my
eyes. "Jesus, you gotta spill after that."

"Oh, god. Okay." She calmed down and took a deep breath. We studiously
avoided one another's gaze, lest we erupt into a pile of giggling female hormones
again.

"Well I called the doctor about the, uh, problem. And he said to try a vibrator.
Bella? This man works with my father." She chuckled a little, and then waved her
hands out in front of her, trying to ward off another round of hysterics.

"Anyway. So I do some online research and it says to try a bullet style vibe. Did
you know you can buy vibrators at Target now?"

"Oh my god! Things I didn't need to know for $300, Alex!"

We both laughed.

"So I get one, and I put a battery in it, and we're, you know, going for it." She
paused and I bit my lip so hard it almost bled. Jasper Hale has been one of my
best friends since I was fourteen years old. The things I knew – and didn't want
to - about that man's sex life could fill a dozen composition books, and Jasper,
god love him, remained utterly unaware.

"And it's kind of working. I mean, I get closer than I have in a while."

"Wait, how are you doing this? Missionary?"

Alice grinned. "No, him standing, me on the bed, face up."

I nodded and she continued as I thought about our friendship. There was literally
nothing we couldn't tell one another. The idea that I could have lost her almost
pulled me out of the happy time we were sharing.

"So, we're there, and poor Jas, he's holding on with everything he's got. And I
keep saying, 'almost, almost,' because, I swear to god Bella, it was like, okay,"
she paused and laid her palms flat on the table, and then leaned forward, almost
whispering. Prime Alice gossip time.

"You know how, right before you come, there's that second, where you feel like,
if you don't come, that, I don't know, the world will end or something? Like, it's
painful, but you know that in a second, it's going to be the best feeling ever?"

I nodded, trying to remember the last time I'd had a good, hard O.

"Well it was like that, but like, for minutes." She leaned back in her chair. I'm not
kidding you, B, I was dying, and it, it hurt, but I kept waiting and waiting and
trying and Jasper, he kept going and he's all 'come on, baby, come on, baby,' and
I say 'Jesus, Jas, I'm trying,' and Bella, I'm not kidding you, that second when
you feel it start to flip, when it goes from pain to pleasure, I just hit that, and I
tell Jas, 'go, go' and all of a sudden Daisy's at the foot of the bed, screaming like
she'd been stabbed." At that point Alice was full on laughing again, and I was
bent over the table, slapping my palms against it, shaking in silent laughter.

"Wait," she said, her eyes watering again. "This is the best! So Jas pulls out in
the confusion but it's too late, and he comes all over the bed, just standing there,
staring at Daisy, and Daisy's screaming-" Alice cut off, shaking and crying, barely
getting the words out.

"She says, 'Mommy, Daddy wet the bed!" Alice dissolved and took me down with
her, the both of us rocking, laughing, slapping the table, and chairs, our legs,
anything. A few minutes later when Jasper brought by lunch, he found us that
way, still dizzy with giggles, hardly able to look at one another. Unfortunately,
the moment he put the bag down and stood, arms akimbo, Alice and I got the
same mental picture and screamed with laughter all over again.

.

After lunch, I headed over to the Cullen's f or a nap. I was relieved that Edward
would be gone all day, and I hoped that his buying spree would keep him out
past dinner. One incursion a day was quite enough.

Autumn was quickly turning to winter, and I snuggled down into the soft bedding.
Esme's sheets always smelled fresh and clean and warm, and I fell into dreams
fast.

I don't know how long I slept, but I was jolted awake from a nightmare that left
me sobbing, a half scream stuck in my throat. I rolled over and pushed my face
into the pillow, trying to drown the noises that sprang up from the terrible chasm
I felt inside of me. The details of the dream began to evaporate, but I remember
that in the dream I'd lost the baby. That she was gone and in her wake, she'd left
a family of people staring at me, their disappointment etched deep in their faces.
Even Seth looked at me with dismay, his face an accusation.

"How could you?" he'd asked, and then they all joined him and as I turned to run,
I clutched at my stomach but found it empty, and I was crippled by the loss.

I didn't hear a knock or the doorknob turn, but after a few minutes of sobbing, I
felt the bed on the other side of me dip down, and Edward's voice, low and near
my ear.

"Shhh," he whispered. "It's okay, you're okay." I heaved a sob when his hand
touched my back. He began to stroke up and down my arm, and then there was a
shuffling as he lay on the bed next to me, and brought his arm around me.

"Nightmare again?" he asked. I nodded and snuffled.

It felt good, so good to have his arms around me, the way he tucked his knees
under mine, holding me close, safe. I wanted to bottle up the feeling, so that I
could send him away and still feel good. But I was sore and hurt and spent and
just goddamned tired of being good and doing what's right. I felt myself relax
against him. I knew I would have emotional fall out, and in the moment, I didn't
care. I needed something. I deserved something, just for me.

I felt his hand reach around and stroke across my belly. His warm breath clouded
in the hair at the nape of my neck, and I pretended, for one moment, that this
was us. Me and Edward, our baby in my belly, our love manifest in flesh and bone
and blood. I closed my eyes and felt calmed, and soothed.

"Come on," he said, bursting my little self-destructive bubble. "I know what you
need."

I let him tug me up from the bed, and held on to both of his hands as he pulled
me to my feet. "Christ, you're carrying a load. You weight a ton."

"Shut up," I said, my laughter barely contained. Even I was amazed at how
heavy I was – and how much more there was to go.

He held my hand as we walked out into the hall. "No question you've got a
McCarty in there."

"Har har."

I was surprised at how easy it was, to let myself fall in to the old rhythms of
friendship with him. How normal it felt to have my hand in his. Not electric, and
not sizzling with energy. Just…right.

We arrived in the kitchen and at once, his intent was clear. He pulled the small
pan from the rack above us, and I took the milk from the refrigerator. I sat and
watched as he stirred. When it was done, he poured the cocoa into small tea
cups, and topped it with thick dollops of whipped cream. He served me the cocoa
with a spoon, and soon I saw why.

Instead of the smooth, chocolatey drink I'd anticipated, what he gave me was a
rich, thick concoction that was bitter and sweet, with a texture that's smooth, like
pudding.

"It's Italian style," he said. "Do you like it?"

I nodded and wrapped my mouth around the spoon, taking in the sweet, cold
whipped cream with the warm, dark cocoa. It was perfect.

Just as I was finishing my last sip, he stood and took his cup the sink. "Just leave
yours," he said over his shoulder. "You should get back to bed."

I walked up the stairs and it wasn't until I hit the third floor that I started to
understand it, that feeling of déjà vu. The soothing. The cocoa. And finally, his
dismissal. It was like I was sixteen years old all over again, and Edward Cullen
was the only thing I could see.

I lay back down and pulled the covers up over me, huddling under them, like they
were some kind of shield. I wanted to think about Edward, and what it all might
mean. But before I could even sort my thoughts out, I was lost to the peace of
dreamless sleep.

.

.

Chapter 10 – Oh, I Can't Forget

.

.

My phone rang early in the morning, setting my teeth on edge. I ground my teeth
and picked it up from the side table. Only one person ever called me this early.

"Hi Mom," I said, trying to stifle my yawn.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Fine," I sighed. The early morning sun was lightening the sky, turning the mist a
swirly blue-gray instead of the dark, foreboding black-gray of the evenings.

"Well listen, hun, I was talking with Grandma Dwyer, and she has a bunch of
Phil's old baby things, cribs and stuff, in the garage? I don't know if you need any
of that, but I told her I'd check."

My mind reeled. First, 'Grandma Dwyer had been my grandmother two husbands
ago. It amazed me that my mother had found a way to stay close with the
families of her ex-husbands. Second…what the hell was she thinking?

"Mom, we talked about this, remember? I'm not keeping the baby."

"Well I know that's what you said, but just in case you changed your mind."

Just the idea of what she was suggesting made my heart surge with pain.

"I can't do that, Mom. This isn't my baby. That would kill Rose and Emmett."

There was quiet static on the line, before she broke it with a sigh.

"I know, honey. I just – I know you'll be such a good mom, someday." My
mother's voice became quiet and reflective, and I knew that I had more of her in
that moment than usual. "You just have so much Charlie in you, don't you? He
was always like that, putting everyone else first."

"It's not that, Mom. I'm not putting them first."

"Oh, I know, baby. You don't see it that way. He never did either. Listen, I have
to run. Jimmy's almost out of the shower and we're going to Aspen today. He
wants to look for a weekend house. I don't know, Bella, I think this could be
love."

"Well, good luck. Have fun in Aspen."

"I will sweetheart. I'll tell Jimmy you said hi. Love you!"

And with that, she was gone.

I flopped back down on the bed, trying to snuggle down into the blankets and get
myself back to sleep. It was no use though. Renee's words were milling around in
my head. I'd never seen my father as particularly selfless. I tried to see him as
she might: a man devoted to the safety and security of a sleepy, northern town.
I'd like to say it's a stretch to imagine him putting his life on the line, but the fact
is, these days, you just never know.

I wondered what it felt like for her. If she'd worried about him when he was late
coming home from the station. If he'd missed a birthday or anniversary dinner,
attending to someone else. I understood suddenly, fiercely, her need to come in
first. After all, everyone should be first in someone's eyes, right?

I mulled over the thought as I drifted back to sleep. I hoped when I woke up that
there would still be a cup of coffee, and that I would be alone.

.

I sipped my coffee in silence and tried not to look at Edward. He sat across from
me at the small table in the breakfast nook, and every time I glanced his way, his
eyes were on me.

Closing my eyes to shut him out, I tried to revel in the one cup of real coffee that
I was allowed every day.

It was too distracting, him, sitting there. I wanted to hear the thoughts in his
head, and I wanted him to go away.

"Stop staring," I said, finally looking at him straight on.

He smiled and looked down for a moment, reading his cup of coffee. He gripped
the cup from across the top, his long fingers spanning the edges, before he lifted
it to his mouth. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. No one should
look so good doing something so ordinary.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked.

"Why'd you come back?"

He sighed and put his coffee cup down. "A lot of reasons. Alice. Her kids. You
know Huck was afraid to hug me? His own uncle, and it's like I'm a stranger." He
shook his head, and I felt my heart tighten. No matter what I thought of him, I
knew that had to hurt. Family meant everything to Edward.

"And every time I came to visit, the look on Mom's face when it was time for me
to go – I just couldn't keep putting her through that."

I nodded. "She's really happy to have you here," I said.

"Yeah, well Emmett's not so happy."

"Do you blame him?"

Edward shrugged. "I guess not. Guess I have some making up to do." Then he
fixed his green gaze on me. I felt trapped. I felt like a stupid girl again, heart
fluttering every time he looked into my eyes. I felt like being a bitch, because he
didn't deserve anything less.

"So why'd you do it?" he asked again.

"It was the right thing to do," I answered. I stood and took my half-full cup to the
sink, rinsing it before putting it in the dishwasher. "I've got to get going. See ya."

I left before he could say anything more. He didn't deserve my honesty.

.

It was easy to avoid Edward. A couple of simple checking-in phone calls each day
gave away his location. Having lunch with Emmett? Guess I'll visit Alice. Hanging
at the bakery? I'll drop by Rose's and help her with the baby's room. Not sure of
his location? Seems like a good day to visit Seth, or Jake. After that first morning,
I'd gotten good at avoiding him, one-on-one, save a few close encounters in the
kitchen over coffee.

He was keeping his distance though, not trying to force a conversation. At dinner
there were always extra guests – sometimes Rose and Emmett, sometimes Alice
and Jasper with the kids, and sometimes all of them. After the second huge
gathering, Esme'd decided to leave the two leaves in the table, so that on the odd
occasion when it was just the four of us, we'd cluster around one end, leaving the
day's mail and someone's handbag piled at the other.

Those were the times when it was hard to pretend. More often than not, I'd
excuse myself to my room, sneaking down later at night to snack on left-overs. I
tried not to notice the light under his door, of the soft music seeping out from
under it, as I came and went. I tried not to think too much about why it still
mattered, after so much time.

About three weeks into my stay with the Cullens, I woke in the morning with the
baby kicking my bladder. You would think she'd have better manners for her
hostess, but no. I ran a warm bath, easing into the tub and letting the soothing

water wash over my skin. The ache in my lower back felt like it was never going
to go away, and all I could think was how I wanted to be free, finally, of this
obligation.

I wanted to sit curled in a ball on my couch again, watching a baseball game and
drinking a cold beer. I wanted to run and to dance and to feel pretty under the
eyes of a man. Being here, with Edward again, it made me realize how much had
been left unsaid between us. And how much I needed to move on.

After the bath, which didn't ease the ache in my back, I waddled down to the
kitchen to rescue the last cup of coffee from the pot. Edward was there, brooding
over his own cup. When he saw me, he rose.

"Sit down," he said, looking like an obscene James Dean in jeans and a white t-
shirt. "I'll get it for you."

My hand was still pushing into my lower back as I tried to rub away the ache that
was leaving me feeling strung out and bitchy.

His hand flew to my back and I felt his fingers, gentle but insistent, through the
thin cotton of my shirt.

"You're really tight," he said and my face flushed crimson.

He stayed oblivious though and asked me to sit so that he could do a better job.

"Relax," he whispered. His voice was close to my ear. It twisted up inside of me
and brought too many things – some long dead, and some, new and sprouting –
to the surface.

"That's better," he said. "Just let me…there."

His fingers slipped under my shirt and all I could think was that he had his bare
hands on me. And it was magic. He was working magic, warming and easing the
muscles until I could feel the blood beginning to flow through them again, in
silvery, fluid spurts beneath my skin.

I closed my eyes and the softest moan sounded in my throat, so low it was hardly
more than a vibration. Edward's hands froze on my skin, and then he renewed his
rubbing with even, steady strokes. I felt his thumbs dig into the tight muscles as
he drew a long, sharp breath. I could feel the exhale against my neck and my
head lolled to the side.

I moaned again, and my face flushed at the sexual sound, but god, it felt so good
to have the ache dulled. As I relaxed further into his hands, two things struck
me: How good it felt to have someone tend to me, and how foreign the feeling
was. Everything about me felt soft and the moment I realized it, everything
clenched down and became hard again.

"Stop," I said, and pulled myself up to my feet.

I brushed past him and went to the hall closet for my coat. The November air was
chilly, with sharp fingers of wind that could slip under your clothes poking at you
until you retreated back into the warmth of a building or car.

Edward followed me into the hall, pocketing his keys from the entry table.

"Where are you off to?"

I shrugged, not wanting to give him even my voice.

"Come out for a walk with me. There's this gorgeous spot a few miles from here,
well, you'd have to see it to believe it."

I looked up at him and caught the hopeful, wistful look he'd been giving me for
days now, always asking me for just a little bit more.

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"C'mon," he said. "Take a walk with me."

"What? Is your conscience killing you? Is that why you're being so damned nice?"

"God, you really hate me."

Fuck. I sighed.

"I don't hate you, Edward. I just…I don't understand. We're not friends. We were
never friends. Why are you trying so hard?"

He held my hand and turned my palm up, staring into it, then swallowed.

"You don't…" He stopped himself, and breathed deep. "You don't think I've ever
been a friend to you?"

Panic sets in as I search my book bag one more time. Not there. It's not there.
The homework is worth forty percent of my grade and I need that score to be
perfect. I swear and Alice looks up from her Cosmo.

I tell her my problem, and she asks Edward if he has an old book. He doesn't and
I stand before the two of them, twisting my fingers. I don't want to ask Esme or
Carlisle for a ride to get my book, but I can't afford to miss even a single
assignment. My test scores in algebra haven't been as good as they need to be. I
stare at the two of them and they're having one of their silent, sibling
conversations.

Edward huffs. "Fine." He turns to me. "Come on, Bella, I'll drive you to get it." His
tone implies that Alice owes him a debt. I don't want that either.

"It's okay," I say. "I can walk." I turn to head back to Alice's room. "I'll see you
tomorrow," I say. There's no way Charlie will let me walk back, and I know he
won't drive me, not so late.

There's a soft tug on the hood of my sweatshirt. "Come on, Bella," he says, and I
can't resist. Twenty minutes in the car, alone with Edward. I lean back, and then
turn and follow him down the stairs.

The drive to my house is silent, but I don't mind. I try to stay quiet as I breathe
in the scent of him in the car, the lingering notes of Esme's Oscar all but
obscured by the sweet smell of smoked weed, old leather and boy.

When we arrive, he pulls into the drive, but stops short. Sue Clearwater's old blue
Corolla is parked in the driveway. I wonder for a moment if Billy and Jake came
out for dinner, and why Charlie didn't call me to tell me they'd be there. I would
have come home for that.

I open the door, expecting to see a small party, and instead am greeted by the
lone hall light. The rest of the house is shadows and dark. I start to call for
Charlie but a small, soft noise, coming from upstairs stops me.

My steps are light and steady as I grip the rail, pulling myself up the stairs. The
noise is there again, stronger, louder, feminine and high-pitched, like someone is
hurt, or crying. I don't want to keep going, but then I hear another, deeper noise.
A man's noise. I swallow and take one more step before I hear it: Sue's voice,
soft and clear, calling my father's name.

My breath catches as I realize what it is, what's happening up there. I sink to my
knees and fight the urge to vomit that's sweeping through me, doubling me over.
Before I can hear one more sound, I'm flying down the stairs, out the front door
and into the car.

"Go, just go." I say. The tears are already there, singeing my lashes with their
heat, and I don't care if Edward sees me like this. I just need to be away.

"Bella, what's wrong?" Edward reaches a hand out to me and I jerk away from
him, palming my eyes, trying to clear the tears.

"Please," I groan. He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the drive. I shudder
with my tears, feeling the sobs in the pit of my stomach, my lungs burning from
holding my breath. Too soon, he pulls the car over.

"Bella, what happened?" I want to look into his eyes, I want to see them, be lost
in them. I want him to hold me and make it all go away.

I don't answer for a moment and then he's got his hand on my arm, trying to
make me look at him.

"Bella?" he asks.

I say the only thing that makes any sense. "Suh-huh-huh-Sue was there." I get
the words out and he is quiet for a moment and then he sucks in a breath,
realizing what I meant.

He leaves his hand on my arm, his elbow at an awkward angle and lets me just
cry, hunched over in my hoodie, knees drawn up under me. Then his hand moves
to my back. He's making awkward stroking and petting moves, and god, if it were
any other time, I would be mesmerized, but because it's now, because he's
touching me now, I hardly even notice it.

"Hey," he says. "Hey." And then I hear his seatbelt click and a moment later, his
arms are around me. It's awkward, with the center console between us, but he's
got my head under his chin somehow and he's got his arms around mine and
then he bends his head and pushes it into my hair. I feel his breath, warm
against the back of my neck and it should be exciting but it's just…soothing. He
nuzzles next to my ear. "Shhh…" he says. I try to fall into the comfort he's
pushing at me and then I hear it in my head again, Sue's soft cry and I realize
what it all means.

"Oh god," I say. "Oh, god."

Edward makes that shushing noise again but I can't have it.

"No," I say. "You don't understand. What if he marries her?" I dissolve into
another bout of sobs, sucking the snot back like a child, shuddering under the
weight of my realizations. "What if they get married? What if I have to move to
the Rez?"

He pulls me in tighter. "You'll stay with us. Don't worry, Bella."

"Buh-buh-but Leah," I say, throwing myself into the worst case scenario, almost
incoherent with sobs. "She huh-huh-huh-hates me." I draw in a deep, shaky
breath. "And she'll be my suh-suh-suh-sister."

Edward just holds on to me, until the console is pushing into my back, but his
arms never leave mine and I'm finally cried out, lulled into a softer place by his
breath in my hair and his promises, over and over and over, that it will be okay.

I wipe my nose on my sleeve because there's no Kleenex, and I can feel the snot
and the tears on my lips. His arms slack and the console isn't pinching against my
spine anymore. Finally, he takes one deep breath against my hair and says, "are
you okay?"

I nod and he pulls away. It's colder, and I think I must really be okay again
because I'm just now noticing that Edward Cullen had me in his arms, had his
breath on my hair, had his skin against mine. I'm mad all over because I missed
it.

He shifts his seat forward and keys the ignition. We drive the scant distance in
silence and when we arrive, Esme and Alice are in the kitchen. Alice is kind of
pacing and Esme is unloading the dishwasher.

"Oh, thank goodness." Esme turns away from her chore and gives me a long,
hard look. I duck and don't meet her eyes. "Bella?" she asks. I pull away and it
hurts to hurt her, but I can't talk about this yet.

Alice paces around the kitchen again before glaring at Edward.

"Where were you?" she asks him. I glance at him and he's frozen by her
question. I swallow and shake my head. Please don't.

I turn and head up the stairs, to the guest room, and I hear Edward's voice, low,
but I can't make it out.

"You're such an asshole," Alice says, and then I hear her feet, quick on the steps
behind me. She puts her arm around me and we walk to the guest room. It's
littered with my belongings at this point, but I refuse to call it mine.

"Bella," she says. Her voice is soft and full of conspiratorial understanding.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say. I turn at the threshold of the door. I don't
know what Edward's told her, but in the distance I can hear the phone ring and
then Esme's voice, a dull murmur.

"I'm sorry my brother's a jerk," she says. I shake my head. She hugs me and I
close the door behind me. I don't want to talk about it again.

That night I lay in bed, twisting and turning against the sheets, a hundred
scenarios playing out in my head. There's a creak in the hallway and a knock,
whisper soft. I straighten my pajamas and answer the door.

Edward stands in front of me. He's wearing sweats pulled up to his calves and a
white t-shirt. His hair is damp from the shower, and he smells just warm and
clean and soapsweet. His skin is pinked from the hot water. He reaches behind
him, rubbing the back of his neck and that's when I know I'm okay – because I
want to twist my fingers in his hair, and taste his bottom lip.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod and push a smile across my lips.

"Look, I-" he starts then stops, rubbing the back of his neck again. "I couldn't lie
to mom. Alice doesn't know, but I couldn't lie to mom."

"No," I say. "It's okay. You didn't need to lie to anyone. I'll figure it out."

He looks relieved and says "yeah?" A question. His smile is brilliant and full of
hope. I'd almost forgotten about this Edward, this bright and smiling boy, with
eyes the color of fresh-cut grass.

"Yeah," I say. "Thanks, Edward. For everything."

"Okay," he says, then reaches out and tugs a lock of my hair that's lying over my
shoulder. "G'night, Bella."

.

The crisp autumn air cut through my reverie, bringing me back to the man in
front of me. There's a stricken look on his face, hardness and confusion in his
eyes.

What a lie. Edward Cullen hadn't just been my friend. At one point in my life, he'd
been my best friend, the one person that I couldn't wait to see, to talk to, to trust
with all of my secrets.

I shook my head. "Of course you have," I said, my voice barely rising above a
whisper. "God, I'm sorry I'm being mean to you all the time, I just-"

"I get it, Bella. We both know I deserve it." His voice and his eyes were sad as he
dropped his keys back onto the table and walked up the stairs.

I felt powerful, strong…for about five minutes, until I remembered the sadness in
his eyes. Then all I felt was sad, with a little bit of anger mixed in, both at him for
what he'd done, and at me, for letting him.

.

.

Chapter 11 – Lovers in the Garden: Thorns

.

.

She came home from her internship and he met her with a kiss. He was always at
the front door with a kiss and she loved it like an eager puppy. In four weeks he
hadn't failed, and in four weeks she'd grown dependent, needing his mouth to
soothe the day from her skin.

She changed her clothes and met him in the kitchen. He was making dinner and
she joined him, their movements a concert, an unspoken rhythm as she cut and
he chopped and he stirred and she seasoned. She tipped back a bottle of beer,
then poured a bit into the sauté pan, drawing back as the steam rushed at her
face. She felt his steadying hand at the small of her back, an unspoken question
that she answered with a light kiss to his cheek.

It was always there, his tender concern, and she bloomed under his care, growing
more fully into a woman with each passing day. There was a confidence to her
now, in the way that she approached the world, steadier on her two feet than she
had ever been.

When she was at the office she took pride in her work, no longer demure under
the compliments of her superiors but proud of her accomplishments, proud of a
job well done. She stood taller, her back straight, and wore her new poise with an
easy air that belied her usually awkward ways. For the first time that she could
remember, her flesh was free of bruises, save for five small purple points on her
left hip – greedy fingertips that she hadn't felt at the time.

When the food was ready they dished up their plates, sitting at the tiny table in
the corner. He studied his food, unusually quiet as she talked of her day, of the
gossip in her small office, and revealed the secrets of her trade, one trick at a
time.

She took another sip of her beer and noticed him brooding over the last few bites
of his pasta.

"Hey," she said, her eyes softly probing his. He held her gaze for only a moment,
then looked down, stirring the noodles on his plate again.

"My father will be here tomorrow night. I guess he's got a conference in San
Diego, and he booked a long layover here on his way down." He didn't meet her
eyes and that told her all she needed to know.

"Oh," she said. "What timing. I have to work late. Big presentation on Thursday,
remember? It's the only time we can all get together."

She willed him to contradict her. She willed him to tell her to change her plans
but instead he speared a piece of shrimp and tossed it into his mouth, chewing
and swallowing while still looking at his plate.

"Yeah?" he asked. "Huh. Well, that's too bad," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"Yeah," she said, standing to take her plate to the kitchen. "Are you done?" she
asked.

"No," he answered, and pushed the food around his plate some more.

She took her dishes to the kitchen and washed them, then started on the pots
and pans. He came in twenty minutes later, wrapping his arms around her waist
and holding her tight for long minutes while hot water ran down the drain. After a
while he released her with a kiss to the cheek, before holing himself up in the
spare bedroom, books spread out around him, making notes and marking pages,
earnest in his studies.

She spent the evening on her laptop, reviewing her work before giving in hours
later and going to bed.

"I'll be in soon," he said, not meeting her eyes but accepting her kiss against his
neck.

When the alarm went off the next morning she was alone. He'd fallen asleep at
his desk, his hair falling unruly over his notebook, an ink pen tipping over in his
loose grip. She woke him, stroking the back of his neck with her fingers,
whispering endearments, then holding his hand as she led him to their bed. He
curled a hand around her thigh, pulling her down onto the bed, down into him,

covering her with the weight of his body. "Can't go," he mumbled, and so she
stayed, waiting for his breathing to become slow and smooth again before easing
herself out from under him and slipping away to work.

That night, she slept in the bed of her rented room for the first time since she'd
gone to his house. The sheets were rough and the sounds of the neighborhood
were unfamiliar around her. She tossed and turned most of the night, wishing
that he would call her home to him, finally crying herself to sleep when she
realized that he wouldn't.

She spent the next day in haze, mumbling through her presentation and claiming
illness as her cover. She was ill. She was heartsick. That man, her beautiful man,
didn't want her in the real world. And whatever they'd been doing for the last four
weeks wasn't the love she thought it was. She bit back tears, again and again,
feeling every bit the foolish girl that he must imagine her to be. Finally, she lost
herself in her work, surfacing long after everyone had gone home for the day.
The idea of another night in that small, stuffy room was terrifying, but the idea of
calling him, and hearing his rejection, scared her more.

She rode the elevator down to the parking garage and groped in her messenger
bag for her keys as she walked past the empty rows of parking stalls. Her
footsteps echoed and the dark shadows seemed ominous under the orange glow
of the sodium lights. When she turned down her aisle and looked up, her breath
caught and the keys fell from her hand.

He walked toward her, his face showing the same confusion, the same pain that
she felt.

