In The Land of Milk and Honey

Prologue: The Inception

He pressed himself firmly in to me, hard and smooth. I gasped loudly, sucking in a lung
full of stingingly crisp night air and a guttural groan rumbled from deep in his chest. In
the freezing temperature, I was no longer cold--and the old chill was replaced with a new
one entirely. My body burned from the inside, strange flames licked every inch my skin,
all generated from where our bodies were joined below. In this piercing pain, suddenly
masochism made sense because the pain and pleasure created the most delicious
emulsion that raced in my veins and quickened my pulse. I bit my lip in distraction, but it
only intensified the rush. I trembled in anticipation of what came next, but his hard body
had become rigid against mine and he stilled inside me.

"You...are innocent," he said confusedly in a hoarse voice, but it wasn't a question. He
carefully shifted his weight onto an elbow, the tendons in his neck pulled tight with effort
of his restraint. I felt a pang of guilt at my lie of omission, but as his eyes searched mine
his hardened features quickly transformed into an expression of tenderness and reverence
and I drowned in it.

In that moment, I knew if I ever had been innocent I didn't want to be again. Whatever he
guilty of, whatever crime he'd committed, I wanted to be guilty of, too. Whatever stake
he burned on, I'd burn for him. No cross, no burden could pull me away or convince me
this was wrong. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to hurt for him and nothing
in my entire life had ever felt better. I stroked my hand down the smooth hard expanse of
his back, coaxing him, begging, urging him on.

"Just...don't stop," I managed in a raspy whisper as my spine arced and my body
stretched, for him, into him. God, he was so beautiful in the backdrop of the navy sky,
and the weight of his body on mine felt like the half that was missing all along had now
found it's home. Underneath him I felt safe and whole and I willed him to continue with
every fiber of my being.

His emerald eyes glittered, shaming the canvas of stars that framed him, seeming
insignificant and lusterless by comparison. He ran his fingers down my cheek and
brushed my lips with his thumb, so I tasted him. No air escaped between us, his exhale
was my breath, our chests rising and falling heavily, in time with one another. It was only
seconds but it felt like a lifetime while I waited for him to act or speak. He leaned down
and gently pressed his forehead into my temple and I was certain the beat of his heart was
the only thing keeping me alive.

"Would you blame me if I said I couldn't?" he breathed into my hair, sounding as
desperate I felt, and I gently sucked the tip of his thumb. Relief washed through me and I
shook my head minutely, shyly, but I understood completely.

I took his cold cheek in my hand and pulled his face to mine. "I could never..." I said with
conviction, but my words were lost. It didn't matter though. I'd lose anything, give
anything, and I told him this much with my eyes. His lips formed a mischievous smile
when he withdrew his length from inside me. At the motion I involuntarily bit down on
his thumb, drawing some blood, and my lids closed on there own accord.

"Don't," I whimpered, as his rough thumb slid across my lip coating it with his coppery
flavor. We were blood for blood now. I clawed my fingers into his flesh, attempting to
pull him back in to me, worried he'd changed his mind.

"Bella," he sang, and I needed to see him. "I have no intention of stopping," he confessed
with no apology as he locked my gaze.

"This is going to hurt," he informed, neither of us knowing then the cataclysmic truth of
his words.

He pushed so deeply inside me, I didn't think he'd ever find a way out and then all
thoughts vanished.

Because in that moment, we were perfect.

~o~

No one ever warns you how fine the line is that separates love from madness. And once
you're there, there's no way to differentiate the two. They are inextricably tied, synonyms,
identical twins, one easily masquerading for the other, cruelly switching places when you
desperately want the other. But if it's real, you accept that and welcome them both
because in your heart you know the secret that nobody knows.

You know that it was worth it.

Chapter I - The Pride before the Fall

“Don’t move,” he gently ordered.

His voice was soothing but his eyes were wide with alarm. I froze instantly where I was
lying on the heated steel, my dark chocolate hair splayed out beneath me, a few locks
curls around my neck. In my now hyperaware state of immobility, the hand that lay
dormant by my side twitched with anticipation. Not seconds ago we were all spinning in
elated bliss—it was all fun and games.

How quickly life changes.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” I asked urgently and in a slightly panicked tone. Despite my
quickening heart rate, I obeyed his instruction. I didn’t question his motives because I
trusted him.

With my life.

In the background I heard the wicked snickering of a feminine voice, mocking, taking joy
in my eminent pain. I wanted to shift my gaze towards her but I couldn’t take my eyes off
of Him as he approached in careful and deliberate steps, like the lion stalks before the
kill. But he wouldn't kill. Would he?

He was hovering over me now. Sparkling green eyes squinted with intensity, almost
surgical in his focus.

I looked back at him pleadingly and his cool breath fanned my face as he calmly said,
“Stay very still.” I inhaled as he had spoke the words and it smelled like…cherries.

He readied his hand to strike, but it was too late. I felt a sharp sting piercing my flesh and
I knew the venom would soon spread. The bombus terrestris had won.

“Ouch!” I yelped as soon as the stinger was imbedded in my forehead. I snapped up,
thereby smacking my forehead in the cylindrical metal rail of the merry-go-round with
such force it reverberated with a donging sound.

“Owww!” I howled. I was surrounded by laughter, both beautiful and cruel. I opened my
eyes to the bright midday sun—vision slightly dazed—and scanned the tree lined park
before scowling at Alice who was gripping her rib, cackling hysterically as she sat Indian
style on the opposite side of merry-go-round.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “but...that..was..priceless!” Alice
stuttered out through her residual laughter as she wiped away a few tears of amusement.

My head was beginning to throb. I lowered my brows in disapproval as I rubbed my
forehead, analyzing the injuries with my fingertips.

“Not funny, Gidget.” She laughed again before clearing her throat and stealing my
abandoned turkey and alfalfa sprout sandwich. I looked over at the small boy standing
inches from where I sat at the edge of the platform--the boy who had been chuckling
along but had now abruptly stopped. He was looking at me with remorse.

I smiled at him, hoping it would catch. “Tristan, you can laugh at Mommy all you want,”
I said sincerely as I raised my hand to brush his cheek with my thumb.

“I tried, Mom,” my son said. My face fell minutely at his words, but I caught myself and
tugged the corners of my mouth up higher.

“I know, my love, you did your best,” I said reassuringly. He didn’t need to save me this
time. He’d saved me enough.

I looked over at Alice who wore a mildly sympathetic expression. She’d caught it, too. I
was “Mom” now, not “Mommy.” It shouldn’t matter, but it did. It felt like the end of an
era. I sighed, not knowing how true those words were. Alice shrugged and continued to
eat my lunch.

Tristan was fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, uncertain.

“Are you going push or do you want me to now?” I addressed the source of his
apprehension, already knowing what the answer would be.

He looked up at me with a brightened expression and grabbed the bar. “I guess I can do
it," he volunteered nonchalantly, attempting to disguise his eagerness.

“How fast?” He asked the question with a seriousness reserved for a professional racecar
driver taking a pedestrian for a ride in a Lamborghini. I beamed at Alice who was
wearing a smirk of amusement.

“Hmm, let’s see..." She tapped her chin in contemplation before answering. "Whaaat
abooout… superfast!”

“Are you sure?” He questioned in a voice laced with caution, clearly concerned for our
safety. His R’s still occasionally sounded a little like W’s. A little. I loved that. My smile
was so wide I thought my face would crack.

I matched his tone and said, “I think Tristan’s right, Alice. Let’s just do medium.”

He gave me a stiff nod of approval with his little chin before clasping his fingers tightly
around the tube—just barely encircling the circumference—and letting his sneakers dig
into to worn circular track around the platform. His body strained with the effort, but his

soles quickly found purchase in the earth. Alice began humming and I laid back down on
the warm surface. I winced at the throbbing pain in my head but ignored it. Instead, I
watched the clouds in the sky gently spin into a kaleidoscope of blues and whites and I
had to admit medium speed was pretty intense for a four year old.

We spun and hummed, and didn’t even hear the hundreds of other people who were
sharing the park with us today. Or maybe it’s just that we didn’t acknowledge them. Our
lives were full and rich and we didn’t need anything else. We lived in a bubble. A
beautiful iridescent bubble where nothing could touch us.

When Alice convinced me to move here she said the words I’m sure every girl that ever
moved to this city from a small town has uttered. She said Great things will happen for
us, Bella. Big things. I can just feel it. At the time, I laughed at her and the cliché
prophecy. I wasn’t nervous for her, she was always destined to be successful and loved. It
was just written in her DNA. I, on the other hand, was less confident, but as it turns out,
she was right. And I didn’t really need convincing because although she didn’t realize it
at the time, I would have followed her anywhere. I should be grateful she didn't want to
go to school in Alaska because leaving Forks for NYC was the best decision I'd ever
made. We thrived here and prospered.

I felt the things around me slowly come to a halt and I knew the ride was over.

"What next?" Alice asked.

"Tag!" he announced and lunged for Alice who squealed as she dipped and dived around
the open field.

We played tag for a while and Alice and I didn't have to pretend lose anymore. After a
few rounds of being pursued and caught by a child we collapsed on the grass beside each
other breathing heavily. I opened my eyes, shading them by cupping my hands just above
the brow, and was greeted with a vision of a perfect little face, smiling victoriously. The
sunbeams radiating around his halo of honey and brandywine hair, shimmering against a
backdrop of crystalline blue.

“Ready?” I asked through my grin.

“Yep. Let’s go home now,” he answered triumphantly in his cute little voice, a little
exhausted himself.

“I’m ready when you are, kiddo,” Alice said as she stood up and took his hand. “By the
way, your head looks terrible.”

I lifted my free hand and grazed the very swollen lump and Tristan looked up at me, his
brows furrowed with worry. “I’ll just put some ice on it at home.”

I slid my messenger bag across my shoulder and tossed away the remnants of our picnic.
Holding hands, we made our way across the lush green expanse of The Great Lawn,
weaving through the smattering of couples and families lying on blankets in the grass.

“One, two, three!” we counted in unison and swung Tristan into the air in front of us.

“Oofph! That’s getting harder to do,” Alice complained as she turned to me.

“Maybe you’re just getting old, Ali,” I joked, knowing that the real reason was because
Tristan was rapidly closing the gap between their height difference. I wasn’t sure which
was more insulting, but that seemed like the safer route since last week she tried wearing
low heeled cork sandals to the park instead of her flats.

“Hey now, I’m not the one with a goiter on my head. But since you mentioned it, I am in
need of some oil on the old joints. Hot, wet, slippery oil," her words laden with innuendo,
baiting a reaction from me.

“Stick some Prepartion H in it, Nana,” I warned. This was a little game she liked to play.
The "how-can-I-get-away-with-saying-dirty-things-and-not-sound-dirty” contest. They
say don't reward bad behavior so mostly I ignored it, but that only emboldened her.

“What’s pepper-ation H?” he questioned.

“It’s nothing, honey. Just lotion for ladies who wear too much perfume and loud print
dresses. Like your Aunt Alice,” I said with a satisfied smirk.

“You can never wear too much Number 5. And Pucci isn’t loud, it’s well spoken,” she
countered in a dignified tone.

"Keep telling yourself that," I teased, "You know you're probably the one that attracted
the bee."

"I can't help my magnetic appeal. I guess just I'm too sweet for my own good," she said
haughtily while batting her lashes.

I rolled my eyes. "Here we go. You know, your ego is going to trigger my gag reflex if it
gets any bigger," I said jokingly.

"Ohhh! Are we talkin' gag reflexes now?" she said through a mischievous smirk with one
brow arched at me.

"You are five minutes away from being disowned." I was only partly kidding. She could
make discussing the Easter Bunny sound dirty.

Undaunted, she skipped out ahead of us and began swinging her hips from side to side as
she pranced backwards in order to face us, twirling around periodically, smiling as she
began to sing.

Myyyy milkshake brings all the bees to the park,
 and they're like, (pointing at strangers
on blankets)
 its better than yours,
 darn right! its better than yours,
 I can teach you,
(pointing at me)
 but I have to charge...

We giggled and I noticed bystanders watching the show as her voice carried through they
valley of the park. After a a few verses, she ended with a grand pirouette and curtsied as a
few observers claps joined our own. A homeless man in very short tropical running shorts
even cat called and she blew him a kiss.

"You're silly, Aunt Alice," my son commented, shaking his head grinning from ear to ear
as she took his hand.

"I know. Isn't it exciting?" she asked rhetorically in a wistful tone.

From the day we met in ballet class, that was the thing I liked about her. She was fearless.
They grouped us according to height so although she was six and I was four, we were in
the same group. I showed up, all knees and elbows, in a pink tutu my father had
purchased and a bun so tight it looked like I'd had work done. I didn't like pink or ballet,
but my father had no clue what to do with a four year old girl, so he did what he saw on
T.V. She showed up in a black tutu and a neon headband, offered me a candy cigarette,
and instantly became my idol.

Four years later she became my sister. Out of some bizarre matter of convenience, her
mother Renee and my father Charlie decided to get married. Her mother divorced her
father, The Cadillac King of the Northeast US, after he was caught cheating with a
substantially younger woman. The dating pool in Forks was almost nonexistent and our
parents were spending so much time together because of us, they thought it made sense.
A lonely Renee suggested it and bored Charlie just cracked open a beer and nodded. A
courthouse trip later, the deed was done.

One year after that they separated and Renee filed the papers the following year. My dad
is ruggedly handsome in a Tom Selleck-y kind of way, but they could not have been
more opposite. Her mom had a short attention span to begin with, but since divorcing
Charlie she has solidified a reputation as a high-maintenance cougar who prowls high
school baseball games in pink velour track suits with Juicy written on the bottom. Charlie
still cracks beers and nods to any question asked during a football game, which was
useful in high school. Even as kids we knew they didn't make sense together. They were
like bacon and anchovy flavor gelato. Just wrong.

Alice and I, on the other hand, were like chicken and waffles. An unlikely combo at first
glance, but they actually complimented each other well. So we kept the title of sisters.

And four years and eleven months ago I gave her the title of Aunt.

"Aunt Alice?" Tristan asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes?"

"What's a gag reflex?" I felt my nostrils flare and I shot daggers at the evil human
hummingbird. She mouthed the word sorry and quickly tried to salvage the concept.

"It's like when I had the flu last year and I couldn't eat mashed potatoes..." I monitored
closely as she proceeded to explain in an uncharacteristically mature way.

We slowly followed the winding concrete path getting closer and closer to the sounds of
the bustling streets and blaring horns, and I felt him squeeze my hand tightly and I felt
reluctant. We loved Central Park in the summer. The broad oaks and sunshine so bright it
practically yellowed the air around you. We would miss coming here soon because, much
to his chagrin, we never came here after summer. But we enjoyed the day and didn't think
about falling leaves and dying trees. Or limbs long gone limp and a broken hearted boy.

We soaked in the cocoon of green that hung overheard and though every year held the
promise of the mossy greens return, I'd learned that waiting was a waste of days. The
seasons were about to change, although looking around now there wasn't a clue. We lived
in the moment, too busy to consider inevitabilities.

I turned my face to the sky and basked in the warmth, blissfully unaware that the fall was
upon us.

Incandescently happy.

That's the beauty of the bubble.

Although, there was certainly something to be said for Autumn and we still enjoyed
ourselves after summer. Madison Park is where we ran and played, spending year after
year watching all the flora and fauna transform; hues of green turned to rust, butterscotch
turned to brandy, and cognac in to...

“Stop!” he said suddenly and broke his grip from ours. We both looked down at him in
surprise and curiosity. He bent down to the ground and scooped something up before
running to the edge of the sidewalk so we followed him.

“What is that?” Alice asked, intrigued.

“It’s a cata-pillar,” he answered matter-of-factly. We watched wordlessly as he gently set
it down in the grass.

“What a handsome young man,” I heard a woman’s voice say. I looked to my side and
saw a white haired woman in a powder blue floral dress sitting on a bench next to us. I
could see her tan knee high hose peeking out and she reminded me of Ms. Claus though
for all I knew she was an arms dealer or an adult film star. That's one of the quirks about
the big city. People are never what you expect. I learned that in the park.

“Thank you,” I answered. Tristan popped up from his crouch and she studied his face
with a pleasant expression.

“Is he your son?” Her questioning gaze shifted back and forth from Alice and I. This was
a common question from strangers for a few reasons. In a city full of nannies and au
pairs, that was the most common assumption. Two girls in there twenties on a leisurely
stroll had “hired help” written all over it. Some people thought he was adopted and
sometimes they thought he a little cousin or other distant relation. But as I smilingly
smoothed out a mop of silky hair, the bottom line for all the false guesses was obvious.

Avoiding any real explanation or clarification I simply nodded.

“He has your…eyelashes,” she said finally and I heard Alice snort. I looked down at the
thick lashes the color of bitter-sweet chocolate and my heart swelled with pride.

“Yes. He does. And my ears, too.” Maybe I was reaching, but honestly, his lobe did look
a little like mine in the right lighting.

I thought heard Alice mumble “original" under her breath, but I dismissed it.

On the way out of the park, Alice insisted we visit the monument they had erected in her
honor. As she rambled on about how they got her hair wrong, Tristan and I smiled at each
other knowingly. I had to explain to him long ago that the cast statue of Alice an
Wonderland that was dedicated in 1959 was not, in fact, a monument to his Aunt Alice.
When he told her he knew it wasn't her and presented the evidence, she just said they
built it in advance because they knew she was coming.

We took a rickshaw on 59th and headed back home to the West Village. We both had
condos at 165 Charles, but I had the better view of the Hudson, which annoyed her to no
end. On the ride home, they took in the sights and I mentally went over my checklist for
the afternoon get together. Everyone came over on Sunday, it was ritual. We had a tight
knit group that always met at my house for dinner and movie. Really, we were more than
friends, we were a family. Usually the movie was of the animated persuasion, but we've
been branching out lately. I knew we were running a little late because of our extended
stay at the park, but today was a special day. Tomorrow was his first day of kindergarten.

As we neared the towering glass building, Tristan shifted from his nestled position and
looked down to see him brush his long eyelashes a few times with the back of his fingers
and finally a satisfied smile played on his lips. I smiled, too.

“I'm gonna freshen up before dinner,” Alice said as the elevator dinged. She hugged us
both and stepped out onto her floor, but not before saying, "Oh, let Carlisle know he’s
invited to pop by beforehand for cookies. I’d love for him to lick the creamy center of my
nutter-butters.”

“Alice!” I squeaked, and I saw her wink before the polished steel doors slid closed.

“Can I have a cookie, too, Mom?”

“No, honey, your Aunt Alice was just kidding. All her cookies are rotten.” Some fluffin’
Aunt she’s turned out to be.

I was struggling with the key in the lock when my front door swung open from the inside.
My surprise subsided as I caught a flash of gold and the extraordinarily elegant man
before me who was holding a bouquet of wildflowers.

“Oh! Carlisle, you scared me!" I gasped with my hand clutching my chest. Tristan
immediately ran inside and hugged his waist.

“What happened to your head?” He asked, knitting his brows together in puzzlement.

“I got stung by a bee and then I was assaulted by playground equipment.” He chuckled
softly.

“It’s pretty swollen, Bella. How long ago was this?” he said as he assessed the damage
while we stood in the foyer.

“An hour, maybe.” I winced as a tender finger grazed tender skin.

“You didn’t even take the stinger out?” his blue eyes twinkled and my own gaze flickered
down to my pergola floors.

“No," I said quietly. "We were having too much fun to leave.” I said as I reached down
and enthusiastically tickled Tristan.