"I'm so sorry," he said, sweeping her up into his arms, off of her feet, his grip on
her tight, pressing every inch of her into him. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't ready. I
didn't know what to do." His voice sounded so small and scared, like a lost child.
She knew she'd do anything to take his fear away, to see him happy.

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his flesh, making him real for her
again. Her emotions went to war, relief and pain coursing through her, anger
rising in the back of her throat and she lost her fight for control as the tears
spilled down her face.

He saw her tears and put her back down, his hands quick to wipe them away.
"Please, baby," he said. "I'm so sorry."

She saw his eyes, full of grief in the dim light and sobbed, unable to hold it back.
"I thought you didn't want me," she said, the words a choked gargle.

"No," he breathed, "don't ever think that. I always want you." He gripped her, his
mouth spilling kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her hair and forehead. "Come
home, please," he asked.

She nodded against him and he sighed. She felt the tension begin to ebb from his
flesh. He led her to his car, leaving hers in the lot for the night.

When they arrived at his house and walked through the door, it became home
again for them both. She wrapped herself around him, her need for his love a
tangible thing. He pulled her to him, echoing her need, each of them with greedy
fingers, greedy mouths, their desperation a flavor on their skin as he pushed into
her and she arched onto him, their eyes shiny with fear.

It was hours before the fear finally gave way, loosing its grip on them both, and
their frantic coupling took on a sweeter, more reverent tone.

"I didn't know how to answer questions about us," he said. "I was afraid of what
would happen."

"It's okay," she said. "I understand."

"It's not. I hurt you."

"So kiss it," she said, pointing to her heart. "And make it better."

He did and she sighed and relaxed into his embrace.

The next morning saw another sick day as they took turns, kissing to make it
better. And by the end of the day, it was.

.

.

Chapter 12 – Time has Stopped, the Clock Keeps Going

.

.

Two weeks later, I found myself once again in the kitchen with Edward. It would
have been like a sitcom, except it wasn't funny. It made me feel hopeful, which
was terrifying for reasons I didn't want to think about. I was growing to
appreciate Scarlett O'Hara's outlook on life: Fiddle-dee-dee, I'll think about that
tomorrow.

Still, I had to hand it to Edward – he'd been really good about giving me my
space since our last conversation. We hadn't been alone for more than a minute
or two since then, and he never tried to initiate a conversation. I'd expected to
feel happy, even smug after successfully blowing him off. Instead, I felt shitty,
and it pissed me off. After everything, didn't he deserve a little payback?

So when I walked into the kitchen to find him at the table, drinking coffee and
reading the paper, instead of grabbing my cup and leaving, I surprised us both: I
sat down and said good morning. Okay, so maybe I left off the good. It's the
thought that counts.

He looked up at me, wary and surprised.

"Good morning, Bella." He said the words with caution in his voice, and went back
to the paper.

I grabbed a section and began to read, hoping I was passing off my quiet as an
easy silence, when in actuality it was anything but. I couldn't say what I'd read,
although I was two pages into the local news and events section.

I looked up to see if he was reading and found myself caught in his eyes. Dark
green and light green, swirling together, I felt my body react, under his gaze.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't know how you can do it," he said, and I knew exactly what he was talking
about. He wore a dark gray waffle-weave shirt and jeans. He looked bleary and

only half-awake, and I wondered why he'd bothered getting up before he was
ready.

"Do what?"

"This. Have someone else's baby. It's…I don't know, Bella. What about after? Will
you be okay?"

I slipped a few slices of bread into the toaster and pulled out a jar of Esme's
strawberry preserves. She canned a few days every summer, and in the middle of
winter, when the cold seemed to have set deep into the brick and mortar, a taste
of her jam was like sunshine on my tongue.

"It's fine. Where's Esme?" I knew Carlisle was already at the hospital, working
another twelve hour day. I wondered how he kept it up, kept going. His energy
had never flagged, not that I'd seen.

"She's volunteering mornings at Huck's school. Alice wants to, but…"

"Yeah, she said."

When the school asked for volunteers, Alice had been eager to help out.
However, she was reticent to do so until she felt she was more stable on her new
meds. It broke my heart that she even had to think about these things.

"So how does it all work? I mean, is that-" He reached for me, but stopped before
I'd decided whether to meet him halfway. "Is the baby yours?"

I smiled and shook my head. "She's one hundred percent McCarty-Hale. I'm just
the oven."

"You're a hell of a lot more than that, Bella. God, you always sell yourself short. I
thought you'd outgrow that."

"Hey!" I frowned at him, feeling the anger that I'd been working to quell bubble
up inside of me. "You don't get to come back here and judge me. You don't get to
come back here and even pretend that you know anything about me, Edward.
God knows you're not who I thought you were."

"What the hell does that mean?" He pushed away from the table, crossing his
arms over his chest.

My mind flashed on the girl – no – the woman, strawberry blond hair and pale
blue eyes, and I wanted to fling her at him, but I didn't have the right.

"Nothing. It's nothing." The fight fled as quickly as it came, and I felt washed out
in its wake.

Edward sighed, long and deep. "I'm sorry," he said. "I feel like all I'm doing is
fighting you, and that's not what I want."

What do you want, Edward? Why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?

I shook my head again. "Whatever. We're both just edgy."

Edward scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand, then ran it over his eyes,
pinching the bridge of his nose. It was such a familiar gesture, and it made me
think of the hundred times before that he'd done that. The expression was one of
frustration, with a situation, or with himself, seen from the sidelines when the
running back missed the pass, or when the ball shot through the first baseman's

legs. I wanted to reach out to him, take his hand in mine and try to ease the
strain from his face, but those days were too long gone, and I couldn't afford the
price of his ease.

"Will you tell me about it?" he asked. "Tell me how it all works?"

"How will this work?" I ask, because I need to know exactly what I'm giving up
for them. Their kitchen table is small, blond wood, and round. It's the middle of
summer and a Wednesday, since my Saturdays are all booked up with weddings
and engagements and other celebrations of love and beginnings and joy. It's why
I became a photographer, to help others celebrate, but it's frustrating, these
months, when my time is never my own.

Rosalie pulls a blue folder out from the sheaf of them on the table. She slides it
across to me and I open it. My head soon begins to spin. This is somehow more
than I had imagined.

There are lists of drugs and timelines. Apparently, I will be going back on the pill.
There are injections and timing and harvesting to be done. I look at Rose and
can't imagine what this will be like for her, taking pieces of her and pieces of
Emmett and shaking them up and then entrusting them to me—me-to give her
what she wants most.

And what if something goes wrong? What if it doesn't work or what if…what if?
What if?

"We'll cover all the costs, of course," she says, and I haven't even thought about
that.

What started out as a weekday brunch turns into an overnight affair. We talk
about logistics and I go away to the guest room, to think. We talk about our
concerns and they go away to their own private space to talk. It's more than I
thought it would be. Part of me thinks about turkey basters and pregnancy tests,
and I stifle a giggle at the thought of having sex with Emmett. I love him, but the
idea of him naked makes my stomach roll a little.

Then I think of morning sickness, and dates and timing and I call them back to
the table.

"I need this to work around my work schedule. Having the baby in the winter
works best for me, can we do that?"

"We'll try," Emmett says.

"Will that be okay?" I ask.

"We'll make it work," Rosalie says, and I believe her. "What about dating? I
mean, I know it didn't really work out with Alec." Rosalie was blunt when we'd
first talked about the surrogacy, asking how Alec would take the news. I let her
know that he was no longer in the picture, and was hoping that that would be the
end of it. My sad little love life didn't need to be the focus of this conversation.

I dismiss the concern and we all go to bed. I don't know about them, but I spend
most of the night tossing and turning, wondering if this really is the right
decision.

The next morning, over eggs and bacon and waffles with fresh berries, Rosalie
asks me one more time.

"Bella, are you sure?" Her blue eyes battle fear and hope.

"Rose, she's sure. She said it." Emmett paces, grizzly man, caged.

"I promise. I'm sure."

"There's no going back, you know. You can't back out if you decide it's
inconvenient. This is for real." Rose again, covering bases.

"I know. I know."

"You're giving up – this will own you for the next eighteen months, maybe two
years. Maybe more."

I sigh, weary. Good deeds will be punished.

"This will own me for the rest of my life," I say.

The words fall out and she sags, relief. Her eyes let go and for a moment, there is
only hope, and the hope shines so bright that I see how she's bound him to her,
why he falls at her feet because surely no one this beautiful can be a mere
mortal. The hope shines through.

"You get it," she says. "And you're sure?" she asks, one more time, for the
record.

"I'm sure." I feel the smile tug at my lips as I hold her hand and reach out for
Emmett. He engulfs me, his hand on mine massive, his arm around his wife.

"Thank you, Bella," he says. "You don't – you don't know."

I smile because he's right; I don't know. I know about angles and lenses and how
the light can change you, from monster to angel in the span of a minute. I know
how to ease the nerves of a bride, how to make a baby coo, a toddler smile and
how to balance the budget in less than an hour. I know about friendship and
trust, and how to be there, even when there is scary. I know about faith and that
its absence is a hot shock, no cold purgatory like they've said. And I know about
love, how it leads you to the fire, how it burns as you twist until there is nothing
left of you, only smoke and ashes, almost nothing at all.

But I don't know anything about this.

I will learn.

.

"Have you thought about what happens after?" Edward's voice pulled me back to
the moment, sitting at Esme's kitchen table instead of Rose's, with a different
hand holding mine, a different man touching me.

"What?"

"When it's over and Emmett and Rosalie have their baby. What will you have?"

His thumb stroked the back of my hand, and like before, I felt the tension easing
out of my skin. His hand was hot on mine and it felt so good, just to have him
touch me again. Would I ever get away from the past?

"I'll have the happiness of two of my best friends. I'll know that I'm the one who
helped make their dreams come true."

"And that's enough? Helping other people find their happiness?"

"Why not? It's not such a small thing you know. I could do worse."

Edward pulled his hand away and stared at the oak top of the table, then shook
his head.

"How's Charlie with this?"

"Not thrilled."

"Does that make it harder?" he asked, and I found myself sliding back in time, to
when he was my easy confidante, to when I could tell him anything. It would be
so simple to fall back into those old patterns: a late night kitchen rendezvous and
shared secrets over the tinkling of the piano.

And then I was angry all over again, because no matter what had been, I didn't
know how to trust him.

"I can't do this," I said. I set my half-finished cup of coffee on the counter and
walked away.

.

I drove to Jake's office. It was cramped, a typical construction trailer, with a
dusty floor, a dented file cabinet and a mini-fridge full of beer and soda. Every
available space was covered in blueprints, paperwork and invoices.

Jake cleared a chair for me and I sat with gratitude. I felt like I'd gained a
hundred pounds and every step was taxing. I wanted my body back.

Instead of sitting, Jacob leaned against his metal desk and tipped his head at me.
"How're you holding up?"

I smiled at Jacob and he raised his eyebrows at me.

"I'm fine."

"Bells. Come on. You know what I mean. Emmett told me he's staying there." It
was a long-standing, unspoken agreement that we didn't say his name.

"It's fine. He's…he's fine. He's giving me space."

"Okay. So what brings you by? I mean, I know it's not for the ambience." He
grinned and swept his hand around the room. I smiled up into his warm brown
eyes and laughed. The dust bunnies under his desk swirled with the movement
and I shook my head.

The smile fell from my face as I remembered what I really needed.

"Is this okay? I mean, do you have a minute?"

"Sure, sure," he said, dragging his desk chair over to sit next to me. "What's up?"

"Renee called."

"Oh yeah?" His tone was one I knew well. He was not her biggest fan.

"She said I'm like Charlie, and that I always put other people first, but I think she
was trying to say something else."

"Like?"

"I don't know. Like maybe I don't put the right people first?"

"Oh, God." He scrubbed his hand over his face and paced around a little. "I know
she's your mom, but Jesus, Bells, she's so damned selfish. And the way she pops
up in your life, totally clueless about everything, and tries to pretend she knows
you."

"Let's face it, Jake, I'm not really an easy person to know, as evidenced by my
latest romantic folly, aka Alec."

He laughed. "You didn't give him the 'it's not you, it's me?'"

"Nope. He told me he was tired of trying to get close to a brick wall." I looked
down at my belly. I'd heard variations on that riff a few times in my life.

"Well, you can be a little prickly. You're like one of those puffer fish, Bells. Very
cute," he said, giving my nose a little tweak. "But a little scary if someone gets
too close."

"Scary?"

"Not Godzilla or anything, but yeah, you don't trust people easy. That's not really
a bad thing. Keeps you from getting hurt too much."

"But?" I asked, hearing the things he wasn't saying.

"But maybe sometimes you're missing out on good stuff. You'll never know if you
don't try."

I was quiet for a moment, taking in everything he'd said.

"How did you…I mean, when I-" I stopped and drew a breath, and forced myself
to meet his eyes. "How did you forgive me?"

Jacob smiled then ran his fingers through his long, dark hair. "Damn, Bella.
You're gonna spring this on me without tequila?"

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling panic rise up inside of me. I hated bringing up anything
that might hurt him. "I'll go." I started to rise, but Jake tugged on my wrist and
pulled me back down.

"Come on," he said, settling my nerves. "There wasn't anything to forgive, Bella.
What was I supposed to do? Be pissed off over something I had no control over?"

I looked down at my hands, knotting and unknotting them.

"Look," he said, placing his large, warm hand over mine. "All I wanted was a
chance, and you gave me that. I knew the deal going in, and I've never been
sorry for what we had."

"Jake, come on. I know I hurt you." I whispered the last words, eyes on my lap,
blinking back tears.

"Oh," he said, a chuckle escaping his mouth. "No doubt, girl, you broke my heart.
But in the end, I would rather have you in my life as just my friend, than not
have you in my life at all. Like I said, Bella, there was nothing to forgive." He
reached across and touched his hand to my chin, tilting my head up to meet his
eyes.

I gave him a watery smile before blinking and letting two hot tears roll down my
face.

"Goddamn him," Jake said.

"What? No," I said. "He hasn't done anything."

"Nothing except get you all wound up. I will kick his ass if he hurts you again."

I sighed, not blaming Jake one bit for his foul attitude toward Edward. After all,
Jacob's the one who'd had to put my pieces back together the last time.

"I think," I paused, and breathed deep. "I think I want to not be mad at him
anymore. Not because I think, you know, something could happen. I just - it feels
bad, Jacob. I don't want it anymore."

Jake pulled me into his arms, and I felt small and safe and loved. I wished again
that it could have been enough, and then remembered that he'd moved on, even
if he thought I didn't know.

We all have our secrets.

Jacob rocked me a little before letting me go.

"You know," he said. "I don't think for a minute that he deserves your
forgiveness. But I think you do."

Jake and I held onto each other a little bit longer, before he tickled my sides,
ending the heavy mood. I took him to lunch at Plaza Jalisco, Fork's sole Mexican
Restaurant, before heading back to the Cullens'. I wanted some time to think
over the things that Jake had said. I wasn't sure what he'd meant about me
deserving forgiveness, but something about it felt right.

When I got inside, I could hear Edward playing the piano. I paused in the entry
and let the music wash over me. I didn't recognize the song, but something in it
made me a little sad, and wistful. I wished I was sixteen again, and able to sit
down next to him, while he played just for me.

I crept toward the doorway, watching as he moved over the keys. His shoulders
were broad and strong, his brow furrowed as he stared down. A shock of lust
swam over me as I thought about what it felt like, to have him spend that kind of
attention on me.

The baby chose that second to kick, hard, and I gasped, then felt at my stomach.
I could feel something pressing out, toward my belly, and I pulled up the hem of
my sweater. There, outlined in my flesh, was a tiny, baby foot. Her foot. I smiled,
and then laughed and when I looked up, I caught Edward staring.

"Come here," I said. "Hurry."

He came near, still a bit wary, until I took his hand.

"Look," I said. "It's her foot." He knelt and traced his fingers over my warm skin.
The look on his face when he looked back up at me was so soft, so full of
happiness and hope. I blinked at the tears that were forming in the corners of my
eyes. Why couldn't it have been us, been ours?

I took a small step back. "I should call Rose. She'll be furious she missed it. That
was the whole point of me being here for last two months of the pregnancy."

"Hold on," he said. "Don't move."

I stood still while he ran to the kitchen. I heard him rustle through a few drawers,
before I heard his heavy steps returning. He stood with a blue sharpie in his
hand, uncapped it, and asked me the question with his eyes.

I grinned and nodded, and he fell to his knees again. His left hand came around
to touch my stomach. His fingers laid across my flesh with a tender, tentative
touch. With his other hand, he began to gently trace the outline of the foot. He
talked to the baby in my belly, asking her to stay put for just another second
while the inked the edge of her heel.

He leaned forward a moment and I thought he was going to kiss me, kiss her, but
then he stayed himself, and my hand, which had been rising to rest in his hair,
fell to my side.

He rocked back onto his heels and looked up at me, his green eyes dark and
growing sad through his thick lashes.

"Thank you," I said, my voice thick with other things, long left unsaid.

He stood and closed the space between us, his hand reaching out to cup my
cheek.

"Don't let this break your heart, Bella. Don't settle for this."

Before I could respond, or even get my head around what he'd said, he turned
and left. I stood, stunned for a moment, before I picked up my phone and called
Rose, anxious for her to share in this piece of our partnership.

Chapter 13: Threading the Leaves of the Past

.

.

My mornings took on a familiar routine: I went to the kitchen, Edward fixed me a
cup of coffee, and he asked me why I'd agreed to surrogate. And each morning, I
took the cup and waved him off, retreating to my room, or some other, non-
mutual territory. That moment with the Sharpie had been too much, too close. I
couldn't risk letting him in again.

It was an uneasy truce, but I didn't know what more to do about it. Edward was
back – back in Forks, and back in my life. If I wanted a piece of the Cullens, any
piece of the extended family that I'd come to love as my own, then I needed to
find a way to make peace with the boy Edward once was, and the man that he'd
become.

I remembered being a girl, and how I'd tried so hard to repay Esme and Carlisle
and Alice their kindnesses. I tried to be helpful and unobtrusive; I tried to be
someone they would want around. They didn't have to take me in the way they
did. Plenty of kids in our school had parents who'd divorced, and I knew that it
wasn't always easy going. Most of them didn't have the Cullens as a back-up
plan. They didn't have Alice as a best friend, always happy to lend her clothes, or
Carlisle as a substitute father, helping us with our homework. They didn't have
Esme to call when they felt ill, or to bake cookies for the PTA meeting, or to take
their gloved hand in hers at the annual Spring Tea Party fundraiser.

After the first few months of my friendship with Alice, I noticed my father and the
Cullens having extended conversations when someone was picking up or dropping
off a kid. I noticed the look of relief on my father's face when Esme asked to take
me back-to-school shopping, or when she filled in for him that time when he
couldn't attend my class's open house.

I'd spent a long time resenting Charlie's abdication, but eventually I realized he'd
just been doing the best he could. I couldn't be angry with him for that, and as
time ticked by, I felt gratitude toward him for letting me live so much of my life
with others. For letting me experience being a child with them, even if I was an
adult whenever I went home.

With my father heavy on my mind, I left the Cullen's and went to visit him at the
station. Since he'd become Chief, he didn't have to spend so much time out on
patrol, which was a relief for both me and Sue. I picked up a couple of Cobb
salads—he'd eat lettuce if it was covered in bacon and cheese—and stopped in for
a lunch visit.

Things between us had been uneasy since I'd told him about becoming a
surrogate. He understood what a gift it was, but since I'd made the decision, my
father seemed to have a hard time looking me in the eye.

"Well, to what do I owe the honor?" he asked, taking me, gently, into his big
embrace.

I shrugged and dropped my gaze to his desk. "Just wanted to see you," I said. I
handed him a white take out container, and we both set about adding dressing
and mixing the messy salad.

"Heard the Cullen boy was back in town. What's that about?"

"Edward? Yeah, he's, uh, got a teaching job at the University."

"Yeah? Heard he was staying out at the house. He commuting or something?"

"No. He's, ah, just here until Christmas. His job doesn't start until January."

"Yeah, well, I catch him tearing up 110 out to La Push, I'm gonna bring him in,
Cullen or no."

"Oh geez, he got one speeding ticket when he was seventeen. I'm sure he's
grown up since then."

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at me. "Kid, somehow I doubt that."

We continued to eat in an uncomfortable silence. Charlie didn't seem to know
where to put his eyes, and I resented him and yearned for him in turns. When I'd
rescued the last pale tomato from my container, I willed myself to look at him,
and meet his gaze.

He looked at me for a moment, then down, then back up.

"Why is this so hard for you?" I asked. There was no legacy of directness in our
relationship, but I felt like I needed to know where he was coming from.

"Ah, hell." He signed and pushed his carton of salad away, fiddling with his fork
for a moment before finally looking me in the eye.

"I don't disapprove, Bells. What you're doing is a good thing. A fine thing. But I
don't understand why you're settling for this, when you could be having a baby of
your own."

He stood and began to pace in his small office. "I'm no spring chicken you know.
I'd like to know you're okay, that you're taken care of, and I'd – I'd like to have a
grandbaby of my own. You know?"

"Dad, I'm not settling for anything. Rose and Emmett needed help, and this is
something I could give them."

"And that would be fine Bells, if I thought you were really happy. But I don't think
you're happy. Do you?"

I looked down at my lap. "I'm happy doing this. I'm happy I'm helping my
friends."

"Are you happy for you, or them?"

When I didn't answer, he came around his desk and put his hands on my
shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze.

"I've made mistakes, Bella, I know that. But all I've ever wanted was for you to
be happy. I thought maybe it was Jake, but you both said that it wasn't. And I
know this is a new time and you don't need a man to make you happy, but, baby
girl, I would hate for you to find out late, like I did, just how good it can be."

I sniffled and noticed two warm, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. "I love you,
Daddy."

He held out his handkerchief and I took it, wiping at my eyes.

"I love you too, Bells. Coming for dinner this week? I bet Sue'll make some
flatbread."

I looked at my father through teary eyes. There was a lot of gray in his dark,
curly hair, and I could see age in the lines of his face. I'd always thought of him
as the young man my mother left, and it was a surprise to see him as he really
was. To see him growing old.

"I wouldn't miss it," I answered, then gathered my purse to leave.

.

I lay in bed for hours, trying to fall into sleep, twisting in the sheets when sleep
wouldn't come. Everything my father said was tearing around inside my head.
Between him and Jake, the men in my life were making some surprising
evaluations of my character.

I wanted to ask them to be clearer, to tell me exactly what they thought I was
doing wrong. I wanted to tell them that I was happy, and convince one of us that
it was true. More than anything though, I wanted to sink into the bliss of sleep,
so that I could just stop thinking about anything.

I got out of bed and went downstairs for milk, or maybe cocoa, but neither thing
felt right. I noticed the soft hues of dawn on the horizon casting the sky with
purple and orange. A moment later my stomach growled, and I realized exactly
what I wanted. I threw my long wool coat over my pajamas and tied my scarf
around my neck.

With my keys in my hand, I hurried out to the car, hoping that neither Carlisle
nor Esme would wake up and wonder where I was.

I loved the cold, wet morning streets of Forks in the winter. The way the fog
hovered over the ground, buildings and trees rising out the mist, only to be
swallowed back up from a distance. It's beautiful and ethereal, and a bit of a
driving hazard. There were times when I'd been forced off the road, for safety's
sake.

I took the roads slow, and before long I found myself in front of Jasper's bakery.
I knew he would have sugary cinnamon things full of warm and soft and good,
and I was eager to sink my fingers and teeth into them. More than that though, I
found myself craving Jasper himself. He had a way about him, calm and peaceful,
and he could quiet my turmoil better than anyone I'd ever known.

I used to call him the great sage, because no matter what was going on with me,
he always knew how to read me, and he always gave me great advice.

.

"You're different," he says, and I look up at the tall blonde man before me. His
eyes are the color of my favorite pair of jeans, faded and soft, but they don't miss
a thing. We're standing near the pier, looking out over the Sound. I can feel the
spring coming on, like a current in the air, and I stretch my sweater over my
fingers with a smile, knowing that soon it will be warm again.

"What do you mean?" I ask, but look away. Jacob and Alice are buying popcorn to
feed the seagulls, and I look over toward them, while Jasper stares out over the
water. I feel like I'm tied to the ocean in some primal, private way. All those
summers at La Push, and now here in Seattle. No matter where I turn, the ocean
air is there, smelling briney and earthy, and like home. I don't think about the
other beaches, because today is about happy things and new beginnings.

"You're…you grew up. When did that happen?"

I laugh and roll my eyes at him. In one month I'll be done with school. I'm
working two jobs in order to save enough money to get into my own place come
summer. My final portfolio is due in three weeks, and if I do well enough, I'll win
a spot in a small gallery show in September. I feel like I have so many balls in
the air, and I'm constantly spinning, trying to make sure that none of them fall.

"Guess I couldn't be a kid forever," I say. "Besides, it makes days like this more
fun." Jasper and Alice came to visit, promising that I could take mushy pictures of
them at sunset as a part of my final project. Now we're waiting for the light to be
right, the sun still too high up in the sky to catch the mood I'm trying to create.

We both look over toward Alice and Jacob. He towers over her, elfin thing that
she is, and they make a comical pair as he lifts her under one arm and she
squeals and spills popcorn all over the ground. The gulls come crying quick, and
then she is on his back as he holds her safe from them.

"I like him for you," Jasper says, and I smile. "And that's why," he says. "That
smile's been a long time gone."

The last year was hard for me. It was hard to see the Cullens, hard to see Alice
and not think of all the could-have-beens and never-woulds. I went home less
and less, and Jake came out to Seattle more and more. He waited for me,
patient, never pushing, until one day my lips found his cheek and it was so warm

and sweet that they kept moving until they found his mouth, and that first kiss
was so tendersoft that I didn't want to stop, and neither did he.

I look at Jake and smile, trying to swallow down that feeling again that he
deserves so much better than the half-love I give him.

"I don't think I give enough. We're lopsided."

Jasper picks up my hand and laces his fingers through mine. "Aw, Bella. You think
he doesn't know you're trying for him? I think that boy's been in love with you
since high school. He's happy. Look at him."

I look and it's true. Jake's goofing with Alice, his big frame and long hair like a
beacon in the sunlight. He looks up and sees us watching, and waves, before
galloping around some more with Alice on his back.

"You gonna let him love you?"

The question takes me by surprise, but I understand exactly what he's saying
because it's what I struggle with every time Jake gives me that easy, open smile,
and every time I give him back something less-than.

"I want to," I say, because it's the truth.

Jasper just nods.

"I think the sun's about right," I say, we yell for Alice and Jacob to join us. When
they do, Jacob takes my hand and offers me that easy smile, and in the moment,
I find it takes no effort to offer it back to him.

.

The car didn't quite warm up on the way to the bakery, so I was shivering when I
pulled up to the storefront. I sifted through my key ring until I found the keys to
the front door, and smiled at the dim glow of lights from the back of the shop.
Years ago, when Alice was pregnant with Daisy and I was home saving money for
rent and lenses, I'd worked part time with Jasper at the bakery. We'd each get in
around four am. I started the coffee, and Jasper would turn the stereo up loud
and we'd get to work. For the first few days I'd just stood and watched, but after
a while we found a rhythm, and after a few months, I found myself there even on
my days off, having gotten used to waking long before the sun came up.