“Come on,” he said gently as he took my hand and led me to the bathroom. I sat on the
countertop as he angled my chin towards the light and Tristan found a seat on the toilet
lid, observing and asking questions of the procedure as we progressed. Carlisle patiently
explained every detail although Tristan was saddened when he heard that the bee would
die for losing his stinger. After a few minutes of painful poking and prodding he was
done and I turned to my reflection in the mirror.

“Oh my god! It looks like I've grown a third eye!"

He chuckled. “It’ll be fine. Lemon will help with the sting and ice helps calm the
swelling.”

“Thank you Carlisle. You should have been a doctor."

"You sound like my father," he said amusedly. My eyes involuntarily darted to the boy
sitting on the toilet who was busy mastering the tweezers and Carlisle cleared his throat.
"So, the others will be here shortly. Should we get ready."

Chapter II- Secrets are like assholes

Carlisle and I went over our itinerary for the following weekend where I was joining him
a company retreat. I attended as his plus one last year but it had been in the city. This
year it was a sprawling summerhouse resort in the Hamptons so I had arranged for
Tristan to stay with Carlise's younger sister, Rose. Although she was one of my closest
friends and loved him like her own, the idea of leaving him for a whole weekend made
me anxious. While we discussed it, I momentarily though about backing out but that
wasn't fair to Carlisle. He was good to us and if all he was asking was for me to
accompany him for two days, I couldn't say no. He was CFO of a large investment firm
that was in the midst of a major transition so keeping up appearances was crucial.

When evening fell Tristan and Carlisle were in the living room setting up the new blu-ray
player while Alice flitted around my kitchen, needlessly opening and closing cabinet
doors while I was making a grilled cheese for Tristan. She finally stopped disorganizing
my spice rack when there was a knock on the door.

"Hello hooker," Alice said nonchalantly as she held the door open and Rose stepped in.

Rose narrowed her eyes at Alice. Ordinarily best of friends, they've been at odds for a
few weeks because the private school required I list both a godfather and godmother on
the paperwork. Carlisle got the title of the former years ago, which was a no-brainer, but I
hadn't chosen the latter yet. It was too difficult a decision and they refused to split the
title, but now years of sporadic bickering has sparked into all out war. Rose ignored her
and turned to me.

"Bella, I brought a cheesecake from Junior's for dessert," Rose said sweetly while giving
Alice a smug look.

"Thank you, Rose," I said graciously and raised a brow at Alice. She was going to have to
up her game. Everyone knows Junior's is the best in the city.

"Suck up"

"Whatever," Rose said as she set the dessert down on the marble countertop. Alice leered
at it.

"Whoa, there munchkin!" I heard Emmitt's gruff baritone as Alice had begun to close the
door. "You really wanna throw out the guy that brought dinner?"

"Sorry, Em, come on in," Alice said, widening the door and stepping back for him to
enter.

I smiled to myself when I realized Emmitt had once again hidden on the corner waiting
for Rose to arrive so they could "coincidentally" share the elevator up. Emmitt was a
burly Bostonian we met a few years ago when we bought our units in the building. He's a
successful developer, but despite his roughneck reputation and intimidating 6'4 frame, his
cheerful cobalt blue eyes and dimples gave him away.

He wagged his eyebrows when I caught him staring at Rose's behind as she bent over
carefully to remove the packaging off the cake. And then he almost dropped the large foil
pan of lasagne in his big hands, stifling a laugh when Alice began air humping Rose from
behind with a full on simulated spanking and o-face while enthusiastically mouthing "Oh
Yeah, Oh Yeah" I wasn't as successful at holding back my laughter.

"What? What's so funny?" Rose looked at me and spun around. By then Alice was
skipping into the kitchen with her hands clasped behind her back. "What did you do, pin
a "kick me" sign on my shirt?"

"Why, Rose, how little you must think of me?" Alice chimed, while thieving a chunk of
gruyer off my cutting board and popping into her mouth.

"Yes, very little," Rose retorted, and they both sneered.

"Alright, let's be civil," I interjected as Emmitt greeted me with a light kiss on the cheek.

"Tell that to Malibu Barbie," Alice muttered. Although there was certainly a resemblance,
this was not a compliment.

Just then Tristan came barreling in and received a round of hugs.

"Your hair's getting dark, kid," Emmitt pointed out as he ruffled his hand through it.
Tristan scowled and patted it back down.

"Yeah, he's not a tow head anymore," Rose mused. "What color would you call that?"

"It's getting sorta...brandy-ish." Alice explained.

"He'll be a brownie. I can tell," Emmitt assured, then followed suit with Alice and swiped
some cheese.

"Like mom?" Tristan asked as he leapt in the air to steal Emmitt's pilferings.

"Yep, little man, just like you're momma," Emmitt grinned as said, extending his arm up
over his head to hold away the prize.

The girl's had quietly busied ourselves during the interaction, but Tristan bouyantly broke
the silence.

"Rosalie, I got this for you." He held out a single wildflower he'd run and pulled from the
vase on the table. I smirked up at Emmitt who was looking like he'd wished he'd thought
of that.

"That is so sweet. Thank you, Tristan," Rose cooed. With only a hint of disconcertedness
in her expression, she took the flower and smelled it.

"You're welcome," he said grinningly and his little dimples showed.

"What about me, buddy. Where's my gift?" Emmitt asked teasingly.

"You don't get one," Tristan shook his head. "Flowers are for pretty girls."

"Where's my flower?" Alice asked and he sighed exasperatedly.

"I can't give you a flower, Aunt Alice." We all snickered at Alice's distressed face while
he ran back into the living room.

"What the..." Emmitt trailed off as we all shook our heads. Rose looked, smug but then
frowned down at the flower. It seemed Rosalie had recently become the object of his
romantic affection which bothered Rose because she considered herself more a second
mother figure. He was definitely too young to be to be interested in girls in my opinion,
but there was no way to stop it.

"They grow up way too fast," she lamented.

"No kidding," I agreed.

"Um, hello? There are bigger issues at hand here. I deserve a flower, too!" Alice
persisted. "What makes Rose so special?"

"I hate to break it to ya girls, but that boy is a boob man through and through," Emmitt's
reply was met with three gasps.

"Emmitt!" I yelped and elbowed him lightly. I'd probably hurt my elbow on his bicep if I
used any strength.

"I'm just calling like I see it," he said with a wink to Rose and she...blushed? Rose is not
a blusher. Hmm.

"I think he might be right, Bella," Rose added reluctantly. "I told you about that time he
grabbed my boob," she whispered.

Alice and Emmitt laughed but I was not amused. "Rose, do not paint my son out to be
some perverted breast bandit. He was like 8 months old and you were cradling him. It
was perfectly innocent."

"I'm telling you, Bella, he knew what he was doing," she insisted, wagging a well
manicured finger. "He tugged on my shirt and then he smirked. He smirked, for
christsakes! I've seen that look on many-a-man's face. He knew what he was doing."

"You're ridiculous," I said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, you're ridiculous Rose," Alice mocked. "And maybe if you quit running around
like some kindergarten lolita with a purse full of suckers in low cut tops it wouldn't be an
issue."

Emmitt's laughter boomed. "She may have a point, Rosie. But for the record, I like the
tops."

Rose responded with the second demure blush of the evening and wordlessly exited the
kitchen after Emmitt. Alice and I gave each other puzzled looks as they both disappeared
into the living room.

"Rosie? Really? She hates that nickname..." She observed aloud.

"Looks like Em's finally going for the brass ring," I guessed.

We ate dinner at the table and discussed the big day tomorrow. Not surprisingly, Tristan
seemed the most relaxed of the group. We chatted without incident until Alice refused
dessert and asked me how I was enjoying my slice of "judas" flavored cheesecake.

"It's delicious, thanks," I replied as shoveled in a mouthful and she rolled her eyes.

"Soo...we ran into Irina in the lobby today," Alice said carefully to Rose. "She had the
baby with her."

"Is that so?" Rose replied casually, but her fork scraped along her plate. "I guess there's
no accounting for taste on who gets to live here."

"Don't look at me," Emmitt defended, holding his palms up. "I didn't sell it to them. It
was a resale."

"Dang, I didn't think of that. It'll probably mess up my resale value having Eurotrash in
the building," Alice snickered.

"Be nice, Alice," Carlisle admonished. "She and Royce have the right to live wherever
they please. Although, I am curious why they would choose this building of all places."

"It's really not a big deal guys," Rose said firmly. "I'm over it."

I eyed Rose sympathetically, but it seemed like she really finally was. She had dated a
successful Wall Street banker named Royce King for the last few years but the

relationship was rocky at best. We never really liked him and Rose seldom brought him
around for that reason. About a year ago he knocked up a Russian woman named Irina
who was rumored to have been an high end escort. Unfortunately Rose and Royce were
still dating at the time.

"Well they got what they deserved, because that is one ugly baby," Alice blurted out, in
I'm sure what was meant to be a comforting observation to Rose.

"Alice! That is so wrong," I chastised as the others laughed, including my son.

"It's the truth! Don't pretend you didn't see that little monster today, too, Bella. That baby
looks like Elmer Fud and Liza Minelli's love child." Rose and Emmitt were in fits of
laughter.

"Babies can't be ugly, Alice. They are all cute in thier own way," I said, as I leaned over
to slice the rest of the cake.

"That's easy for you to say. You ended up with Cutie McCuterson over there," Rose
added, pointing to Tristan with her fork whose face was lit with a light blush.

"Carlisle, some help here please?" I pleaded. The last thing I wanted was for my son to
start calling people's babies ugly.

"Bella's right," Carlisle said formally, straightening in his chair. "All babies are
genetically designed to be cute. It's an evolutionary science. They are born cute so their
mother's won't abandon their young," he finished, sounding pleased with himself but I
winced at his words and Alice discretely took my hand under the table.

I hardly remember the rest of the conversation, but soon we all piled on my large white
leather L-shaped sofa and watched our movie (Bee Movie, ironically) Emmitt brought
over "Revenge of the Dragon" and although Tristan loves kung-fu movies, it's ritual for
them to bicker over the selection. I'm the youngest of the group, but sometimes Alice and
Emmitt make me feel like a mother of three. My home was somewhat modern but still
very livable. As a furniture designer, I tend to obsess over small details but having a four
year old mandates functionality and comfort.

At the evenings end, Carlisle and Emmitt said goodnight and hustled to their respective
homes and I left the girl's while I changed and tucked in an already sleeping boy.

"Alright, the boys are gone. Break out the wine!" Alice announced just as I rejoined them
in the living room. Rosalie returned from the kitchen with three glasses and the large
barrel shaped red wine vinegar bottle from the top cabinet. It actually contained a very
nice cabernet savignon but in my mothering paranoia, I disguised it. The white wine
vinegar bottle was vodka but Alice only brought that out in crisis. I'd forgotten they were
there.

"Are we celebrating something?" I asked, and saw that Rosalie actually had to blow dust
of the neck of the bottle before pouring.

"No, but if you girls wanna know how my date last night went, it's gonna require a few
drinks," Alice informed.

"That bad, huh?"

"Sadly, yes," Alice said with a sigh.

"I think we could all use some liquid comfort," Rosalie said solomnly as she handed me a
glass.

Rose's mind seemed to be elsewhere, but before I could ask what was wrong, we were
quickly swept up in Alice's tale. And it was legendary. I was sad for her because this guy
had showed some promise and she had been excited about the date. He asked her out
while they were in line at the coffee shop after he'd been on a jog. Apparently, he gave an
excellent first impression in his jogging attire and was gainfully employed as a day
trader, but his night time persona was less appealing.

"It was terrible! His tongue tasted like ashes and felt like prime rib. And don't get me
started on his outfit. I mean, who still wears poly blends? And worse than that, he was
wearing Canoe! That cologne went out of style when JR got shot." We laughed.

"I can't believe he took you to a buffett. I can't believe you stayed! And that cologne is
just...criminal," Rosalie said, shaking her head in amusement.

"Hey, I think Charlie has a bottle of that!" I added, refering to my father.

"Exactly," Alice hissed conspiratorily with narrowed eyes. I snickered.

"Maybe you should be less picky and go for the cute UPS guy. Good on paper isn't
always what it's cracked up to be," I suggested, trying to give the poor outdated day
trader a break. Not that I had any wisdom about dating. I'd never even had a legitimate
boyfriend.

"Did you even hear the story I just told you?" Alice asked incredulously, "I have been
more open-minded lately and it's gotten me no where. I even editted the list."

"Really?" Rose and I asked in unison, astonished. The List was Alice's dating criteria.
She started when she was seven and it was several pages long. It included things like the
appropriate length for fingernails and body hair to skin coverage ratios.

"Yeah," she said sullenly. "I've widdled it down to the essentials. Drop dead gorgeous,
great kisser, a love rocket in the sack, at least offers to pick up the check, owns a bow-tie
and always says gazuntite when I sneeze."

"Wow. Those are some serious concessions," I admitted, thoroughly impressed.

"It's pathetic. I'm just tired of kissing frogs," Alice said as she stared into her wine glass
she was twirling at the stem.

"Well, well. Mary Alice Maneater is actually talking about settling down." I teased, using
her tabloid nickname. Alice nodded and shrugged at once, which is hard to do, and it
seemed a sad gesture.

"I'm proud of you," I squeezed her hand lightly and she gave me a thin smile. I finally
took a sip of the wine I hadn't touched all night and I saw the girls do the same as I leaned
back into the cool leather of the sofa. That was a pretty heavy admission from my sister.

Alice had her fair share of dates and constantly told us marriage was for communists.
When she first moved here, she quickly climbed the rungs of the social ladder at Parsons
and in Soho, Noho, and several other hipster neighborhoods. She became the muse of the
Cobrasnake and her picture can still be found weekly in every publication south of 57th
and monthly in anything above. She met Rosalie on "the scene" her freshman year and
they quickly became great friends. I moved here to attend NYU the year after her because
even though there was a two year age difference, I'd worked overtime to join in her in
junior high and skipped fifth grade. Sometimes I wonder if my nineteen year streak of
bad coordination was related to my constant effort to keep up with her and Jake.

I have to admit I was initially jealous of Alice and Rosalie's friendship and let's face it, as
a former runway model, Rose's presence can be intimidating. But she turned out to be an
invaluable friend.

But with Alice it wasn't really social climbing, it was more like levitating. The melting
pot that is NYC is, in fact, very liquid. People tend to find their natural level. Math loving
band nerds become rock stars and homecoming queens become toll both workers. You
can't hide here, not from your potential or who you really are. All of my circle of friends
were the lucky ones that were and always will be rock stars in there own right. This city
didn't make them into the amazing people they are today. But it didn't break them either,
which is an accomplishment in and of itself.

The problem with this is that sometimes people here want you for the wrong reasons.
They were both successful and powerful women in their fields at such a young age and
the men here can be such predators.

"Rose, you're being awfully quite over there," I commented.

"Not really."

"You just drained half the bottle," Alice added. It did look like she was drinking for
confidence rather than comfort.

"Alright," she said she slammed her glass down and poured some more. "I slept with
him."

"Him who?" Alice asked and I held my breath, hoping it was who I thought it was.

"Emmitt," she said slowly, gauging our reactions.

"What? When? How?" Alice quizzed.

"Bella, remember when you had to cancel last minute on meeting us for lunch this past
week?" Rose said, the words flooding out.

"Uh, huh," I said innocently as I lifted my glass to my lips. Alice glanced at me with a
smirk.

"Well, we just started talking, just the two of us, and it was just different. We talked for
over three hours at the table and never touched our food, didn't even answer our phones.
When we were done, the work day was practically over so he walked me home and I
didn't want it to end. And I don't think he did either."

"Trust me, he didn't," I assured her.

"I know," she replied.

"Well, if Rosalie gets someone who doesn't answer his cell phone on dates, I'm putting
that one back on the list," Alice pouted and we chuckled. "Anyways, it's about damn
time. I'm tired of choking on sexual tension when you guys are in a room together," Alice
added before resuming her sulking and then Rose's face fell.

"You are dating now, right?" I questioned.

"No. It's just a one time deal."

"What? Are you stupid?!" Alice exclaimed.

"Did you tell him?" I asked cautiously and she shook her head.

"He's not going to care, Rose," I said exasperatedly, throwing my hands in the air.

"But how can you know?" her voice, soft and pleading changed abruptly. "Wait, you
didn't say anything, did you?"

"No! I value my face to much," I defended.

"Look, we just know. He is crazy about you. He's been crazy about you, nothings going
to change that," Alice offered.

"Yeah, but I can't just date him. I have to be sure it could be something long term,
otherwise it's not worth breaking up the friendship or the group. Imagine how awkward
Sundays would be," she asked and Alice and I looked at each other with momentary
weariness.

"See?"

"That's not going to happen," I said firmly and I believed it.

"Bella's right. I'd bet my last pair of Manolo's on it," Alice chimed.

"He likes me now, but that's because he doesn't know. Look at how he is with Tristan. He
was born to be a father! Do you honestly think he'd want to be with someone who can't
have his children?" and a tear rolled down her flushed cheek.

"That's even more reason that it would work. You can adopt. He would be just as great to
any child, he has such a big heart. Just tell him. It's torture watching you two love each
other from a distance," I assured her. "And besides, insecurity doesn't suit you. It's like
hearing a pit bull meow."

Rose snorted.

"Or a chicken that barks," Alice quipped.

"Or a monkey that....doesn't do monkey stuff," I floundered and we all giggled.

"So, now it's Bella's turn," Alice said abruptly.

"Since when do I have a turn?" I asked incredulously.

"Since I said it just now," She chimed in, smiling.

"Well, Tristan and I did meet a very nice man last week," I said shyly.

"Really? Who! Someone from the school, I bet," Alice said rubbing her hands together.

"Bullshit," Rosie said suspiciously.

"No really. We're having lunch with him again next week,' I persisted and they both
leaned in.

"Spill! Now!" Alice was vibrating with excitement. She always accused me of secret
trysts because no one could be that abstinent.

"Well,....he was very charming, great personality, successful, and best of all, he loves
children," I bragged.

"Wow. He sounds perfect," Alice said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, a little too perfect," Rose narrowed her eyes.

"Don't be like that, Rose," Alice chided. "So where is your next date?"

"A fast food place in Times Square."

"Umm, I'm happy for you Bella." It sounded like a question and Alice looked concerned.

"Thanks, I'm pretty excited."

"Bella?" Rose quizzed. "Didn't you take Tristan to see Ronald McDonald last week?"

Alice gasped.

"Don't judge me, Alice. Our love is real. He didn't pay the tab, but he does wear size 21
shoes."

They giggled while I sipped red wine. Laughter is better than questions.

"You should just marry Carlisle, Bella. He's got it all. Fairy prince looks, awesome job,
bangin' bod," Alice said dreamily. Rose and exchanged looks.

"I don't think Carlisle and I work...romantically," I answered gingerly.

"Why not? You'll be on that trip with him next weekend, all alone. I'd love to be trapped
in hotel room with that burning hunk of man meat," Alice added with a sigh. I laughed
and Rose cringed.

"And I bet he's got a huge--"Rose's manicured hand flew over Alice's mouth.
"mthflughthmm!"

"I don't want to hear things like that about my brother, Alice," Rose grimaced before she
removed her hand and Alice snapped her teeth at it.

"Heart," Alice said explained, smiling innocently. "I was going to say heart."

"You just want him because he's the only man to ever resist your womanly wiles," I
teased.

"Maybe," she pondered. "But still. You should put the moves on him. See what happens,"
she shrugged. Again, Rose and I caught each others gaze as we both sipped our wine.

"Look, I'm not stupid," Alice blurted while rolling her eyes. "I know he's gay! But it's still
worth a shot." And with that, a fine mist of burgundy sprayed from both Rose and I's
mouthes.

"I'll take that as a solid confirmation," Alice said, unamused as her gaze shifted back and
forth from Rose and I until Rose reluctantly nodded.

"I'm just pissed no one ever came right out and told me! If it wasn't for my impeccable
gaydar, I would have seriously thrown myself at him years ago!"

For years, she'd suspected it and even tried to convince me once, but she had never point
blank said it out loud. None of us had. Rose knew I knew, but we never discussed it. Just
the idea of discussing something so private behind the back of an honorable man like
Carlisle made me feel dirty.

"Alice," I soothed as we blotted the rug with napkins. "Don't be angry. It wasn't my secret
to share."

"You really don't have a right to be mad, Alice," Rose justified.

"The hell I don't!" Alice retorted and I shushed her. "Bella knew!"

"Inside voices, please," I muttered, as I patted the rug on my hands and knees.

"Alice, he only told Bella because he had... because it was relevant," she explained. "And
secrets are like assholes. Everybody's got one, and no one has the right to see your shit
unless you want them to. But a most times, they're best kept hidden."

I chuckled at her blunt analogy, but Alice was stoic. Rose and I went to the supply closet
and broke out the heavy artilary on my beige Pottery Bran shag rug while Alice stewed
away on the sofa. I was just about to end the night when I saw that Alice had gulped
down the rest of the wine from all three glasses.

"So when did he tell you, Bella?" she inquired, her glassy eyes peering at me and her tone
hostile. Rose looked up at me, horrified, with a bottle of Resolve in one hand and a
stained rag in the other.

I took a deep breath. "When I...wasn't well," I replied, busying myself the cleaning. I felt
like I owed her some explanation since I knew she wouldn't have hid anything from me,
but she must have known that was when he'd confided in me.

"You mean, when you were pregnant," she clarified in a harsh tone.

I felt the bubble take a hit.

"I think we need to call it a night," Rose said and stood, tugging on Alice's arm.

'No!," Alice snapped as she jerked her elbow away. "It needs to be said and I'm not going
to dance around this anymore. It's time to show me your asshole, Bella!"

"I'm not doing this, Alice," I warned, letting the full weight of my throatier voice counter
her chiming one.

"Oh, we're doing this, Bella. We're doing this right now," she hissed and I recognized the
determined look in her eye. I stood up calmly and gently laid my cleaning supplies of the
coffee table before walking to the front door and holding it open.

"Hallway," I said flatly. Alice looked satisfied, but Rose looked weary as they marched
past me.

"You don't have to do this, Bella," Rose said vehemently as I closed the door behind me.
"You don't owe anyone anything."

"Shut it, Rose! You just like things the way they are because your living vicariously
through Bella! You're afraid that if Tristan actually did have a father, you'd be cut out of
your piece of the happy family pie!" Alice screeched, and I winced at her words but Rose
looked enraged.

"You better back up the accusation truck, gremlin. It's a long fall down from the fifty
second floor," she warned, her aqua eyes glowing with anger down at Alice who was
completely unphased as she stepped forward.

I hurriedly pressed myself between them. "I think everyone should go home before
anyone says anything they'll regret," I said, trying to diffuse the situation and Alice
backed away, but only on the physical sense.

"I'm not going to regret anything because I've wanted to say it for a very long time,"
Alice assured. "Bella, you need to be as honest with us as you can. Tristan's almost five
and everyday is like Christmas morning. I come over wondering how tall he'll be today,
or what color his hair is, what new random interest he'll have taken up, or why he prefers
gruyer over cheddar!"

"I can't answer any of those things, Alice," I said firmly, shaking my head, holding my
ground and then she let out a growl and pinched down hard on my arm.

"Ow!"

"Cry," she ordered with her eyes wide and wild.

"What the--"

"Cry!" She commanded and pinched down harder.

"You're craz--"

"I said CRY, dammit!" Alice yelled as she twisted my pinched skin.

"Let go!" I raised my voice and Rose began prying her off.

"You're going to far, Alice!" Rose warned, frantically pulling Alice by the waist.

"No I'm not! You can't even cry, Bella! It's not normal! You have a right to be sad, or
angry, or hurt, but you deny yourself everything! And you won't even consider dating.
You've turned yourself off!"

"That's not true and I honestly have no need to cry. I'm happy everyday. I have no reason
to be sad or angry or hurt. When I do, I'm sure I'll have the appropriate reaction," I
rationalized as I massaged the swollen skin.

"I'm sure I'll have the appropriate reaction," Alice childishly mocked me in a nasally
voice. "Don't kid yourself. Something has to change, and it's going to whether you like it
or not. I can feel it. You can't go on shielding him from not having a father. He's walking
into a minefield tomorrow totally unprepared. Children are cruel, Bella. I wish we were
enough, but we're not. He needs a Dad. Or at least the truth. Is he dead? Is he alive?
What's his name? What's his fucking astrological sign? Give us something!" she ranted,
and I saw Rose's face staring at me with curiosity now, too. I exhaled deeply.

"I honestly don't know," I answered with downcast eyes.

"Not good enough, Bella. You were the most responsible anal retentive girl in 52 states--
the virgin Bella--and we found you messed up, babbling and months pregnant. You can't
tell me you know nothing. Or were you lying when you said you weren't raped?" she
accused.

"No!" I said quickly, shocked by her bluntness. "No, I wasn't raped." She pressed her lips
together and glanced at Rose and it looked as though they were skeptical, but before I
could say more, she cut me off.

"What if Tristan had some random genetic disorder or something? What if there is
important medical information that his life could depend on? Then would you suddenly
know something?" she antagonized and Rose's eyes flared wide.

She was pushing the one button she knew would trigger me. My bubble was prepared for
many things and had protected us from the worst of it, but I was totally unprepared now. I
had never anticipated an attack from the inside. So I did the only thing I could do to
maintain stability.

I slid her out.

"Rose," I snapped, and she turned to me. "It's yours." I watched as dawning awareness
crossed both their faces with two polar opposite reactions.

"What?! You can't do that Bella!" Alice screeched.

"Watch me," I said as I opened the front door.

"You won't regret it, Bella. I swear! I'll be the best Godmother ever," Rose said as her
eyes began to tear.

"I know you will," I said sincerely before I closed the door on them both.

I heard erratic chattering coming from the hallway, which meant they were actually
yelling. The insulation around me was astounding. I cleaned up the remnants from the
day and got ready for bed. I cracked open Tristan's door for a final check to find him
sound asleep and slightly drooling which was incredibly adorable, and the world was
right again.

Almost an hour after the showdown, there was a soft knock at my door so I shuffled
myself out of bed. When I saw my guest through the peephole, I considered not
answering.

"I left my keys," Alice muttered and I let her in wondering how long she'd waited to
knock.

"Your making a big mistake," she said quietly before she walked out the door.

"I don't think so," I replied, unsure of which mistake she was refering to.

"Well, don't blame me when you wake up in the middle of the night and Rose is standing
over you with a meat cleaver in her hand," she spat venomously and I almost laughed.

"She deserved it just as much as you did," I replied and she winced at my use of the past
tense.

"That's such bullshit Bella!" she spat in a hushed voice her eyes begining to water. "We
practically raised each other. We're sister's for chist sakes! You can't keep holding that
over my head. I didn't know. I would never have pushed for an abortion if I'd have
known..." and her voice broke.

"I'm not holding it over your head, Alice. Don't accuse me of that because I'm not the one
who opened this can of worms tonight," I said softly, containing myself. "But the fact is
that he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Rose. And Carlisle. Recognizing that isn't a dig on
you because I'm the guiltiest of all. We were kids, we were both confused. She saved me
from making the biggest mistake of my life."

"Hindsight, Bella," Alice reminded me, pleadingly.

Regretfully, I nodded. "Hindsight," I agreed.

She stood there for a while staring at me, searching for a crack, and I caught myself
before I could suck in my bottom lip and bite. She'd told me it was my tell. The elevator
dinged and we both turned, surprised to see Rose stepping out.

"I had my driver turn around. I left my house keys," she said as she stopped at the door.
Her posture was straight, but her eyes betrayed the facade and Alice glared at her as I let
her in. I watched as she gingerly stepped passed us and silently shuffled towards the
elevator, bouncing her keys in her palm. I felt bad for abandoning her to fight my battle
with Alice the Butcher.

"Rose?" I called out behind her. She turned around with slumped shoulders, looking like
she'd gone nine rounds with Foreman.

"How was it?" I asked with a watery smile. Her face and spirits seemed to lift
exponentially.

"Amazing. You wouldn't even believe it...," she said dreamily, her gaze distant, searching
for words. "Like I'm ruined for all other men for all of eternity."

We all sighed.

"I wanna be ruined for all other men," Alice pouted to herself .

I just nodded because somewhere deep inside, I completely understood. Recognition
sparked in my body and soul in a way my mind just didn't understand.

With the weight of he day's event heavy on my mind, I laid awake for hours that night.
It's not like I planned things to happen this way, but I can't regret the course my life has
taken. And it's not like I didn't want to have the answers to all of Alice's questions and
more. I've craved these answers privately often. I wanted to know, I just...didn't. When I
reached in my mind for pieces to the puzzle, thoughts raked through my fingers like sand
through a sieve. It left me empty and all found in there was shame and guilt when I
thought of how unfair this all was to the person I loved most. My son was an innocent
party in all this, but he was also the biggest victim.

Tristan was a walking reminder of a face a didn't recognize and I had very little to go by.
No name, nothing concrete, and what I did know scared me. I knew there was a time
when I sought him, when I wanted him, but I only know this from the second hand
accounts of Carlisle and it took me years to ask. I didn't dare even mention my growing
curiosity to Rose and Alice, knowing what a difficult period it was for all of us. My entire
pregnancy was almost a blank, but what I did remember, I wanted to forget.

Funny thing about motherhood. You have all this room in your mind. Spaces, corners,
doors both opened and closed. I could compartmentalize thoughts, ideas, memories all
better than I ever had before. I felt more focused but this one vital thing, it was vapor to
mind's eye. But Alice was right, things were changing and and each day now it got harder
and harder to compensate for the missing piece.

In the pace of my life, with happiness as a major distraction, I'd never troubled myself too
intensely. Looking back seemed counterproductive, so with the determination of Lot
leaving Sodom, I didn't turn back knowing there was great sadness behind me. I hoped
that didn't make me a bad person because, selfishly, I was proud of the life I'd built and I
wanted it to be enough. Maybe I was like Rose. Maybe I didn't really want to know. If
that was truly my motive, I'd managed to keep it hidden away from even myself. Or
maybe I was afraid of what I'd find there if I really, really looked. Maybe.

But I needed to try.

Chapter III- Satellites & Reconciliations

Clouds of billowing smoke transformed into color and in the fumes an image slowly

began to materialize.

I was walking in the park, just like the day before, when I saw Alice and Tristan ahead.

They stood holding hands with their bodies turned away, appearing in deep discussion,

so I stood silent. They didn't register my presence and when I listened, I couldn't

understand their words.

Alice pointed to something and I followed the direction of her finger. It was empty space,

but from thin air her statue appeared. I laughed, realizing she was giving him the

prerequisite speech again, but she quieted and turned to me solemnly. I knew it was she,

but she looked ethereally foreign to me, so I frowned.

"Don't you remember, Bella?" she asked, her eyes intelligent, knowing. I felt a pain in my

chest.

"I don't think I can," I replied, shaking my head.

She smiled peacefully. "You'll know everything when you want to know it."

The air began to shimmer and I lunged to cover them as the ground quaked beneath us,

but it was too late.

~o~

I woke up with a jolt, my arms outstretched, grasping nothing. Through the wall of glass
in bedroom that faced the city skyline I could see it was not yet dawn. I looked at the
clock. It was five a.m.

"Shit," I puffed out, as I flopped back down into my pillows, throwing my arms above my
head.

And that's how my day started.

Hours later, I was at my showroom reviewing invoices with my assistant, Angela. I
owned and operated a furniture design firm named Swan Designs. It started accidentally
after Tristan was born and I refinished some vintage furniture for his nursery to save
money. Alice asked if I could do a piece for her and she put in the flagship store for her
fashion line Honey by Mary~Alice. At the grand opening, someone offered her an
exorbitant amount of money for it and the rest is history.

I started doing replicas of high-end antiques with unique hand distressed finishes and due
to demand, I now had them mass produced in China. The quality was still excellent and I
was as much capitalist as I was artist. Most of my business was by catalogue now, but I
kept the space I'd bought next door to Alice's. It came in handy when I began designing a
more personal line manufactured in Forks, hand crafted by members of the Quillete
Nation from aged timber logs considered sacred. I lucked out when the Chief, a personal
friend, told me they were beginning to slowly clear land to make room for their growing
tribe. Their plans for a new school and medical facility were now being partly funded by
our joint venture.

Not bad for a girl who went to school to be a CPA I thought to myself.

My musings were interrupted when I heard the bell chime echo from next door and the
clicking of heels. I glanced up and saw Alice hand her purse and sunglasses to her store
manager, Lauren, who tucked them in a drawer behind the counter. The massive
columned archway we'd blown out between our two spaces now annoyed me. I was
unsettled by my dream and upset by her callous outburst last night. She never could leave
well enough alone. I sighed and tried to look busy as she flipped through mail and I
started fake typing when I heard her clacking across marble floor and then across my
stained concrete one. It sounded like a countdown.

"This is yours," she said contritely, holding out an envelope. I glimpsed.

"No, it's not," I shook head and hit some keys. jabwifksdb8e... "It's addressed to Mary
Swan, not Marie Swan."

"My mistake," she said lightly.

I pursed my lips at the monitor.

After the divorce, a ten-year-old Alice clawed up my tree one night and into my bedroom
window with her hello kitty suitcase tethered to her waist. Her mother had promised a
mother/daughter night so she excitedly decorated their McMansion with every holiday
adornment she could find. It looked like a madhouse with "Happy Birthday" streamers,
an ocean of orange balloons with jack-o-lantern faces flooding the floor and a Christmas
tree spiraled with toilet paper, dotted with cotton balls. She cried and told me how Renee
had shown up rabidly drunk at three am, tearing down the tree, screaming this was why
her father didn't want joint custody or visitation. She said the child support was bribe
money to keep her away. And then she broke her arm.

My father woke up and found us huddled together crying. Alice moved in with us
permanently after that, many years later mending a shaky bridge of reconciliation back to
Renee that consisted of expensive spa visits, casual brunches, and blank white envelopes
with checks inside.

But that night she'd asked Charlie if she could be a Swan.

I wondered if her intention with the handing me the Trojan horse letter was to remind of
that.

My sympathy waned when I remembered that first day in ballet class. While she pretend
smoked a candy cigarette she informed me I couldn't be Marie because our French ballet
instructor pronounced "Mary" as "Marie" and there couldn't be two of us. She asked me
my middle name (Isabella) and came up with Bella. I hated it but she railroaded me and
convinced all the other kids to call me that, too. I retaliated by calling her by her middle
name instead of the name she so coveted.

She was a pushy know-it-all who disregarded other people's feeling even at the age of
six.

"Alice, whatever you're up to, I can't deal with your games right now," I said tiredly.

"No games," she chimed. "I'm just surprised to see you here, that's all. I figured you'd
have stowed yourself away in Tristan's backpack for the day."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped back.

"Oh, nothing," she shrugged one shoulder and swirled her finger across the counter that
separated us and inspected her finger for invisible dust. "It's just that I've never seen the
umbilical cord stretch this far before."

"You're being a bitch," I pointed out. "But I won't let you provoke me. I know that's what
you're trying to do."

"Me? Never. Oh, look at the time," she sang, giving me the same superior treatment she
gives strangers. "I'm having lunch at The Brasserie with Gisele and Tom. Enjoy your
crackers and whatnot."

She waved her hand dismissively towards the sad looking brown paper lunch sack on my
desk and whirled around, intentionally clacking harder on the floor.

Distressed, I called Rose. I spoke as soon as her line clicked.

"Rose, is it wrong to want to replace Alice's conditioner with crème hair remover?"

She snickered. "No, but don't make me laugh. Hold on a sec," she whispered quickly and
then the phone became muffled. "Where's my foam? Do you see any foam in this cup?
And I said get the damn Venti! If you mess this up one more time "grande" will be Italian
for unemployment line!"

"Sorry, I'm back," she said and I jumped when I heard a door slam closed in the
background. "Is she still in Alice-mode?"

"Yes, and on the scale of national security threat levels, she's a red on the diva act. It's
getting ugly," I was shooting for playful, but it came out flat because in my heart I
wondered if she'd ever forgive me for making Rose the godmother.

"I can't say I'm surprised. She is so petty, sometimes," Rose tisked, but then I thought of
her cheesecake.

"But I'm glad you called. I have something I want you to take a look at," she said slowly.

"O-kay?"

"Well," she stalled. "There's this company if found."

"Go on."

"And they...find people," she said delicately.

"Huh."

"I know what you're thinking, but let me explain. They have access to almost every
database in the country. Millions of people registered in there system and--"

"Rose," I interrupted in exasperation. "In order to search, don't you need a criteria? There
is nothing to search by."

"Well, there is one thing," she paused and I waited. "It searches by DNA. It's a new Swiss
technology that can run Tristan's and pull anyone in the database that's within an 80%
match. And from there, it shouldn't be too difficult to narrow it down. It's basically a
reverse DNA test."

"That's...great," I replied, slightly overwhelmed. "Where do they get all this DNA from,
though?"

"Well, lots of places. Volunteers, state records, military records..."

"And by state and military records, you mean prisons, brigs, and asylums," I said flatly.

"Potentially..." she replied carefully.

"I gotta go Rose. My stapler just sprouted wings and flew off to mate with a blue jay."
End.

Within seconds off hanging up, my phone buzzed. I answered hoping it would lighten the
mood.

"Bells!"

"Hey, Em."

"Hey, um," he hesitated. Weird.

"Spit it out, Em."

"I don't want to pry, but have you spoken with Rose yet?" I couldn't believe she'd
recruited him.

"Emmett, if this is about that cesspool database of vile criminal lunatic pond-scum, I am
not interested. I'm not saying I'm perfect, but where the hell do you all get off assuming
that his father must to be the bane of society? Do you think so lowly of my son that we
have to start the search at the bottom? What has he ever done to deserve that? He's a
good, boy, Emmett. The best. This isn't fair. None of this is fair!"

"Bella?" he said.

"Hm?" I was breathing heavily from my tirade.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said plainly.

"Oh."

"It's alright, Bella," he soothed tenderly. That was the longest conversation I'd ever had
with him on the subject and Serious Emmett was not a side he showed often.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine," I replied after a moment. "You were calling about Rose?"

"Yea," he exhaled. "Did you guys discuss anything? You know, girlie talk?" he said it
like it was icky.

"You want to know if she kissed and told," I concluded smugly as I leaned back in my
leather swivel chair and smiled at the ceiling.

"Well, that kinda indicates that she did," he chuckled. "But she's not returning my calls."

"She will soon. I promise," I assured him.

"Good to hear," and he let out a big exhale. “And thanks for setting it up."

"You should be thanking Alice, don't you think?" We both laughed.