When I'd finally moved back to Seattle, Jasper let me keep the keys, and now
and then, I'd surprise him when I was in town, stopping by not long after he'd
gotten to work.

I stopped to pour a cup of coffee from the mostly full pot at the front, then
poured one for him too. I was on my way to the swinging doors that led to the
kitchen when I heard Jasper yelling something over the music, and paused. Once
I'd walked in on and him and Alice going at it on the baker's bench. None of us
could make eye contact for a week.

I peered through the galley windows and saw Jasper pounding at a loaf of bread.
Next to him stood Edward with his back to me. He had a bottle of beer in his
hand, and he set it down long enough to turn off the radio.

"Is it that she won't have you?" Jasper's voice was soft since he was no longer
competing with the noise of the music. I should have walked into the kitchen in
that moment and revealed myself. I should have walked in but I quailed, torn

between wanting to hear about Edward's love life, and doing the decent thing and
walking away. I'd turned to leave, but Jasper's next words stopped me cold.

"Bella. Is it…did she turn you down?"

"What? No, look – there's nothing between me and Bella."

Jasper leaned back against the counter and tipped a mug of coffee to his mouth,
taking a long sip. He kept his eyes on Edward the whole time. "You lying to me or
yourself?" he asked. "It's okay to lie to me, but…." He ended with a shrug.

Edward shook his head, focused on peeling the label from his bottle of beer.
"There's nothing," he said.

"Yeah. Sure. I've seen you, man. The way you don't even look at her, unless you
think no one can see you, and then you stare. It's creepier than when we were in
high school."

"What?" I saw Edward start to pace around the bench, flour leaving a line of
white against his hips.

"This isn't high school anymore, man, and I kind of got it back then, but now, I
don't understand why you won't at least try with the girl. She's – she deserves
something good, you know?"

Edward's voice became hard and cold and I knew Jasper was on dangerous
ground. I thought that maybe I should make my presence known. "Drop it,
Jasper. There is nothing between us." He enunciated the last few words, like nails
in the lid of a coffin. I hoped that Jasper would drop it as much as I wanted to
hear what they'd say next.

"Bullshit, Cullen. You know how I know?" He asked. "You know how I know you're
in love with that girl? You never talk about her. You never ask how she is, who
she's with, what she's doing. You don't come home unless she's gone. You
haven't spent a Christmas here, with her, since-"

Jasper stopped short and stared down at his mug, his brow furrowing. Don't, I
thought, please don't.

"Edward," he said. "What the hell happened that summer in LA?"

.

Chapter 14 - Lovers in the Garden: Pruning

.

.

She exploded into the house, dropping the small box of personal effects onto the
couch before she rushed into his arms.

"I'm free," she cried, wrapping her legs around his waist as he cupped her bottom
in his hands.

"Last day, and now we have all day, every day, together." She caught his eyes
with hers and they sparked with the same excitement. He didn't give her the half
smile that triggered her insides to melt into liquid, every time. Instead, it was a
full smile, wide and beaming, and he was just giving it to her, and she was
swimming in it, going under from the happiness, buoyed back up with joy.

"Finally, mine," he said, before kissing her mouth, her jaw, her cheeks.

He carried her into the kitchen where they ate cold caprese salad with their
fingers, feeding each other bits of balsamic stained mozzarella, and sucking on
bitter, briney olives, chasing it down with sweet prosecco. They stayed up all
night, making love and playing chess, opening a second bottle of the sweet, fizzy
wine before finally succumbing to sleep under a dawn that streaked the lavender
sky pink and orange with the rising sun.

They woke up once, a few hours into the morning, and she pressed against him,
pulling his hand to her breast. He stroked her once, then entered her, her slick
flesh both yielding and clinging. She came to a quiet release, pulling him over
with her, until he shuddered and whispered her name. They were asleep again,
moments later, each feeling rich and fortunate, wanting only what they had,
wanting only each other.

A week passed with the same idyll. They cooked elaborate breakfasts and put
together a massive puzzle, each piece revealing a classic Coca-Cola poster from
the decades gone by. She played with her laptop, utilizing the expensive gifts of
software that her mentor had provided her with on the last day of her internship.
He locked himself away in the spare room for two hours a day, but stopped so
often for beverages and rest breaks and stolen kisses that it was really less than
an hour, and most of that was spent thinking of her-the way her hair spilled out
over his pillow, the way her body curved against his, they way her eyes held
answers to the questions that he couldn't even form.

Each day they had an outing, and he showed her something new about his
adopted city. Her eyes widened at the burgeoning baskets of fruits and
vegetables at the Farmer's Market, and she made him take her through the stalls
twice, comparing prices and products before making her final selections. They ate
crepes at an outdoor stand for lunch, and she flushed and nodded her head
toward a sit-com celebrity reading a script two tables over.

"Do you see? That's-"

He chuckled low. She was adorable in her delight. "Yes, it is. Do you want an
autograph?" he asked, making to rise with a napkin, teasing her.

"Ohmygosh! No, stop!" she cried, pulling on his sleeve.

"If you say so," he said, settling back down, the half-grin tugging at the corner of
his mouth. He sipped his cup of coffee around the smile and pretended to be
wounded when she punched his arm.

That night they made paella, each taking turns over the slow-cooking meal, then
washing the spicy food down with sweet sangria that tasted of strawberries and
mangoes. She picked a strawberry out of her glass and ate it, the juice dripping
down her arm, but before she could move he was there, licking at the crimson
trail until her fingers were in his mouth, and then he licked those too.

Moments later, she was spread out on the bed, his fingers trailing a bitten berry
against her skin, his tongue quick to clean it up. "So beautiful," he whispered, his
eyes dark in the dusky light. "So incredibly beautiful."

She surrendered to him, his hands, his mouth, and when he lay on top of her,
consuming her from the inside out, he whispered a litany of possession and
desire, words like 'mine' and 'beautiful' and 'need' and 'love,' spilling from his lips,
tangling in her hair.

She promised him yes, always yes, as she clung to him, holding tight as wave
after wave of pleasure crashed over her, pleasure that he gave her, time and
time again. When she was able-finally-to come up for air, she flexed her hips
against his, and pulled him deeper inside of her.

"Baby," he groaned, the word full of need.

"Mine," she whispered in his ear. "You're mine." A moment later he was,
completely hers, as he spilled into her, saying "baby, fuck, yes," in a hoarse, low
voice before words failed him completely.

The next day they threw away the leftovers, having never made it back to the
kitchen to clean up.

In the days that followed, there were museums and always trips to the ocean, the
two of them playing at sunset, holding hands and splashing, the warm air drying
the water to salt on their skin. Each night was a feast, be it bread and cheese and
fruit on the living room floor, or elaborate, saffron-scented dishes washed down
with bottles of wine that they could ill afford, but that somehow made their way
into the shopping basket anyway.

"It's too much," she said. "You can't keep paying for everything."

"Let me," he answered. "I love spoiling you."

"I don't need it," she said, but she let him do it anyway. Anything to see him
smile, to hear him say 'love.'

Still, as that week drew to a close, their knowledge of the future began to weigh
heavy on them both. Their lovemaking took on a new fervency, sudden and
urgent, trying to fight off tomorrow by sinking fully into the now.

They had seven days left together. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge it, but
she couldn't pretend anymore that she could leave him. It would be like leaving a
piece of herself, something integral. She would be maimed.

She'd tried to talk to him a few times, but it seemed that something, some
distraction always popped up, preventing the conversation from ever taking root.
There was a growing distance between them, something she'd noticed in that last
week. He was more withdrawn, spending his time locked away in his study,
encouraging her to run errands and do the shopping on her own. She found
herself alone in the kitchen, cooking dinner without him, missing their familiar
rhythms and wondering what exactly was wrong. When she tried to approach him
about it over dinner, he looked her straight in the eye. All of the happiness, the
mirth in them was gone. They were the eyes of a stranger.

She closed her mouth, opened it, then closed it again.

"What's up, fishmouth?" he asked. She smiled a little at the familiar nickname,
but it fell quickly from her face as she looked into his dark eyes again.

"Ah, nothing," she said, turning her eyes back to her plate.

That night he came to bed long after she did, and she woke to feel him pulling
her into him, pulling her back to his chest, wrapping an arm and a leg around
her, trapping her under his weight. It frightened her, the way he clung to her, but
it comforted her too. His hunger for her was a promise that she wasn't in this all
alone.

The next day was a repeat of the same and finally she'd had enough.

"I was thinking," she said, careful not to look at him. She couldn't do it if she had
to see his face. "I think I can talk to my advisor and try to get into a program
down here for my last year. I mean, I probably wouldn't be able to take classes in
the fall, but I bet I could get something worked out by January. What do you
think?" she asked, finally daring a look at his face.

The expression that greeted her was a careful blank, before finally giving way to
something like anger.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"I thought...maybe I could move down here. Stay." The last word was almost a
whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous," he answered, throwing down his napkin and standing to
pace the kitchen. "You only have a year left on your program. You're not giving
up now."

"No," she answered, watching him move around the small space. "Not giving up,
just putting it off."

"Oh. And how are you going to pay for it? Your scholarship is through your school
– you're not going to get that lucky again."

"I could…I thought I could get a job. I could waitress, or-"

"God, I can't believe I'm hearing this. You're not quitting school and you are
certainly not becoming a waitress for fuck's sake."

"I thought…we could…."

"We could what? I start school in ten days." He paused then, stooping down to
look her in the face. "Look, this has been great," he said, gesturing between
them. For a moment, she thought she saw something in his eyes, the familiar
warmth that set her at ease, but then the moment passed, and the stranger
returned. "But once classes start, I'm not going to have time for distractions."

"I…I thought…" she stammered, trying to understand who this was in front of her.
Distractions? Was that all she was? Why was he trying so hard to break her
heart? She felt her chin begin to dimple and looked down at her hands, not
wanting him to see her tears.

"Edward, I love you," she said, her voice low and shaking with unshed tears.

He gave a heavy sigh and then rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He
walked to the sink, his back to her, looking out of the window and onto the small
courtyard. "I know, and I'm sorry, Bella. I should have put a stop to this a long
time ago. I never meant to hurt you, I-"

"Why are you lying? You love me too, I know you do. This isn't all in my head!"

He stiffened at her outburst, then set his shoulders.

"I've never lied to you," he said, then turned and walked out. The slam of the
front door shook a tremor loose inside of her.

She sat in the small kitchen and cried, her chest starting and stopping with
breaths that tried to get in, then tried to get out. Soon she stopped fighting it and
surrendered, giving in to the hoarse, howling sobs that came from something
broken, so deep inside of her. She tasted the salty tears and wiped them away

until her hands were so wet that they did little more than smear the fluid around
her cheeks, leaving them hot and stinging. She cried until her eyes burned, and
then swelled, and then until they felt gritty, her body heaving sobs while her tear
ducts ran dry. It was a very long time before she was able to stop.

He was right, she thought, he was right. He'd never said he loved her. He loved
her skin, her body, her mind, her cooking, all of it. He said the word love so many
times, every single day, but not once had he ever said that he loved her.

Stupid, she thought, so stupid. He was just…playing with her. A summer fling.
And even though her heart rebelled against that notion, her mind overrode it,
telling her that she was a stupid little girl, and that it was time for her to grow up.
She looked around his house, seeing a hundred memories, from the church key
that he'd pressed into her hand that first night, to the metal strainer that they'd
bought just last week, holding hands in the kitchen store, where she'd felt like a
grown-up for the very first time.

So much of her was there, and it all had to be gone. She pulled paper shopping
bags out of his cupboard and began riffling through his dresser and closet, taking
out her things. She moved quickly, suddenly terrified that he would appear,
and…and what? Hurt her even more? She didn't know how, but she knew that he
could.

In twenty minutes she was done. There were five paper bags with clothes and
books, her messenger bag with her laptop and a box of various personal effects –
a hairbrush, some cosmetics, a few dozen trade magazines that she'd collected
over the months. She looked around the house, hoping she wasn't forgetting
anything. She took the photo strip that they'd posed for from the refrigerator, but
left the stuffed animal that he'd won at the pier sitting on the nightstand next to
the bed. Lastly, she pulled off the charm bracelet that he'd bought for her at
Venice Beach, silver with a small crystal heart, and draped it around the arm of
the stuffed bear. She'd thought he was giving her his heart. Now she knew
better.

She spent the next three days crying in her rented room, hoping against hope
that he would call her, tell her it was all a mistake, and to come home. When she
woke up on the fourth day to swollen eyes and a hollow chest, she'd decided that
she'd had enough of Los Angeles.

Two days later she was home, and as the cool, misty air settled around her, she
looked up at the sky. It was as though she'd never been in the sunshine at all.

Chapter 15 – Burning Hot, and Burning Slow

.

.

Edward held Jasper's eyes for half a beat, then his head tipped down to the floor.
A flush of red climbed up his neck until the tips of his ears shone with it.

"What did you do?" Jasper asked, his voice low, almost a snarl. He took one step
toward Edward and Edward took a half step back, his eyes still on the floor.

"What did you do to her?" The yell that came from Jasper was unexpected, but
worse was what came next. Before I could track the movement, Jasper had

Edward pinned up against the wall, Jasper's hands around Edward's collar,
pushing him back by his shoulders.

"Motherfucker! We trusted you! What you did to her – you didn't see, she-"

I burst through the galley doors, and tried to slide myself between Edward and
Jasper.

"Stop it! Jasper, stop!"

His head tilted toward me as I pulled on his arm.

"Bella?" he asked, and then I drew a breath as his eyes came down to meet
mine. He looked at his hands with surprise on his face, and then looked back at
me.

"Jasper, come on. Let him go."

His fingers relaxed their grip and his arms fell to his sides. Edward slid away from
him, coming to stand at my side.

"Bella, was he…?" Jasper's eyes flicked to Edward, and I knew exactly what he
was asking me.

I nodded. "It's private, Jasper. I expect it to stay that way."

Edward cleared his throat and reached for my hand. I yanked it away. "Did you
drive here?" I asked. I didn't recall seeing his car out front.

"I rode my bike," he said. "I was, ah, drinking."

I tossed him my bag. "My keys are in there. Go wait for me."

Edward looked at me for a moment, then left through the back door.

Jasper and I both exhaled as the door closed. "What the hell was with the Chuck
Norris routine?" I asked.

Jasper scrubbed his hand over his face. "I, ah, I don't know, Bella. I just kind of
lost it. I never thought it was him."

"I'm a big girl. I don't need you to fight my fights."

He looked at me and cocked his head. "Why are you covering for him?"

"I'm not," I said, looking away.

He grabbed my hand. "Don't shut me down, Bella. Not after everything."

"I can't talk about this now. I've gotta go." I took my hand back and turned to go
back out the front door.

"Bella! We're going to talk about this."

I waved and kept heading for the door.

Jasper called my name, but I didn't look back.

When I got into the car, Edward had it on, the heat going.

"Bella?" His voice was soft and tentative.

I shook my head and held up my hand, refusing to meet his gaze. "Don't."

I backed the car out of the spot and drove us back to the Cullen home. I felt
exposed and a little childish, not ready to give explanations to anyone.

We entered the house and walked up the stairs together, silent. Edward let me
lead, and when I walked into my room and closed the door without looking at
him, I heard his steps falter for a minute, then two, before he walked toward his
bedroom.

As I stripped off my clothes and fell down into the warm bed, one thought,
unwanted, rang clear through my head and my heart: Whatever was between us,
whatever it was that had happened between me and Edward Cullen? It was still
going strong. And I was powerless to walk away.

.

I spent the morning listening for Edward. When he hit the shower, I scooted
down the stairs and got a snack from the kitchen. When I heard him leave the
house, I headed to the shower. I spent the day with Rose. Her baby shower was
the week before, so I helped her write her thank you notes, and organized the
gifts into the baby's room.

We laughed about names: Emmett wanted Joyful Sunshine, Rose wanted Helena
Anne, after their grandmothers. I had a feeling Rose was more likely to win that
debate – at least I hoped so.

I got back to Esme's around nine. I'd let her know I was having dinner with Rose
and Emmett, that I'd be in late, and not to worry. Still, I heard the concern in her
voice, and I wondered if Jasper had said anything to her, but I dismissed the
thought. He wouldn't violate my trust like that.

I laid down on the bed, trying to shut out the thoughts from the morning. The
knock at my door was soft and hesitant. Esme. She mothered me and it was
soothing, a balm against the chafe of the every day.

"Come in?" I turned my back to the door, rummaging through the dresser,
looking again for my red sweater. It was the only thing from my thinner life that
still fit, and the Cullen home was drafty.

"Bella?" His liquid smooth voice climbed up my spine, brushing my skin with a
chill. I turned to him, pinned by his eyes again.

"Did you need something?"

"Can I – can we talk?"

"Hmm?"

"Please?"

"Have you – did Esme maybe put my red sweater in with your things? I can't find
it."

"Red? Uhm, yeah," he mumbled. "Yeah, actually I think it's in my room."

He stepped back as I stepped forward, then he turned and walked to his room. I
trailed behind him, wishing that I didn't have to breathe. That damned Cullen
scent, feral and heavy and sexual, swimming to the top of the soap and laundry
detergent and anything else he used.

He plucked my sweater from the top of his dresser.

"I thought it was my dad's," he said.

"Thanks," I answered and turned to leave.

"Wait, Bella!" He caught my wrist and my heart twisted again, his hand on my
skin like a promise, a memory. "Talk to me," he said. "I don't – we can't keep
doing this. You have to talk to me."

I blinked and pulled my wrist back, then focused on the sweater, sinking my
fingers into the thick, soft yarn.

"We need to talk about what happened, Bella, all of it. Starting with the night of
Rose and Emmett's wedding."

"It's the past, Edward, let it die."

"It's not," he said, sighing. He sat on the bed, staring down at his hands. "It's not
for me, anyway."

I stood, staring at him, the man he'd become. His hair was in disarray and the
dark stubble across his jaw only made him look more vulnerable, not less. He
wore a white t-shirt and dark gray sweats, pulled up to his calves. His feet were
bare and all of it, from the slumped shoulders to the faint pale patch at his wrist
where his watch should live, all if it made me want him.

He looked up, looked me in the eye. "Why me, Isabella?" he asked. "Why did you
choose me?"

.

The music slips up under the door of the guest room, like smoke or a ghost,
seeking me out and then wrapping around me. I close my eyes and tilt my head,
falling into its embrace. Debussy. He's feeling nostalgic. His friends are growing
up without him, while he spends his days out in the California sun. I smile to
myself. He is my Pan and I will always be his Wendy, tending the window, just for
him.

I step out of my heels and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Most of Alice's
make-up has worn off. My mouth is back to pink, but the mascara that she swept
onto my lashes has flaked, and my eyes are rimmed with dark lines that are not
unbecoming. With my hair up and my shoulders bare, I don't look like myself. I
look…sultry and undone, like a girl in a magazine who's been caught by the
camera, mid-makeup. I tilt the corner of my mouth up, and lower my lashes,
peeking out at myself from under them. I don't know if it's the champagne in my
veins or maybe it's just seeing myself differently, but I suddenly feel gorgeous.
Sexy.

I turn around and turn on the radio, playing with the buttons until I find a song
that makes me giggle and dance. I turn the sound up and then I begin to move. I
run my hands up my sides and back down, feeling the soft satin of the dress
under my fingers. I'm wearing lingerie that Alice chose, a little skirt thing with
garters attached for my stockings. They stretch and pull against my legs, making
me aware of each small move. The feeling is rich and heady, and there's a hum
inside my body that I don't know what to do with. This isn't like Mike Newton
stealing second and heading for third, and this isn't like the long, slow, wet kisses
that I shared with Marcus after our three dates last year. This is something new

and as I strut to the music, I catch a look at myself in the mirror again and find
myself flushing crimson.

Who am I tonight?

When the song is over, I collapse on the bed, giggling at myself, feeling every
inch a silly girl playing dress up. I rise and turn off the radio, as the synthesizer
notes from Like a Virgin begin to play. Laughing to myself at the irony, I catch
the strains of something else floating up from under the door. I open it and listen.
Edward is playing something very soft and sweet, and the woman's voice is
ethereal and heartbreaking.

I'm standing in front of his door and I can't imagine how I got there, but I need
to see him, right now. I knock and he answers, bare chest and bare feet, only
wearing faded jeans. There's a tear at the knee, and one at the thigh, and I
would think it artifice, but I know him better. I look up at him and it's his eyes,
green eyes, and I can't breathe because earlier tonight I was in his arms and he
held me close, his big hand warm, splayed wide against my back as we danced,
together. He's so close that I can feel the heat from his skin, and then he steps
back, holds his hand out in a welcoming motion, and the music is all around us,
so loud that it's all I can hear. I take three steps inside, the carpet feeling thick
and soft under my stockinged toes, and I turn to him and he's right behind me,
so close.

"I—" I don't know what to say to him. "It was pretty, all of it," I say.

"Uh," he swipes a hand through his hair. "Yeah." He stares at me and I'm trying
very hard not to stare back, but I can't help myself. His chest looks hard and
smooth and still the skin looks soft, hot.

I shift and feel the garters press into my thigh and I turn my back to him; I
remember why I'm here.

"Can you get the zipper?" I ask. I want his hands on my skin.

He places on hand on my shoulder and the other lower on my back. His finger
runs across the top of the dress and I shiver. He gasps, low, and then I feel the
tug as he pulls the zipper down, the slow unraveling of the dress, the slow
unraveling of me.

I'm clutching the top of the dress across my breasts. The black satin long-line bra
is fastened low, at my waist, and I feel his fingertip run down my spine, not
stopping until it reaches that barrier.

"Isabella," he whispers. The girl on the stereo is in agony, but I can't care about
her pain because there is a whirlwind inside of me, building, building, pushed
harder and faster by the tip of his finger on my skin. The girl inside of me, the
woman, she's rising up again and I remember her, the one in the mirror, and I
turn and peek up at him from under my mascara'd lashes. His eyes widen for a
moment, and then his face is a mask. I try not to flinch; I think he's going to turn
me away.

Instead, his fingers reach out to my shoulder again, tracing the curve, then down
my arm. The mask falls away, and there's something on his face, something in
his eyes, so naked and I can't decipher it. It's a storm, and then I can't think at
all because he's got his finger on me, tracing the curve of my collarbone. I look
up at him, his mouth, and I take a step forward. He sucks in a breath, holds it,
and holds his ground. I raise my hand to stroke his jaw, releasing the dress and it
pools between us. His fingers tighten on my shoulder.

The look in his eyes is wild now, mirroring the storm inside of me.

"Oh, Isabella," he sighs.

I swallow and step forward, only inches left between us, my hand taking in the
light scrape of stubble that's grown in since he'd shaved this morning. He
watches my face, I'm watching his mouth, and then his eyes flutter closed and he
presses his face into my hand.

I say his name, a whisper, and it's green eyes back on mine, and then he is
everywhere. He takes me up in his arms and I feel them, bare across my back,
his palm splayed between my shoulder blades, the heat like a fire at the base of
my spine, sending out sparks to my limbs, my fingers, catching my breath for
fuel.

I can't speak, can't breathe as his face comes in closer, and then I do breathe
and all I can smell is him: clean and man and something dark, like a shaded path
in a forest.

The first time Edward Cullen kisses me, the world tilts on its axis. Or I tilt on
mine. Or the planets realign, or maybe for once I am the woman I am pretending
to be, because I feel good and bold and strong. I feel powerful, from his lips on
mine, I feel strong and resolute, even though I'm drowning, in this, in him.

His lips touch mine, just brush them, and he's got his eyes wide on me, that look
in them, something desperate, and I rise on my toes, close my eyes and push
back with my mouth and for seconds or minutes or hours we become lost in that
kiss. I open my eyes and look up, and he's carried me to the bed, setting me
down at the edge of it, and then he's kneeling on the floor, between my open
knees.

His hands brace on either side of my hips, and I'm tilting my head down to kiss
him, never wanting to break from him, needing my mouth on him, always. He
pulls away and my fingers move to his hair - finally, to his hair. I watch as they
disappear into the thicket, messy, and soft but coarse, too. I watch my fingers
and he's watching me, then my eyes drift down to meet his again. I lick my lips
and his eyelids flutter again before his face falls forward and his head rests
against my chest. Cupping the back of his head, I stroke his neck, fingers trailing
down his back.

He whispers something and I pull back. I can't miss any of this, not a whisper,
not a word.

"You're so," he pauses as his lips brush my collarbone, "so beautiful."

"You. You are."

"Do you…are you sure?"

I slide down to my knees, straddling his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.
Only since I was eight, I think. Only since I was twelve. Thirteen, fourteen,
sixteen, two weeks ago, right now. Only since forever, Edward.

I lean in close to his ear, breathing him in, nuzzling his neck.

"I want you," I whisper.

His hands tighten on my thighs, digging in to the bare flesh at the top of my
stockings. His mouth is on my skin again, the crook of my neck, my shoulder,
and he's lifting us both, laying me out on the bed, his mouth a wet fury on my

skin, whispers and licks and kisses. He nips at the flesh above my bra and then
he's pulling me up, pulling it off and it's hot skin on skin and I can't breathe, but
who needs to breathe? I can live on this, just sensation, just him, everywhere, all
over me, him.

He takes the tip of my breast into his mouth, first feather light and then hard,
suckling, demanding, as his hand pins my hips to the bed and he pushes my
thighs open with his knee. As he settles between my legs, we both groan, the
pleasure so much, and still not enough. My hands are at his back, scratching and
pulling him, pressing him closer as I hook my legs around his waist, pulling him
closer to where I want him. It's too much, his hands, his mouth, and I feel the
pressure building inside of me already, like I'm wired tight and ready to break.

I lean up, fumbling at the waist of his jeans. He looks at my hands, then up at
me, his eyes a question again. I nod and he brushes my hands away,
unbuttoning, unzipping, then leaning forward again, his mouth on my skin again
and his fingers slide under the little satin skirt, and he touches me until I tremble,
and then until I thrash and moan, until I'm breaking apart from the inside out,
clutching him, whispering, begging, needing only more.

His head rests on my stomach and he runs his hand down my leg, and I'm
resentful of the thin fabric that separates his skin from mine.

"Help me," I say, tugging at the garter skirt. "I need-"

But he knows, and his fingers slide under the waist band, pulling down the skirt
and the stockings with them. He runs his hand back up my leg, this time bare,
I'm completely bare, and in his arms, in his bed, it doesn't matter and I'm not
embarrassed. In this place, with him, it's right.

He looks down at me, his eyes taking me in and his fingers light a trail down my
neck, down my chest, across my belly and to my thighs. He circles my kneecap,
and then trails back up. I stop him at my stomach and he looks up at me.

"Now you," I say, but he doesn't move, so I twist up from under him until I'm on
my knees, and he rises to meet me there, his mouth seeking mine, his hands at
my waist to steady me on as I place my hands on his hips, sliding down the
rough denim, pushing it away from his skin, my hands on his body, all muscle
and heat and ooh, silky soft as I pull the jeans away and he is there, in my hand.

He sucks a breath against my lips as I touch him, feel him, rubbing my thumb
over the tip, impossibly hard, skin so smooth, and I stroke once, twice and then
he pushes me back down onto the bed, kicking at his jeans, pushing until he's
free and then he's everywhere, his legs against mine, his hands on my face, my
breasts, his mouth at my throat, panting and gasping, fingers hard and kneading
and I wrap my legs around his, pulling him in, ancient instinct driving me
forward, until he's rubbing himself against me and then I can't think anything
because it's like nothing I've ever felt before and I moan, the pleasure amazing,
making me greedy for it, for him and he's so close to being inside of me and it's
the only thing I could ever want.