I'd set Emmett & Rose up the same way Alice had tried to set Emmett and me up. She
told me I had to meet the developer for lunch to review some final details. I got to the
restaurant and found Emmett, who'd I'd met once before, and I sat down waiting for the
meeting to begin. He ordered us wine and started flirtatious conversation, and we were

fifteen minutes into what he thought was a lunch date before we figured it out. I
apologized and went to leave, but he grabbed my arm and asked me to stay. Intimidated
by Emmett and the prospect of dating, I used the best man repellant I could think of.

"Look, I have a baby," I blurted out. "At home. Right now. He's probably spitting out
applesauce as we speak." It was meant to be gross, but I smiled at the visual. He smiled
back and looked at me thoughtfully.

"I know. Alice told me," he replied casually while pouring some wine. "But I figured that
just improves my chances of taking you home after this.'" he shrugged his boulder sized
shoulders and I gasped, clasping a hand over my mouth. I was about to throw a glass of
water in his face (or at least a napkin) but his serious expression morphed into laughter
that was so loud, it shook the chandelier crystals overhead like a wind chime.

"You should have seen your face," he mused, still chuckling. I just stared. He covered my
hand with his. "I truly didn't mean to offend you. Please stay, I was only kidding. Have a
heart, will ya? You can't really leave me to have lunch by myself."

I stayed because something in his eyes when he spoke pleaded with me not to go. He was
lonely and it made me sad for him.

He was a playboy, but as an only child with his parents retired to Florida, his life was
void of substance. He had wealth and women, but nothing real. Gradually, he started
hanging around my store, buying furniture like it was going out style, bringing me lunch.
He befriended Carlisle, bickered with Alice, and bonded with Tristan like the little
brother he never had. It was like that news story about the big black bear at the zoo that
latched on to the little yellow duckling and they became best of friends.

One night after the three of us watched a movie, Tristan fell asleep between us and
Emmett suggested we get married. He was serious, but I couldn't stop my giggles because
it reminded me too much Charlie and Renee's motives for marriage. He wasn't offended
after I explained and I'm sure he was very relieved now because after Rose left Royce, he
let himself hope for more with her. He gave her space to heal, but it didn't take long to
know he'd fallen.

"You're right. Maybe I'll send Alice some flowers."

"That's a good idea, actually," I paused. "Em, I'm really glad it working out for you and
Rose."

He chuckled and I wondered why.

"I guess I'll always be the one that got away, huh?" Emmett teased.

"Don't deflect your unrequited love for me. But if it helps you sleep at night to think that,
Em, I'm not going to stop you." I teased back.

We chatted a bit longer before hanging up. I was staring up at the clock wondering what
Tristan was doing right now. He was a smart, thoughtful boy but he didn't really connect
well with many other children his age. Kindergarten was becoming more nerve-wracking
by the second. I tapped my pen and contemplated swinging by the schoolyard for a peek.
Alice would probably harass me endlessly if she found out, but it couldn't hurt. It was
perfectly normal, right? No, it probably wasn't. I sighed. And then I stuffed my lunch
sack in my messenger bag and told Angela, who had been in the back office, to hold
down the fort.

I walked the few blocks to the school, enjoying the blue sky and sunshine. His teacher
(coincidentally Angela's boyfriend, Ben) informed me this morning that they lunched on
picnic tables on the schools playground when it was nice out. As I turned the corner and
approached the twenty-foot chain link fence that surrounded the playground I tied my
hair in a bun and put on my mirrored aviators. It was one thing to go on a covert stalker
mission to spy on your child; it was another thing entirely to get caught.

The school was a big brick architectural building on a corner with a playground that
bordered the sidewalk and as I got closer, I saw a woman in a khaki trench coat and
bucket fishing cap leaning against the fence with her fingers entwined in the links. I
slowed down and wondered if she was another mother, but as I got closer, I recognized
the giant black Jackie-O sunglasses that covered her face and I froze.

There, standing longingly outside my son's schoolyard was the girl who taught me how to
braid hair and take a shot of tequila, the one who fought for me when I was picked on in
school and explained to me what a period was when told her I thought I was dying, the
one paid the hospital bill for my delivery when I couldn't afford it and the one who still
held my hand under the table when I thought about the mother I never met. The one who
gave me my name and took mine in return and then accepted and loved my son
unconditionally.

I stepped closer and took off my glasses, revealing watery eyes, and she turned in
surprised. We stood stock still for several moments until a sob broke from her chest.

"You fucking bitch," she cried, as she threw herself at me in a hug and I hugged her back
hard. "I'm so sorry"

"Me, too," I hiccupped.

"Let's not ever fight again, okay?" she released her death grip and took off her sunglasses
to wipe her tears.

"Okay," I laughed through my crying. "Do you think that's possible?" We laughed and
wiped more tears.

"Probably, not," she shook her head sniffling.

"See, I told you I cry!" I said, as I wiped some more with a smile.

"These are happy, tears, they don't count," she said and the caught herself. "But let's not
fight about it."

"Deal," I nodded. "What happened to Tom and Gisele?"

"I cancelled. They can wait," she said and smiled. I couldn't agree more.

"Have they come out yet?" I asked turning to the schoolyard.

"No, not yet," she said.

"Well I brought lunch so I guess we can just sit and wait--"

"Bella," she cut me off. "Who's that guy over there?"

"What guy?" I asked but then followed her gaze and saw she meant. A tall man in a
baseball cap and athletic jacket with an upturned collar stood staring into the yard
through dark sunglasses.

"Do you think he's a creeper?" Alice asked, suspiciously.

"He sure looks like one," I added slowly. Maybe I was the pot calling the kettle black, but
strange men hanging outside New York City schoolyards was a big red flag in my book.

"Let's go," she said quickly and grabbed my arm, dragging us towards him.

"What are you doing?!" I asked in hushed voice.

"Ridding the streets of crime, that's what," she replied and then gasped. "Oh my God! His
hand is in his pocket! I think he's whacking it!"

"We should call the cops and let them handle it," I offered but followed her anyways as
she tiptoed closer. If I knew anything about Alice, I knew she wasn't one to wait for the
cavalry to show up and I wouldn't let her go it alone.

"It'd take them an hour to respond. We can't wait. Look, on my count, we jump. I'll get
his neck and you get his back," she said fiercely.

We were only feet away from the man who was completely distracted as he looked at his
wristwatch and tapped his foot nervously.

"Now!" Alice yelled, and I watched in slow motion as she lunged and wrapped her arms
around his neck, clinging to his back like a monkey, while she kicked her legs furiously.

"What the fuck?!" the guy called out in a stunned voice and I dropped my sunglasses.

'You dirty rat bastard, kiddie porn--" she sneered and I ran to pull her off.

"Bella?" he gasped as he tried to pull the spider monkey off.

"Alice! Alice, stop! It's Jake!" I shouted she froze on his neck.

"Jake?' she said surprised.

"Yes, it's Jake you lunatic! Now get the hell off me!" he yelled and she hopped down and
straightened herself out.

"Oops," was all Alice said.

"I'm so sorry, Jake, we thought you were a pervert child kidnapper!" I explained as I
picked his hat up off the ground from where it'd fallen and handed it back to him.

He brushed it off. "Yeah, well I'm not," he said angrily. "You two are nuts, you know
that?" he said and chuckled.

Then Alice and I looked at each other and burst out in laughter because we couldn't really
debate the argument. Jake was our closest childhood friend from Forks, and therefore
probably not surprised at all by our behavior. He was one third of the three Amigos. He
moved out to New York shortly after Tristan was born, but we didn't exactly pick up
where we'd left off. Although we weren't dating, I think he'd always expected for us to
end up together and having a child that wasn't his through a wrench in his picture perfect
image of our lives together. He expected me to move back after I graduated and start a
life with him, but it didn't work out that way. He was sort of a floater in our group now;
sometimes I think it was hard for him to around Tristan. He treated him well, but there
was always sadness in his big brown eyes.

"So what exactly are you doing here?" Alice probed.

"Probably the same thing as you," he smirked bashfully. My heart softened towards him a
little and before Alice could spit back a cutting response, I hugged him.

"Alright, don't get all sentimental on me now," he said, but his hug tightened.

"So, what was your plan after taking me down?" he asked amusedly as I released his
neck.

"Yeah, see, we didn't really think past the whole "tackle the perv" phase," I said, looking
at Alice.

"Speak for yourself, Bella. Phase 2 was hogtying you and dragging you behind a cab
through Times Square," she asserted.

"Guys! The kids are coming out now," I said.

We sat down Indian style up against the fence on the warm concrete--Alice on my left,
Jake on my right. It looked liked most of the kids had come out when finally, we saw
Tristan pour out the opened double doors. He was easy to find, because although he is
probably one of the youngest enrolled, he was clearly one of the tallest and he looked
even more grown up wearing his little navy slacks and a crisp white polo shirt. I smiled
and leaned my head against Jake's shoulder and he wrapped a long arm around my
shoulder in response. I can't explain to you the peace that washed over me when I heard
footsteps and saw Emmett and Rose standing above Alice. We all looked at each with
smiles that said, "I understand". I nodded at them in acknowledgement and they silently
folded down to the pavement and joined our group.

"Where's Carlisle?" Alice asked quietly.

"Work," Rose replied, not turning from the boy eating his sandwich in the yard. "He
couldn't get away."

No one had to say out loud that he would have been here, too, if he could. These faces
were my family, my rock. They held me up and I did the same in return. In the city with
more than eight million faces, notorious for it's brusque demeanors and careless attitude,
we found each other, collected one another as we passed through life because we were
better together than we were apart.

I watched the little butterscotch haired boy sit alone as all the other children ran to the
swing sets and seesaws and my heart ached for him. He was the sun in all of our orbits
and the catalyst for all the good we'd made of ourselves in this lives. Amazing that one
small boy could help us find our destinies. In that moment he seemed no less significant
than the tiny atom that sparked the universe billions years ago, or Adam's rib, all three
having in common that they couldn't have know at the time they were created how
priceless they would be.

I wanted to run inside the schoolyard and tell the other children how great he was, or hug
him and tell him it didn't matter because he always had me. But I couldn't fix everything.
I couldn't be everything. And as much as he'd given me, I needed to give him something
back because as complete as my life was because of him, I couldn't alone make him
whole. There was a void in his life and in my mind, like a cigarette burn marring the
finely woven fabric of our life stories that needed to be mended and healed.

Suddenly, I thought of the statue in the park.

A beautiful monument standing proudly in the park with Alice standing triumphantly in
the center looking towards the sky, she sunlight radiating on the cast metal, shooting of
glints of...

"Bronze," I said suddenly. They all turned to me and looked at their faces with slight
trepidation.

"His hair will be bronze," I said quietly, and looked down at my lap. I felt Jake's arm
tighten around me as Alice leaned her head on my shoulder. I dared to look up and Rose
was stoically staring into the yard with eyes that welled and Emmett, who held her hand
tightly, nodded briefly, his expression tight but his eyes shined, too.

I didn't know how or why I knew, or where the words came from, but I knew it was true.
I was baffled by the color itself, because what exactly does bronze hair look like? But I
felt certain I was on the right track.

Suddenly, a little girl with dark hair ran up to Tristan at his table and whispered
something in his ear. He smiled big and bright and then ran after her until they got to the
empty merry-go-round. She and another red headed girl sat down quickly and Tristan
tried to hide his smile as he began to push.

My heart swelled and I heard a few sighs of relief from around me.

For a moment, I thought it might be the best day of my life.

~o~

That all changed when I picked Tristan up from school a few hours later. Ben met me on
the stairway entrance with a disconcerted expression and ushered me to the dean's office
where Tristan sat red-faced and no longer crisply pressed. I ran to him and wrapped him
in a hug. He'd been in a fight, they told me although it didn't sound like much of a fight in
the traditional sense. They said Tristan pushed another little boy down onto the classroom
floor during art session. The other boy claimed it was unprovoked, but I just couldn't
believe that. Tristan cried and said the other boy started it, but he would say no more
about it. When I asked him privately when we got home what had happened and that I
wouldn't be mad no matter what the truth was, he refused to talk about it.

I called Carlisle, and only Carlisle, who came over and sat with him for a while,
counseling him on how to react in situations like that in the future and I slipped into the
other room and made a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Rose."

"What's up, Bella?" she asked, concerned.

I swallowed back hard, drowning all the self-disgust and self-loathing I felt for what I
was about to ask.

"Tell me more about that company."

Chapter IV- A Surreptitious Sparkle

The week flew by in a flurry, not unlike all the others before it. Between work, school,
karate practice and playtime, there was little time for reflection. Tristan went back to
school without incident and I hadn't spoken to Rose again regarding the matter we
discussed Monday until today. It was now Friday afternoon and I sat on my king size bed
staring at the white box she'd dropped of labeled BioQuest Laboratories. Rose had just
picked up Tristan to spend the weekend with her while I accompanied Carlisle on his
important business trip.

She'd told me inside contained the kit with a swab for both of us so they could eliminate
my genetic material from the search and only uses the remaining paternal DNA for the
matching. She opted for the home swab out of discretion, which I suppose I should thank
her for, but when she arrived she wanted us to do it then and there. I told her I'd do it
Monday when we got back.

"Why not do it now and just get it out of the way?" she said simply.

"I just don't want to rush it. I might contaminate it if I do it in a hurry," I explained with a
dismissive wave of the hand. She twisted her lips and nodded.

"Fine. There's a questionnaire in there as well. If there is anything else at all, any
identifying factors you can think of, you need to include them," she said emphatically and
I looked to make sure Tristan was still in his room packing.

"I understand," I replied.

I was intentionally ambiguous on that point because I hadn't decided what to do with the
few small details I did have. I had contemplated it after our talk and decided I thought it
was best to let science do its part. It still made my stomach turn to know I had agreed to
this, but I had to finally accept that the "few small details" that I did have actually
supported the idea of starting the search at the bottom. And I was aware of myself enough
to understand my tirade to Emmett was the guilt talking.

As I stood in my walk-in closet selecting clothing to pack for the trip, I stared up at the
white moving box on the top shelf I had never un-taped. It contained stacks of black and
white composition notebooks I'd used as journals since childhood. In that box, there was
one book in particular that held a single journal entry from five and half years ago written
in a manic script I hardly recognized as my own that held the only information I had
about a man that may be Tristan's father. I found the entry by accident and I barely got
through reading it before packing it away in that box with the books from my childhood.
It seemed no more real or helpful than my seven year old entry about how I wished
Glenda the good witch would move to Forks, so I put it away. Out of sight, out of mind.

Carlisle arrived to pick me up in his Hampton's best, khakis and an untucked button-up in
light blue that brought out his eyes. I wore my white eyelet summer dress belted with a
wide deep fuchsia belt and my white leather Tod's slip-ons. I had no reservations about
dressing nicely like I did when I was younger. Clothes looked better on me now that I'd
transformed from the colt-like figure of my teens. I wasn't exactly curvy, but I was slim
and tone thanks to keeping up with Tristan and I filled out my tops nicely now. I was still
a jeans and t-shirt girl at heart, but now the jeans were R&R and my signature messenger
bag was a Vuitton instead of Target clearance rack. I had no qualms about my improved
ability to dress myself because we lived our lives unpretentiously and I figured Tristan
deserved a Mom who looked the part, at least to a degree.

We loaded up in Carlisle's silver Mercedes sedan and started the two-hour drive while he
filled me in on some details. At 32, (although he looked 25) Carlisle was one of the best
and brightest on The Street and juggernauted up the corporate ladder after graduating
from Wharton. He held his position of CFO for a few years now, but his company,
Goldfarb & Fitch, had just been bought out by a publicly traded mega-firm based in
overseas. I could sense the tension in Carlisle's tone.

"It won't be like last year. This is the first time all the department heads of both
companies will be in one room together. It's supposed to help with the integration," he
explained, not sounding convinced.

"Carlisle, I'm sure it will be fine," I said resting a hand on his forearm.

"I know. But I should warn you it's more important than ever that we make the right
impression. I hate to put pressure on you, but this company has a reputation for taking
over and gutting out the old and my intuition tells me this is more than meets the eye," he
said in a serious tone.

"What do you mean?" I quizzed. He let out a puff of air.

"I mean this conference feels more like a cattle call to slaughter than a weekend
getaway," he explained.

"You're really worried, aren't you?" I asked.

"Yes and no. If they get rid of me, I have a lot of other opportunities, but I've invested a
lot of myself in Fitch. We've worked hard and I have hundreds of employees to think of.
If I go, they go, and a lot of people under me won't have as easy a time getting work
elsewhere," he replied, sounding like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Don't worry. I'm now you'll dazzle them," I reassured him.

"That's the idea," he said with a Colgate smile.

Although New York was a very forward thinking place, the world of international high
finance was less so. The titans that helmed these companies had wives that played tennis
six days a week and children is Swiss boarding schools. They smoked cigars while riding
on yachts and great men like these weren't personally affected by little things like
recessions. Carlisle had managed to keep his secret just that, a secret. He never lied, but
he didn't hesitate to give his colleagues the impression he lived like them and no one ever
assumed differently. It was still an old boys club, which is why I was here as his
companion.

I called to talk to Tristan once and for the rest of the ride, we channel surfed the radio and
played the game where we guessed the artist and title of the song, which was always
funny with Carlisle. Just as "Love Game" by Lady Gaga came on and he guessed it was a
made up song called "Disco Stick" by Queen, we pulled up at the sprawling Whitehaven
Resort. It stood on a hill surrounded by a meticulously manicured landscaping. As we
rounded the huge circular drive and parked under the portico, the valet's opened our doors
and I turned to Carlisle.

"It's go time," I said and grinned. He chuckled.

"Game faces, Bella," he said suppressing his smile.

While Carlisle checked us in, I decided to wander a bit. The inside of the resort was
equally beautiful with soaring high ceilings. It was all elegant cottage style with pale
blues and butter yellows with bright whites and splashes of lime. On the second level, I
found a complimentary coffee and tea set up, all silver, so I made a drink and leaned over
the iron balcony to watch Carlisle in the lobby below. He seemed to be in deep discussion
with someone so I people watched.

There were a few Fitch people I recognized from last year mingling around when a
couple at the check in desk caught my attention. They were both tall and athletic, both in
muted v-neck sweaters and I smiled when I saw their matching designer sunglasses. They
looked like sterile WASP-y perfection. I turned my head when I thought his gaze traveled
in my direction but then the brown haired man picked up his briefcase and headed to the
elevators in a long quick stride, almost too fast, but the blonde woman walked beside
him. She was keeping up.

Carlisle and I got to our room and unpacked not long after that. Although it was more like
a small apartment than hotel room, complete with living area and kitchenette.

"One bed, Carlisle? Don't you think you're being presumptive?" I kidded. He blushed and
looked embarrassed and I felt bad for teasing him.

"The, uh, sofa’s a pull out," he answered bashfully. "You can have the bed. I’ve got to
meet a few of my people to strategize for tomorrow. Are you okay getting dinner alone?
There’s a nice restaurant in the hotel. Just charge it to the room.”

“I don’t mind eating alone, but I’m not charging it to you,” I replied as I hung my clothes.

“It’s the companies tab and if this is my last weekend with them, I’m going out with a
bang. Get the lobster,” he said and chuckled warmly, but the brevity of the situation
finally hit me. His livelihood really was on the line.

Carlisle left and I called Rose to wish Tristan goodnight, and I felt terrible when he told
me he missed me and wished I was home. I sulked in the room for a while and it was past
ten pm by the time I headed downstairs for a late dinner. I sat at a two top at the bar
because the restaurant was packed and when I sat at my table, I got a weird feeling I was
being stared at. When I dropped my menu to peek I spotted Michael Newton, and buried
my head.