He leans up on an elbow, his breath in short rasps against my neck.

"Baby," he whispers. "So fucking beautiful,"

"I need you," I say. "Inside." My words are a whine, and I wrap my legs tighter
around him, pulling him in, pushing with my hips.

"Christ," he whispers, and it becomes a groan at the back of his throat. He
pushes away from me, just a little bit. "I have to – condom."

I sigh and relax my legs, and he reaches for the nightstand, then his jeans. He
growls and looks at me, really looks at me, his brow knit with frustration, his
mouth set in a scowl as he shakes his head and huffs. Before the defeat can etch
too deep, I take his hand.

"I'm on the pill," I say. "I'm – I'm safe. I mean, uh, clean." I say the last word,
sliding my eyes away from his as color floods my cheeks.

He falls back over me, his lips against my neck, licking at the spot just under my
ear. I shiver around him. "I'm clean," he says. "I promise. God, I want you."

"Yes, now." And we're frantic again, his fingers on my skin and his mouth is
always sucking and licking, his teeth sharp and wicked, and he does it again,
rubbing himself against my wet heat, sliding up until I gasp, and then the gasp
becomes a moan as he does it again and again, my legs locking tighter around
him, my hands twisted in his hair, pulling and scratching. With sigh and then a
groan, he pushes down and then in, and relief and anticipation flood my body at
once.

"Oh," he gasps, "you're so…God, Bella, you're too-"

He's pushing at me and I'm pushing back, and then, oh, fuck, it hurts. Like a dull
knife, something tearing, cutting, and I gasp as tears light the corners of my
eyes. The pain is fast and moving quickly away, but the shock lingers and shows
on my face.

He stops and looks down at me, his eyes a question, and then something terrible
plays across his face and he shakes his head. "Oh, baby, no." He closes his eyes
and drops his head down until it rests against my shoulder.

I stroke his back, his neck. "Don't stop," I whisper.

He shudders under my hands.

"Don't stop," I say again, because tomorrow he'll fly away to Los Angeles.
Tomorrow he'll be someplace else, someone else, but tonight is now, and it's all I
have and I have to have this.

Him.

Here.

Now.

He pulls away to look at me and I can see the war inside of him, desire and duty
both firing rounds. I place my hand at the back of his neck and I offer him a small
smile, reassurance, and then raise my mouth to his, my lips against his, my
tongue begging him for more, for what I need, and he's the only one who can
give it to me. He's stiff, and then he relaxes into the kiss, and I feel the strain
easing off, making way for that delicious tension from before. I flex my hips a
little against him; I can still feel him hard inside of me. His breath catches, but
he's still kissing me, so I do it again; I feel raw inside and it hurts, but it feels
good too, like a compulsion I can't control. I do it a third time and he grunts and
then becomes loose, and I feel him surrender to what I want.

"Isabella," he says. "Baby. Slow, you'll hurt-" He grimaces and then slowly, so
slowly, presses all the way inside of me and eases an arm around my waist.

"Hang on," he says and I do, and then I'm on top of him, thighs splayed against
his, my hands pushing up against his chest. He puts his hands on my hips,
guiding me, slow, helping me find a rhythm until we're both gasping. He moves
one hand between us, dipping his thumb down, rubbing, and it feels amazing,
and the pain is receding, and the raw feeling is almost entirely gone.

I'm moaning, grunting, making needy noises high in the back of my throat, and
he's got his eyes on me, watching me, every inch, but I can't be embarrassed or
ashamed under his gaze. Not when he has that look in his eyes, both sweet and
feral, a new war, and as I feel him inside of me, stroking and pushing, I know
which side I want to win. Falling forward over him, my kiss is hard against his
mouth. I bite at his bottom lip and he hisses, his fingers digging in to my skin.

"Turn us over," I say. "I want-" I want the delicious weight of him on me, sinking
me down into the bed. I want him taking what I have to give.

He makes a noise, a growl, and then it's done, I'm on my back and he's inside of
me, his movements not slow, but measured, and I rest my feet on his calves and
push back, meeting his strokes.

He looks down at me, surprised, and then his head drops to the crook of my neck
and it's tongue and lips and teeth and words; a litany of whispers and moans
against my skin, sliding off of me onto the pillow.

"Yes," I whisper, "yes, more."

He lifts up for a moment, then laces his arm under my knee, laying me open, his
strokes faster and his hips erratic against me and through the scraps of pain, I
can feel that strange, delicious pressure building up in me again as he buries his
head against my neck once more.

"Fuck," he whispers. "So fucking…feel so…fucking…I can't…baby, yes, Isabella,
yes, yes, yes…."

He pushes into me once more, deep and hard and there's words that are lost in
my hair, on my skin, and I clutch him tighter, clinging to him like he is to me,
and I can't help it, I feel prideful that my body gave this man that pleasure. That
my flesh coaxed his into that heaven, corporeal and encompassing, shutting out
all thought, for just a moment.

He lies atop me, his weight crushing me and I love it. And I love him. I love him
with everything that I have, just like always, more than before.

It's minutes before he moves again, shifting slow against me, kissing my
shoulder, my neck, tiny flutters against my skin. He tucks his head under my
chin, and the movement causes him to slip out of me. The absence makes me
feel strangely lonely. He reaches up to twist my hair into his fingers, knotting and
unknotting it.

"Isabella," he says. "You should have waited, you should have told me."

I shake my head. "It's what I wanted, and you wouldn't have, if I told you."

"Why, then? Why me?" he asks, and it's the one question I can't answer.

I want to kiss the top of his head. "Was it bad?"

His head jerks up, grazing my chin. "No! God, no. It was…." He reaches up,
laying kisses against my cheek, his lips soft then against mine. "You're perfect,"
he whispers against my mouth, and I smile and then he's smiling too, and for a

moment we are not Edward Cullen and Bella Swan, we are just us, just two,
perfect in a bubble, warm and happy, and we stare at each other like that for
minutes before he blinks and draws away.

"I'll be right back," he says, and in a moment he is, with a warm washcloth, and
he's gentle and tender, cleaning us both before he lifts us up and slides us under
the covers, between the sheets, and they're cool against my skin. He lays his
head on my chest, and my fingers are in his hair, and we whisper through the
night, exchanging kisses and words and touches, until sleep steals us away to
dreams, and my dreams are vivid, bright with green eyes and bronze hair and
warm skin on mine.

I wake in the very early morning, the dawn only a promise on the horizon, and I
look over at Edward. In life, he is beautiful and in sleep, he is more so, angelic,
peace smoothing his features, allowing him to be soft, his brow free of the crease
that plays there so often.

Careful, slow, I slide away from him. He moans and mumbles, then wrestles my
pillow into his side and is peaceful once again. I gather my clothes and slip out,
almost silent, and land back in my bed, thinking I'm too giddy for sleep, surprised
then when I wake hours later, daylight streaming through the windows, the
house feeling silent and bereft, and I know already that he's gone. I will away my
sadness. I knew what I was getting into; he would never have been mine.

I stretch and turn in the sheets, my limbs feeling sore and yet I'm smiling,
remembering as I flex how each muscle earned this tenderness. I turn to look at
the clock and see the piece of paper blocking out the numbers. His script, spiky
and tall, spells out his phone number, and a message:

Isabella,

Call me when you get to L.A.

-E

My stomach clenches and flutters. Is he angry now, in the light of day?
Embarrassed? Does he think I'll make a scene or tell his family? God, does he
think I think this means something to him?

And then the thought that I'm the most afraid of, the one that will keep me up
nights for the next three weeks dances through my head and lights upon my
heart, unbidden and unwanted, but there and impossible to ignore: Did it?

"Why me," he asked again, his voice demanding, pulling me back from that
memory, worn at the edges from being too often touched, but crystal clear and
bright in my mind. And there it was, what he'd been asking me for, and what he
had no right to receive: my honesty.

I shook my head, telling him no.

He grabbed on to my upper arm, fingers light, but insistent.

"It was so long ago, Edward. It doesn't matter. It's done."

"It does matter. You can hardly even look at me. I think it matters." I realized
what he was saying, what he must have been thinking, and…I wanted to laugh.
Then I did laugh, hard and sharp, disbelief making me mock him.

"You think that's what this is about?" I ask, still shaking my head. "You think I
avoid you because…you popped my cherry? Really?"

I got up to walk away. Even I'd given him more credit than that.

He jumped up behind me and grabbed me, arm around my shoulders, pulling my
back tight to his chest. He was warm, still so warm, and I wanted to sink back
into him, but with the heat came his scent, igniting all those memories all over
again.

His voice was low against my ear, his breath lighting a fire again. "Don't you –
don't you ever miss me? I miss you."

"Let me go, Edward." This was not allowed, he was not allowed.

"Isabella," he whispered. "Please. Please don't walk away from me again."

I turned on him. Me? Walk away from him? Again? How…?

He looked at me with shock as I slapped him once, twice.

"You have no right. None at all."

When I got to my room, safe behind the closed door, I fell to the bed and gave
in, finally, to the sobs that had been trying to claim me. I gave in, letting the
weight of the tears drag me down, the weight of that grief, with its sharp edges,
buried for so long, drag me under to another world. I gave in until sleep, blessed,
favored sleep, came at last, giving me respite, a shelter from the storm in my
heart.

The soft knock on my door sent my heart hammering.

"Who is it?" I ask, my voice soft.

"Esme," she answers. "Can I come in?" She waited a beat for my response, then
turned the knob before I answer.

I rolled over, my back to her. I didn't want her to see my face, tracked with tear
stains. She sat at the side of the bed and rubbed my back.

"Hormones getting to you?" she asked, and I nodded, sniffling.

"You know, with my first…." Her voice drifted off. "Did I ever tell you that I was
married, before Carlisle?" she asked.

Surprised, I turned over to look at her.

Her toffee colored hair fell across one shoulder, the rest of it spilling down her
back. Her face was a heart, and her green eyes were gentle and warm. She
smiled at me, a mother, and lay down beside me to stroke my hair. I fell in to her
arms, willing, wanting, to be a child once again.

"We were high school sweethearts. We got married two weeks after graduation,
and we moved to Seattle that summer so that he could go to the University. Our
families wanted us to wait until after he graduated college. My parents even
offered to pay to send me to UW, and let me tell you, it was not a common thing
for a woman to go to college in the 1970's. But we didn't want to wait. Of course,
we were both thrilled when I got pregnant. I was eighteen and I felt like all of my
dreams had come true.

"One night we were driving home from visiting his folks. It was just an ordinary
spring night, nothing special about it. I was, oh, about as far along as you are
now. A drunk weaved over the center divider. I never saw it coming.

"I woke up in the hospital the next day. I'd lost my husband and my child in one
night, and I couldn't even remember it."

Esme took in a long shaking breath and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. I
reached up to squeeze her hand, wondering why she was telling me this story;
why now? She squeezed back, took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes with
her finger.

"It took me a long time to come to terms with what happened. I thought I would
never find that kind of happiness again. I was so angry." She paused, lost in her
thoughts, and then met my eyes.

"I thought I would never find love like that again. That perfect, shiny new love? I
was so angry, at everyone, at the world. I felt cheated – like anything that came
after would never be quite as good." She smiled at me and it flooded her face
with warmth and light. "I was so wrong. What I have with Carlisle? It's so much
better than I ever could have imagined."

My head was spinning. I didn't want to believe in what she was saying. I didn't
want to hope for myself, for my future. Seeing Edward again just brought back so
much, so many memories and feelings. I didn't want them. I wanted the quiet of
pretending that he didn't exist. That it had never happened.

I continued to lie on the bed, thoughts swirling, as Esme stroked my hair. In the
safety and comfort of her embrace, I felt the drowsiness wash over me, sucking
me back under to a place of quiet dreams. I teetered on the edge, my head full of
green eyes and stubbled chins, the soft scruff of his hair, too long, curling over
his ears. The stranger that he'd become before my eyes when we'd said goodbye.

"You know," Esme began, pulling me away from dreams I didn't realize I was
having. "Alice has always gone her own way. She's done what she thought was
best, always, and she never cared whether people understood her or not. You
were a perfect friend for her, Bella. You never had to understand her to support
her, and she needed that. But Edward was always very different. He needed, he
craved, the approval of those he respects. Of course, he's always been too proud
to say it. I know people think he's arrogant and selfish, but Edward would lay
down his life for the people that he loves. And…"

She paused and took a deep breath.

"And I think he still loves you, very much."

I sat up, startled. "Esme, I-"

"Shhh…." Her eyes were kind, filled with warmth. "I don't need to know what's
happened between you and my son. I love you both, Bella. I only want you to be
happy."

Chapter 16 – A Long Drive, Pt. I

.

.

The next morning I got up early. I needed to go to Seattle to pay the bills. The
remote access that my accounting software came with wasn't as remote as I'd
hoped. I'd tried time and again to load the bill paying application, but to no avail.
Luckily, Carlisle had a board meeting in Seattle, and agreed to drop me at the

studio on his way in, and pick me back up on his way home. At eight months
pregnant, I was not looking forward to the three-hour drive on my own. It had
taken me an hour to convince Rosalie that it was a perfectly safe endeavor, and
even then, Carlisle had to speak with her before we could allay her fears.

I showered and dressed, pulling my hair back into a quick braid before heading
downstairs for my one allowed cup of coffee. It was a well known fact that I was
less than human, certainly less than cordial, before coffee each day.

I entered the kitchen to see Carlisle in jeans and a thick, off-white sweater. He
looked gorgeous and I scolded myself, again, for thinking that way about my best
friend's father. Damn Cullen genes.

"Hi, Carlisle," I said. "Are we still on today?" I asked, eyeing his casual attire.

"Oh, Bella. No, I'm sorry. The meeting was canceled. However, Edward has some
business with the university and has offered to drive you himself."

"Edward?" My mind started spinning again. Three hours trapped in the car with
Edward? Could I do that? Before I could make up my mind, my body began to
betray me. I felt the tingle up my spine just a moment before he put his hand on
my shoulder, easing me aside so that he could pass.

"Good morning, Bella," he said. There was no trace of the vulnerable boy from
last night. Instead, he was washed, shaved and striking, his green eyes bright on
mine, a sunny day in the forest.

"Morning," I mumbled.

"Ah, still not a morning person, I see." He went to the cupboard and took out a
mug, pouring the last of the coffee into it before adding a splash of cream.
Fucker. He just took my cup of coffee.

I tried not to stick my tongue out at him and went to the table to sit down.

"Edward, I was just telling Bella that you've agreed to take her with you on your
trip this morning." Carlisle looked somehow pleased with himself. I wondered if
Esme had anything to do with the sudden change in plans.

Edward looked up at his father, then back over at me. He sat down opposite me
and pushed the cup my way.

"We can go as soon as you finish," he said, his eyes looking impossibly soft.
Tender. The various versions of Edward Cullen were making my head spin. He
was tender and sweet. He was cruel and hurtful. My first love, and my ultimate
heartbreak. I couldn't find an even keel with him, and I needed it, so very much.

"It's really not necessary," I answered. "Jake would be happy to drive me." Take
that.

His eyes darkened a shade, a sunless forest, before he smiled. "I'm afraid I insist,
Isabella. There's no point in two of us driving over, now is there? It's no good for
the planet."

If I could have growled at him, I would have.

"Of course, Edward." I sighed and sipped at my coffee, noticing that Carlisle had
slipped out at some point, leaving me alone with his son. Edward said nothing,
just stared at me with an amused expression on his face.

Edward held the car door open for me and I eased myself inside. He tucked the
tail end of my scarf away from the door, before closing it with a 'thunk.' When he
settled in, he handed me his iPod.

"First pick's all you," he said, and I scrolled through the eighty gigs, seeing so
many albums from our youth, and staying away from others that I knew would
hurt to hear. I finally settled on one that had no past associations, and closed my
eyes, letting the music wash over me.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said.

I sighed. The morning had been such a rush that I hadn't had time to think about
what he'd said to me, or how I'd reacted.

"I'm sorry for hitting you." I never failed to be surprised at my behavior around
Edward Cullen.

Edward reached over for my hand. "It's okay. I kind of deserved it."

I let him take my hand in his, relishing the feel of his large palm and long fingers
wrapped around my skin. It felt good to give in to him, and I was tired of fighting
it.

"I'm sorry about Jasper," he said. I took my hand back and laid it over my belly.
"I mean, I know you didn't want them to know."

When I didn't respond, he sighed and turned the music down.

"I've made mistakes, Bella. I want you to know how sorry I am." He paused for a
moment, and I wondered why he was putting so much effort into the
conversation. He'd made his feelings clear with Jasper the other night. As for the
stunt he'd pulled in his bedroom – I didn't know what to think about that.

I felt myself choking on his words. He didn't chance a look at me, just stared
ahead at the highway, the black cut in two by bright yellow lines.

I sighed. Did he think I was stupid?

"Bella?"

"Don't."

It was his turn to sigh, and he eased off the gas pedal, but his knuckles were
white on the wheel.

"Please talk to me," he said. His voice was low and soft, the one he used to use
to sing to me.

"Let it go." My voice was not low, not soft. I didn't want to call him out for lying,
didn't want him to know I'd cared enough to notice.

"Okay. I just thought you should know. I would give anything if we could just be
friends."

"So noted."

We drove on, the wheels humming on the concrete, and one of my favorite bands
singing songs about rocket rides on the stereo. It was easy to slip back into
memories of driving with Edward, of the way it felt to be so close, to feel his hand
on mine across the center console.

"Are you still seeing Jacob Black?" he asked.

I shook my head, trying to clear it of the memories.

"What? No. Jake's…we're just friends."

"Alice said you guys were dating."

"Were. That was a long time ago. We're just friends."

"How long ago?" he asked.

I sighed. "About five years."

He sucked in a breath, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "So, what? You just
came home from LA and jumped into bed with Jacob Black?"

His insinuation, his accusation, lit a fire inside of me. All of the anger that I'd
been pushing away, pushing down for years, surged to the fore.

"What the fuck do you care? You don't have any fucking say in my life."

"Watch your language."

My jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"I don't like hearing you talk like that."

I didn't know I was capable of the amount of anger that pulsed through me. Who
the hell did he think he was, telling me not to swear?

"That's funny," I said, my voice taking on the angry edge that I felt as I let it
drop and become husky, almost seductive. "I seem to recall a time when you
loved to hear me say 'fuck.' As in, 'fuck me harder, Edward. Oh, fuck, that feels
so fucking good.'"

I watched him react to my words, his jaw clenching, hands tightening on the
wheel until his knuckles were white.

"Please stop," he said, his voice tight and controlled.

"Stop what?" I asked, my voice full of pouty innocence. "Stop saying 'fuck?'" I
leaned in, closer to his ear. "Fuck, Edward. Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Before the words were out of my mouth, he had us pulled over to the side of the
road. He got out of the car and came around to my side, pulled the door open
and reached over me to unlatch my seatbelt. I flinched back.

"Get out of the car, Bella." The anger that had inspired my courageous little
outburst fled. I could see the flush rising up his neck from the collar of his shirt,
and his eyes blazed green on mine. And that's when the truth hit me, and I
gasped as I realized it. No matter what he'd done, no matter how much he'd hurt
me, I couldn't deny him anything.

I felt awkward with my huge belly as I got out of the car and stood next to it.
Leaves crunched under my shoes and I wondered what would come next. My
breath fogged out into the cold air in short, staccato puffs. Edward leaned toward
me, his body heat coming off of him like waves. I backed up against the car,
molding myself against the cold metal until it was flush against my back. Still he

approached, until he was flush against my side, leaning over me. His hand
cupped my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

"Are you done acting like a child, Isabella?"

With that one word, my name in his mouth, every bit of anger inside of me
crumbled, and I was left only with the pain of who I'd once been for him, and who
I could never be again. I ducked my head as I felt the tears, hot and stinging, fill
my eyes.

My hands flew to my face as I tried to hide myself from him. I didn't want him to
see me cry, I didn't want him to see me hurt, even though I'd tried to hurt him,
over and over again.

"Shit! Bella, I'm sorry," he said, and, god, that hurt more. I shook my head in my
hands and held one hand up, shielding my eyes with the other.

"Hey," he said. His voice was low and soft, and I felt him move closer, until he
was embracing me. "Hey, baby, shhhh." He rocked me against his chest, pulling
me close despite the bulge in my middle, until I was no longer pressed up against
the cold metal car, but instead, pressed up against him. He was too warm and it
felt too good. I gave up the fight and let him hold me while I cried it out.

As the tears began to ease and the ache in my heart began to dull, I felt Edward,
all around me. He was stroking my back and pressing kisses into my hair. It
made me shiver, feeling him touch me like that.

"Let's get you back in the car," he said. "You're freezing."

I stood aside and let him stuff me back into the car.

"I'm sorry," I said, as soon as he'd shut his door behind him. "I hate that I'm so
mean to you all the time. I don't know how else to be."

Edward sighed and leaned his head back against the car seat. His hand came up
to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You haven't given me a tenth of what I deserve,
Bella." He dropped his hand and turned to look at me. "I will never not be sorry
for hurting you that summer. I will never be able to make that up to you."

I watched him, feeling so scared and unsure. I could feel the tears behind my
eyes, threatening to spill, all over again. "Can we just go? I don't want you to be
late."

Edward looked at me a moment longer, before easing the car back onto the
highway.

We were silent for a few miles before I began to speak. I hadn't planned on
talking to him, on saying what I said. But I knew that if was going to have the
Cullens in my life, I had to make some kind of peace with Edward.

"I had a hard time…adjusting when I got home from L.A. School felt impossible
and my two roommates were awful – always taking my food and leaving me dirty
dishes. They wanted to argue about everything. Jacob was there for me.

"He came over a lot on weekends, got me out of the apartment, helped me scout
locations for shoots, that sort of thing. He helped me renovate my whole studio. I
owe him so much."

"You're not going to tell me you were with him out of obligation."

"No, no. We just made sense together. He worked hard to be exactly what I
needed."

"So why'd you break up?"

.

Another March rainstorm tears through the night, the wind howling in the
darkness. I shiver against the man next to me, who's throwing off body heat like
a radiator.

"C'mere, baby," he says, and we both freeze. It's the only thing I've asked him
not to call me.

I breathe deep and go into his arms, and he tucks my head under his chin.

"Sorry," he says.

"It's okay."

I press my face against his broad, smooth chest and listen to the steady, strong
beat of his heart, and the oceanic sound of his breath. This used to soothe me,
being close to him. But now it feels dark, feels wrong.

I don't love him like he needs me to. Like he deserves. And we both know that
it's going to tear us apart.

I see it in his eyes, when I turn off the light before we make love. I see it in the
way he tries to hold my eyes with his, and in how I'm always the first to look
away, guilt squeezing at my heart. Jacob Black is everything that is good and
right and true in this world. He is my best friend, which is why I'm so lost. I don't
have anyone to talk to about this wall between us, because I can't explain to
Alice how it got there, and I don't have any other close friends.

"It's not working, is it?" His voice is low and full of resignation and knowledge.

"What?" I ask. Such a coward, I'd duck this if I could.

"This. Me. Him." He doesn't say Edward's name, but he doesn't need to. Edward
is the third party to our relationship, the silent partner whose screams neither of
us can block out.

Tears start to fill my eyes, but I push them away. I owe Jake so much. I refuse to
let him comfort me, which is what he'll do. He always puts me first, and it kills
me a little, every time.

I pull away, out of the warm circle of his skin and reach for the light. Jacob grabs
my hand, and pulls me back into his arms.

"Can we just have tonight, Bells? Just one last night?"

"Jake, I-" He cuts me off with his lips pressed against mine. I reach my hand to
his face and feel the warm wetness of his tears. His fingers brush my cheek and I
know he feels mine.

I turn onto my back and pull him on top of me. He comes, his familiar weight
pressing me down. I used to think he could just swallow me whole. Pin me to the
mattress and consume me, so that there would be nothing left. I used to think
that he could heal me. I think we both did.

His mouth is on mine, his fingers on my skin, and I feel myself let go of
everything but right here, right now. It's the one thing that's always worked, the
one way I've managed to block Edward out. He's never shared in these moments
with Jacob.

Jake presses his knee between my thighs. I spread my legs apart, making space
for his wide hips. My tongue comes out to taste his skin, and I taste the salt from
our tears, the sadness that neither of us can escape. I hate myself a little more,
and another tear slips free when I realize that this is the end of us. He'll never
have my skin like this again, never hold me, close and bare, or rock me until it all
explodes, lighting us both up, from the inside out.

As we make love that night, there is good-bye in every kiss, every touch. There's
a sadness and a desperation, because he loves me so much, and my love is not
enough.

When dawn comes, he eases out of bed. He pulls on his clothes and sorts through
some things. I lay in bed with my eyes closed, pretending I'm asleep. I hear him
zip his backpack and his footsteps, slow and heavy, as he approaches the bed. He
presses his mouth to my forehead, and I manage to hold back my tears until he's
closed the door behind him.

That day, my howls are as loud as the wind, my heart as broken as glass caught
up in the storm, as the realization hits me, over and over again. I will never be
enough, not for anyone, to love.

.

"Bella? Why'd you break up?"

"That's private. But I'm lucky. We're still really good friends."

"Mmmm." Edward hummed his response and focused on the road. Three hours
and two stops later, we were on the ferry as it took us across the bay.

I guided Edward to my studio and he walked me to the door. Bree was at the
reception desk, waiting with a stack of paperwork for me to approve. The booking
calendar was open across the desk, and I knew it was going to be a busy spring
for weddings.

As Edward looked around the studio, Bree stared at him.

"Holy smokes! You're him, the guy from the pictures. The model."

My head snapped around. "Bree." I'd loaded as much threat as possible into the
tone of my voice, hoping she would hear what I wasn't saying.

"Bree, will you wait in my office, please?" She tilted her blond head toward me,
and then toward Edward, before she made her way to the back room, reluctance
in every step.

Edward looked at me and arched an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"That was Bree," I said, hoping he'd drop it.

"So I gathered. And why exactly does she think I'm a model?" Amusement
danced in his eyes and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. I'd forgotten
what it was like, how I couldn't help but smile back when he was teasing me.

"She found some old pictures in archives. I didn't want to get into it, so I just told
her they were some practice shots. She assumed you were a model, and I let
her."

Edward scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, okay. Anyway, I've gotta get going. I
should be back by about four. Will that give you enough time?"

"Should be plenty," I said, and walked him to the door.

I closed the door behind me and pressed my back against it. No matter what
came next, I was glad for that time with Edward. I was glad that he saw the
repercussions of his actions, and I felt that some of the anger that I'd held for
him, for so many years, was finally starting to fizzle out.

Chapter 17 – A Long Drive, Part II

.

.

Edward arrived around a quarter after four. The sun's light was already fading
from the sky, and the studio offices were lit up bright. He knocked and then came
through the door.

"Bella?" he called. "You around?"

I popped up from the light board where I'd been looking at some contact sheets.

"No, Edward. I hitchhiked back to Forks."

I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face as I peeked my head out from
the office.

"You're such a smartass, Swan." Edward grinned back at me, his easy, happy
grin, and it felt good being comfortable with him.

So of course, he chose that moment to ruin it.

"Hey, Bella? Before we get back on the road, I'd like to ask a favor."

I looked up at him, curious.