“Hello, Isabella,” he purred, and with dread I laid down the menu. There he stood
smiling, a medium height boyish looking blonde man with a creepy flesh colored beard
and big white chicklet teeth.

“Good to see, you too, Michael.” I discretely rolled my eyes as he took my hand and
slowly kissed it. He hit on me persistently last year despite the fact that I was his boss’s
guest. Carlisle said he was a mathematical genius. The genius must be buried very deep.

“Ah, you are just as lovely as I remember, mun cherrie amore-ay,” he cooed. I should
mention that Michael thought himself a worldly man who spoke flawless French. He
actually spoke fake French, which I knew from three years of classes in college but I am
low enough to admit I did enjoy toying with him.

“And you, dear Michael, sont vous sont un canard gloussant,” I replied. He smiled
broadly.

“You are so well spoken, my Bell,” he replied. I snickered internally because I’d just
called him a clucking duck.

“Ms. Swan!” a gravelly voice called and I saw a round bald man with a bulbous nose
waddle up and put a hand on Michael's shoulder.

“Mr. Fitch, so good to see you,” I greeted genuinely. He was the CEO of the company,
like his father before him, and the only person who ranked higher than Carlisle. He was a
funny man in his late fifties and also a bit of a drunk.

“Where’s Carlisle this fine evening?” he slurred.

“Oh, he had other business to attend to,” I answered smilingly, watching him sway on his
feet.

“What a shame," he tisked. "He should know better than to leave you out here alone to
the wolves," he said dramatically, eyeing Michael who now looked sheepish. "Now come
join my table, dear girl."

"I wouldn't want to impose--" I started, not really wanting dinner company, happy to sulk
alone.

"Nonsense," he interrupted. "Come, come." He sang and extended an elbow to me. I slid
of my stool and accepted because Carlisle said we needed to hob-knob a little and at the
very least it would be entertaining.

As I looked down at his shiny baldhead, I resisted the urge to pet it. He reminded me of a
garden gnome. He lead me through the crowded bar area to a very large round table in the
corner that was filled with men conversing and standing around having after dinner
drinks. We sat in the only two available chairs before Mr. Finch introduced me.

"This is Carlisle's young lady, Ms. Swan," he called out, but between the chatting and the
drinks, I don't think most of them heard or cared. A few faces turned my way and held up
a glass or smiled, which I returned in kind. When my eyes traveled to the far end of the
table, I saw a pair of eyes staring at me intently. He was devastatingly handsome and I
thought I may know him from somewhere, and then I dismissed the sense of recognition
when I realized he was the man I'd seen in the lobby. My eyes darted away quickly and I
lifted up a menu to preoccupy myself with. I was sure he'd seen me staring earlier in the
day because suddenly had the sense of feeling caught. The waitress appeared and I placed
my order for a grilled chicken and a glass of water.

"Another scotch for me, dear," Mr. Fitch ground out. "What about you, Eddie my boy,
you look like you could use another drink. Another vodka tonic?" he shouted and shook
his glass of ice in the air clumsily. I followed his gaze to the end of the table where it fell
on Mr. V-neck. Though his face was expressionless, he was looking a little peaked and I
didn't think another drink was a good idea. His eyes traveled from Fitch and then to the
waitress, who was waiting for his approval. He gave a slight nod of the chin.

Even under the dim lighting, he really was something else. He had the same executive
haircut as Carlisle's, but it was a bit longer fashionably untidy, and a chin of stubble. His
skin was fair, but slightly sun-kissed, and his features were flawless. It was a face that
had a sculptural quality to it. By the time I'd rounded out my little analysis, his attention
had turned back from the waitress and landed directly on me again. His mouth was now
set it a tight line and I spun my head back to Mr. Finch. He must be some misogynistic
underling, because he didn't look thrilled with my presence at the boy's table.

When the drink order arrived, Mr. Finch dinged his glass with a saltshaker and proposed
a toast.

"To...the merger!" he said cheerfully with a flourish. I watched all the men lift their
glasses and snuck a glance down table to see Mr. V-neck, or Eddie, down his in one shot.

I couldn't help but notice the sharp contrast between Carlisle's feelings about the
acquisition and these men’s'. He was out burning the midnight oil to assure a good
outcome and save all their jobs, while these men drank themselves into a stupor.

I spent the rest of dinner listening to Mr. Finch tell entertaining stories that all began with
"This one time when we were out for drinks..." I decided to call it a night when I started to
get a strange tingly feeling in my legs like they'd fallen asleep. I signed the bill and
slipped away from the table to head back to the room. I rounded out of the restaurant into
the lobby and found one my designed tables in the foyer with a potted orchid on top. I ran
my hand across the Birchwood and admired my own work. I was fingering the flower
petals when I heard a voice behind me.

"You like orchids," a smooth deep English accent stated. I almost jumped in surprise and
when I turned and saw it was Eddie. He was easily over six feet tall with a physical build
underneath his thin gray sweater and dark charcoal slacks. He appeared to be in his late
twenties, but the eyes behind his wire frame glasses seemed much older.

"They're my favorite, actually," I replied with a small smile. He looked like he was
studying me as he slowly nodded.

"So you're with Carlisle." Again, a statement, not a question.

"Yes," I answered. In the brighter light of the hallway, I could see his eyes were green.
Not a grassy watercolor lime like my son's, but a deep sea green.

"You work together, I guess?" I spoke after too long a silence passed.

"Yes," he answered and darted his eyes to the flowers with furrowed brows. "He's a good
man," he said, but his eyes were questioning.

"The best one I know," I affirmed. I wanted to tell him Carlisle was out saving his job
right now, but that would seem rude. "I guess he missed out on the celebratory drinkfest
tonight because of his meeting. I don't know how you guys can drink so much."

Unfortunately, it came out as a backhanded compliment. His lip twitched up slightly in
amusement, but his eyes were flat.

"I don't drink. Mine was just water," he admitted slyly. I furrowed my brow in confusion,
but then I realized he must have had an arrangement with the waitress.

"Very clever. I guess I'd do the same thing if Mr. Finch wanted me to go drink for drink,"
I said smilingly, thinking of the sweet little bald man.

"He does like his scotch, doesn't he?" he asked rhetorically, looking back towards the
restaurant doors.

I laughed. "That would be an understatement." When he turned back to me, he seemed
pained and I wanted to ask him what was wrong.

"I should let you go now," he said quietly, almost to himself, but he made no move to
leave. I frowned a little.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Eddie," I said. He opened his mouth to speak, and then
closed it before starting again.

"Good evening, Ms. Swan," he said in a smooth low voice, the kind you'd pay to hear
someone read to you in. He bowed his head minutely before turning and disappearing
down the hall.

~o~

When I got back to the room, I found myself alone. I double-checked the contents of my
purse because I kept feeling like I was missing something, but everything was accounted
for so I crawled into bed, looking forward to the refuge.

And the long strange week finally took its toll that night because sleep would just not find
me...

Chapter V - A Glimmer Named Hope

Carlisle tiptoed in around 3am and I finally fell asleep around 6. When I woke up almost
six hours later, I found the note he'd left telling me he was in a meeting in one of the
conference rooms and would meet me for lunch out on the patio. I called Tristan and
apologized for not calling first thing, but he sounded happy and distracted playing
horseshoes with Emmett and Rose getting ready for an impromptu cook-out at her
townhouse. I told him I loved him and Rose promised to take lots of pictures.

I showered and dressed quickly in a tailored white button-up, minimal gold jewelry and
dark slim jeans with a pair of wedge heels. The other women would probably be in pearls
and Chanel skirt suits, but I had my limits. I blow dried my long straight dark-chocolate
colored hair until it was shiny and applied a little make-up before heading out the door.

And just my luck, as I was hurrying through the halls, I bumped (literally) into a little
auburn haired girl who was crying. She told me she lost her big brother so I led her up to
the front desk where the girl told us her name was Amy and that she knew her Mom was
at the spa. They sent out a page for her a lost Amy and an irate looking woman in a white
robe; slippers and a facemask marched up.

"I told you to stay with your brother! Can't I get a facial without having a crisis? It took
me days to get this appointment...” she ranted to the little girl as she held her hand
dragging her behind. Maybe she was better off lost.

Outside was a massive pavered pool patio where they'd set up food stations for chefs to
serve lunch a la carte. I was hungry from having missed breakfast and made a beeline for
the meat-carving table. It looked like most of the wives and girlfriends had the same idea
and many of the tables filled with women lunching. I sat down at the first empty seat I
found and there was only one other woman at the table. I hated awkward introductions
but she didn't lift her head from her magazine as I took a chair and I began my meal in
silence. She had a short blonde bob and fox-like features, but in an attractive way, and
very polished in (what else) a light pink Chanel dress and multi-strand pearls. All she was
missing was a wide brimmed hat.

"Edward!" she called out and waved her hand in the air, flagging someone down. Within
seconds, there stood "Eddie" flanked by two other dark haired men. He was wearing
khaki slacks and a lightweight navy crew-neck sweater that unzipped a little at the neck,
but the other men were wearing black suits with ties. He looked like he hadn't gotten
much sleep and I noticed for the first time his hair color was a rich beer bottle brown. I
smiled warmly in greeting, but his face was stone and he turned away. I guess Eddie and
I weren't friends when other people were around.

"Join me, won't you, gentlemen," she implored. She was English too and clearly knew
how to play her role here. I realized then she was the other half of the V-neck Crew from

the lobby; Edward's other half. And as she's waved her hand, I also noticed the giant
sparking canary yellow diamond on her hand.

"Yes, we'll sit here," he said decisively and took the chair at the head of the rectangular
table, the two men filled the chairs between us, and the blonde was seated in the chair
next to him on the other side. As the men started discussing financial stuff, I picked up
that they were all English and I was not impressed when they made the water refill server
place a special order in kitchen, clearly too good to plate their own food or eat what the
rest of us did.

"Bella!" I heard charging footsteps and spun my head just in time to see little Amy barrel
into my chair and giggle. All the faces at the table had turned towards the disturbance and
were eyeing her disapprovingly. Well, except Eddie, or Edward, who's eyes were closed
and his brows were knitted together as if he'd just been poked with a needle. She wedged
herself between the snobby suit guy, bumping his elbow, and fired away.

"Did you know my Mom wears a wig sometimes?" she said, panting heavily from her
run, and I laughed inappropriately loud before covering my mouth. She took that as
encouragement.

"And sometimes, at night, I hear her in her bedroom shaving her legs by herself. Buzzz,
buzzz, buzzz, allll night. That's what it sounds like. Yep," she mimed while nodding and
smiling brightly. I was wide-eyed, still covering my giggles when I surveyed the table.
The blonde was aghast, as was the suit directly opposite her, but the guy next to me was
laughing and Eddie looked at her as though she were a curiosity.

"Little one, I don't know if I'd share that with anyone else today, okay?" I said amusedly
as a pulled a stray hair from her face.

"She won't care," Amy shrugged.

"Let's keep it our little secret, anyways," I whispered.

"Coool," she whispered back, liking the idea of a secret.

"What's your name little girl?" the suit next to me asked smilingly

"Amy."

"Amy, why don't you give your mother my card. Tell her it's in case she needs any help
shaving," he said smugly, flicking out his hand and she snatched the card from it. I hoped
he was kidding when I saw the wedding gold band on his finger.

"Okay! You two can come play with me now if you want?" she exclaimed bouncing on
her heels. I wondered if her mother had fed her bars of chocolate to placate her. Or
possibly crack.

Her eyes bounced back and forth from the suited man and me, he raised an eyebrow that
said how preposterous and I took a cue.

Even his eyebrow seemed to have a snooty British accent.

"Amy, I think the nice man has business to do, but maybe I'll come play later," I offered.

"Okay. We're playing on the hill," she said, pointing her finger beyond the pool down to
the sloping grassy hills beyond and then she bolted for it. I snickered, as I watched her
stumble once, her legs not fast enough for her body.

I checked my watch, wondering when Carlisle was going to get here and when I did, the
overcast sky parted for just a brief moment, a few beams of sunlight rebelliously breaking
through the grey and lavender clouds. The rays fell like tiny radiant spotlights and in the
corner of my eye, I caught a glimmer of copper, just like a little spark, and an errant
thought raced through my mind, too quickly to catch.

I suddenly felt tense, like I needed some air. Some air somewhere else. I rose from the
stuffy table and smoothed out my shirt, and by the time I looked up Eddie had risen from
his chair and the other men abruptly followed suit. I was puzzled by the gesture and the
softness in Eddie's eyes but I snapped out of my daze, my inner tension returning, when
the blonde grabbed his forearm and gave him a look like he'd just stood for the maid.

I turned and headed for the hill where Amy was playing and stood at the edge of the
pavers, watching them run and play, trying to clear my head. Several children were
chasing each other and I smiled, thinking of my son, but somehow I still felt...troubled.

I turned around to scan for Carlisle and I saw him. Of all things he was standing next to
Eddie's chair, smiling and talking vividly, reassuring the troops I'm sure, but as soon as
he walked away he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and spotted me, rushing
over.

"Bella," he said in a hushed and hurried voice as soon as he approached. "I'm so sorry I
missed lunch. I've been doing damage control all morning. Mr. Finch got drunk last night
and everything's a disaster right now."

"It's not a problem, Carlisle. Go do what you need to do," I said firmly and leaned on my
tiptoes to kiss his cheek in hello and goodbye.

"Are you sure?" he said apologetically, laying his hands gently on my shoulders.

"Yes. Now go be a superhero!" I teased, shooing him off. He smiled thankfully and
kissed my cheek back before hurrying off.

My old distress was replaced with worry for Carlisle again. Amy ran up and asked if I'd
be "home base" in their game of hide and go seek. I laughed and agreed to the distraction.
After a round or two, she was the catcher and she ran up to me and stuck out her little leg.

"Will you tie my shoelaces?" she asked cutely and I bent down to tie them.

"You're preeeety, Bella," she sang smiling and blinked. I smiled back and patted her head
before she ran off screaming to the hiders You're in trouble now!

"It looks as though you have an admirer." It was the voice of Eddie and I turned to see
him standing a few feet behind me.

"Uh, no, just a little friend," I replied, confused by his sudden presence.

"You seem to make friends easily," he continued. I laughed lightly because I probably
would have made more friends sitting at the kiddie table than at his (because it clearly
became His table once he sat).

"I found her in the hallway. She got lost," I explained.

It looked like the rest of his group was gone, which probably explained why he was
talking to me again and I was beginning to think the parallel I'd drawn between his face
and a sculpture was more true than I'd realized. His face was always perfectly stoic, but
he smiled a little with his eyes and shook his head briefly as if to say Of course you did.

"I think they've got a sixth sense, you know?" I mused as I watched the kids run.

"About safe places to run to," he said simply. I smiled at his silly guess. He obviously
wasn't a "kid person".

"No. Well, sort of," I corrected, wondering how long he'd been watching the game. "I
think they can sense another mother. They seem to automatically trust us," I explained as
I watched Amy maul another boy to the ground. She reminded me of Alice. After he
didn't reply for a while I turned to see if he was still there and he was, but he was looking
down at his shoes.

"You have a child," he said solemnly, like having a kid was the end of the world. I knew I
was a young, but what was this guy’s deal?

"Yes," I said proudly with my chin up. "I have a little boy."

"I'm happy for you," he said finally. I thought he was being sarcastic but when he raised
his gaze and his eyes met mine, there was nothing but honesty there and I grinned.

"I'm pretty happy for me, too," I said through my grin, thinking of my amazing little son.

"Bella! I won! I won! I caught them all!" Amy ran up and flung herself at me. I grabbed
her just in time before she knocked us both over and laughed.

"See, doesn't this just make you want to take one home?" I turned and said to the thin air
where Eddie had formerly been standing.

Eat your heart out, Criss Angel.

~o~

Many hours later I was standing in front of the two dresses Alice had pulled for me that
now laid on the bed, internally debating which one to wear. Tonight was the formal
dinner, the main event of the weekend and the primary reason I'd accompanied Carlisle.
The first dress was deep blue empire waist column dress in chiffon. It was conservative
and pretty. The second was a very fitted mermaid cut black satin gown with structured
bodice and a sweetheart top. It had a thin satin belt with a diamond buckle that sat high
on my natural waist and was glamorous and sexy. I tapped my chin and though What
would Nicole Kidman do? And then I grabbed the black Armani. I figured it might be
time to bring out the big guns--pun intended. Well, small c-cup guns, but whatever.

I hadn't seen Carlisle since lunch and I spent the rest of the afternoon in a pottery class.
While the men were in meetings the company arranged different activities for the wives
to participate in like massages, facials, and random some things like photography and
pottery. It was more like a babysitting service for pampered rich women. As a matter of
fact, the only other person in my non-spa activity was a man whose wife was an
executive. When I got back to the room I checked in with Tristan and I finally got a text
from Carlisle about an hour ago saying he was running late and to go ahead and get
ready.

I slipped the dress on and zipped it tight before slipping on some strappy black stilettos. It
fit like a glove, made my waist look like a teacup and had a small train in the back. I'd
already styled my hair in big waves with my barrel iron, parting it on the side so a wave
fell over my brow, and then I slid in a Swarovski hair comb on other side. My make-up
was minimal, but I opted for dark eyes and red lips. My skin was a fair, creamy, light
olive and my eyes were the color of brown sugar so the palette worked and I was just
rubbing in some moisturizer with a little shimmer on my bare décolletage and shoulders
when I heard the door open and shut.

"So, what do you think?" I asked Carlisle as I sashayed out of the bathroom, extending
my arms out and twirling. He literally looked speechless as he took me in.

"Wow," he breathed. "Bella, you. are. a. stunner."

"Is it too much?" I asked as I dropped my arms to my sides, noticing how exhausted he
looked.

"It's perfect," he said stealthily as he grabbed his tux from the closet. "You look like
Jessica Rabbit's elegant, dark haired sister. They just may keep me on to have you
around." he joked.

"I'm here to help," I said with a grin as he headed into the bathroom. I knew I looked
amazing, I just didn't take it very seriously. I considered the package battle armor for
Carlisle's little war.

I practiced walking in my heels that made me feel ten feet tall and finished off the
ensemble with diamond chandelier earrings and a tennis bracelet I'd borrowed from
Alice. Carlisle was showered and dressed in record time and he would have made James
Bond cry when he stepped out of the bathroom in his tux. He was hands down the best
looking man I'd ever met in real life, which is why Emmett considered him the perfect
wingman. I grabbed my clutch and we headed downstairs for the cocktail hour, linking
arms before we confidently entered the room.

Immediately, people swarmed to Carlisle and I was swept up meeting and greeting as we
worked our way through the room, smiling brightly, and arm in arm. Everyone looked
great in their formal wear but PETA would have gone wild at the amount of fur present.
My cheeks began to hurt from the smiling and I resisted the urge to tug my dress at the
breast line because it seemed to be garnering more attention than I'd anticipated. We were
talking to a nice older couple that intrigued me with their ability to talk through clenched
teeth like uber-posh ventriloquists when Carlisle subtly whispered in my ear.

"Head's up. Sharks in the water."

I laughed like he'd made a personal joke and he smiled genuinely at my little trick, and
then I casually perused the room. Everyone looked like they were having a great time,
although the tension was the palpable undertone of the night, and I saw the crowd parted
towards the entry of the room for a tall couple I couldn't see clearly except for a twinkle
of coral and an entourage of tuxedoed men that followed quickly behind. A blond headed
man I recognized as Jamie, Carlisle assistant, rushed towards us and whispered
something to him.

"Fitch is at the bar, again. I need to go handle this," Carlisle whispered quickly and I
nodded before he finished.

I mingled around the area, chatting with other guests about mundane things when my
spidey sense began to tingle. I spun my head around, my hair slithering on my shoulders
as I looked for the starer, but I saw no one in particular, just an ocean of tuxes. Until
Michael approached me.

"My belle!" he announced extravagantly and went to take my hand. He surprised me
when he spun me and I cringed as the sweaty hand gripping my fingers pulled it up to his
cold lips. "You are a vision."

"Thank you, Michael," I replied smiling tightly. He smiled back in a way that made me
uneasy and then let his eyes roam.

"You look positively edible tonight," he said as he leaned in and put a hand on the small
of my back. I stiffened and craned my head away. He smelled like he'd been hanging out
at the bar with Fitch. He kissed the tips of his fingers, adding, "And I wouldn't waste one
morsel."

"Uh, that's kind of you, Michael," I replied as he leaned further in and I leaned further
away. "But Carlisle will be back any moment."

"I don't understand why we don't get together sometime for--"

"Mr. Newton," announced a controlled velvet voice.

Michael dropped the hand and stepped back immediately and I saw the source of the
voice. Eddie was towering next to Michael with narrowed eyes. He was without his
glasses and the stubble was gone. "Is this how the head analyst for Goldfarb & Fitch
behaves around taken ladies?" he asked rhetorically, dripping with contempt, and stepped
forward until he was hovering right over Michael, who visibly withered. I saw several
people watching the interaction intently, which I didn't think was called for.

"Mr. Cullen," I heard Carlisle's calm voice before I saw him. "It's so good to see you."

"Likewise, Carlisle," he replied politely as he turned to him, letting his eyes graze over
me as he did.

They were standing side by side in identical tuxes and though I'd never thought it
possible to consider another man handsome in Carlisle's presence, in that moment Eddie
eclipsed him completely. He was beyond dashing, and with a chin and features like that,
he should never wear scruff again. His shoulders were broad but not bulky, and he was a
little taller than Carlisle. He looked powerful and confident--indestructible.

Wait, why did Carlisle address him as Mr. Cullen?

"Michael, why don't you join Mr. Fitch at the tapas table. I hear they're delicious,"
Carlisle told, not asked. Michael smiled nervously, understanding his dismissal, and
slunk away.

Carlisle smiled and stepped towards me, looping an arm around my waist. "Mr. Cullen,
this is my companion, Ms. Swan."

Edward's eyes flickered at the introduction. "We've met in the past," he replied coolly,
and then turned to me.

"You look beautiful, as always, Ms. Swan," he said slowly, meaningfully, staring at me
intensely and extended his hand out. Too many seconds passed and I felt Carlisle nudge
me before I placed mine in it. His hand was large and warm, and I am ashamed to say
that even though I've always thought the gesture was cheesy and outdated, I truly enjoyed
the warmth and moisture of his lips as they pressed in to my skin, his deep green eyes
looking up at me through dark lashes, never breaking away. Michael should take notes.

I felt a whisper of an inhaled breath against my skin, as if he was taking enjoying my
scent, and his thumb brush smoothly across the sensitive skin above my knuckles. His
lips broke away slowly and he lowered my hand like it was made of glass. My hand
twitched involuntarily, squeezing his just before he let go. No one noticed but us and I
offered him a sheepish expression in apology, but something flashed in Eddie's eyes, a
glimmer of something close to...hope? I must be mistaken.

I felt like time was standing still and the silence was unnerving so I spoke.

"Thank you. You look nice this evening as well, Eddie," I understated by a mile, and I
felt Carlisle's arm stiffen around me. I tore my eyes away and finally noticed Blondie was
now at his side in a beaded coral gown and white fur stole, and a few tuxedoed men stood
around them. Her eyes, and a few others, were widened at my use of his name.

Blondie cleared her throat delicately and extended her hand. "Carlisle," was all she said
in greeting.

"Ms. Denali." He kissed her hand and then smiled warmly. "I think dinner is ready to be
served. Shall we?" Carlisle extended an arm out inviting them to pass.

"Yes, Edward, shall we?" Blondie corrected, as she looped her arm through his, his stony
expression quickly returning.

"We'll be right behind you," Carlisle said charmingly as they passed with entourage in
tow. I stepped to follow, but Carlisle spun us towards the entry door and whisked us out
and around the corner until we stopped near the elevators.

"What's going on Carlisle?" I asked concernedly.

"Bella," he started and peered at me curiously. "How do you know Mr. Cullen?"

"I met him last night at the restaurant. And today at lunch. He sat at my table," I
answered honestly. He looked at me for a moment and then nodded.

"Why did you call him Eddie?" he asked curiously, tilting his head.

"That's what Mr. Finch called him last night at the restaurant," I explained. "Why are you
calling him Mr. Cullen?"

He sighed. "Bella, Mr. Cullen is CEO of MasenCullen. Actually, Edward Cullen IS
MasenCullen. His mother's a Masen and his father's a Cullen. His blood is bluer than ink.
I'm telling you this because MasenCullen is the company taking us over," he said calmly
but my mouth was gaping open.

He smiled a little and scratched the back of his neck. "Did Mr. Fitch really call him
Eddie?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," I answered, remembering. "But Mr. Cullen didn't seem to mind."

"I'm sure he didn't," Carlisle murmured sarcastically, and I was taken aback. Carlisle
wasn't sarcastic and addressed my silent question. "Apparently, Mr. Cullen invited Mr.
Fitch and the entire board out for dinner and last night and they had some drinks. A lot of
drinks. Mr. Finch ended up missing every meeting today but Mr. Cullen was somehow
there was bells on and ran the meetings alone. It was an embarrassment."

"That's because Edward didn't drink," I shook my head. "He was pretending to drink. He
actually had water."

"How do you know?" he quizzed.

"He told me," I shrugged. Carlisle just stared at me for a while and then frowned.

"He's more cunning than I thought. Mr. Fitch drinks, but he knew better than to get
smashed last night. What else did you talk about?" he asked, and I clapped my hand over
my mouth.

"Oh, no! I told him Mr. Fitch was a drunk!" I exclaimed. "And then I made a snarky
comment about them getting wasted and how I was sure you'd be so disappointed you
missed out on it because you were actually working!"

Carlisle seemed to be processing this information slowly.

"Mr. Cullen offered me Chairman of the US today. He has to leave someone in charge
once he goes back to London tomorrow to head international. He found me after lunch
and that's why I was late to the room this evening," he said vacantly, staring at the wall
behind me.

"Oh my gosh. Did you take it? Wait, doesn't that mean..."

"That Mr. Finch gets fired? Yes," he answered in a serious voice. "I told him I needed to
think about it. It feels like a stab in the back to Mr. Finch. I certainly wasn't angling for it,
but he'll probably think that, and my schedule is hectic enough as it is. I wouldn't have
any time for...family."

I smiled knowing whom he meant by family but then I frowned.

"I'm sorry, I only spoke freely because I thought he was a Fitch guy. I asked him if you
worked together and he said yes. Do you think what I said was what made him decide to
fire him? I sort of implied his excessive drinking was the norm," I asked guiltily.

"I'll be frank. You're honest and you're an outsider with no agenda. He probably trusted
your opinion to a degree. But, then again, Mr. Cullen is an unusual man, and he doesn't
seem to trust anyone, really. The offer he made me could just be a trick to test my loyalty.
He's completely unreadable," he said with mild frustration, looking back in the direction
of the party.

I nodded in agreement and then felt my phone buzzing in my clutch so I told Carlisle I'd
meet him back at the dinner table. I opened the text from Rose's phone.

R: How's it going, chica?

B: I think I'm in bizzarro world. What are u guys doin?

R: Heading to dinner. The kid wants calamari! WTF?!

I laughed at my son's strange appetite.

B: I miss my real life *sigh*

R: Hold on...special message coming

R: Mommi!

B: Hello! I miss you so, so, much! - I wondered how much Rose was helping him with
texting.

R: I miss u too!

R: I'm sad ur away. Please come back to me soon. - I guess she was transcribing for him.
My heart broke a little.

B: It won't be long and I'm always with you in your heart. Have a good night, my love.
xoxo

R: I love you, too.

R: Have fun with your little charade. *wink* Nighty-nite sexy mama- I snorted. That must
be Rose again.

"Who is that?" I jumped out of my skin and bumped in to something solid right behind
and then leapt away, the train of my gown swishing around me as I faced a very
suspicious Edward.

"Jesus Christ, how do you do that!" I gasped, clutching my chest. He appeared and
disappeared like he never existed in the first place!

"You didn't answer my question," he said firmly, folding his arms.

"Are you stalking me?" I peered at him. He peered back.

"Was it another man?" he said it like "you naughty girl" and there was that little glimmer
in his eye again.

"I'm feeling very stalked right now," I shook my head and walked to pass him, but he
blocked me.

"Excuse me," I said indignantly.

"You're not excused," he answered simply.

"That's not up to you," I countered.

"Oh, I think it is," he replied confidently and his lip twitched upward, but he resisted the
smile.

"No. It isn't. And I don't like being tricked," I challenged, and arched a brow. He
unfolded his arms and let them rest at his sides.

"I didn't trick you," he explained, arching one brow back. "You assumed."

"And you didn't stop the assumption. That's a lie."

"Is it?" he said and his eyes searched mine like he knew I thought differently.

"Yes. It is," I said fiercely, but suddenly feeling unsure under his scrutiny.

"I'm not a man of many words," he informed me in the tone of a man who doesn't explain
have to explain himself to anyone.

"More the "speak softly, and carry a big stick" type?" I replied sarcastically, calling him
out for suckering me into helping get a man fired. "The only reason you talked to me was
to use me for information."

He looked like his patience had snapped and was getting a little nervous, but then he
relaxed.

"That's not why I talked to you," he confessed and I narrowed my eyes.

"Then why did you?" I inquired, honestly curious now. He just stared at me for a while
and the conflict in his mind was evident. It looked like he was deciding something and
after many moments of consideration, I watched resolve form in his tightened jaw.

"I think we should be friends," he stated finally.

"You think we should be friends?" I repeated back dumbly. Why would he want to be
friends with me?

And then I thought of his cohort with the ring on his finger handing out his number to
"help shave another woman's legs" and the unsurprised look on Edward's face, the
compliment about my appearance, the slow kiss on my hand, as if to seduce me. And
then I realized this friendly banter he'd suddenly decided to engage in with was bordering
very close to flirtation. Men like this always had women on the side...I was disgusted.

"Look, I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, but I don't think I'm the kind of
"friend" you're looking for," I replied firmly as I tried to pass him again, but he grabbed
my wrist.

"Just friends," he emphasized each word, but didn't seeming happy about it as he studied
the carpet pattern. He slowly raised his eyes to mine and he had the same look Emmett
had that day I met him for lunch when he asked me not to go. I still wasn't convinced, but
I needed to play along for Carlisle's sake.

I sighed in defeat.

"Just friends," I stated firmly, drilling into his eyes, forcing him to understand how
serious I was.

"Excellent," he said satisfactorily and released my wrist.

I started to walk off and he took one stride and caught my ear.

"But I wouldn't waste one morsel, either," he whispered in a huskier tone, and I watched
him stride off back through the doors from where I'd become paralyzed, my heart beating
wildly in my chest.

I should have worn the blue dress.

Chapter VI- Everything's Illuminated

Early Monday morning after the trip...

I could see each individual blade of grass as my head was turned, resting my cheek

against the lush cushion of the Great Lawn. Alice was lying beside me laughing at the sky

and I seemed to be laughing, too. Everything was in slow motion because when I blinked,

it went dark for seconds. I turned my head upwards, and I felt each blade crush

underneath me as I rotated to face the ultra-bright sun. I cupped my hands above my

brow as something golden slowly began to eclipse the sun, completely blocking it.

It was a smiling Tristan standing over me, all honey and brandywine, surrounded by

fluffy white clouds and crystalline blue. I smiled, but then concern took over. His eyes

were brown, like mine. I tried to speak, but nothing came out as I watched them change.

So slowly, they transformed to a unique multicolor hazel, like Alice. Then lightening to a

crystal sky blue, like Carlisle, then the pale aqua of the Caribbean Sea like Rose's, then

they deepened to the sapphire of Emmitt's. I began to feel relief when the fresh green

apple with delicate slivers of topaz that were his own eyes finally began to appear, but as

the colors bled, staining his iris's, they began to deepen in to something much

darker...and then I screamed for it to stop.

I woke to the sound of my own whimpering in a cold sweat, twisted in my sheets, my
hands fisting the pillows. I took a deep breath and rolled on to my side to face the view of
the city skyline. The stress of everything that’s happened since that first argument with
Alice one week ago was affecting my sleep. I was a person always in motion and it
couldn't trouble me in my waking hours, but like a silent assailant, it crept in my slumber.

Things where getting a little crazy.

~o~

Saturday night dinner in the Hamptons...

I waited a few extra minutes before I walked into the dining hall to look for Carlisle,
whom I found seated at a long table in the center of the room that was surrounded by
many circular ones. Illuminated by ambient candlelight, the room buzzed with chatter and
the clinking of silverware on plates as they ate. I stealthily approached the table and
pulled out my chair, but Carlisle reacted instantly and stood.

"Welcome back," he murmured, but there was a question in his eyes.

He pulled the chair out for me and I shook my head minutely, letting him know I'd
explain my tardiness later. No one else stood or noticed because of my quite approach,
but two chairs down from Carlisle's, at the head of the table, I saw Edward eyeing him in

a whole new way. Gone were the disinterested civility, or the superiority and contempt.
His slitted eyes were alive and taking in everything, something predatory, but he seemed
a natural in this element. He was sizing him up.

The fox-faced blonde, Ms. Denali, was smiling alluringly, chatting with the man next to
her when she slid her eyes to him and picked up on the new charge in the air. And then
she gave me the same glaring look Edward was giving Carlisle.

Everyone was polite as they chatted between courses, but I stayed silent and busied
myself with how neat-o the white woven tablecloth was. Ms. Denali, or Kate as I heard
some call her, was running the conversation discussing fine art and how much of it she
and Edward own, when she said something that caught my ear.

"I've never known why they call it a classic. It's immature and uninteresting. It's
amateurish, really," she explained about a painting called The Son of Man, and a few
people politely agreed.

"I can see why it's a classic." I spoke without thinking, defending the painting that was in
the kid’s flipbook Carlisle had bought for Tristan at MOMA. He thought it was really
cool. I guess I did, too.

A few heads turned towards me, including an unpleasantly surprised Kate. Edward, who
had been only communicated in yes's and no's all night looked up with interest.

"Well, I disagree. It's an ordinary man in a suit with an apple covering his face. It's
childish," she emphasized, demeaningly. A few more eyes fell on me, expectantly,
including Carlisle's, so I straightened in my chair and set down my water glass.

"The palette isn't complex, no," I started thoughtfully, and squinted my eyes
remembering the primary colors. "But it's interesting. People are always interested in
what's hidden. Or why it's being concealed. But I guess you inadvertently made a good
point. Sometimes people ignore what's hidden and don't want to look behind what they're
being shown. If all you see is the apple, than I can see why you don't like it. You're not
interested in finding out what's behind the faceless man or why he's hiding in the first
place. Maybe he's not an ordinary man at all and he's intentionally fooling us by blending
in. Maybe the thing that he's hiding is the most important part, the best part, and worth
discovering."

"Very good, Ms. Swan," poor Mr. Fitch said cheerfully as he tilted his glass towards me
and smiled brightly, completely unaware that he was a goner. Carlisle looked proud and
then a little smug. The slight nostrils on Kate's slim nose flared and her grey eyes set hard
on me.

"Well, that was lovely, Ms. Swan, really, and I'm sure with enough time you could make
the silverware have greater meaning, but it's still a strange and ridiculous painting, and
not classic fine art," she retorted, condescending and cutting. I made no attempt to reply

because I was silently sending up a prayer of thanks that I never had to see this woman
again and extra one for Carlisle who's going to need all the help he can get. Then
Edward's smooth voice sliced through the air like a hot knife through butter.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Kate. Perhaps Miss Swan finds beauty in strange
places. A valuable trait that is sorely undervalued," Edward interjected, silencing
everyone.

His eyes were burning with intensity when he looked at me and I smiled in appreciation
for the defense, even though it sounded personal to him. I was floored when he actually
smiled back. Just a little. His lips stayed closed, and he was still very controlled but
something about the way that muscle moved in his cheek was very familiar, but my mind
would not place it. I studied his face harder because he wasn't turning away and
unconsciously started leaning in towards him. I knew other people were watching but I
couldn't stop. It was like a compulsion.

I heard someone clear their throat and drink glass thud in interruption, but I rationalized
that Edward could have turned away if he was uncomfortable. But he didn't. In fact it
seemed like he was allowing me to stare, giving me consent, urging me on. He tilted his
head with a look of wonder and I just kept searching for whatever it is I'd just found. I
snapped out of it when Carlisle took my hand under the table and squeezed it hard.

"Bella is an artist in her own right. She designs furniture for a living," Carlisle said,
trying to get the ball rolling in conversation. It worked. I answered a few questions about
my work and made polite conversation with people on the opposite side of the table from
Kate, who was seething, and avoiding whatever weirdness just passed. My phone buzzed
in my clutch and I heard Carlisle's buzz at the exact same time with a text.

R: Call me please

"I'll go talk to her. Wait here," he whispered and kissed my forehead. I watched him
leave, and then turned to find Edward shooting daggers into his back. Sterling silver
daggers, I imagine.

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably and disassembled my tiramisu with my fork, until
Carlisle returned a few minutes later. His forehead was creased.

"Mr. Cullen, gentlemen, I must ask to be excused a little early tonight. It's been a long
day, I hope you understand," Carlisle said apologetically and smiled. I was puzzled.

"Of, course," Edward said fluidly setting down his silverware, and Carlisle started pulling
back my chair. Edward and a few others stood and his eyes darted to me when he said,
"Tomorrow, then."

Carlisle took my hand. "I’ll see you at the meeting, bright and early," he replied, and
rushed us out of the room.

"What's going on now?" I asked, exhausted by all the surprises as we waited for the
elevator.

"Emmett got arrested," he said flatly.

"What!"

"I'll tell you more on the way back to the city. Let's get packed up and head out now. All
that's left tomorrow is the big luncheon by the water, but I'll just drive back alone early
tomorrow morning," he said as we briskly made our way to the room.

I threw my tan corduroy blazer over my evening gown and threw everything else into my
suitcase. Carlisle was on the phone constantly as he packed and it sounded like an
attorney on the other end.

"Bella, are you ready?" he asked as he cradled a cell phone in his ear standing holding
our luggage.

"Yes," I said as opened and closed drawers. "I just think I've left something and I hate
when that happens."

"What is it?" he asked as I tossed the covers off of the mattress.

"I'm not sure," I answered with a furrowed brow as I crawled on the floor looking under
the bed. It was the same sensation as the night before when I thought I left something
from my purse at the bar but on a much grander scale. I patted my pretend pockets and
scrunched up my face.

"Come on Cinderella," he chuckled. "If the hotel finds your glass slipper, I'll have them
mail it back to you."