"Can I, ah…I wanted to give Mom and Dad some pictures of me and Alice, you
know, for Christmas? I was, ah, hoping you had some? Bree sounded like maybe
you did?"

"Uhm, that stuff's all in my personal archives."

Edward looked around the studio, then cocked his head to the side. "Is that here,
or at your place?"

"My place."

"Well, isn't that right upstairs?"

I couldn't keep the surprise off my face. "How did you know that?"

"My mother is very proud of you, Isabella. When you opened this place she made
a point of telling me every. Last. Detail." He smiled, but there was something in

his eyes that made me wonder how at ease he'd been during those
conversations.

I rolled my eyes. "Let me run upstairs and see what I can find. I think most of
the old stuff is on CD now."

I was hunting through boxes at the back of my closet, standing on a step-ladder,
pulling down one last box, when I was startled by Edward's hand on my back.

"Gah! Edward!" I shouted, the box toppling out of my hand, falling to the floor.

"Whoa!" Edward tightened his hold on me, and didn't let go until I was off the
ladder with both feet planted on the floor. At the same time, we turned to look at
the box. It had landed on its side, the contents spilling out in an arc across the
floor.

There were pictures of everything – ocean waves glimmering in the sun, Jacob
showing off his first car, Alice and Jasper at homecoming. But the photographs
that caught my eyes, and caught the gasp out of my throat, were the eight by
ten glossies from a summer I'd spent in Los Angeles, six years ago.

Edward dropped my hand and approached the pile. They were mostly black and
white, but a few were in color, scenes from a romance that never should have
been. Edward making funny faces with the ocean as a backdrop. Edward chasing
a flock of seagulls, his arms flung wide and jeans hiked up to his knees. Edward
giving me his come to bed look, his finger crooked toward me, his green eyes
dark and beautiful. Edward, Edward, Edward.

I shivered as he picked up the first one, then the next and the next. He held up a
photo of the two of us, grinning into the camera, the wind whipping my hair out
of its ponytail, our faces smushed together, taking up most of the frame. It had
been my desktop almost the entire time I'd been in L.A. The next made my
breath catch. We were standing on the beach, our backs to the sun as it set, so
that we were nothing but a silhouette. I had my legs wrapped around his waist
and my arms around his neck. He was holding me up by the backs of my thighs,
and we'd been caught mid-kiss, by the timer on the camera.

"Bella?"

I swooped down and pulled the photograph from his fingers.

"Sorry, there's a lot of old stuff in here. Why don't I just give you the discs? You
can find what you want."

Edward stared up at me, his fingers still holding the phantom photograph. I knelt
and began stuffing the pictures back into the box.

I snagged the red CD wallet out of the box, then shoved it back up onto the shelf.
I folded the ladder up and pushed it back behind some seldom-worn dresses, and
turned to hand the folio over.

Edward caught me in his arms. His face tilted down toward mine with an
unreadable expression. I felt trapped, pinned by his gaze, my heart beating a wild
rhythm in my chest. His thumb grazed my cheek, and his fingers slipped into my
hair, until he had my head in the palm of his hand. My heart in the palm of his
hand.

It happened so slowly. The heat from his fingers on my skin. The movement of
his Adam's apple as he swallowed. The flutter of his lashes as his eyes closed and

his lips found mine. They were soft, they were warm and I'd stopped breathing
and so had he. Then his lips moved against mine, and he pulled me closer. I felt
him take my lower lip between his, and I gasped, opening my mouth. He took the
chance and brushed his tongue against my lower lip, his silent plea. My tongue
met his and it was so familiar, like a song you haven't heard for years, but still
know by heart. Every inch of my body buzzed with wanting to be near him,
knowing how he could make me feel. I felt my fingers begin to reach for him, and
the baby kicked so strong and so hard, I gasped and pushed away from him.

The world began to spin again: there was ambient noise coming from the street
outside, and I noticed how cold my apartment was.

I rubbed my hand over my stomach, trying to soothe the baby through my skin. I
took slow, measured breaths, shutting Edward Cullen out of my mind, focusing
instead on the comfort I wanted the baby to have.

When I felt calm, I opened my eyes and looked at Edward.

"She kicked," I said, by way of explanation. "I think we're done here." I raised
my eyebrows at him and he nodded, and then moved aside so that I could pass
him. He hovered just behind me on the stairs going back down to the studio, and
I stopped mid-step. "Back-off, Cullen."

I heard him breathe in deep, but noticed that he stayed a bit further back as we
descended the rest of the stairs.

I gathered my things and turned off the lights, locking the door to the studio
behind me. I wished there was a way to leave everything behind me. Sucking my
bottom lip into my mouth, my fight or flight instinct flared strong and hard: I had
never wanted to run away from home so badly in my life.

Edward opened the car door for me, and again tucked me inside.

"Dinner in Port Angeles?" he asked, as he backed the car out of the parking stall.

"I think I'd just like to get back."

"Well, with rush hour traffic, it's probably going to be a while. And Rose will kind
of kick my ass if I don't feed you. I'm still trying to get into Emmett's good
graces. I think."

"How's that going, anyway?" I asked.

Edward shrugged. "I don't know. We're both so pissed off at each other. It's hard
to believe we used to be close."

"Wait – why are you pissed off at Em?"

Edward made a face. "I don't really want to get into it."

I puzzled his words over in my head. I'd never been great at reading him, but
something about his reluctance made me wonder.

"You're not – this doesn't have anything to do with me, with the baby, does it?"

Edward sighed. "I just don't agree with the position they put you in."

"What position is that?"

"Just – this, Bella. They're taking something away from you, something that
should be…I don't know…sacred. It's not right."

"They're not taking anything from me. God, this is something I wanted to do for
them. Why can't anyone get that?"

"I get it, Bella. I do. It's just-" He cut himself off and sighed deep. "The first time
you experienced this? It should have been with someone you love. It should have
been with someone who would rub your back, or your feet, or make you a bath,
or just hold your hand at the doctor. You shouldn't have been left alone, shooting
up meds into your stomach and thighs, no one to hold your hand. You shouldn't
be going through this alone, and you sure as hell shouldn't be having your first
child for someone else. I don't understand why you'd give that up, and I don't
understand how they'd let you."

I thought about what he said, but the truth rang clear in my heart.

"Maybe I'm not giving anything up."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"No, I mean it. Maybe I don't-" I stopped and shrugged. "Maybe I don't see this
in my future." I'd meant to sound confident, but my voice came off soft and
small. It was my greatest fear for myself, and I'd handed it to him.

Edward reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it hard. "I don't believe
that for a second, Bella. You're going to be a great mom."

I looked out the window; I couldn't look at him. He drove on, but I didn't let go of
his hand. I laced my fingers through his and felt him give my hand another
squeeze. It calmed the storm in my heart, at having bared so much of myself to
him.

After a few minutes, Edward spoke again. "So, yeah, I think Emmett still kind of
hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," I said with a smile. "He's hurt is all. It hurt a lot of people
when you left like that. It was so out of the blue, for everyone."

"I know. It was such a last minute opportunity – it seemed like the best choice at
the time."

"And now?"

Edward shrugged. "Doesn't really matter."

I frowned, feeling the sadness from that first Thanksgiving without him, the
hollow celebration that none of us could quite embrace.

"I'm really looking forward to the holidays this year," he said, reading my mind.
"I've missed…I've missed a lot."

I wondered if 'a lot' meant me. I wondered why he was pushing me so hard. All
the questions about why I'd agreed to surrogate for Em and Rose, his wondering
why I chose him the night of their wedding, to be my first. It was Edward's way –
to be patient and relentless – and it was mine to run and hide. It struck at that
moment just what I'd been doing: running and hiding, and making him come find
me.

In my heart, I felt like I was selling him short, and part of me, the small, petty
part, was glad. But the heart of me wanted to be open for him. The heart of
hoped that he still would find me, hoped that he would want me when he did.

I didn't say anything, so we drove in silence. Edward stopped at a diner in Port
Angeles. We had burgers and fries, and not much conversation.

We'd just gotten back on the road, when I felt myself starting to warm to him. To
think of him as something other than the bastard who'd shattered my heart into a
hundred pieces, and it scared me. I needed to remind myself who he really was.

"So," I said. "When are you going to tell me about your girl?"

"Girl?"

"Yeah. Supermodel-pretty, blonde hair, blue eyes…you brought her home for
Christmas? Ring any bells?"

Edward didn't say anything, didn't respond other than to grip the wheel harder,
and press the car to go faster on the dark highway.

"You brought a girl home, Edward. Remember? It was only a year after-"

"I know when it was."

"I saw the pictures," I said, my voice petulant, childish. I wanted to lay down on
the ground and kick and scream until someone held me and made it all better. I
wanted to forget the image, his arm around her shoulder, the other around her
waist as she smiled into the camera. He was kissing her cheek and they looked
like a fucking Hallmark card for happiness. Her hair was strawberry blonde and
she had light blue eyes and she wasn't prettier than Rosalie, but it was close. She
was exactly the kind of woman Edward should be with.

"Esme said-"

"What?"

I frowned. "Nothing."

.

New Year's with the Cullens and part of me wants to die. Jacob's holding my hand
as we walk through the door and it feels wrong, like a fraud I'm perpetrating on
every single person who sees us. I love him, but I can't love him here.

We walk around and talk with everyone. Alice holds Huck in her arms, tiny,
squealing thing, and glows like a new mother should. Jasper and Emmett are
tending the bar, and Esme threads through the crowd with a platter full of
delicious things. Jacob wanders off and makes small talk with some of the kids I
went to high school with, and then their parents.

We are all wearing pretty things, and the streamers gleam in silver and gold. I tip
back the champagne in my hand and wander to Esme's photo wall. I know what
I'm looking for, but I don't know if I want to find it. My stomach knots around the
alcohol and the prosciutto-wrapped melon that I'd swallowed minutes ago.

When I find it, I gag and the knot in my stomach drops away. I set my hand
against the shelf for balance, because I feel like I'm floating away, a balloon
desperate for tether, for twine. I catch a whiff of Esme's perfume and it hurts,
because I want her comfort, but I can't have it.

Esme's arm wraps around my shoulder and she picks up the frame. Edward has
his arms around a girl, a beautiful girl. He brought a girl home, a girl home to
Esme and it wasn't me. How do you love someone your entire life, and not be sad
that he's grown up, moved on, without you?

I force the smile on my lips and Esme's smile is proud, mother proud. "Isn't she
lovely?"

I nod because my voice is gone, and Esme takes that as an invitation. She tells
me about Tanya, how pretty she is, how smart. She tells me about the pretty
girl's family, and how much fun they all had in Italy last year. Esme whispers in
my ear, quiet speculation, that the pretty girl may be joining our family. She says
it like that, too. Our family.

The bathroom is seventeen steps away, and I run, barely getting the lid of the
toilet up before my stomach rejects the food and wine, the way my heart has
rejected the news of Edward's maybe marriage.

It's a cold shock to go with the cold water I splash on my face. He really never
loved me at all. Not even a little.

We leave the party and Jacob drives me over to Charlie and Sue's. I curl up in my
old bed, Seth's bed now, and cry the quietest tears I've ever shed. The next day I
can barely look Jacob in the eye, but he holds my hand, holds me tight, and gets
me through.

Driving home to Seattle, the two of us are quiet, but comfortable. I decide that
I'm going to try harder with Jacob. I decide that I'm going to really move on, and
I tuck the memory of that photograph, the bright smile of that girl and the crinkle
at the corner of his eyes, away into a shoebox, high up in the closet of my head. I
raise Jake's hand to my mouth, and kiss it. He gives me a side-eyed smile, and
neither of us knows that it's the beginning of the end.

.

Edward didn't say anything, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I
was feeling bitchy, and it showed. If I'd never had him, I could have had Jake. I
could have been happy with less, if I'd never had more. One more strike against
Edward Cullen.

I sighed and looked out the window. "Just forget it, Edward."

"Tanya was a friend of my parents. Well, her father was. He went to med school
with Dad. Anyway, they were living in France when I was in Italy, and they spent
Christmas with us that first year. She- her family business is cheese-making, and
she was spending some time in Tuscany, trying to set up relationships with shop
owners there. We started hanging out a lot after Christmas, and…."

"I don't need the gory details. You don't owe me anything."

"I…would like you to know about her. I don't want to hide anything from you."

I didn't say anything and he carried on.

"The next year it just seemed natural for her and her family to come to Forks for
Christmas. After the trip, she started dropping hints about marriage. It seemed
like the next logical step, so I went and looked at rings and thought about
proposing. Around Valentine's Day, mom called and she said something about my

Grandmother's ring. I broke it off with Tanya when I realized that-" He cut
himself off, gritting his teeth.

"Forget it Edward. You don't owe me this."

"She just wasn't the right girl – woman – to wear that ring."

I didn't say anything, and the silence filled the static space between us. God, he'd
almost married her.

"Can you get off at the next exit?" I asked, and wrapped my arms around my
stomach. "She's kicking my bladder."

Edward let out a long sigh, and then signaled for the next exit. He pulled into a
coffee house parking lot and I went in to use the facilities. As I splashed cool
water on my face, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was pale, my cheeks
splotchy and my eyes looked wild in my face. I had to find some peace, some
even ground with Edward. I had to find a way to let the past go.

When I came out of the restroom, he stood before me with two large to-go cups
in his hand.

"Cocoa?" he offered.

I took the cup and we got back on the road.

"Thank God we're going to be home in the next hour," I said. "These bathroom
breaks are killing me."

Edward gave a chuckle. "I've got time, Bella."

I looked at him as a thought occurred to me. "Did you really need to go to Seattle
today?"

"I really had things I needed to take care of," he answered.

I turned the response over in my head, and turned up the music. Was I the
something he needed to take care of? Was he here looking for closure, or
maybe…looking for something more?

I sucked my lower lip into my mouth to taste it. That kiss. I wanted it back, and I
wanted to give it again. I thought when Edward touched me, my skin would
explode, or my heart would. What I got was a steady, practiced excitement. My
heart hammered, but it felt good. No, it felt right. Like something I'd done a
million times before, but wanted to do a million times more.

Being with Edward felt true.

The rest of the drive was quiet, until we neared the outskirts of Forks. I didn't
know what to think of everything, but I felt myself not just thawing, but warmed
in a way I hadn't been in years. That kiss.

The hope that I'd felt earlier had only intensified. I began to imagine holding his
hand in public. I began to imagine making the long drive from Seattle for
birthdays and holidays with him at the wheel, guiding us to Esme's house, where
we would both sleep in his too-small, boyhood bed, happy to wake in a tangle of
hair and limbs and lips.

Edward cleared his throat and then spoke.

"Look, Bella. I know this is shitty timing, with the way things are right now. But,
when we get back to Seattle and things settle down, maybe we – maybe I can
see you?"

He looked down and reached his hand out for mine. I pulled away and hugged
closer to the door.

"Forget it," he said, and put his hand back on the wheel.

The implications of what he said shook through me, starting with the way the
bottom dropped out of my stomach, and ending with my heart hammering in my
chest. There was no question that this man wanted me. Now I knew he just didn't
want me enough. Not enough to see me with a baby in my belly. Not enough to
see me in front of his friends and family. Our friends and family. Not enough to
see me in Forks, but maybe just enough to see me in Seattle. Maybe just enough
to fuck me, until the right girl came along.

When we pulled into the drive, I had my things in my hands and was out of the
car before he'd even shut the engine off. I walked through the front door,
ignoring Esme and Carlisle at the dining room table, and shot up the stairs, with
Edward quick behind me.

"Bella! Dammit, Bella, slow down. Would you just wait?"

I turned down the hallway to my bedroom, hoping to get inside and have the
door closed before he could catch up.

I was too slow. As I turned to close the door, he caught it with his hand and took
a step inside.

"Get out," I said, hating the tears that threatened – again – to fall.

"Bella," he said, his voice back to pleading.

"Dammit, Edward, leave."

"Not until you talk to me, Bella. What's going on?"

My voice trembled with emotion, all of the anger and all of the hurt that I'd
staved off for so long. "How dare you?" I walked toward him and he took a step
back, moving toward the door.

"I am not that stupid little girl anymore. I am not going to let you use me again."

Edward looked surprised and it felt good, great. I stepped forward once more and
he was out of my room, his back against the hall wall.

I glared at him, my voice low and shaking.

"I will never be your dirty little secret, ever again."

I slammed the door, needing a physical barrier between us. I would not let him
see me cry – not in pain, and not in anger – not again.

Edward knocked on the door. "Bella?"

"Get away, Edward."

"Jesus Christ, Bella, that's not what I meant. Will you please just talk to me?"

"Fuck you!"

I threw myself on the bed, ignoring his pounding. A moment later, I heard voices,
Carlisle and Esme, then Edward's low mumble, before there was quiet, and I
finally gave in to the tears that had been waiting to fall since he'd said that
terrible thing.

Esme knocked on the door, and then called out to me. I tried to suck back my
tears, but they were coming too hard and fast. I heard the door open and she
was by my side in an instant.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." She stroked my hair and my back, and I fell into her
soothing. "Bella, this is all my fault. I only wanted you two to talk. I'm so sorry
that you're so upset."

I snuffled back my tears and turned to her. I thought of her words from before,
how surprised I'd been to hear that she'd known about me and Edward, that she
thought that he still cared for me.

"Esme? How long have you known?"

She closed her eyes, and sighed. "Oh, I suspected a time or two when you kids
were in high school. Never anything concrete – sometimes there was this look
between the two of you – like you were speaking some kind of secret language.

Then when you came home from Los Angeles, and – oh, Bella – you were so
heartbroken. Before I got up the nerve to confront Edward, he was moving to
Italy. I figured you two were adults, and I tried to let it go.

"But you saw him with Tanya. You…you wanted him to marry her."

Esme shook her head. "No. I thought that he might, but as much as we all liked
her, I don't believe he loved her. I knew it the moment I offered him the family
ring, and he didn't take it."

I didn't know what to say. I felt betrayed by Esme's affection for that girl. Even
though he was her son, I wanted her, in that moment, to be my mother.

I sat up, no longer feeling like a howling five-year-old, throwing a tantrum. I
shook my head. "I'm sorry, my emotions are all over the place."

She smiled. "That's normal, honey." She eyed my stomach. "You're very
pregnant."

I smiled, but it fell quickly away. "He doesn't want what I want, Esme. He
doesn't…feel like that about me."

"He cares for you, Bella. Very much. He would never have reacted so strongly to
you, this pregnancy, all of it, if he didn't."

"Don't. Don't plead his case to me."

She smiled as embarrassment lit her face. "I'm sorry. I know I need to let you
two work it out. For what it's worth, I've asked Edward to make himself scarce
over the next few days."

Esme picked up my hands in hers. "Bella, please know this: No matter what
happens between you and Edward? Carlisle and I will always love you. You will
always be a part of this family. Always."

Esme leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

As she closed the bedroom door behind her, I turned everything over in my head.
I'd wondered if Esme had had a hand in my six hour car ride with Edward. Now
that I knew she had, I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

I was pissed off that she'd presumed to know my life, my heart. To know what
was best for me. Then I felt guilty, because after everything the Cullens had done
for me, didn't they have a right? Would my debts to them ever be paid?

Even as I had the thought, I knew it wasn't fair. Esme and Carlisle had never
asked me for anything. I was the one who put guilt into the mix, not them.

I was confused and hurting. I wondered if maybe I wouldn't be better off going to
stay with Rose and Emmett after all. Maybe that would be better for everyone.
Edward wouldn't have to deal with me, and Esme could have some time with her
son, with no distractions.

I found myself spiraling down into a pool of pity, and the tears began again. I
don't know how long I cried. I felt like I'd spent the day swimming in tears. It felt
like they would never stop falling, like I would never be fully whole again. I was
right, sitting in his kitchen so long ago: leaving him behind had been a maiming.
There was a part of me that was his from the beginning, and having him once,
even if it wasn't his love? It tainted everything that came after.

I cried into my pillow, thinking of Edward Cullen and the misses and maybes and
things that couldn't be. I heard the doorknob turn, and I felt the bed sink down,
and before he touched me, I knew it was him.

His hand swept across my back, soothing and wiping away the pain of the day.
How did he always do that? Come to me in the dark and make the bad things
better? Not perfect, but better.

He curled around me, his hand splayed across my belly, and I didn't have the
strength to make him go away. I knew if I let it happen again, if I let him have
me again, there would be nothing left of me. There would be no second chances,
no Jacob to piece me back to flesh and bone, there would…nothing.

"Shhh," he said, his voice a whisper in my ear. "Please, baby, don't cry."

It hurt, him calling me baby. It hurt because it was his word for me, a word for
us. A word that had power, like a talisman, but instead of warding away, it
brought on sweet.

Sweet, and heartbreak.

"Go away," I said, but didn't mean it.

Instead, he clutched onto me more tightly, his hand rubbing my belly like a
Buddha.

"Baby," he said. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Bella."

I drew a shaking breath, my sobs calmed by him whether I wanted it or not. I
wanted to hate him, but he was like a loose tooth, and I couldn't stop worrying at
it until I bled. The pain of his sweetness almost felt good.

"Why did you come back? Why couldn't you just leave me be?"

He pressed himself closer to me, pressed his lips to my hair.

"That morning at the bakery, you were there with Jacob Black. He had his hands
on you and you were laughing, and all I could think was how I blew it. How you
were happy and you moved on and I blew it. And that's what I wanted, for you,
but the minute I saw it, I just…I just wanted you back."

I swallowed, absorbing the new information. Edward hadn't lessened his hold on
me. Instead, he pushed one of his legs between mine, tangling us together into
his embrace.

"Is that why you were so mean to me?" I asked. "Because you thought…I don't
know."

Edward kissed my hair again, and ran his hand across my hip and down my leg. I
was thankful for and resentful of the thick denim of my jeans.

"I was such an ass. I'm so sorry, Bella." I felt him press his face into my hair
again, like he was memorizing the smell. "I wanted you to have something better
than this, than Forks. And seeing you with Jacob, I thought it was all for nothing.
You'd end up living on Rez, going nowhere, and it was for nothing."

"There's nothing wrong with living on the Rez," I said, pulling away. Edward's
fingers tightened and he scooted closer, closing the gap.

"It's not good enough, Isabella. It's not…for you."

I pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed with my back to him and felt the
anger and confusion taking hold again. "You don't get to decide, Edward. You
don't get a say anymore, you didn't want one, remember?" You didn't want me.
Remember?

He came up behind me, his legs sliding around mine, his arms pulling me in to his
chest. I was stiff and hard in his arms, and then I wasn't. I softened, because I
was tired, and I felt fat and ugly, and I just wanted to give up. No fight, no flight,
just a slow fade.

He rocked me a little and it was soothing. I could have slept like that, sitting up
and everything, slept in his warm arms and forgotten that I'd ever cried over
him. It was confusing, and too much. I tipped my head back, against his
shoulder.

"How come it's so easy, here in the dark?" I asked. "How come you can be with
me like this?"

Just give me an answer, I thought. Give me something to make this reconcile in
my head. Make this okay.

He sighed and held me tighter, pressing his mouth into the crook of my neck. It
would be so easy, I thought, so easy to slide back into this, with him.

"I used to set my alarm for the middle of the night, so I could go down stairs and
make cocoa with you."

I swallowed and tried to pull away. I needed to see his face, see what he looked
like when he said something like that to me. Edward held me tighter, his mouth
next to my ear.

"I used to threaten other guys in school, told them if they asked you out, I'd kick
their asses. I used to play the music too loud up here, and hope you'd come tell
me to turn it down."

Tears streak down my face. I couldn't understand it, what he was telling me. I
twisted around and he backed up, bringing his knees up under his chin, wrapping
his arms around them.

"I used to – some nights when you fell asleep on the couch, I'd cover you up with
a blanket, and – god – I'd watch you sleep, because it was the only time I could
just…look. At you."

"I don't…understand. What are you saying?"

Edward looked up at me, and I'd never seen him so vulnerable. It hurt, to see
him looking scared. I wanted to reach out and touch him, give him an anchor in
this storm.

He looked down at the bed again, breaking my gaze, before he spoke. "Isabella,
I've been in love with you since I was ten years old. I've been in love with you,
and for so long, I thought it was wrong, I thought I was disgusting and sick and-"
He pressed his face to his knees, breaking my gaze.

"Edward, I don't think-"

His head snapped up. "Neither do I. Not anymore. But god, Bella, you should
have heard the way my parents talked about you, like you were theirs. Mom
telling me to watch out for 'the girls' your first year of high school. That first party
that you and Alice went to? Over at the Cheney's? Dad pulled me aside and said
"You take care of your sisters, Edward. We're counting on you.""

"Sisters?" I couldn't understand all of the emotions flooding through me. That
Carlisle and Esme thought of me that way; that they thought of me as theirs,
even a little. The feeling of love, of being loved, swept over me as the tears ran
down my face. I'd always wanted to make them proud.

Edward exhaled a shaky breath and pulled himself tighter into his own embrace.
"Sisters." He looked up at me, eyes bleak. "And I was the monster who wanted
you anyway." He pressed his face back to his knees and, in that moment, there
wasn't anything that could have kept me from him.

I went to the bed and climbed on, trying to pull him into my embrace. He
tightened his hold on himself as I huddled over him and pressed my face to his
neck.

"Edward?" The moonlight fell across his face, creating shadows where I wanted
sun. His shoulders shook and the idea that he could be crying – that Edward
Cullen ever cried – was too much to bear.

My fingers dug into his hair with the long, soothing scratches that I knew he
liked. "Hey," I whispered. "Come on."

"I felt like the worst person in the world," he said, in a low, shaking whisper. "And
that night, you came to me, and I couldn't say no, Bella. I felt so wrong, but I – I
wanted you so much."

I thought back to that night, the war I'd seen in his eyes, the way he'd pressed
his face into my hand, like a surrender, and how I'd wanted it, wanted his
surrender. Needed him, to give in to me.

I pried his hands away and forced him out of the protective ball he'd made of
himself. I whispered low, shushing noises into his ear. After a moment, he
brought his arms around me, until we were cheek to cheek, and we rocked

together, in that awkward embrace. Edward clutched me, his fingers tight on my
skin, and I held him hard, wishing I could get closer, wishing I could get inside,
into where the hurt was, and wipe it away.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "So sorry. I've made so many mistakes."

I shifted in his arms, pushing my face into his neck. I needed the warmth of him,
the smell of him, even though it made my heart pound, and excited my nerves. It
made my mouth want to open, my tongue want to taste, as my fingers flexed to
soothe him.

I don't know if he felt the same, but he nuzzled his face into the crook of my
neck. His hands stroked up and down my back, cradled my head. He said my
name, a whisper in the dark, before he pressed his lips to my neck. His hands
held me in place as a thrill shot up my spine.

He rubbed his cheek against mine, so that I could feel the fine scruff that had
grown in over the day. It reminded me of so many times before, and my breath
got stuck in my throat, waiting for what came next.

His mouth.

Soft, so soft, and sweet on mine. His lips were warm and smooth as they touched
mine, his thumb stroking across my cheek. He pressed his forehead to mine,
rubbed his nose against mine, and withdrew with a look that was somewhere
between pleasure and pain. Before I could breathe, he was back, his lips rubbing,
pushing, his fingers gripping the back of my neck.

"Please," he breathed, and I couldn't resist. I tilted my face to his and sought
him, his kiss. This boy, this man, there in the dark with me, asking me for my
kiss, and I was twenty years old again, waiting on him in the dark, hoping he
would want me. His tongue touched mine and my heart fluttered, twisting my
stomach up in knots.

His mouth was hot and soon greedy, as his hands clutched at me, pulling me
closer. He made a soft, grunting noise in the back of his throat, and I whined in
response, my fingers twisting up in his hair. So long, I'd wanted his kiss. So long
I'd missed it. Missed him. I wanted it, and I was terrified.

The baby kicked and I dropped my hand to my belly. Edward's large hand fell to
cover mine, and when she kicked again, he opened his eyes, smiling, before the
look on his face became wistful, sad.

"I wanted this for us, so much."

His words tumbled around in my head and I pulled away from him, blinking,
biting my lip. The spell was broken.

"So that was why you sent me away?" I asked. "Because your parents would
disapprove?"

He sighed and hung his head. "I don't think that anymore, Bella."

"But you did? That's what it was all about? Your parents?"

"No! I mean, yeah, that was part of it, but then…."

"Then?"

"When Dad came to visit? He just went on and on about how you were my
responsibility, how the family was counting on me to take care of you. He gave
me this big lecture, about how you're family, and I wanted to tell him, I wanted
to say that I was taking care of you, taking such good care of you. I wanted him
to know. But he looked at me with so much disappointment."

"But the way you took it…I mean, we're not related."

He groaned into his hands. "I know, Bella, I just – he was so disappointed in me.
What was I supposed to say? That I was shacking up with you, fucking you every
chance I got? And oh, yeah, I've always been in love with this girl you keep
calling my sister."

"I think he would have understood." My unease with the conversation made me
pull away from him. Was he ashamed of me? Of us? Himself? I couldn't sort it
out. "Is that why you were so mean that night? You were…cruel, Edward."

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry. I needed you to leave."

"You know, we could have made it work. I would have moved to L.A. We could
have done it long distance. It could have worked."

"No." His voice was bleak and gruff. "I promised you'd go home, and I couldn't –
I couldn't stand to be apart from you."

"You were apart from me for six years, Edward. Six. Years."

He nodded.

I was getting pissed. "Yeah, seems like you stood it pretty well."

"Every time I came home, I looked for you. I would search for photos of you, or
pray that some freak storm had stranded you in Forks and we'd have to be in the
same place at the same time. I used to search for you in airports. Once I thought
I saw you on the Spanish Steps and I ran up to the top, only to find out it wasn't
you."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? You left me. You're the one who ended
things between us."

"I did, and I regret that. But you're the one who walked away. When I left our
place that night, I walked over to O'Malley's. I got drunk enough to realize I was
making the biggest mistake of my life. I ran, Bella. I ran ten blocks to get back to
you, and I hit our street just in time to see you packing your stuff into your car
and drive away.

"Watching you leave was the hardest thing I've ever done. You didn't even leave
me a picture."

"I didn't think you'd want one."

Edward reached for my hand, tried to pull me toward him. I shrugged him off. He
retreated to the middle of the bed, fisting his hair in his hands.

"I don't know, Bella. I just – after everything Peter said, and you talking about
giving up school, for fuck's sake - it was exactly what Charlie said you'd do - I
couldn't be responsible for that. I couldn't be the one who took away your
future."

"Wait. Who's Peter?"

"Fuck. Uhm, Peter's one of Jasper's cousins, from Texas? He was going to UCLA,
and since we were both freshmen together, we kind of became friends."

"But why would he say something about me? Did you tell him about me? About
us?" I wasn't sure how to feel about the revelation. I'd had to sink or swim in that
relationship by myself. Hearing that he'd had help, even if it was just someone to
talk to, bothered me.

"I…when I got home from the wedding, I was pretty confused. He was someone
to talk to."

"Why didn't you talk to me?"

He dropped his hands to the bed. "I don't…I was just trying to do the right thing."

"So what did he say? What did you say?"

"He just told me to be careful, and to think about what would happen if things
ended badly. I mean, you're…you're a part of this family, Bella. I had to think
about the implications. I had to think about the future."

I felt anger surge through me. "That wasn't your decision to make. God! You
have no idea what I went through – how much it hurt, and you want to tell me
that you did it for my own good? That I was too much of a child to make my own
decisions? That's so fucking-" I foundered until Esme's words came back to me.
"Arrogant."

His head snapped up at the word and I walked to my bedroom door.

"It was arrogance, Edward. And I deserved better from you." I held the door open
and he got to his feet and came toward me.

"Bella, can we just-"

"No. We really, really can't."

His shoulders sank as he walked out. I could feel the hurt and anger coming off of
him, but I couldn't care. I had my own to contend with, and it was overwhelming
me. I closed the door behind him, and locked it.

There would be no more sneaking, secrets in the dark. No more whispered words
and hungry kisses, no more wishing for something that couldn't be. If I thought
his cowardice was cruel, his arrogance did me in.

I didn't see myself as the prettiest or smartest, the kindest or funniest. But I
always thought I deserved at least a little respect. Maybe not love, maybe not his
love. But at the very least, his respect.

I lay on the bed, my mind spinning in circles. When I fell asleep, my dreams were
a confused jumble of monsters and angels who all bore the same name: Edward.

Chapter 18 – The Great Sage

.

.

When I woke up the next morning, the brightness of the room let me know it was
much later in the day than I'd planned. I stretched out on the bed, my muscles
taut and sore from the poor night's sleep. My back ached, low and dull. It didn't
take minutes or seconds for my conversation with Edward to come back to me. It
had never left. It threaded through my dreams, coloring everything, every
interaction I'd had with him, with shades of hurt and anger. And doubt.

Was he a coward for not facing up to me, to his parents? Or was he a terrible,
arrogant bastard for cutting me out of the most painful decision that had ever
been made about me? Had it been nothing more than puppy love for him? Had he
only regretted losing me after I was gone?

For all those years, I'd been content to sit back and chart my course according to
his stars. But in the wake of his confession, I felt strange. I felt strong, and
buoyant. I felt…like for the first time in my life, I wasn't waiting for Edward
Cullen.

I walked to the door and opened it, jumping back as Edward's sleeping form
slumped toward me.

"Fuck," he yelled, rubbing his head where it landed hard on the floor.

"Jesus, Edward! What are you doing?"

"I was – fuck – I was waiting for you."

I stood back and looked him over. He was wearing jeans and a long sleeved t-
shirt, his feet in white socks. I realized that for the first time in forever, I didn't
begrudge the clothing that hid his skin from my eyes. I looked at his hair, messy,
and into his eyes, and felt my anger override the pain. I didn't squirm under his
gaze.

"We're not done talking," he said. "And I know I fucked up and that I hurt you,
but, Bella, this isn't done."

"And you get to decide that?" I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that we still need to talk."

I looked at him, and it all hit me. All the times I'd covered for him. The moments
with Jake that were stained with Edward, the friendships that I'd had to wall-off
to keep his secret. To stay his secret.

"I think you're right," I said. "I have things to say to you." I gestured toward the
bed and he sat. He looked at the empty space next to him, but I stood instead. I
wanted – I needed him to know, to understand what it had been like for me, in
the days and months after Los Angeles.

"Do you have any idea how much you hurt me, Edward?"

.

Jacob has tracked me down, to my empty, three-bedroom apartment that I share
with two girls who are never home. I shouldn't be surprised – I've been ignoring
his calls. I've been ignoring everyone's calls. What am I supposed to say to
them? That the beautiful boy tore out my heart and I don't know how it is that
I'm still alive?

We sit on my couch in silence. He's made me tea, I hold the hot mug in my hand,
but don't drink. I don't know how to do this, be normal. I don't know how to
pretend for him.

"Bells," he says, and his black eyes are on me. I can feel them, but my own eyes
are so full with tears that I can't see.

"Oh, Bells," he says, and then he has his hands on me, warm and strong, pulling
me close, onto his lap. I wind my arms around his neck and bury my face in his
shoulder. I didn't know I could still hurt so much. I'm panting and gasping for air,
and Jacob, he just pulls me closer, his long arms wrapped fully around me
nestling me safe against his chest.

I am so ashamed.

That anyone should see this, this…wreckage that I've become - weeping and
wailing and yet I can't stop because the only thing, the only thought in my head
is that he doesn't love me. He doesn't love me. He never loved me. I was stupid,
oh, so stupid. And it doesn't matter that he never loved me because I loved him.
I love him still. And the hot, hard sunshine of Los Angeles feels like a hundred
lifetimes ago, but it was only four weeks only a month. And my skin still burns
with wanting him.

And now Jacob knows.

I don't know how long I sit on his lap, sobbing into his shoulder, but eventually I
begin to calm, having exhausted myself once again. He strokes my back, twirling
slow, lazy circles against my shirt, while I sniffle and hiccough, trying to bring
myself under control. It's not until my breathing stills that he speaks.

"Bells? You okay?"

I nod against his shoulder, his arms still around me, holding me together with the
sheer force of his love.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?"

I shake my head against him and hear his chuckle, a rumble in his chest that I
feel against my face. A moment later, he is standing and carrying me from my
futon into the tiny bathroom down the hall. He props me up, onto the edge of the
sink, and flicks on the water. I hang my head, not wanting him, anyone, to see
me this way.

"Come on," he says, nudging my chin up so that he can clean my face. I tilt my
head up, closing my eyes to him and he swipes at them with the warm, rough
cloth. For a moment, he's motionless.

I sneak a peek, steeling myself for the pity I expect, but instead see only his
concern, only his devotion.

He shakes his head.

"At least tell me his name so I can kick his ass?"

I smile, and then it crumples because I can't tell him this. I am such a foolish,
foolish girl, thinking I could be a woman, thinking I could win the heart of a man
like Edward.

Jacob tidies me up, and then I head into the kitchen to make us dinner. It's not
what I want, but he is ever growing and always starving. Besides, if I'm busy, I
can't answer questions.

Moments later though, it's clear that I don't have to. Jacob comes into the
kitchen, carrying my laptop. He'd always made a habit of rifling through my
photos, digging around in my portfolio as though it holds some kind of secret. I'd
forgotten that this time, it does.

"Oh, Bella," he says, and from the hurt in his voice, I know exactly what he's
seen.

I hang my head over the pan, and pretend that the spaghetti sauce needs more
stirring than it does. I don't want to see his condemnation, and I don't want to
explain myself.

"Why him?" he asks, and I know what he's really saying-why not me-and I don't
have any kind of answer for that.

I shake my head, my back to him still.

"Bella."

I turn to look at him and he has the laptop is cradled against his forearm. The
image on the screen is unprofessional and beautiful. It's Edward and me, in black
and white, smiling. He stands behind me and holds the camera out, while I cling
to his arm, and in that moment, captured by him, I am beautiful and yet, still my
beauty is eclipsed by his.

"I…I loved him," I sputter and then I'm crying again, my voice cracking on the
words, and Jacob is there, pulling me close as we fall to the floor where for the
second time that day, he holds me while I cry over Edward Cullen.

"I want to kill him," he says.

I nod. I do too.

"He didn't love me back," I say, and my voice sounds bewildered, even to my
own ears. "I thought he did, but he didn't. He didn't love me."

Jacob holds me close, and I slip into his warmth again, letting his heat, his
comfort, pull me under until there is nothing but black, and then I sink into that,
grateful, again, for oblivion.

.

I leaned back against the small desk and tried to put into words what Edward's
betrayal had felt like. In the end, it came down to one simple idea that was
painful to express.

"You didn't just break my heart, Edward. You…you made me question my belief in
myself. I was so sure of you, of us. When you told me it was all a lie – how could
I ever trust myself again?"

Edward's eyebrows shot up and he leaned back, away from me, away from my
words.

"So now you want to tell me that you really loved me all along? How can I believe
you? How can I trust that? How can I trust anything when I don't know what's
real?"

I gave him a sad smile. "I used to fantasize that you'd come back and tell me it
was all a mistake." A small, bitter laugh escaped me. "I was such a fool."

I walked out of my room and down the stairs. I didn't see Edward again that day,
and the next morning, Esme told me that he'd gone to Seattle for a few days to
set some things in order.

Guilt washed over me, strong and fast. It was three weeks to my due date, and I
wanted to spend that time in peace. I didn't think for a minute I'd find it with
Edward Cullen sleeping down the hall from me. Still, none of that was Esme's
fault, and I was sorry she'd been caught in our crossfire.

Before I could think too much about doing the right thing, or even what that was,
a loud knock sounded from the front door, followed by Jasper's cheery morning
yell.

After pastries and coffee, Esme excused herself and Jasper gave me his knowing
grin. "It's later, Swan. How about we take a walk?"

My lower back was throbbing. I hoped a walk would help ease the pain, since
there was no way I could have had that conversation in Esme's house.

It was a cold November day. Even though the sun was out, I could feel the damp
knives of winter being drawn. We ambled along the footpath into the woods that
Edward used to jog every morning; I wondered if he still did.

"Hey, Bella?"

My stomach plummeted. I did not want to have a conversation with Jasper about
Edward. About that summer. About any of it.

"If one of your good friends was being an asshole, you'd tell 'em, right?"

I sighed. "Jasper, whatever happened between me and Edward, I don't think he
needs you piling on more guilt."

Jasper stopped short, and grabbed my arm. The look on his face was sad, and
maybe a little angry. "Girl, I am not talking about Edward."

My face must have shown my surprise. Was he talking about me? How was I the
asshole?

"What – how am I the asshole?"

"Do you have any idea what you were like when you came back from L.A.? Jesus,
Bella, I don't think we saw you smile for six months straight. And every time we
tried to talk to you, you'd just say it was nothing. Well, it sure as fuck wasn't
'nothing.'"

"I don't want-I mean-I didn't want you guys involved. It was my mess. Not
yours. I didn't want you in the middle."

"You still don't get it, do you? It wasn't about being in the middle. It was about
helping a friend when she needed it. Do you know what it felt like for us? You
come in, and you take care of all of us, and you're the best friend anyone could
ever ask for, but when you're down, when it's our turn? You shut us out. It was a
shitty fucking thing to do Bella, and you're still goddamned doing it."

"I wasn't trying to shut you guys out. What was I supposed to do? Tell Alice that
her jerk brother broke my heart?"

"Yes. You tell her that he broke your heart, and you let her help you get over it."

"I didn't want her to have to pick sides, and then he moved away, so it didn't
matter."

"It's not about taking sides. It's about helping a friend. It's about – it's about
letting someone care for you."

"I know you guys care about me. You don't have to prove it."

"Bullshit. What's so wrong with letting someone help you out now and then?"

I stood there in the shade, the cold air a bracing chill against my face. I was
furious about his insight, but there was something in his words that had the hard
tang of truth to it. I didn't like it.

I backed away from Jasper and turned to walk down the path again, taking only a
few steps before he caught my arm.

We stared at each other for a moment, before he pulled me into his arms.

"It's not weakness to ask for help, Bella. It's just the opposite."

I let myself lean against him, pressing my face into his chest. Throughout my
adult life, Jasper had always been the one to call things by their true names, to
never flinch from what was right. If that was how he saw me, then I knew it was
true.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" he asked. So I did. I told him the whole,
messy story. From the first time I met Edward, and liked him, to all the quiet
nights alone in the Cullen house, up to Emmett and Rosalie's wedding night. Up
to Los Angeles. Up to the end.

"And that was it? He says it's over, so you packed up your shit and left?"

I looked at Jasper in surprise. "Well what was I supposed to do?"

Jasper shrugged and started walking down the path again. I hurried to catch up.

"What was I supposed to do?

"If it was me? I would have fought."

"Fought what?"

"Fought for him. For yourself. Jesus, Bella. You put this whole thing on him. You
let him keep you a secret from his dad. You let him call the shots - he says it's
over and you just say okie doke and then come back here and spend the next six
years resenting his ass. Why was it his job to figure everything out, all by
himself?"

"He said he didn't want me! He said – he called me a distraction!"

"Boo. Fucking. Hoo. If that's all it took for me to fold, God only knows where me
and Alice would be by now." He stood back and shook his head at me.

"It's not like that. You weren't there."

He raised his eyebrow at me. "Maybe not. But all I see either of you doing is
walking away. And that ain't love."

I stood before him, pouting. He wasn't there. He didn't know.

But even as I pouted, I could feel the fullness of what he said as it settled around
me. I hadn't fought for Edward, for us. Not at all.

For the first time in six years, I started to see my own responsibility. It wasn't
Edward's fault that I couldn't let him go, and it wasn't his fault that I was still
such a mess. He had a lot to answer for, but it wasn't all on him.

"Damn you, Jasper."

"Like I said, when a good friend is being an asshole, you tell her." He gave me a
lazy grin, but I could see the tenderness behind it.

I threw a weak punch at his shoulder and he staggered back, making me laugh
before the smile fell from my face.

He gave me a questioning look and I shook my head, wrapping my arms around
my belly.

"I'm so mad at him," I whispered. "I'm so mad, but I-"

"You what, little girl?"

"I think I still love him."

"You gonna do anything about it?"

"He's gone. He went to Seattle." When Esme told me he'd left, I'd felt freed, but
after talking to Jasper, all I wanted to do was find him. I wanted to tell him he
was right, that we weren't done, that we still had to talk. I wanted to slap his face
for all of the hurt, and then kiss it and make it better.

I thought of the fights I'd had with Edward, the ups and downs, and then I
thought of all the fights I'd never had with any of the others. Jacob would never
rock the boat; he'd let me walk all over him. Marcus and Ty and Alec…I'd never
cared enough about any of them to fight about anything – not even over where
we went to dinner.

But with Edward…I wanted to fight with him. I wanted to fight for him. For the
'us' that I knew we could be.

"Guess that gives you time to think about what you want to say," Jasper said.

I smiled. "I guess so."

He took my hand in his and we turned to walk back toward the house.

"Come on," I said. "You rustle up the rest of the crew - I'm making Grandma
Swan's Crab and Corn Chowder."

"Remind me to call you an asshole more often."

"Remind me to tell your wife-"

I stopped speaking, the pain slicing across my stomach, cutting the breath from
my lungs.

"Bella?" Jasper's face was full of worry.

I breathed deep, my hands running over my belly. The pain eased off, and I
grabbed for Jasper's hand.

"It's nothing. Probably just need to sit down for a while."

"Okay, let's get you up to the house." Jasper led me, holding my hands in one of
his, while the other rested at the small of my back.

Thirty minutes later, Esme and Jasper were fretting over me, stuffing me into the
back of Esme's car, Jasper making frantic phone calls as we left for the hospital.

I was admitted quickly. Jasper waited at the front for Emmett and Rose; they
both wanted to be in the birthing room. I was fine with that, so long as they
observed my one, strict rule: no peeking beneath the sheet; there are some
things even your best friends should never see.

Everything was going fine…until it wasn't.

Monitors beeped and people talked. I heard Charlie yell somewhere outside and
Rosalie gripped Emmett's hand so tight, I could see the blood rush out of her
knuckles. It was funny how much I noticed that, like it was the only thing I could
see.

Carlisle came in, pushing everyone but Esme and the nurses out. She was holding
my hand, and I squeezed when the pain cut through the haze of whatever was in
the IV.

"Hurts," I said, between gasps. Fuck those breathing exercises. Who can breathe
through that kind of pain?

"I know, sweetheart," she said, and it was lovely, her cool hand on mine, but
then her eyes flicked to Carlisle, on the other side of me.

"…wrong?" I asked.

I didn't hear her answer, something warm and dark was pulling me down. I
squeezed my eyes against the pain. The voices around me were urgent, but they
didn't seem connected to me at all.

"Her BP is crashing! Dr. Cullen we need to-"

"Is the OR ready? We have to go now!

"Carlisle!"

"Hang on, Bella."

The nice thing about the darkness? You can't feel anything at all.

Chapter 19: Right Here, Right Now

.

.

Seth is looking at me, his warm eyes beseeching.

"Where is it, Bella?"

I look around, but can't see it anywhere. I'm afraid to tell him I don't know,
afraid for any of them to find out that I've failed.

Renee holds my hand.

"Don't worry, honey. We can get you another one." I turn to look at her, but
she's already flitting away, long broomstick skirt trailing out behind her.

A kitten cries in the distance and I chase after it. I'm caught in a maze in the
Cullen house. There are doors I've never seen before, some locked, and yet each
is familiar. I open one, and it's my old bedroom. There's a Nirvana poster on the
wall, and a stack of video games towering on the desk.

Seth looks up at me from the bed. "Not yours." He shakes his head and then
turns over, pressing his face into the pillow and going back to sleep.

Down the hallway, Edward waits outside the bathroom door.

"Come back," he says. "Please." The pain in his eyes is like a fist around my
heart.

"But the kitten," I say.

"I'll get you a new one, I'll get you a hundred. Stay with me."

I move to take his hand, but catch the orange and white ringed tail of the tabby
slipping into a bedroom.

I run after it, passing Charlie in the hall. I open the door to the bedroom. "Kitty,
kitty, kitty…"

Rose groans and I look up. She and Emmett are wrapped around each other on
the bed, a sheet just covering the curve of his ass.

"Get out," she hisses.

"But the kitten-"

"Bella!" Emmett's voice is cruel. I turn away and close the door behind me.

When I turn around, I find myself on the edge of the shore, foamy, cold water
lapping at my toes. I yelp and jump back, and Edward pulls me into his arms.

"You're beautiful," he says, and then he lifts me up and spins me around. The sun
is warm, then hot on my skin. I tip my head back and let it shine on my face. His
mouth finds my neck and it burns my skin in the hottest, most delicious way.

"Oh, god," I say. "I love you."

He smiles up into my eyes and licks the corner of my mouth. "I know."

"Please, Bella." His voice is desperate, pleading. It doesn't match the smile on his
face.

I stare at him, questioning. "I have to find the kitten."

When I turn around, the shore is gone. Instead, I find Esme is tending her rose
garden and I sit beside her, my fingers sifting through the fine, rich dirt. She
smiles and pats my arm. We sit in comfortable silence until the mist makes us
damp, and then wet.

"Come on, sweetie," she says, holding her hand out to me. "I know just what you
need."

We sit in her kitchen and she starts cooking, pulling out pans and food from the
fridge. When she's done, she brings me a pot. A small kitten, orange and white,
peers up at me. Her face is darling, with a diamond shaped white patch just
above her nose, and big, blue eyes. I reach for her and she darts away.

Charlie stands in the corner, watching.

"Esme, help!" I start to chase after it, but it's nowhere in sight. "Don't worry,
honey," she says. "Let's get started on another one." She moves back to the
stove and begins emptying items into the pot. I leave her there; the kitten is
crying.

I'm following the sound. It's distressed and each meow tears at something inside
of me. I wipe my hand across my face to find that I'm crying, and then I'm
sobbing. I can't look for the kitten anymore because my stomach is clenched
tight, pulling me into a ball.

"Oh, baby. Please." Edward wraps his arms around me and I sob into his
shoulder. He smells like a Sunday night, day old clothes and day old skin, and I
want to eat him alive, starting with long, slow licks. Instead, I take shelter in his
arms, and let his voice soothe me, let it heal my wounds.

I turn my face into the crook of his shoulder, but everything smells wrong.
Familiar, but wrong. I pull away.

"Jacob?" He chuckles low in his throat and I see his fingers laced with Leah's.
"What do you need?" he asks, his smile warm and sweet.

"I lost the kitten."

He shakes his head. "Nah, it's right over-"

"Bella?"

Alice calls from the next room, and I leave Jake to find to her. Jasper is making
pastries, filling each one with thick, dark goo.

"What's that?" I ask. I'm on the floor with Huck and we're playing with his toy
cars. He runs one up my arm and I giggle because it tickles.

"Oh, those are some lies he found in the pantry. He said he needs to use them up
before they go bad." Jasper smiles up at me, and there's an unkind twist to it on
his face.

"All done," he says, brushing the flour from his hands. He comes toward me and
kisses my forehead before picking up Huck. "You'll be okay," he tells me, and this
time, his smile is real.

I look down at the toy car in my hand, but it's not there. Instead, I'm holding
Edward's hand.

"I need you," he whispers. There's thick stubble on his face and bags under his
eyes. "Please don't leave me."

I open my mouth to tell him 'no, I won't,' and a mockingbird sings out instead. It
sings a beautiful, lilting song, and I drift to the window to watch it. As the clouds
shift above, he flits from one branch to another, always singing in the sun. I lay

back on my bed to watch him, and the song becomes a series of sharp, staccato
notes. It hurts my ears, so I turn my head and raise my hands to block it out.
Something rough has my hand, and I yank, but I can't move.

The song, the notes, dim, and then becomes loud, becomes the only thing I can
hear. There's a moment of weightlessness. The rooms spin around me, and the
house, the labyrinth dissolves and I become aware of hushed voices and the buzz
of the television murmuring in the background.

I open my eyes.

.

I open my eyes. There's a soft ringing in my ears and something behind me is
beeping. I try to lift my hand, but it's too heavy, it feels trapped. I look down at it
and find Edward is peering up at me.

"Bella?"

He looks terrible - red-rimmed eyes and thick stubble on his face. His shirt is
rumpled and his hair is everywhere – flopping over his eyes, sticking straight up
in the back and kind of smashed down on the side.

"Baby?" His voice is thick and scratchy and he grabs the white call-button from
the side of my bed. He presses his face to my hand, his mouth to my hand. In my
heart, I'm smiling at him, and I think it makes it to my face, because his eyes
begin to tear before his face breaks into the most beautiful grin I've ever seen.

"Oh, Bella." He kisses my palm again, his face scratchy under my fingers. A
throat clears behind us, and I tip my head to the side. Charlie looks down at me.
He looks a hundred years old and more relieved that I've ever seen before, even
when I broke my arm and two ribs falling out of Angie's tree house.

"Hi, Daddy." My voice is just a whisper.

"Hi, baby." His voice is a whisper too, and I see tears in his eyes. He squeezes
my hand gently, and a tear falls onto my arm.

The wet trail against my skin brings everything back to me. Jasper and the cold
and the hurt. The baby.

The baby!

I feel panic at the lack of familiar weight across my stomach. I struggle to sit up,
but Carlisle is there, pushing my shoulders back to the bed.

"The baby-"

"Is fine," he says. "Six pounds, five ounces. A healthy baby girl. She's beautiful,
Bella."

"I don't…she's okay?"

"Beautiful," he says, and nods. "How are you?" he asks, sitting on the edge of my
bed. He takes my hand in his and feels my pulse. Then he shines a light in my
eyes, and looks at my chart. He tells Edward and Charlie to leave, and he asks if
he can check the dressing on my incision.

He explains that by the time they brought me in, the baby was in distress due to
the placenta detaching from my uterine lining. During the emergency c-section, I
began to hemorrhage, which Carlisle explained wasn't uncommon.

"You're going to be just fine, Bella. You'll be sore for a few weeks, but you'll heal
up, good as new."

When I signed up for this, I never thought I'd have a child of my own. I never
thought I'd need my body in that way again. But waking up in the hospital, with
the tubes and the beeps and the family, my family, all around me, I was suddenly
terrified that the chance was being taken away.

"So I can still…?"

Carlisle's smile was warmer than usual and I felt it in my stomach, in my heart.
"Absolutely."

Relief washes over me, thick and heavy. I can't see myself being one of those
women who has a baby on her own, but knowing that the option is still there
means everything.

I look at Carlisle, and a part of me is mortified that he's seen me naked, but most
of me is relieved that he was there. A few moments after he covers me back up,
Dr. Sable, Fork's OB/Gyn, comes into the room.