I waited outside in the night breeze for our car to pull up and Carlisle to return from
checking us out. I kept feeling a pulling like I should go back and look for the thing I'd
left or lost. Truly, I couldn't wait to back home to my son, to my life, but I just couldn't
get over the sensation, a nagging feeling. Like an inkling.

"You're leaving," Edward called out, surprised, which made two of us. He walked up next
to me, and hovered over my head.

"Would you mind keeping little pebbles in your pocket to throw on the ground as a
warning before you appear?" I said as I mimicked the action of tossing stones. He was
not amused and I cleared my throat lightly, "Yes, we're leaving."

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked with authority. He was so close and he
smelled really good.

Incredible actually. "Back to the city. But Carlisle will be coming back tomorrow," I
replied slowly, and shuffled a baby step back so I wouldn't be so close to the black
buttons on his tux shirt that desperately needed adjusting by suddenly aching fingers.

"But you're not returning?" He raised an eyebrow, and it didn't look like he was thinking
about it when he stepped forward minutely, gaining back whatever distance I'd made and
then some.

"No. You certainly do take your friendship's seriously," I mused nervously, trying to skirt
around the baby elephant in the metaphorical room that was stealing all my air. He was
quite and stared contemplatively back into the hotel lobby while I internally stomped
down my sudden flare of overwhelming attraction.

"So this is goodbye," he commented flatly with his face still turned.

I looked inside too, but I had a reason. Paranoia. I wanted to make sure his Kate wasn't on
her way to stab me in the eye with a dull spoon for all his uncalled for attention and and
my new uncalled for reaction. I felt transparent. He confused me. Being around him made
me confused. But I'm sure he affected many women this way and he seemed aware of
that fact. I suddenly remembered who he was and realized that was probably his intent
with me. The valet pulled up with the car and started loading our luggage. I steeled
myself.

"Carlisle will be great for you. You're lucky to have him. And I hope you and Ms. Denali
have a lovely flight back to England," I said sincerely (wishing they'd boarded hours ago)
and extended my hand for a shake. "It was nice to have met you, Edward."

His head snapped back to mine when I finished my sentence and I became worried what
I'd said wrong.

"Say it again," he said almost in a whisper, his eyes tender. He lifted his hand and slowly
stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. I felt panicked and faint.

"I'm coming back," he said with finality. The air that hit my lip felt like ice water when
he dropped his hand.

He strode back inside the hotel without another word. I almost yelled out to him that
Carlisle and I couldn't wait for him to return because we had an emergency, but it seemed
pointless. It was like talking to a steel wall anyways. A tall, handsome, elitist, nice
smelling, disappearing, engaged steel wall.

We left a few minutes later and he never returned.

On the drive back to the city, I found out what happened with Emmitt. At the last minute,
he met up with Rose and Tristan for dinner at Del Posto. Apparently, Rose left the boys
to go use the ladies room and ran into Royce who was at the bar drinking with friends. He

followed her into the bathroom, locking them both in, and started aggressively trying to
rekindle their flame. She shoved him off of her and he dropped his drink, and that
triggered him. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her into a wall, cracking her head
against it.

She told me she later tried to cover neck marks with powder out of embarrassment and
told the boys she wanted to go somewhere else. She didn't want to make a scene. While
they were all waiting outside for Rose’s driver, Emmitt went back in to use the bathroom
and something happened between him and Royce and they both got taken to the station
for an in and out fingerprinting. For Rose's sake, he didn't tell them the real reason behind
the fisticuffs. Sunday night, I got the story straight from the horses’ mouth.

"Man, I just knew you were gonna be pissed," he huffed like a little kid as he shuffled his
feet and I closed the door closed behind us.

“I'm just disappointed, Emmitt. How could you be so irresponsible to start a fight when
Tristan was with you!” I scolded Emmitt after I’d pulled him into the hallway. I
understood what happened, but I wasn't happy about it.

“Slow down, mama, I didn’t start it. And Tristan doesn't know a thing. You didn’t see the
look on Rose’s face when she got back to that table. She was out of it,” he explained in a
serious tone. “Bella, I don’t think it was the first time he hit her.”

“Really?” I asked incredulously. Rose was tough as nails. He nodded sadly.

“Really. The way she handled it was not like a first-timer. She looked crushed. It broke
my fuckin’ heart. I saw him watching her like a hawk from the bar before it happened. I
should have warned her. I should have known. I swear I just went back in to intimidate
him, but then he took a swing,” he laughed heartily and shook his head like it was cute.
Emmitt was a gentle giant, but he was also a sleeping giant. They kind you don't won't to
wake under the wrong circumstances.

"Don't blame yourself, Em. But what exactly did you do?” I asked suspiciously.

“Well,” he said guiltily. “I, uh, smashed his head into a picture frame on the bar wall.”

“Emmitt!” I exclaimed and slapped his arm.

“Bella, with the way you’re looking at me right now, I want to be sorry for it, but the
truth is I’m not,” he said honestly and shrugged his shoulder like he couldn't help it. “He
deserved worse. And what could have happened if Rose was alone and had to take little
man to the bathroom with her?”

"I'd kill him," I hissed, thinking of how much worse it could have been without Emmitt
there. Emmitt chuckled.

“Well, how did you manage to get arrested with all your connections? And Royce’s',
too?"

“I’m friends with the restaurant owner but some do-gooder bystander called the cops and
that’s when I went outside and told Rosie to take little man home, and that’s thing. We
both have strings. He was pulling his to me throw in and I was pulling mine to get him
arrested, but I guess we both forgot to cover our own asses,” he said amusedly.

“Funny,” I deadpanned.

“It'll be fine, Bells. It will probably help my public image. Everyone thinks I've gone soft
hanging out with a bunch of girl's," he nudged me and winked. I stared at him
disapprovingly and shook my head.

~o~

And these are the things that have interrupted my sleep and inspired disturbing dreams at

night.

A few hours after my rude awakening, I was doing the normal Monday morning drill
with Angela behind the front desk at my showroom. As we finished up some payables,
we flipped through the day's papers and Emmitt was right. He was in The Post and a few
other papers for his shenanigans and being toasted as the "Boston Brawler". Royce was
well known, too, so it made for a good story. I let out a Ha! when I read a quote from an
"anonymous source."

"Royce and Emmitt go way back. They're even from the same Harvard fraternity. It was
just a little brotherly roughhousing and they involved the police as a prank. I'm sure
they'll be laughing about it over drinks for years to come."

This was clearly from Royce's camp that did not want to be outed as a woman beater. Just
thinking it in my head made me want to run him over in a city bus. A small picture that
was mildly humorous accompanied the article. A smiling Emmitt in the front seat of a
cop car with a doughnut hanging out of teeth, one arm around the laughing cop in the
driver's seat and the other arm extended out the unrolled window, giving the
photographer a big thumbs up. In the back seat behind the wire mesh was a slumped a
bloodied Royce with his arms pinned behind his back and a weak smile on his lips for the
camera. Rose didn't seem eager to discuss the whole thing but she spent the rest of the
weekend at my house watching movies in her PJ's. She even slept in my bed with me
when I got home Saturday night.

I hadn't had a lot of time to think about my strange interaction with Edward. Carlisle was
right, he was an unusual man, and I wondered if anyone knew the real him. He was
certainly a man who knew his way, but he had these moments that threw me off. I wasn't
sorry I'd met him because he was certainly fascinating, but he's the kind of person that's
safest to know from a distance.

I wasn't proud of my reaction towards him at all. It was embarrassing. For a few brief
moments, it was like I was in someone else's body. I don't respond to men in that way.
And definitely not to that degree. I never have. I admire handsome people but it just
never connects. I don't chase it, nor do I want to. The other factor that helped me
rationalize my response towards him was that I'd never been away from my son for that
long (which I vowed to never do again) and maybe all my pent up estrogen overtook my
mommy mode sensibilities. Mix that in with an excruciatingly handsome man's advances,
mood lighting, and the fact the he stuck up for me as the underdog a few times, and voila!
A recipe for lus--ugh, I can't even say it. I can't admit to myself I was that attracted to a
engaged man. I felt like a harlot. And Edward Cullen? That type normally puts me off
completely. I must be losing it.

"Bella!"

"What?"

"Your cell? It's buzzing like crazy," Angela looked up from her kitch black-framed
glasses. She and Ben were the most adorable couple. He looked like a young Woody
Allen and she looked like a secretary from the fifties. Well, except for the tattoos.

"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere," I said as I reached for my phone.

"No kidding," she murmured and rolled her eyes.

"Hello?" I answered the call, and gave Angela a fake scowl.

"Bells! Turn on the news!" Emmitt bellowed and I felt sorry for anyone within earshot.

"Angela turn on the TV," I said as I muffled the phone. "What's up?"

"My primetime debute, that's all! The TMZ camera caught me leaving the slammer
Saturday night and the local stations been running it all morning," he said chipperly. "The
phones at my office are ringing off the HOOK!"

"Emmitt, I'm very glad you were there for Rose and Tristan, but I think I'm still torn
between giving you a trophy and ringing you're neck," I replied, as Angela flicked on the
flat screen that hung in the corner.

"Yeah, yeah. That's why you need to watch! Put it on...5. Channel 5," he said excitedly,
and I mouthed 5 to Angela.

And there Emmitt was in all his macho glory exiting a police station in an Italian three-
piece suit, laughing and exchanging cell numbers with his new police officer friends.

"This is so gratuitous," I said as I dropped my head in my hands.

"Chillchillchill, here comes the good part," he shushed me as he watched simultaneously.

Mr. McCarty! Mr. McCarty!

Hey, thanks for coming out guys!

Emmitt said as he waved and swaggered towards a waiting black Escalade. I laughed as I
heard him say over the phone Man, I look good!

So why'd you attack Royce King?

Emmitt stopped and pointed a thick finger into the lens, cocking one brow impossibly
high and looking very dangerous.

He knows. And now he knows what the consequences are.

Wow! Wow! We heard he's pretty messed up. Are worried about public reaction at all?
They asked as he made it to the vehicle.

Not in the least! Emmitt said confidently and beamed a megawatt smile as he opened the
door and went to jump in the truck, but then he stopped with a frown.

Shit he muttered and turned back to the camera

Bells, don't freak out on me, now. I'll tell ya about it later, mama. He winked and hopped
in the truck that took off with screeching wheels. Angela and I started cracking up.

"See? Aren't you proud of me now?" he said happily.

"Yes. That was riveting, Emmitt," I said through my chuckles as Angela flipped through
channels.

We were chatting on the phone about Rose and what we could do to help her through it
when Angela caught a channel with a familiar face and I grabbed her hand.

"Stop right there," I said quickly and Emmitt said something but I shushed him.

Edward A. Cullen II has made some radical changes this morning to his MasenCullen
Corporation and he's with us now to discuss it further.

Edward looked as handsome as ever, clean cut in a pristine navy blazer and dark blue
shirt, sitting on a studio set against the backdrop of the city. Angela and I both craned
closer to the screen as she pointed out that he was "Hot". What an understatement.

"What response do you have about Isaac Fitch's statement this morning regarding his
firing and the fact that you're denying him the fifteen million dollar severance package
that was in his contract?"

"He violated our behavioral clause. And I have it on good word that his actions were not
an isolated incident. The board agrees," he answered in a strong voice, unwavering.

Shit.

"And what about the rest of the firings? You cleared out most of Fitch's upper level
management. Trey Weathers, Michael Newton..."

Oh, no. Not Carlisle. Edward cut in.

"Mr. Weathers was good, but it wasn't the right fit. And Mr. Newton, although his skills
were acceptable, he wasn't the quality we look for. Our standards are very high. We only
have the best at MasenCullen. Mr. Newton, unfortunately, just couldn't cut it."

The kiss of death. Called out of national TV. No firm will ever hire leftovers like that.

"Also, I'd like to make an announcement here, if you don't mind Maria. I will be heading
up the company from offices in New York effective today."

I was stunned. Maria looked stupefied.

"Mr. Cullen, Why have you decided to be headquartered to New York instead of
London?" Maria Bartaromo quizzed, looking baffled.

"We're headed in a new direction," he said directly in his powerful but enticing voice, not
cracking his hard demeanor.

"Well this is all very big news, Mr. Cullen, thank you for sharing that here," she thanked,
grateful for the scoop.

"You're very welcome, Maria," he replied in a velvety voice and I Maria's mouth hung
open for a few seconds and she shuffled some note cards.

"Ok, well, uh, what is your response to allegations that you made promises during the
negotiations to retain most of management. That there was an implied agreement. Mr.
Fitch is alleging that he and many others were told, "Not to worry" by you when they
asked about maintaining some kind of position within the company. Mr. Fitch said this
morning he had an unspoken agreement to sit on the board and that he is "shaken" by his
dismissal."

"They shouldn't worry. Worry is a useless emotion. I never promised any of those things.
And an unspoken agreement is no agreement at all. It's the nature of the beast," he
explained calmly.

"Don't you think that's a little deceptive, Mr. Cullen?" Maria asked and Edward looked
reflective for a while before speaking.

"You know, Maria, a very dear friend recently told me I was the kind of man who 'spoke
softly and carried a big stick'," he paused and looked directly into the camera as a smile
crept in the corner of his mouth. "I guess they just underestimated the size of my stick."

I dropped the phone with Emmitt yelling through the receiver if I was still there.

"Oh. My. God." I heard Angela pant, and poor Maria blushed furiously and stared down
at her note cards and warbled on her stool.

But I hardly heard them. As soon as he finished those words, a genuine honest to God
smile broke out on Edward's face, all the way up to his eyes. It was slightly crooked and
revealed perfect white teeth. His cuspid's indented a little further into the gum than the
others in an all too familiar way. The way the skin stretched, from his chin to his cheek, I
knew that skin. The way the muscle moved underneath the skin, the perfectly
symmetrical way it balanced in his face except that one corner marginally higher. His
way his lips stretched, his eyes crinkling slightly, the way the eyebrows rigged up just a
touch in the corners but lowered infinitesimally in the center and towards one another,
implying a menace that I'd previously thought didn't exist, the distance between his brow
and his forehead, the minute flex in the nostril, I knew it all.

And yes, his hair was a rich beer bottle brown, but in the bright studio lights, not unlike
the brown glass of the bottle when held against light, it glimmered and glinted. Amber,
whiskey, brandy and copper. There was another word for hair like that.

It was bronze.

Although I'd never to my knowledge met Edward Cullen before this weekend in my life,
I recognized that smile completely, wholly, and with every fiber of my being.

It was the face of my son.

Chapter VII- The Inconceivable Conceiver

"Don't you think that's a little deceptive, Mr. Cullen?" Maria asked and Edward looked
reflective for a while before speaking.

"You know, Maria, a very dear friend recently told me I was the kind of man who 'spoke
softly and carried a big stick'," he paused and looked directly into the camera as a smile
crept in the corner of his mouth. "I guess they just underestimated the size of my stick."

I dropped the phone with Emmitt yelling through the receiver if I was still there.

"Oh. My. God." I heard Angela pant, and poor Maria blushed furiously and stared down
at her note cards as she warbled on her stool.

But I hardly heard them. As soon as he finished those words, a genuine honest to God
smile broke out on Edward's face, all the way up to his eyes. It was slightly crooked and
revealed perfect white teeth. His cuspid's indented a little further into the gum than the
others in an all too familiar way. The way the skin stretched, from his chin to his cheek, I
knew that skin. The way the muscle moved underneath the skin, the perfectly
symmetrical way it balanced in his face except that one corner marginally higher. His
way his lips stretched, his eyes crinkling slightly, the way the eyebrows rigged up just a
touch in the corners but lowered infinitesimally in the center and towards one another,
implying a menace that I'd previously thought didn't exist, the distance between his brow
and his forehead, the minute flex in the nostril, I knew it all.

And yes, his hair was a rich beer bottle brown, but in the bright studio lights, not unlike
the brown glass of the bottle when held against light, it glimmered and glinted. Amber,
whiskey, brandy and copper. There was another word for hair like that.

It was bronze.

Although I'd never to my knowledge met Edward Cullen before this weekend in my life,
I recognized that smile completely, wholly, and with every fiber of my being.

It was the face of my son.

~o~

And the everything went dark.

~o~

Bella? Bella! It's not working....

I heard a muffled voice cry out.

Are you sure? I...I don't know if....

Alright, I'll do it!

*Splash*

My eyes snapped open as icy cold water slapped my face. A foggy retro angel with cat
framed glasses and Betty Page bangs was kneeling next to me where I was lying on what
appeared to be cold hard floor.

"Angela?" I think it was my voice that said that. She let out a big exhale, and rocked back
on her heels to stand, extending an arm out to me.

"Yeah, that was her. She's fine." she paused and I saw my phone cradled in her ear as she
helped me stand up behind the counter. The room spun a little. "I don't know. We were
just watching this guy on television and she passed out," she paused again to listen."Some
hot business guy."

"Gimme the phone," I said quickly, remembering where I was and exactly what just
happened.

"Emmitt?" I said into the receiver.

"It's Carlisle," he said, his calm voice tinged with concern.

"Carlisle," I breathed. "I'm fine. I just...got lightheaded," I added as I twisted my hair over
my shoulder into a long thick rope to ring out and then grabbed some tissues to blot my
face dry.

"Right. Well, I guess Emmitt told Angela to call me when you fainted, " he paused.
"Bella, is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Uh, no." Change the subject. "How are you? Are you okay? I saw the firings on TV."

And then I clasped my hand over my mouth because I'd just confirmed who the "business
guy" on TV was.

"I'm fine," he said sounding curious. "Mr. Cullen rescinded his offer for me to head up
the US, obviously."

I hoped he didn't hear me gulp when he said the name.

"But you still have a job?" I croaked.

"Yes," he said sounding contemplative. "Bella, when Mr. Cullen came in my office this
morning to discuss it, he payed special attention to the photo of you on my desk."

Crickets.

"The one of you, Tristan and I at his second birthday party," he added slowly. "So, I'll ask
again. Is there anything I need to know?"

His voice was caring and soft, not accusing. I thought quickly.

"Don't tell him a thing. Discuss nothing. Did he ask you anything?" The words flooded
out.

"I won't discuss a thing," he answered just as urgently. "But he studied the picture for a
while and then he complimented me on my handsome family.”

“Well, what did you say?” I asked quickly.

“I just thanked him."

"Good," I said as I flopped down in my chair.

At the two year mark, Tristan was a chubby blond haired cherub in that very generic cute
baby way and I myself wouldn't have been able to draw any similarities between them at
the time. I had no proof or evidence that Edward Cullen was the man who'd fathered my
child other than the physical traits and a gut instinct, but it was probably best for the time
being that he assumed Carlisle was the father. I was contemplating asking Carlisle to dig
for a little more info, find out if he used to live here or attend school here when I was
interrupted from my planning.

"Speak of the Devil," Angela said slowly as she stared out the glass front onto the busy
street and my head popped up.

And there he was.

Edward Cullen walking swiftly, looking amazing in a navy suit and dark cornflower blue
button up, just like on TV. And my bell was dinging as he pulled the door open swinging
it wide, and striding in with purpose as two men in black suits followed on his heels. I
ducked my head behind the counter.

"I think I need to go," I whispered to Carlisle who had patiently been listening to my
controlled breaths on the other end.

"Why? What's wrong?" he asked concernedly.

"I call you later, Carlisle," I said and flipped my phone closed, and then raised my head to
find Edward Cullen standing on the other side of the granite top, taking me in with a
twinkle in his eye. Oddly, he seemed almost chipper?

"Hi," Angela breathed dreamily as she flipped her ultra black hair over her shoulder.