We talk and she explains my condition over again. The medications and loss of
blood kept me out of it for a little over two days. The last thing I remembered
was the sound of Esme's panicked voice, and Carlisle's calm, commanding one.

The doctors step aside to discuss my treatment, and Charlie appears at the foot
of my bed.

He sits beside me, scrubbing his hand down his face.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Bells. You're gonna put me in an early grave."
His words are teasing, but his tone is not.

I reach out for his hand. "I'll keep that in mind," I say with a smile.

I sigh, exhaustion pulling at me. Everything feels heavy.

"I'm thirsty," I say, and Charlie rises, asking Carlisle if I can have something to
drink. I don't hear the conversation, but moments later Edward is back, a paper
cup of ice chips in his hand. He lifts a chip to my mouth and I open, the cold, wet
of the ice delicious on my tongue.

I close my eyes and smile. The soft noise of Edward sitting down makes me open
them again. He sits across from Charlie, holding my other hand, and when I look
at my father, he's glaring.

"Sleepy," I say. It feels like moving mountains to say the single word.

"Go to sleep, honey," he says, patting my hand. "You, uh, want him to go?" he
asks, his eyes flicking to Edward.

I swallow and breathe deep. "Stay," I whisper to Charlie, as I squeeze Edward's
hand. Edward squeezes back, and Charlie nods.

I slip back down, into the dark.

.

When I wake up again, there's a crowd. Rose is thumbing through a magazine
and Alice is holding Daisy on her lap. They're playing a whispered game of pat-a-
cake, and when Daisy giggles, then clamps a hand over her mouth, I smile.

Edward is still holding my hand.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. I smile and nod, because unlike the last time,
this time I feel…awake. I feel like I'm actually in my skin.

"Baby! Oh, God, how are you?" My mother's voice startles me, and I look toward
the door. Renee flounces in, wearing a skirt with a wild print that shouldn't work,
but does, leather sandals and a very soft looking sweater.

Edward eases away and Renee takes up my hand.

"I was so worried when I heard! Leave it to you to almost die during childbirth!
Honestly Bella, what are we going to do with you?"

I hear a soft gasp beside me and Edward moves forward. He strokes my hair
away from my face, leaving his hand on my shoulder.

My mother looks up at him for a moment before continuing her chatter. She is on
her way to Banff for a few weeks, but wants me to come to Hawaii with her and
Jimmy for Christmas.

I haven't even seen the baby yet, and she wants me to plan for Christmas.

"Mom, no. I'm staying here, in Forks."

She pauses and looks Edward up and down, before lowering her face to whisper.
"But you just had a baby, sweetie. The sun would do you some good." She casts
a meaningful look Edward's way before straightening up.

"Okay, sweetie. Well, if you change your mind…." She lets the invitation dangle,
and so do I.

Charlie walks in with Sue and Seth in tow. He clears his throat, and Renee leans
down and swipes my cheek with her mouth.

"I'm just going to go freshen up," she says. I'll come back in a few hours."

I'm still trying to process that she came at all – she hasn't been to Forks since
she left, not even for my high school graduation.

I look over at Seth, and he's rolling his sleeve down past a cotton ball that's
taped to the inside of his elbow. I notice that Sue and Charlie have them too.

"What's with the cotton balls?" I ask.

Seth bounds over to me.

"You're up! Awesome! How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure," I say. "Did anyone get the number of that bus?" Almost everyone
laughs. Charlie doesn't. He smiles, but it's sober. Rose comes to stand beside me.
I've never seen her look so frayed, frazzled. The dark circles under her eyes have
passed lavender and gone right to purple, and her skin is clean of make-up. She
looks at once very young and yet, somehow weary.

"Oh, thank God, Bella. We've been…so scared."

I see the shine of tears in her eyes, and realize that even though she has what
she wanted, what she needed from me, that she still cares for me. She loves me.

"I can have Em bring the baby by in a bit, if you want?"

I nod and see Charlie looking at something above my head. I remember that
Edward is standing behind me. It's like a halo of people, surrounding me. I
feel…cared for, protected. I feel loved.

The realization brings a tear to my eye, and the next thing I know, Edward is
ushering everyone but Charlie out. Charlie comes to sit beside me, taking
Edward's place. Hospitals always made him anxious, and I'm eager to let him be
free.

"You don't have to stay," I say. "I'm just going to fall asleep again."

Charlie takes my hand, and it's dwarfed by his two large ones. "I'm fine right
here, Bells. I'm fine right here."

I nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat. I feel overwhelmed by this, by
them. I feel overwhelmed by these people, gathering here to watch over me,
people who owe me nothing, but who come, regardless. I don't understand it, but
it calms me. I feel safe under their watchful eyes.

"So what's with the cotton balls?" I ask again.

Charlie looks up, startled out of his own thoughts. "Oh, nothing. Bunch of us gave
blood, after, well…."

"After what?"

"You, uh," my father pauses and swallows thickly. There's a waver in his voice
when he speaks again. "You lost a lot of blood, Bells."

I squeeze his hand and he looks down, studying the diamond pattern of my
hospital gown. "Oh, Daddy." I quail in the face of his love for me, in the face of
his tears. In my anxiousness to comfort him, and have him comfort me, I've
taken to calling him "daddy." I don't think I've called him that since Renee left.

"Carlisle and Doctor Sable both say I'm going to be fine."

He nods and the nurse saves us from having to make more conversation. She
brings me chicken broth and water, and I don't realize I'm hungry until my mouth
starts watering, smelling the broth.

.

Elise Marie waves a tiny red fist at me, takes one last suck from the bottle, then
closes her eyes with a snuffle. She has the milky blue eyes of a newborn, but I
know they'll crystallize, become clearer and deeper. Just like her Emmett's.

I stroke a finger across her cheek and swallow down the fierce longing inside of
me. A part of me calls this baby mine. It longs to hold her to my breast and
nourish her, and sleep with the small weight of her head upon my chest. Her
sucking sounds make my breasts ache, and her cries tear at me. Her sweet, baby
smell is a balm and a wound.

I hand her over to her mother who looks up at me from Esme's couch with huge,
adoring eyes that shine with unshed tears. I can't show her my pain over this, or
even my surprise that there is pain. Edward sits beside me and squeezes my
shoulder, then runs his hand along my arm. I lean my head against his chest and
close my eyes.

I'd spent a few more days at the hospital, and as soon as I was able, I relocated
to Esme's guest room. Renee went to Banff, Sue and Esme cooked, and Charlie
and Carlisle hovered. Edward never left the hospital. Not when I was sleeping,
not when I was awake, and not when the nurses and doctors came to check on
me.

Carlisle's pull got me a private room and Edward a cot, off to the side. He'd never
used it that I'd seen. Instead, he rested with his head next to my thigh, and his
hand always in mine. There was so much we had to say to each other, so many
broken promises to mend.

I wasn't ready talk yet, even if he was.

When I woke on the fifth day, I asked for a cup of coffee. Carlisle said it was
proof that I was ready to be released.

Each day since, Esme and Edward have acted as gatekeepers, allowing people
brief visits, and entertaining them once I was too tired to play. Seth came over
with Mario Kart, but we only played one round before I was wiped out. Sue
brought me flat bread and herbal tea. Alice brought me Huck, Daisy and a new
winter coat. Jasper brought me my favorite ginger cookies, and Charlie brought
me my old stuffed bear, a laptop table that I could use in bed, and a stack of
books from my childhood.

When he showed me the books, I'd ooh'd and ahh'd, smiling big as I remembered
what friends those books had been to me. I was surprised when he opened the
big Winnie-the-Pooh collection and began reading aloud to me. Within moments I
was lost to dreams, but he visits every day, his gruff voice taking me further
along on adventures in the Hundred Acre Wood. One of the greatest feelings I
have ever known is to be safe in bed, with my father's voice telling me tales from
my childhood. It washed over me, the feeling of comfort and safety, and I was
cocooned in his love for me. It had been a very long time since I'd felt that way,
and I didn't take a moment of it for granted.

Rose holds Elise and beams at the infant in her arms. Emmett looks on at the two
of them. The soft smile that plays on his face makes my chest hurt again.

"Someone's ready for a nap," Edward says, and eases me to my feet. He helps
me to my room and I slide into the sheets that Esme changed just that morning.

"You doing okay?" he asks. What he means is how was it, holding the baby. What
he means is, do I need to cry, and should he leave? I shake my head and feel the
tears forming in my eyes, the pull of my chin as it dimples.

I reach for him and he's there, gentle but strong, sliding behind me in the bed to
hold me between his arms and legs. I turn my face to his chest and let myself cry
quiet tears. What I did was right and good. But I had no idea how empty it would
leave me. I had no idea that there would be sorrow; I thought there would only
be joy.

"What if this is it?" I ask. "What if I don't…don't-"

"Shhhh. Don't even think it, Bella. You're going to have-" he pauses, and
swallows. "You're going to have everything, everything you want. I promise."

"I can't help but feel like…I did it for all the wrong reasons, and now I'm paying
the price."

"Isabella. You're the strongest woman I know. You're going to be fine."

Edward strokes my back and hair. He kisses the top of my head. When I'm done
feeling sorry for myself, I pull away and we both chuckle at the damp spot on his
chest, left from my snot and tears.

I look into his eyes and they are happy and tender. They are filled with love for
me, and the only thing that stops me from kissing him is all that we've still left
unsaid. We still haven't talked about the past, but I know we'll have to, and as
each day passes, I find that I want to.

Since I came home from the hospital, we have fallen into each other. Edward
holds my hand and touches my hair. I rub my hand against his face when he
needs a shave, and when we sit together on the couch, I invariably end up half
on his lap.

It feels good, being able to touch him, look at him. At the hospital, there were a
few questioning glances, and Edward and Emmett had a glare off at one point,
but no one's asked me any questions - not even my father, when he comes to
visit in the afternoon, and Edward slips away, leaving us to the quiet. I guess
Edward's behavior at the hospital was all they needed to know.

It was all I'd needed to know.

"You know you'll be okay, right?"

I nod against his chest.

"I didn't think it would hurt. I didn't think I would feel so attached to her. She's
not mine, but…."

"But it feels like she is?"

"Yeah."

He holds me tighter and I burrow into him. It's quiet, up here on the third floor. I
don't catch the soft sound of voices below, only the wind through the trees and
the soft fall of rain, as it makes a small, spattering sound against the window.

We're at peace in the quiet, before he speaks again. "You've changed," he says. I
don't know if this is good or bad, but it's disquieting.

"How?"

"I've never seen you ask anyone for help before, Bella. It's…really nice."

I smile against his chest. "Well, the Great Sage kind of gave me a talking to."

"You too, huh?"

I look up at him, surprised. "What did he say?"

Edward's face colored. "Ah, he told me I was a lucky son of a bitch, and if I hurt
you again, he'd kick my ass twice for everyone in the family."

I laughed. "Jasper said that to you?"

Edward nods, not meeting my eyes, but there's a smile playing at his lips.

I giggle at the idea of Jasper hitting anyone, and then remember the moment at
the bakery when he had Edward in his hands. "He was pretty fierce that
morning," I say.

Edward laughs, "You're telling me."

"And you, you lush! Boozing at four in the morning?"

"Hey, I was jetlagged!"

"Likely story, Cullen."

He hugs me close and I wait for him to say more. I wait for him to talk about that
night, or the next day, or that summer, or any of it. I wait for him to push me,
the way he has been, but he doesn't.

Instead, he strokes his hand against my hair. I revel in the comfort of him, the
physicality of him – his skin on mine, his hands touching me, his body, welcoming
me home. In his arms, I feel like I'm home.

All of my secrets line up in my mouth, in my heart, waiting to reveal themselves
to him. Instead, I press my face to his chest, listening to his heart. It's strong
and steady, and I know in that moment that he's done pushing; he's waiting for
me to come to him, and that is exactly what I need.

I smile and rest against him. So much is unspoken, and yet in this moment,
everything feels right.

"Thank you," I say, interrupting the quiet.

"For what?" he asks, confusion clear in his voice.

"I know…I know we still need to talk about things. Thank you for not pushing me,
and thank you for, well, you've been a really good friend to me, Edward. It's
probably more than I deserve."

"Silly girl," he says, but his voice is low, and thick.

I draw away from him and there are unshed tears in his eyes. He looks so
earnest and young, like the boy who used to bring me strawberries and feed
them to me, dipped in wine.

What I want is to kiss him, and so I do. I lean up and kiss the corner of his
mouth, cupping his cheek with my hand.

"You're a very good man," I say, and he responds with a wistful smile.

"Sleepy?" he asks, and I smile and nod against his chest. He slides down the
headboard until he's resting on his back. His arms open to me and I seek his
shelter. It's slow going as I fit myself to him; the incision is still sore, and my
bloated belly feels awkward. Still, we settle in and he holds me, his fingertips
brushing my hair. There's a lot of space between us now, but every day, we build
a bridge.

.

It's been two weeks since Elise was born, and I feel stronger every day. I wake
late in the morning and stretch, and my stomach, while tender, doesn't ring with
sharp tines of pain from normal, common movements. I sleep more soundly, too.
As I bury my face into my pillow, I smell Edward's scent there.

He spends so much of his time with me. He holds me until I fall asleep, then
retreats to his own bed. He greets me in the mornings with a hot cup of coffee,
and the quiet I need to really wake up. He cooks for me and brings me books,
and sits beside me as we watch movies.

He is kind to me. He is gentle, and he has never asked me for more than that
single, side-mouthed kiss. I know that he is waiting for me, and that he is giving
me the space to take my time.

I hear a soft knock at my door, and I know it's him.

I call out and he enters, holding a cup of coffee. He looks good, but nervous.

I pat the bed and he sits, handing me the coffee.

"What's up?" I ask. It's an unspoken vow: neither of us flinches from speaking
our minds any longer – we know it's the only way forward, and forward is what
we both want.

"I need to tell you something," he says. "Something about our time in LA." As he
speaks, he pulls away from me, until he's sitting at the foot of the bed. I pull
myself up and watch him. I nod, telling him to go on. Another unspoken rule: we
always hear each other out, even if we don't want to hear it at all. If he's brave
enough to tell me the truth, I can be brave enough to hear it.

"What I said that night, about why I made you come back here? That was true,
but it wasn't everything."

Dread swirls in my stomach, making the coffee burn and taste bitter on my
tongue. We still haven't talked about how things ended, or even about how we
should begin again. If we can begin again.

"Okay."

"I didn't tell you…" he leaves off and studies his hands. "I didn't tell you about
your dad. He came to L.A. He – God, he was so pissed off, I thought he was
going to deck me."

"Wait, what? He never came to L.A. I never saw him."

"I know, Bella. Just...hear me out. I don't want any secrets between us. I want
you to feel like you can trust me."

I nod and stare into my coffee cup. Edward tells me that Charlie came out to
surprise me, my last week in L.A. When my roommates said they'd hardly seen
me all summer, he tracked me down at Edward's. He'd waited until I left the
apartment, and then he confronted Edward.

"He said that I had a responsibility to you. He said that – he said that if I loved
you like I said I did, that I would wait for you to graduate, that I wouldn't take
advantage of you, of your youth."

I look up at Edward and he's studying his hands. I can't see what's in his eyes,
but I need to. I think he just told me he loves me.

I reach out and tip his face up, searching his eyes. What I see is a storm, a war. I
see the boy I fell in love with, and the man that he's become. Above all of that
though, shining through, I see the sincere love that he has always had for me.
That look that I couldn't decipher a hundred times? That look was his love. I
didn't know.

He looks into my eyes and I place my hand against his face. He rubs his cheek
into my palm, smooth skin and soft, closing his eyes, shutting down the storm.

I can't help but smile.

"Edward?"

He looks up at me.

"I know I have morning breath and coffee breath right now, but do you think that
someday you might want to kiss me?"

The corner of his mouth quirks up, into that half grin that I have always loved.

"You want me to kiss you, huh?"

I nod, grinning at him.

"Well I don't know, Swan. Maybe you should go brush."

My eyes and my smile widen as I lean toward him. I open my mouth and breathe
hard in his face. He reels back, laughing, but puts his arms around me and takes
me with him. His movements are firm, but gentle, always gentle. He lays me on
my back and hovers just above me, his weight on one arm as his hand comes up
to stroke my cheek. His eyes are perfect, clear green, like fresh cut grass, and I
can't help but smile into them.

"I love you, Isabella." He doesn't pause to let me respond. He leans over and
presses his lips to mine. Then he kisses the corners of my mouth, and then my
cheeks. My eyelids, my chin, a string of five kisses against my forehead. One in
each ear, so loud they tickle. Up and down my neck, until he's back at my mouth.

He draws away and I open my eyes. He is smiling at me, and I feel…cherished.

I feel loved.

"I love you, Edward."

Chapter 20 – Loose Ends Become Bound

.

In the morning, I wake up early. There's thin light coming through the window,
and when I look outside, I can see frost covering everything. The sun is up and
peeking through the clouds, and everything it touches seems to sparkle, as
though the world has been sprinkled with sugar. It's beautiful.

I linger in the quiet and savor the pretty, grabbing my comforter and wrapping it
around me, sitting in the window seat. A cup of coffee would make this perfect,
but I don't want to go downstairs yet. This day will be long, and difficult, but I
need to stop flinching from the hard things. I need to stop hiding.

After we exchanged "I love you's," Edward and I laid on the bed for a while. He
held me and I let him. In truth, I gloried in it. He loves me. I know it's true; I
know it in my bones and in my blood. The words, though magical, were not a
cure-all. We still have things to talk about, and I know it's time for me to finally
forgive him. I'm ready, now, and I wasn't before. I wonder if he can forgive me,
or if I can forgive myself. I think that if he is by my side, I can. But I know that
even if he's not, I will.

I keep the blanket wrapped around me and go to his bedroom. I knock softly, but
don't wait for his response. I walk in and find him face first on a pillow, one leg
dangling over the edge of the bed. He's always slept in a sprawl, and between his
size, and my tossing and turning, the two of us always managed to leave the bed
in tatters by the next morning.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, and stroking his back, I finger the hairline at his
neck, and then lean in, running my nose along the edge of his ear. He smells
amazing – all Edward and nothing else. He groans and throws and arm around
me, pulling me to snuggle close to him. I turn onto my side and let him. He puts
his nose in my hair and breathes deep, but keeps burrowing until he finds the
back of my neck. His lips press to my skin once, and he breathes a sigh of
happiness. A sigh I remember from a thousand mornings ago. A sigh that tells
me I'm home.

"Come see the morning," I whisper. "It's beautiful."

Edward's hand wraps around my stomach, careful of my healing flesh. Despite his
kisses yesterday, he's careful to keep his hands in friendly places. He's not asked
me for more, physically, not even an open-mouthed kiss. Just thinking about it
makes my stomach flip, and I'm eager for it, but also relishing the anticipation.

"You owe me for this, Swan," he says. His voice is thick and husky with sleep.
"It's too early."

"It is," I agree. "Come on."

I try to get up, but he is surprisingly strong in his supine position. His arm flexes
around my waist, keeping me pinned to the bed. He presses a kiss to my hair,
then relaxes his arm and pushes himself up.

I lead the way back to my room, and open my quilt for him to come inside. He
arranges himself against the wall in the window seat, then opens his legs for me
to sit between them. I lean my head on his chest and we watch the morning
shine off the ice, looking like a sugarplum fairy dream.

I lace my fingers through his, and he hums a little, the noise a vibration against
my ear.

I suck in a breath. I'm finally ready to say all of the things I've kept inside for so
long. I'm finally ready to grow up.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"That night, you asked me why I chose you."

I felt him tense, and it made my stomach flutter, but I needed to keep going.
"You're-" I felt unshed tears closing my throat. Edward brings his arms tighter
around me, and I press myself into his embrace.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted." Something breaks open, inside of me, as
the sound of the words ring in my ears. I'm giving it all up: every covetous
glance, every brush of skin, every moment that I spent years and years reveling
in. Every memory of yesterday, because who cares about yesterday when today
is right here, right now?

I am giving up the past, and I am taking the future.

I smile to myself, and a warm tear skims down my cheek. He can't see the tear,
but he holds me tighter to him.

"I've been in love with you since I was ten years old," I say, giving his words
back to him, because they're true. "Since the day Emmett tickled me so hard that
I cried, and you pushed him down and walked me home, holding my hand. That's
the day I fell in love with you."

"Baby," he whispers. "Baby, baby."

I draw away to look at him. His mouth holds a soft smile, and his eyes are filled
with so many things that I can't interpret. I have stripped myself bare for him. I
have given him everything, myself, utterly exposed and holding nothing back.

"I've never stopped," I say, because this man held my hand for five days in a
hospital room. Because this man makes my pulse do double-time just smelling
him. Because this man is my one.

I turn back around and he holds me tight, raining kisses on my hair, my neck, my
shoulders.

We sit in the early morning quiet. My eyes are closed, and I'm resting against
him, and I feel peaceful and loved. I feel at ease, and I'm ready for the next part.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I made you be the only grown up in our relationship, and then
when you didn't make the choices I wanted, I resented you. That wasn't fair."

His arms tighten around me. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I love you," he answers.
"I couldn't have let you go if I did."

"I'm sorry I kept it a secret and blamed you for it."

"I'm sorry I let you, Bella."

I turn to look at him, and he pulls me onto his lap, with my feet dangling over the
edge.

I look into his eyes and I see my own nervousness there, and my own relief. This
man has owned my heart for most of my life, and I can finally see that I own his,
too.

"I'm sorry," I begin. This is the hardest one. "I'm sorry I didn't fight for us."

He pulls me close and presses his mouth to my cheek. "Oh, baby. I'm sorry, too."

A tear falls down my cheek and he thumbs it away. "How about no more
'sorry's,'" he says.

I nod against him and we sit in the cold and the quiet. My heart feels heavy and
torn, but also light, and hopeful. It's like when an elevator drops too fast, and
your stomach ends up in your heart a little. I wonder if Edward feels it too. He's
holding me close, like I'm something precious, and in his hands, I feel like I am.

He squeezes me a little and chuckles. He's staring at my chest. My breasts are
still full from the pregnancy and my sleep shirt is strained across the front. I still
have trouble getting comfortable with them.

"Jesus, Swan," he says, his finger tip tracing the rippled fabric between my
breasts. "What are you packing in there? C's? D's?

I laugh, embarrassed. "Shut up!" I grab his finger with my hand.

"No really, can I see 'em? They look-"

"Edward Cullen!" I squeal and he laughs, deep and throaty and then I'm laughing
too. In this moment, between tears and laughter, everything between us
changes, again. This is the bridge. This is the way forward. This is the future.

.

I'm driving to the station and bringing Charlie lunch. I've taken a couple of weeks
to digest the things that Edward told me, and to reconcile all of the various
iterations of Charlie in my head, and in my heart.

When I came home from L.A., Charlie was odd, different. He handled me with
such care, and yet, he seemed to never know how to look at me. One evening at
dinner, as Sue was clearing the table, and Seth had wandered off to do
homework, I caught him staring.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, and shook his head. But a moment later, I felt his gaze settle
around me again.

I looked up and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You're just so grown up, Bells. I should have taken better care of you."

At the time, I'd thought he was apologizing for all of his absences. Now I know
better.

I start thinking about secrets, and the damage they deal. The secret love for
Edward that could have been realized, so long ago. His secret love for me, and all
of the years, wasted. Who would we be now, if those secrets hadn't been kept?
Would he have moved to Italy? Would I have opened my own shop? Would we
have grown differently, if we had grown together?

Thinking about the life I've created for myself, I'm surprised to see how full it
really is. I have a profession, one I like. I am a good boss and a good daughter
and a good friend. I work hard at these things, at keeping my relationships with
these people strong, because I want them. And I see now, looking back on all of
it, how I've gone after the things I want. When I craved a family, I carved one
out of the Cullens. I took Seth as my brother and I adore him. I took Alice and
Jasper and Rose and Emmett as by siblings and my friends. When I wanted a
career, I made it. I worked fourteen hour days behind the lens, playing with light
and color, just watching, until I learned how to capture the things I saw in my
head.

I have crafted the life I wanted, and saved my heart for the man I love. And I
know that it isn't perfect, and I know that we have things to work on, big things,
but I also think we can do it together.

When I see my father, all of the anger I'd felt, the sense of betrayal, dissipates. I
know that the conversation will be hard, but I feel like, now, it can be productive.

We make small talk while I try to work up my nerve, but in the end, he does it for
me.

"Something on your mind, Bells?"

I smile. "How'd you guess?"

He gestured toward the corned beef sandwich in his hands. "Because this ain't a
salad."

"Well, I figured a little buttering up wouldn't hurt." My smile dies. "You never told
me you came to L.A."

I meet his eyes, waiting for his reaction. He says nothing, but something in his
gaze changes.

"Ah, hell. I was just trying to take care of you," he says. From the long silence
after he speaks, I see that it's his only explanation.

"That wasn't fair. Didn't you think I could make my own decisions? God, that was
none of your business!" All of the hurt and upset that I thought had gone away is
now back, and in full.

"Bella," his voice is stern and gruff, but I'm not having any of it. I keep my voice
low, but I'm emphatic.

"Dad, no! You – you do this thing, where you keep secrets from me. You hid your
relationship with Sue, you never told me what really happened when Renee left,
and now I find out that you were one of the biggest reasons Edward called it off
with me. Enough! I am a grown woman – you have to stop treating me like a
child!"

At some point in my tirade, I stood and began to pace his small office. I stop in
front of his desk, and looked down at him. He's older. He looks…tired. Spent.

I sit down in the chair again, and pick at my fingernails.

At length, he sighs and runs his hands across his face. "I didn't do any of that to
hurt you, Bella. I was only trying to protect you."

"But it did hurt. And it still hurts." My anger is tempered by the force of that hurt,
by my allowing myself to feel it, maybe for the first time. "It feels like you don't
trust me."

"You know young lady, you weren't exactly open about your relationship with that
Cullen kid."

I want to refute him, instantly. I want to tell him that I couldn't talk about it back
then, because I didn't know what we were doing – me and Edward. I want to tell
him that I was over eighteen, and it was none of his damned business. But I can't
ask for his honesty and withhold my own.

"I know, Dad. I know it was wasn't right – or very mature – to keep that a secret
from you." I look up at him, and he's gazing evenly at me.

"I really was just trying to do right by you, Bells. I was trying to keep you from
messing up your life."

I stare at him, waiting for more, for the rest of it.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'll – I'll try to remember that you're all grown up, now."

"Thank you." The apology doesn't fix everything, but it's a start, and that's what I
want. I breathe deep, preparing to admit to him what I'd hardly been able to
admit to myself.

"You know, I think I'm going to be seeing him again, so, maybe you could start
calling him Edward?"

Charlie sucks a breath and eyes his Styrofoam container.

"Is that really what you want, Bells? After all this time? After everything…."

He's thinking of the time after the break up, and I am too. Losing Edward had
almost destroyed me, but in understanding where we'd gone wrong, I was also
able to understand how to move on, move forward, and to do it without being
consumed by fear.

I look at my father with new conviction in my eyes, and in my blood.

"He's who I want."

My father nods his head and looks down. "Okay, Bells. Okay."

I stand and start to move around the desk, toward him. We've never been very
physically affectionate, but I needed a hug from my father. I need him.

As I walk around the desk, he rises and comes toward me. We meet in the
middle, and he pulls me into his big embrace. He smells of inexpensive
aftershave and stale cigar smoke, but nothing will ever soothe me the way a hug
from my father does.

"I love you, kid," he says against the top of my head.

"I love you, too, Daddy."

.

The doorbell rings and sounds throughout the entire Cullen household, the chimes
ricocheting off the walls and soaking into the carpets. I rise from my comfortable
spot in the living room, but Edward beats me to the door.

I approach, wary. Jacob stands before Edward, and he's drawn himself up to his
full height, imposing. Edward has his jaw clenched and shoulders squared. I
wonder when one of them will start to growl, or pee on my leg.

I walk up behind Edward and stroke my hand along his arm. He eases, but I can
still feel the tension rolling off of both of them.

"Hi Jake," I say, and his focus shifts to me.

"Hey Bells," he says. If I hadn't just come from seeing my father, I might not
have noticed how they both call me by the same nickname: 'Bells." Once noticed,
their similarities fall in line. They are strong and proud, brave, and they are both
born leaders. I blink, remembering why I invited Jake over to begin with.

"Come on," I say, reaching for his hand and elbowing Edward a little. "Come in. I
have something for you."

"For me? Shouldn't I be bringing you gifts?"

"Nah, I don't need a thing," I say, then lead him up to my bedroom.

He sits in the window seat and I smile, remembering my morning spent wrapped
up with Edward, watching the day dawn.

I rustle in the desk and pull out a package wrapped in brown paper and twine.

"What's this?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"Open it up. Find out."

He gives me a curious look, and I tip my head to one side, watching him. Jacob
Black has been my dearest friend, for most of my life. He has been there for me
every time I've needed him, and even in the times when I didn't know what I
needed.

He unwraps the package and studies it. It's a simple black frame with a black and
white photograph in the middle. In it, Leah is seated at our dinner table, her
fingers toying with a napkin. Jacob is next to her, and has one hand reaching out
for her. His body is close, and he's looking down at her with utter adoration. From
the smile on Leah's lips, she feels it.

"How long?" I ask, as she absorbs the image before him.

Jake coughs, looks at the image, then back to me, then back to the image again.
"I, uhm…."

I smile.

"Looks a little like love," I say. "Or maybe a lot like it."

He grins a little at the photo, and then blushes so deeply that the tips of his ears
turn berry pink.

"Oh my god," I squeal. "Are you blushing?" I reach over across the desktop for
my phone, trying to snap a fast photo.

"Not on your life, Bells," he says, rescuing the phone from my grip.

We both laugh, before he becomes more serious. "About two years," he says,
then chances a glance my way.

"Two years? Jacob Black, what in the world are you thinking? Why are you
keeping it a secret?"

"I don't know, Bells. It just…you know it started out with just fooling around.
But…the last few months, it's been different. She lets me see her," he says, and I
know exactly what he means.

While Seth is a darling, an open book, Leah has always been older, and more
stand-offish. For a long time, I thought it was just me. But after getting to know
her a bit, I realized that she treated everyone that way.

"Does she know you love her?"

He looks up at me with surprise, eyes wide. I smile, feeling every inch a sister, a
best friend. He slowly shakes his head.

"Don't wait, Jake. Don't waste time worrying about what other people think. Don't
waste time when you could be happy."

Jacob gives me a lazy grin. "I guess that means you and Edward?"

I nod. "Yeah. You okay with that?"

"Does it matter?"

"I don't think it'll change anything, but yeah, it matters. You matter." I walk to
where he's standing, near the window seat.

"I love you, Jake," I say. It's simple, and it's true.

His arms come around me. "Love you, Bells."

He holds me for a moment, but I'm eager to get back to Edward. I walk Jake to
the door, and he hugs me once more before he leaves. I turn and head back up
the stairs, seeking Edward out in his room. When I arrive, he isn't there. I look
out his window, down to the drive, and see him and Jacob talking. They shake
hands and then he turns and looks up at the window, at me.

I raise my hand to wave, but I can't see his expression.

I wonder what he and Jake talked about. I think of the way he looked at Jake
earlier, squared off and ready to fight, and a thrill races through me. Edward
Cullen wants me, and a part of me loves the idea of him claiming me.

I turn to head down the stairs, but Edward is already at the threshold.

"Why're you in here?" he asks.

"Looking for you," I say.

He breathes out, and his shoulders relax a little.

I take a step toward him.

"Did you have a nice visit with Jacob?" he asks.

I nod, and take another step.

"Did you?"

He shakes his head.

"He's in love," I say. Edwards eyes widen and he stares at me, open mouthed. I
realize what he might be thinking and speak fast.

"With Leah." I smile wider as the rest of the tension leaves his frame. I reach out
and lace my fingers with his. I take one last step, and I am flush against him,
staring up into his green eyes, eyes that never fail to make me swoon, to slay
me.

I press my hand against his cheek, and we're right back where we started:
standing at his bedroom door, with his face in my hands, and my heart in his.

"Edward."

His eyes flutter open and take me in. His hand comes up to graze my cheek, and
this time it's me pressing my face against his hand, and it feels like home, and
I'm terrified.

His leans forward, his lips brushing mine, in the softest kiss I've ever felt. His
hands hold my face, and the kiss doesn't last for minutes or hour or days, or
even an entire summer.

This kiss lasts for a second before he pulls away, seeking my eyes with his.

He's asking me a million questions with his eyes, and all I can do is nod at him. I
turn and lead him to the bed, sitting at the edge, bringing him down next to me.

"Why will it work this time?" I ask. I can't meet his eyes.

"Because the only thing I'm afraid of is losing you."

I sigh and lean my head against his shoulder.

"I'm scared," I say.

He nods. "I know." He slides off of the bed and sits before me, on his knees. "But
baby, I promise you, if you just let me try, I promise I'll keep you so happy."

I fight for a smile and fail, then slide off of the bed until I'm sitting in his lap.
"Please don't break my heart," I say, before I press my mouth against his, and
consume him in the kiss that I've missed for all these years.

We kiss until our lips are raw and our jaws are aching. We kiss until I can't tell
the difference between his taste and mine, and we kiss a little longer still, until
we are enveloped in dark, and our legs are asleep from their awkward positions,
and even when we stop, we don't let go.

I lay my head on his shoulder, my arms wrapped around his neck.

"I love you." I whisper the words into the dark.

"I love you, Isabella. With my whole heart."

Chapter 21 – The End, and The Beginning

.

.

Christmas morning arrives and I feel the eagerness of a child. I am wrapped up in
Edward's bed, wrapped up in Edward, and the feel of his bare legs against mine is
exactly right. I try to turn in his arms, but he holds me tighter.

"Too early," he says with a pout.

"But it's Christmas," I whisper.

I turn to face him and one eye peeps open. I smile, and he closes it, but smiles
back before burying his face in the crook of my neck. A moment later his hand
comes up, digging under the blankets for my skin, until it rests just below my
breasts. I long for him to keep moving, and even try to shift against him, but it's
no use.

In the weeks that we've spent together, our relationship has reverted to what it
once should have been: long, slow, ache-inducing kisses that leave us both
frustrated, but he refuses to take more, even when I offer. He's afraid of hurting
me, and while my flesh is still tender, it's been six weeks, and Doctor Sable gave
me the all clear at my last appointment.

Feeling bold, I take his hand in mine and bring it to my breast. His hand closes
around it, and he sighs something that sounds like contentment. I wiggle against
him, trying to create some kind of friction, but he holds himself away.

"What are you trying to do, Swan, steal all the blankets?"

"No, you dope. I'm trying to get you to feel me up."

He shifts us until I'm on my back and he's hovering over me. His eyes are dark
green and earnest, and I want to fall into them and never come up. Instead, I
brush my hand against the stubble along his jaw. The air is cool and his skin is
cold, with pink spots splashing his cheeks.

"We almost lost it all once by going too far, too fast. I don't want to make that
mistake again."

"I know," I say, feeling abashed. I hate this feeling – like I'm slutty for pushing
him. Maybe it's left over hormones, or maybe it's just him, but I want him all the
time. I crave his skin, just to touch it, but then touching isn't enough. No matter
how much I get, I want more.

"Baby," he whispers. "Please let's try to do this right." I smile into his eyes, but I
know I can't hide my disappointment. "Besides," he says, "if you pout I won't
give you your present."

"Present? You got me a present?"

"Maybe."

I smile my best smile and he laughs. "Man, you're easy."

I grin and nod. "That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

We both laugh and he pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head.

"Em and Rose are coming over for dessert," he says. I nod against his chest.
"You gonna be okay?"

Tears wet my eyes as I think about holding Elise in my arms. She's mine, and
yet, she isn't.

"Do I have a choice?" I ask.

"Always, baby. We can take a drive, or go for a walk. You don't have to hang
around if you don't want to."

"I think I should. They don't…they don't get it, you know? They don't get that it's
hard, and I don't want to seem like I begrudge them their happiness."

"Oh, Bella," he says, and pulls away to look at me. "It's okay that it's hard, and
it's okay to take care of yourself. We'll hang out for a little bit, and then we'll take
a walk, okay?"

I sigh and nod again, setting my head against his chest. "Carlisle gave me the
number of someone in Seattle. A therapist."

"You gonna call when we get home?"

"I think I should."

"I think you should, too. It can't hurt."

"Yeah, but…."

"But?"

"You don't mind dating a crazy lady?"

"Oh, baby," he says, chuckling. "You think a little therapy's gonna change that?
You're nuts!"

I turn in his arms and pinch his side, and he laughs and pulls me close.

"Punk," I say, giggling in his arms.

"You love it."

I giggle, because I do.

After a few moments, Edward excuses himself to the bathroom down the hall. I
take the moment to steal back into my room and pull out the gift I have for him:
A sweater that I knit by hand over the last few weeks. Esme had to help me with
the blocking, but looking at it as I boxed it up for wrapping, I'd felt very proud.

I sigh as my fingers touched on another gift. The square white box wasn't
wrapped, only tied closed by simple white string. It isn't wrapped because, even
as of last night, I wasn't sure. I wanted him to have it, I just didn't know if I
could give it.

Edward walks down the hall, startling me out of my thoughts. He looks amazing,
long and lean in his flannel PJ bottoms, with his perfectly delicious torso bare. He
dives for the covers, pulling up an old, faded, UCLA sweatshirt.

"You still have this," I say, fingering the frayed neck.

He nods. "I couldn't let it go."

"It's looking a little tattered."

"Hey, be nice to the sweatshirt. I seem to recall it was very good at keeping you
warm on cold summer nights at the beach."

I grin and wink. "It wasn't just the sweatshirt keeping me warm."

He smiles and then peeks behind my back. "Whatcha got there?"

"Hmm? Where?"

"Right-" He leans over me, and then pins me down with a grunt, retrieving the
gift box from my hands. "There."

"Oh, that," I say. I can't keep the teasing smile off my face. "Just something I
picked up for your dad."

"My dad, huh?" He turns the box over in his hands. "Says here it's for me."

I laugh and then give him a nod. He opens it with abandon and I love it – the
boyish look on his face as his fingers dig under the paper. When he lifts off the
lid, his face scrunches, then breaks with wonder. His fingertips over the sweater
are light, reverent.

"You made this," he says, recognizing the wool.

I nod. "You like?"

He pulls it out of the box and presses it to his cheek. "Smells like you," he says.
"Bella, I love it."

I grin – no, I beam – and he beams back at me. We kiss for a long, slow moment
before he reaches behind him to pull out a package.

He places it in my lap. It's large, rectangular and heavy. It feels like, and looks
like….

I look in his eyes, asking. He just smiles, and gestures to the package.

My fingers are slow to remove the paper, but he doesn't urge me on, just
watches.

When I'm done unwrapping, I stare in disbelief: it's a photo album.

I turn the first page, and there's a photo of me, Edward, Alice and Emmett from
our first summer together. We were all wearing bathing suits, our hair stringy
from the water, and all of us streaked with mud. Emmett had given me a frog,
daring me to kiss it. When it peed on my hand, I wiped it on his arm, and then
ran to the stream to set the frog free.

Emmett chased me while Edward laughed and Alice screamed. By the time Esme
found us, it was a full on mud fight. She'd hosed us off on the front drive, but not
before Carlisle took our picture.

This was the day I fell in love with you. Edward's lovely script dances beneath the
photo in sepia ink.

I turn the page. There are photos of me and Alice, photos of me with all our
friends and family, from the first days of our friendship, through high school. He's
included the picture of all of us on the stairs, from the last day of school, his
senior year.

The first time I ever held you. All I could think about was how much I didn't want
to leave.

My throat gets tight as I remember that moment, how it felt to finally have him
holding me like that, and how bittersweet it was, knowing he was leaving.

The next photo is from Rose and Emmett's wedding. It's a posed shot of Edward
and me, smiling for the camera. He had his arm around my waist, and was so
handsome in his tux that I'd spent half the night reminding myself not to stare.

Every moment of that night is etched in my mind. You turned the stars upside
down, for me. Nothing will ever be the same again.

I swallow hard and feel tears, hot and stinging, in my eyes. "Edward." I whisper
his name, but can't meet his eyes. His hand covers mine, and together, we turn
the page.

Set across the next three pages are photographs from Los Angeles. So many
images – us on sandy beaches, the sun dancing off the water in the background.
Sunsets and us kissing, a photo of me in a floppy straw hat, holding a flower
between my teeth and vamping for the camera.

On the last page of those pictures, there is his single, simple caption: These were
the happiest days of my life.

I look up at him, tears running down my cheeks. He hasn't just given me a gift,
he's given me his heart. Beneath the paper and bows, he's laid his heart bare for
me. Every moment captured on film, giving me more reassurance than words
ever could.

This is us. This is our life, together and apart. This is us.

"You made this." I feel overwhelmed by his gift, and I struggle not to break
down. "This is so beautiful." Your heart is so beautiful.

"There's more," he says, and his voice is heavy and thick. If I see his tears, I'll be
done for, so instead, I turn the page.

There are cold, somber pictures from Italy, most of them in black and white. They
don't hold joy, but they do hold a quiet beauty that leaves me feeling sad and
chilled.

When I turn the page, there's a large print of Botticelli's Primavera.

This was the closest thing to beauty that I could find without you.

I flip the page and it's blank, save for one sentence at the bottom of the page:
The future is ours to write.

I clutch the book to my chest, closing my eyes and closing him out. It's too
much, the past, his heart, all of it. It's too much, and, I realize, not enough.

"Hold on," I say, and run to my room. I grab the white box without thinking
about it one second longer. It's his. I bought it for him. And what it symbolizes is
everything.

When I return to him, my heart flutters in my throat.

I thrust the box out to him and he takes it, looking up at me with questioning
eyes. I can't speak, I can only watch as his fingers slide the twine over the
cardboard and part the tissue paper contained within.

He pulls it out of the box. It is large and red and heavy, but fragile. It's a heart,
blown from glass, made in Italy, and it is both strong and easily broken.

He holds it in one hand and it takes up most of his palm. He strokes a finger
across the red glass.

"It's only ever belonged to you," I say.

He cradles the heart in his hand as he rises from the bed to reach for me. His
arms are strong and they pull me in to him, tight, and I can feel small and weak
because, in the shelter of his arms, I'm safe.

"I promise," he says, "I will never let it break. I promise."

I nod against him. I know. He will never break my heart again.

.

January

"You know, Doctor Sable gave me the okay four weeks ago."

"I know, I just…I want to take things slow this time."

"I know, but this seems…like you're holding back."

"I am. I don't want to make the same mistakes all over again. I don't want to
lose you again."

"I know. I'm just…anxious. What if it's not…what if I'm not…."

"Don't even think it, Bella."

"Whatever. So…I'll see you on Thursday?"

"Hey, don't be sad about this. It isn't about me not wanting you."

"I know."

"Are you sure? Because, baby, I think about you all the time."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

"Alright, handsome, call me tomorrow."

"Good night, Bella. Sweet dreams."

.

February

"Oh, God, that feels-"

"I know…so…fucking-"

"Good. God, it's so good, baby, please don't stop."

"I can't stop, I'll never stop. It's amazing, you're amazing."

"God, how did I forget how good you feel? How could I forget-"

"It's perfect, baby. You're perfect, I love it. I love you."

"Love, love, oh yes, just there, oh, God!"

"Oh, fuck! Bella!"

.

March

"Don't forget we have to stop-"

"By the bakery for the cheesecake. Bella, I know. Now, let's get moving."

"God, this feels so weird."

"What?"

"Going to your parents' house."

"Baby, you grew up in that house. Why is this weird now?"

"Because," kiss. "Of," kiss. "This." Kiss.

"Mmm. That was nice. Maybe we don't have to run out the door right this
moment."

"But we'll be late!"

"Call Alice and have her bring the cake. I need you naked. Now."

.

April

"God, would you just stop?"

"No, no, no – this isn't on me, Bella. This one is totally on you."

"Why does it have to be someone's fault?"

"Because you won't move in with me!"

"So what are you saying? Because I won't live with you I don't…love you?"

"I'm not saying that. I just don't understand why you won't consider it."

"I won't consider it because I thought we were taking things slow."

"We were, but Bella, I don't want to wait anymore. I want to start our lives
together. I want…I want to wake up with you in the morning. Every morning."

"But I've lived here for five years, Edward. Besides, it makes more sense for-"

"For what?"

"Nothing."

"Spit it out, Swan."

"It makes more sense for you to move in here."

"Are you asking me to move in with you, Swan?"

"Maybe one day, Cullen. If you stop being such an ass and let me get there on
my own."

"Uht-oh, is that a smile I see? Better watch out, I might think you like me."

"Shut up and kiss me."

.

May

"What's up, Fishmouth?"

"Nothing, uhm…are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. I called Dad, and asked him and Sue to come over for the barbecue
Sunday."

"And Seth?"

"Yes, and Seth. Your Xbox bff will be there."

"Oh, shut it. Listen, before we get there, ahm…."

"Yes?"

"Mom asked if she should get the guest room ready. I said no."

"Oh, my God. You didn't."

"I did. Don't be nervous, Bella. I'm pretty sure she knows we're having sex."

"Oh my God. But…your mother."

"Hey, she's practically your mother, too."

"Oh, God. Don't tell Charlie."

"Not on your life, gorgeous. Now let's get going."

.

June

"Happy Birthday, baby."

"Mmmm. Are those blueberries?"

"Yep – thirty in each pancake."

"Are you making cracks about my age, Swan?"

"Well, you are an old man now."

"Not too old to wear you out."

"Hey, careful. You'll get syrup-"

"Fuck the syrup. I know something that tastes better."

"Oh, baby…."

.

July

"It's here! It came!"

"Let's see it."

"Oh, look how pretty. Oh, I love the colors she picked."

"I can't believe he finally got Leah to say yes."

"I know, right? He said he asked her every day for three months before she
finally caved."

"They're gonna be happy."

"Very."

"But not the happiest."

"Not even close."

.

August

"Baby, stop."

"I don't want to. You taste good."

"But I'll miss my ferry."

"Mmmm?"

"Oh, God, baby."

"Mmmm."

"Fuck the ferry. Don't stop."

.

September

"Bree's quitting."

"Really? When?"

"Not sure. She's going to try and stay through Christmas, but she thinks Riley
might be shipped out before that, so she might have to leave in November."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I rely on her so much. I hate the idea of trying to replace her."

"Maybe you shouldn't."

"I know, but my clients – I don't know how I can keep up without someone."

"Maybe you should slow down, really think about your options."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you slow down, you could take some time and do that book you're
always talking about."

"Yeah, but-"

"But what? You might get to spend some time doing something you really like?"

"But it'll be hard to juggle the bills with less income."

"So, maybe you don't have to do it on your own."

"Wait – are you saying…?"

"I'm saying that we've taken things slow. And every morning that I wake up
alone hurts. And there's no good reason for that. I'm saying I think we're ready."

"I think you're right. You know, you are the most amazing man."

"Natural talent, baby. Pure, natural talent."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

.

October

"I swear to god, Cullen, if you drop that towel on the floor I'm going to choke you
with it."

"What? Does that bother you?"

"Yes! You're driving me crazy with it. Wet towels all over the floor, all the time!
Stop!"

"Okay, okay. Geez. Anything else?"

"Quit leaving your dirty socks under the desk."

"As soon as you start rinsing your coffee cups in the morning."

"What?"

"Bella, it's disgusting. The milk curdles, and it's chunky and just…gross."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

.

"Do you still love me, even if I let my coffee cups get chunky?"

"Yes. But please be better about rinsing them?"

"I promise."

"And I promise to pick up my towels. I love you."

"I love you, too, baby."

.

November

"You okay?"

"Yeah. It's not…it doesn't make me sad anymore."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Okay, a little. Not sad, just – I don't know."

"Maybe it's bittersweet?"

"It's – they're perfect, a perfect family. I thought if I helped them get that, then
part of it could be mine. But then I remember that I don't need be on the edge of
their happiness, because…"

"Because?"

"Because I have my own. I mean, because we're building our own, together."

"Exactly, Bella. We're building it together. We're building forever."

"I'm so lucky."

"You and me both, baby."

.

December

It's Christmas morning, and I'm wrapped up in Edward so tight that I can't tell his
body from mine. We're tangled up in his boyhood bed, the bed we sleep in every
time we visit Forks. The bed where everything began, both the first time and the
second.

I lay, listening to his steady, even breathing. It's soothing. At night, when I have
trouble finding sleep, I lay my head against his chest and listen to the rhythms -
his heartbeat, his breath, like the tide - and it calms me until I lose myself in
dreams.

This morning, though, I'm content to lay enveloped in him, enveloped in
happiness. We are happy. We are so happy that sometimes I want freeze a
moment, try to capture it with my lens, try to mark it down for all time so that
when there are bad times or hard times, we can look back and see how happy we
were, and figure out how to get back to it. I find myself pausing in the middle of
laughter, thinking remember this. This is it. This what you've been waiting for,
your whole life.

Edward never lets me get lost in my thoughts for long. He finds me when I'm
inside myself and he draws me out, back into the moment. It's one of my favorite
things about him.

I smile as one of my other favorite things begins to stiffen against my backside. I
press myself against him and notice that he has the fingers of one hand laced
with mine, as the fingers of the other hand tighten against my forearm. I smile
and kiss his arm, and his hand moves to my hip, before exploring further.

We're breathless, quiet and slow. His fingers do that thing that makes me forget
my name, and I have to press my face into the pillow before I cry out. His hand
runs along the back of my thigh, then shifts my leg up, opening me for him. I
know with a touch what he wants, and he knows by the pant of my breath what I
need. Without a word, he's inside me, his hand on my breast, the other still laced
with mine, and he moves within me, moves with a slow, languorous pace, until
we both lose ourselves to the rhythm, until he bites my neck, until he presses me
harder, down into the mattress, both of us panting, both of us yearning, push and
pull, bucking and shivering, gasping and shaking into stillness.

He kisses my shoulder where he bit me. He kisses a trail up my neck, down my
spine, and then he turns me over and kisses me until I feel fragile and cherished
and thick with his love.

"Merry Christmas," I whisper. I feel lit-up and glowy - not just from the loving but
from the love. Edward hovers over me, his green eyes bright and full of
something I can't place.

"What's up?" I ask. He's looking at me with something between a frown and a
smile, and then he draws my hand, my left hand, up to his mouth and kisses my
palm. It's a move that never fails to send a thrill up my spine, but this time it
doesn't. This time I stop short. On my finger is a diamond ring, one that I've
never seen before, but I know without question what it is.

I look into his eyes, and I can see he's pleading with me. I haven't seen this look
on his face in more than a year, this desperate, yearning look.

"Will you?" he asks. "Baby, will you marry me?" The last words come out almost
as a whisper, and I catch the waver in his voice.

The smile on my face is so big it hurts, and I feel my eyes wet with actual tears.
I've never cried from happiness before, and I don't know why I am now. I am his
and he is mine, and a ring can't change that, can't make it stronger, but it does. I
nod and say yes. I say yes, yes, yes and he says yes, yes, yes, and it is call and
answer, the words whispered against each other's lips, and his eyes are shiny,
and none of it matters because this is forever. This is love, the real thing, and it's
forever.

We lay in bed and talk about silly, loverly things.

"Can we have it small?" I ask. I don't want a huge affair, only the people we love
the most, and who love us in return.

He nods against my cheek and lays his head on my chest. "Can we go to Florence
for our honeymoon? I want to show you everything, baby. You'll love it so much."

I sigh with happiness, visions of cathedrals and kissing on bridges dancing behind
my eyes. Edward lays his large palm against my stomach.

"Will you go off the pill?" he asks. My breath catches and he looks up at me, his
green eyes burning bright, intense, and unapologetic. "I want to knock you up."

"When?" I say, but I'm just buying time. It's something I haven't let myself think
about – having another baby. Having a baby of my own. Of our own.

"As soon as possible," he says. "Right now." His face takes on that earnest look
again, and he rises onto his elbows, hovering over me. "Baby, I want to give you
everything. I want to have a family with you, I want to have a future with you.
You are…my life."

For the second time this morning, my eyes tear. It's something I've wanted so
badly I haven't even been able to think about it, and here he is, handing it to me.
I don't know how I got so lucky, how any one person could be so happy.

I can't speak, just nod, and his face breaks out with the most beautiful smile I
have ever seen. It takes my breath away, how beautiful he is, and when I close
my eyes as he covers my face in kisses, I see my future. I see messy haired little
boys with his same green eyes, and pretty little girls in pink dresses, clinging to
their daddy's hand. I see Edward tossing balls and drinking imaginary tea, and I
see him answering the door and staring down frightened young men when they
come calling for our daughters.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "So much."

We lay in bed in the quiet morning, waiting for the house to wake up and warm
up. His head is on my chest, and I can feel by the twitch of his fingers that he's
falling back asleep, but I'm too happy, too excited, to do the same. My thoughts
focus on the future, and the past.

Love looks like different things on different people. On Charlie, it looked like a
first car built like a tank, snow tires every November, and gruff talks with scared
boys who wanted his daughter's future. On Alice, love looked like a painting, a
new dress, or a cooking experiment gone amok as she tried to breathe new life
into a favorite dish (the Greek salad casserole was not a hit, God love her). On
Renee, it looked like walking away, because she knew she would do more harm
than good if she stayed. On Jasper, it looked like staying and holding on, no
matter what.

On some people, it looks like the postcard you think it should. It looks like a
happy family, just starting out, a mother and father cooing over an infant in their
arms. It looks like washing dishes together on a weeknight, bumping hips as Sue
washes and Charlie dries. It looks like a pile of fresh laundry, Esme's perfect
creases, sitting on top of your bed, or the way Carlisle holds your hand while he
feels your pulse anytime you don't feel well.

On Edward Cullen, love looked like heartbreak. And then it looked like the fits and
starts of friendship that was frustrated for want of more. It looked like perfect
cups of coffee, his tears in my hair, staying up late and playing the piano for me.
It looked like running away, but then coming home again. It looked like backrubs
and eyes that hadn't closed in two days, as he held my hand and waited for me
to wake up.

On Edward Cullen, love looks like the past, and the future, and every sweet and
hard moment in between. It looks like the diamond ring that his great-
grandmother wore, his hand against the flat of my stomach as he talks about our
future, and the top of his head against my chest as he falls, effortless, into sleep,
listening to the beat of my heart.

At times, I felt like I'd spent my entire life trying to show the people around me
that I love them. I was so familiar what love looked like on me, that I'd never
tried to see what it might look like on them. It took Edward to open my eyes and
show me that the love I needed, the love I craved, had been all around me, all
along. What could be more beautiful than that?

.