"Hello," he crooned to Angela, who looked like she was hypnotized by his voice because
her stare became vacant and her lips parted. He furrowed his brow as he took in her
condition and then he turned his attention back to me. He was looking at my chest.

"Your wet, Ms. Swan," he said, raising one brow and I followed his gaze downwards.

"Oh!" I gasped and clutched my arms around my chest. I'd worn my white tank top with
my black wide leg sailor dress pants today and the water was now creeping down the
canal between my breasts creating a transparent splotch. The temperature of the water
was having an effect, too. I held up one finger requesting his patience as I grabbed a dry
hand towel from the drawer and began rubbing my chest with it.

"Sorry, I had a little accident," I explained as I raised my head and found him observing
my drying method intently.

"I had to throw water on her after she passed out," Angela volunteered as her head lolled
to the side, still captivated.

"I think we're good on the details, Angela," I interrupted. and nervously shifted my eyes
back to him who looked concerned.

"She passed out when you were talking about your...stick," Angela giggled and smiled
broadly. His mouth crooked into a mischevious smile and he turned back to me.

"Did she, now?" he said amusedly as he peered at me.

"Mm-hmm," Angela replied as she leaned her elbows on the countertop and rested her
chin in her hands with a giant fangirl smile on her face. Edward seemed a little
disapproving of the action and turned back to me.

"I'd think you'd be happier to see me then, Ms. Swan," he observed. I had no idea what
expression I wore because I had a hundred things running through my mind. Like with
the daylight beaming through the room, I could finally see live and in person all the glints
of color his hair. It was like a technicolor rainbow of everything from burgundy to gold,
all coexisting in a neat nest of walnut brown. And then I wondered if my son's would end
up like that.

Shit, shit, shit.....

"Uh, just surprised. Is there anything I can help you with?" I asked politely, as I studied
his face like a magic eight ball would pop up any second with a "yes" or a "no" to
confirm my suspicion.

"Perhaps," he said in a smooth voice, and the corner of his mouth crooked up. "Why don't
you show me around," he stated and turned, strolling away.

Angela gave me a confused look and I shook my head as I walked past her and joined
him where he stood facing a display with his hands behind his back. We both knew a man
like him does not shop for his own furniture.

"What are you interested in?" I asked, as stood next to him and looked up at his face.
That chin. I should have known that chin right away. The profile was similar, too. Tristan
still had full rosy cheeks, not the chisled hollow cheeks and high cheekbones of Edward.
But when they smiled, the affect was the same. He turned his head and slowly raked his
glittering green eyes over me and I couldn't take it. I turned and began to walk casually.
Pretended, anyway.

"A few things," he said sounding direct as he approached from behind me and his
footsteps felt like drums in my pounding chest.

"Well, I, uh, just got in some new--"

"You don't remember me, do you?" he'd leaned over and whispered in my ear and I spun
with my mouth open and we were practically touching noses. He seemed caught off
guard by my reaction and stood straight, then narrowed his eyes and began studying my
face intently.

"Or do you?" he asked introspectively, tilting his head slightly as the corner of his mouth
crooked upward as he stepped forward until his body was flush with mine. My fingers
started doing that crazy twitching thing, like they really needed to smooth out the lapels
of his jacket.

"We need to talk," I blurted and began marching towards my back office and I heard him
follow behind me with equal purpose in his steps.

I held the door open and he brushed against me as he passed, the fabric of his sleeve
brushing the tip of my nose. I looked back at Angela and tried to signal no interruptions
but she looked stupified with her jaw ajar and then pumped her fist in the air like I just
scored a touchdown. Once I closed the door, I noticed he seemed to be taking the office
in with scrutiny and I suddenly became self-conscious of the room. It was painted in a
pale robin's egg blue color except for one wall that was old exposed red brick and mortar.
It was fairly simple with a ivory desk and coordinated file cabinets and a wall of
shelving. There were kid's toy's everywhere on the rug that looked like a train track and
framed art done by Tristan covered the walls. Tristan, my son. Maybe our son....my head
got light again.

His face was expressionless as he turned towards me and began removing his jacket,
folding and laying it over a chair. I couldn't help but notice how nicely the shirt hugged
his strong athletic looking shoulders and arms, and then I wanted him to put the jacket
back on. This conversation was not supposed to include clothing removal. Apparently,
that's what got us here.

I had a small round table that Tristan would draw at while I worked and I gestured my
hands towards but he waited for me to move first, so I sat. He lifted the chair next to me
by the back and clunked it down to face me directly. The chairs were small adult sized,
but he seemed to dwarf it to a ridiculous degree. He sat wide legged, knees apart with
both feet firmly on the ground, and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees with
his hands joined in the center. We were almost touching so I prudently locked my knees
together and clasped my hands in my lap.

It was way too close for my liking and I was suspicious of his selected proximity, but he
looked as serious as attendant to the G8 summit instead of an impromptu back office
meeting in the West Village with his might-be babies mama. He raised his brow
indicating he wanted me to start and I took in a big breath.

"So...we've met before this weekend?" I asked hesitantly, and I was watching his face like
a hawk. He was doing the same, but at my question he seemed to stiffen as he sat up and
laid his palms on his knees.

"Yes," he replied, with a cold edge.

"And how did we meet?" I squinted my eyes and asked suspiciously. Where on earth
would I meet Edward Cullen? His jaw tightened as he peered at me, blinking once. Then
he relaxed, leaning forward on his elbows again and tossing out his hand.

"Next question," he said dismissively, his eyes hard. I mashed my lips together and
peered into the deep green of his eyes, looking for an answer but found nothing.

"We only...met once?" I continued.

"Essentially." He nodded his chin once, but that didn't seem like a clear answer.

"You'll have to refresh my memory," I began as casually as I could. "But how long ago
was this?" His face softened some.

"Five years," he answered with surety.

"Oh," I said disappointedly and leaned back in my chair.

"Seven months," he added in a smooth voice, and my eyes widened.

"Oh."

"And fifteen days ago," he added softly.

"Oooh," I replied, dumbfounded, and furrowed my brow. I wasn't expecting that much
detail. "You have a good memory."

A crooked smile began to spread on his lips and his eyes traveled my chest and my face,
pausing on my lips.

"For some things," he replied cooly as his gaze finally met my eyes and the smile still
played on his lips.

That felt like as good an opening as anything I could have hoped for, so I went for it. I
decided to move on to the six-million dollar question.

"Did we...um...you know...," I sputtered out uncomfortably, hoping he would jump in, but
looked like he wanted me to say it. "Um...hook up?" I finished akwardly, motioning my
hands between what little space was between us. He watched me with distaste and
narrowed his eyes again.

"Yes." His perfect face was still but his eyes were not happy.

And that answer pretty much sealed the deal in my mind. I sighed heavily and flopped
back in my chair and turned my face towards the wall. This was surreal. I had sex with
Edward Cullen II. How on earth that happened, I have no idea. The concept of this cold,
calculating, ruthless man being the father of my loving, thoughtful, sweet little boy was
mind-boggling.

Preposterous. Unimaginable. Inconceivable.

Suddenly, he grabbed either side of my chair and drug it closer, scraping it along the floor
until my knees touched the front of his chair and his knees hovered immediately around
mine. My eyes were wide and I froze completely still as he leaned in and slowly ran the
tip of his nose along my arc of my neck, inhaling his way up until he nudged my ear,
causing goosebumps to prick on my skin.

"Did you think I wouldn't know you anywhere?" he whispered, in a velvety voice, his
breath on my skin. And then he moved his face directly in front of mine his focus darting
to my lips. My heart was pounding, and not entirely from fear, as I watched his tongue
slide out, wetting his lips.

"You're different now," he paused and let his eyes search mine, and then he pressed his
cool cheek against mine, the bristles on his chin brushing against me, when he layed his
hands on my thighs and whispered seductively, "But I think I like you this way," and his
hands were getting higher, and my breathing hitched.

Danger! Danger! I shook myself and pressed my hands firmly into his chest. Which did
nothing, so I pushed harder. He got the picture and leaned back in his chair, somewhat
annoyed and his eyes narrowed again. Since I'd clearly had some sort of one night stand
with him, he was probably thinking that's why I'd called him in to a back office.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I really just wanted to talk," I said
apologetic and nervous.

"We can do that, too, if you like," he replied seductively and leaned forward again with a
smirk. My mouth fell open and I got butterflies, but the I shook myself again. He was as
persistent as he was immoral.

"Don't you have a fiance?" I reminded him of his impropriety.

"No,” he said plainly.

"So, Kate, the girl with the giant ring, you're not engaged to her?" I asked incredulously.

"Define engaged," he stated contemplatively.

"She intends to be married to you," I explained.

"Probably," he answered dryly and looked like he hadn’t given it much thought in the
past.

"And you intend to marry her," I finished.

"That's the perception," he nodded once and I knit my brows together.

"Do you ever give straight answers?" I asked, curious and exasperated.

"I'm usual the one doing the asking," he replied honestly, but he looked preoccupied as
his took my hands between his large warm ones. He seemed to be inspecting them.

"Right," I said dumbly as I watched him flip my hand over and trace my palm and my
heart started beating too fast again.

"And I always get the answer I want," he added smoothly. My head snapped up to see his
green eyes were intense and serious. They were telling me he meant it and he fully
expected a repeat performance.

"As tempting as that is, I'll have to pass." His directness was making me nervous again
and I slowly withdrew my hand back to my lap.

"You're not so tied to Carlisle. I saw your personal messages," he replied incredulously,
as if that gave him a free pass to Bella-land.

"And those were just that. Personal," I punctuated, as I suddenly remembered who I was
dealing with. He narrowed his eyes at me and his nostrils flared a little but then he
reverted to the charming man I’d seen on TV as his lips crept upward.

"But I thought we were friends, Ms Swan?" he feigned insulted, and there it was. The
dazzling smile accompanied by eyes that were like vast glittering emerald green lakes
you just wanted to go skinny dipping in.

"Yeah, friends," I muttered to myself and snorted. He looked at me quizzically.

Friends, one night stand, mother of your child...

Up until that moment, I couldn’t have listed one logical reason why I would have ever
had sex with him, but that smile must have a played a big role. He was incredibly
handsome with a body made for sin, but I never went for that type, or any type for that
matter. I was shy, awkward, and insecure. I would have never had the confidence to talk
to a man like this and for the life of me I can’t imagine why he would have wanted me.
But that smile must have been my downfall. It was totally disarming. Disarming enough
to make a baby with. Jesus.

"I need to get back to work, but thank you for stopping by," I said quickly, suddenly
feeling very claustrophobic in this little back room with no windows and no witnesses. I
didn't need to become a mother of two today.

"You can walk me out," he stated formally, as if he were giving me permission. He stood
and slid his blazer back on and followed me out to the showroom. I was surprised when
he stopped and seemed to be looking around at the displays.

"This is all yours" he commented.

"Yes," I answered, but I had already become transfixed by the pair of glasses that were in
his breast pocket at my eye level.

"You've done well," he stated frankly, and when my gaze flicked up to his there was
pride there. And then he looked confused when he finally noticed my sneaking hand that
was reaching out to see what his prescription was.

"Thanks," I said humbly in a quiet voice and darted my eyes to the eyeglasses. "May I?"

His lip twitched and he seemed amused as he nodded and I gingerly pulled the wire
frames put of his pocket, and slowly unfolded them.

"Franz Listz," he observed about the music playing in the background. I was busy
telescoping the backwards frames in front of my eyes.

Slightly near sighted. I should make an appointment for Tristan.

"He's my favorite," I said smilingly as I folded the glasses. "You know, when he gave
concerts women would scream out for him and faint. The parlors he played in were
standing room only and they say he caused a mania in his audience," I finished and
tucked his glasses in, patting them for good measure.

"I know," he replied softly, and his big hand covered mine that lay flat on his chest. I
gave him a confused look and discretely slid my hand from under his and something
suddenly hit me.

"Do you play?" I questioned quickly.

"No,” he answered directly. “Why do you ask?" He seemed suspicious as his jaw
tightened and he peered down at me.

"Just wondering about something I have," I said dismissively, thinking of my journal
entry. I turned to walk again towards the front when I heard him ask from behind me,
"Did you keep it?"

I froze and turned my head back to him. “Keep what?” I inquired slowly. Did he mean
the baby? Did he know I got pregnant? I was getting paranoid. We both stared at each
other and it seemed like we both had a card to play we weren’t ready to show. Finally, his
jaw became a little less tense and strode forward towards the front and I silently followed.

Angela was chatting up one of the suited men that had come in with Edward and he
seemed to be telling a very animated story, and the other man was playing around with an
expensive lamp from one the displays. They must be some sort of security because
neither appeared very smart. I turned up to Edward who was still eyeing me like I was a
specimen under a microscope.

"I think you've convinced me that you truly don't remember,” he said confidently. “but I
think you just need a little reminding."

"Right," I replied uncomfortably and bit my lip. That sounded like a proposition but my
mind was elsewhere. Little did he know, I did have a reminder. A four foot one, laughing,
smiling, calamari eating reminder. "Well, thanks for coming by."

"The pleasure's all mine," he countered with a raised brow as his eyes darted to my chest.

"Oops," I said and wrapped my arms around myself. Maybe the reminding thing had a
bigger affect than I realized.

“So you’ll be around for a while? In town, I mean,” I asked curiously. I needed some
time to sort all this out.

“I told you I was coming back,” he replied as his lip crooked up in the corner and it
sounded like a warning, and he had that predatory thing in his eyes again. Possession.

That’s what he meant that night at the hotel. I was speechless as I watched him stride
towards the door and his men fell in line behind him.

"Next time you plan on getting wet for me, Ms Swan, do wait until I can join you,” he
called straight-faced from over his shoulder and winked at Angela who had started
fanning herself. I could use a little air, myself.

“Who is that guy?” she asked like she wanted to know where he’d been all her life.

I sighed and looked down at the framed photo of my son on my desk.

“Just a friend,” I lied.

Chapter VIII- Black Holes & Revelations

Later that afternoon, I called a meeting of the minds. I'd spent my lunch break watching
Tristan play from behind the fence at his school contemplating what my next move
should be, but I'd come up with nothing. It's not everyday you find the father of your
child and it's a one in ten million day that Edward Cullen is that man. And I still hadn't
determined whether those odds were in the "Oh my god, I can't believe I have the lucky
lotto numbers!" category, or in the "Oh my god, I can't believe Bin Laden picked me to be
his seventh bride in the afterlife..." category.

He didn't seem to be much of a kid person and he didn't have any of his own from what I
could tell. That would have made things easier. Truly, he didn't seem to be much of a
people person in general. I had seen the more charismatic side to him, but he appeared
acutely aware of his effect on people. He'd used "the smile that dropped a thousand
panties" only when he was trying to manipulate a situation or distract someone from his
intentions, like dodging damaging questions in a national interview or trying to come
across harmless with me. And possibly to take my virginity. Which confirmed what I
already suspected. Edward Cullen was not harmless.

But I needed to compartmentalize whatever his salacious intentions were with me from
the greater issue at hand. The greatest issue and mystery of my life.

That he had fathered my fatherless son.

"Come in, come in," I shooed in Alice and Rosalie quickly after they arrived at my door.
Emmitt was already here. I'd just left he and Tristan where we were all playing
Transformers on the floor of his room.

"You'd better be feeding us," Alice sneered as she peeked in the kitchen. Rose flicked her
ear and then Alice swung her hip into her leg, causing her to wobble on her four inch
heels.

"Hooker! Behave!" Rose exclaimed, pointing her finger down like she telling a dog to sit
which Alice snapped at.

"Watch yourself, gigantasaurus wreck," Alice warned. They'd just spent the last few
hours shopping together, so their tolerances of each other had expired. If anyone saw they
way they really were, they would be floored.

"Cut it out. I'm serious," I chided, as I breezed past them into the living room. "I need to
talk to you guys. And stop calling each other hookers."

"Whatever, hooker," they said simultaniously while rolling their eyes. I blew out some
air.

With Carlisle (the brains of the operation) stuck at the office working late, I realized this
was going to be a smaller meeting of the minds than I'd hoped, but maybe all of our tiny
heads combined could come up with something rational. Separately, we were all very
intelligent people but somehow when we got together, it lowered our IQ's. We were like
the opposite of the Power Rangers. I decided to go ahead and tell them tonight (it
sounded like Carlisle suspected something anyways) because it was eating away at me.

"Guys, I'm being serious. I have something important I want to discuss with you," I said
in a level voice and they both sat down on the couch.

"Is it Tristan? What happened?" Rose asked as panic flashed on her flawless face.

"No. Well, sort of. But he's fine," I assured them, but Alice narrowed her eyes.

"Alright, let's get this thing on the road," Emmitt announced smilingly as he clapped his
hands together and strolled in the living room. "I just put in The Crocodile Hunter. Little
man should be good for an hour or so."

"Great. Have a seat," I encouraged, indicating the sofa and I noticed the tension between
Rose and Emmitt. She'd been ignoring him since Saturday night and although he wouldn't
admit it, it hurt his feeling. I shook it off and tried to ready myself for the revelation I was
about to drop.

"Bella, stop pacing you're freaking me out," Rose begged as she leaned forward.

"Okay," I said as stopped and took a big breath. Just like ripping off a band-aid, I blurted,
"I think I found Tristan's father."

No one said a word for a really long time and I finally raised my head to gauge their
reactions. Alice and Rose looked like they'd been hit by a truck and Emmitt looked
confused.

"What do you mean "you think you found his father"? Alice finally asked quizzically with
her eyes suspicious.

"Did that company get back to you already?" Rose asked with her head tilted. "I just sent
it out Friday."

"What company?" I asked, confused then remembered her DNA thing. "You sent that out
without my permission?" I asked incredulously and she leaned back in the sofa
sheepishly.

"I just didn't know if you would so I--"

"Stop the presses," Alice interrupted in a serious voice holding her hands up. "So you
found him without this company. Tristan's biological father. On your own."

"Well, yes. I found him by accident, actually," I explained, demurely, and started pacing
again.

"How?" all three voices asked, intrigued.

"This weekend at the thing with Carlisle. I met this guy and then I saw him smile on TV
and then I passed out and I just knew. I don't know, it's weird. But it's him," I rambled
and threw my arms in the air.

"Bella," Alice chimed like she was talking to a child. "Do you wanna have a seat, hun?"

I looked up at them with a furrowed brow and all three looked like they were ready to put
me in a straight jacket. I pursed my lips together and then exhaled in exasperation.

"Look here," I said quickly as I leaned down to the coffee table and flipped open my
Mac. I thought about preparing a power point on it because I knew they wouldn't believe
me at first. As I typed in Edward Cullen II in the Google toolbar and hit images, I heard
three gasps behind me. I couldn't even look at their faces so just I tapped the screen a few
times, "Just look."

I got up and started pacing as I watched Rose and Alice fight for a better view until they
were practically on each others laps, jostling the edge the of the screen. Emmitt leaned
over against the cushions and peered at the screen apprehensively.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn," Alice let out a twenty second catcall as they scrolled
through pictures and then she looked up and shook her head. "He's fine…but I don't know
what you're getting at."

"He's what I'm getting at," I stated bluntly pointing to the laptop.

"Are you saying that Edward Cullen. THE Edward Cullen. MasenCullen Corporation
Edward Cullen. Son of British Parliament member Sir Edward Cullen Sr and Lady Esme
Masen had random unprotected sex with you in New York City and is the father of your
child," Rose asked emphatically with that straight jacket look on her face again. And
when she put it that way it did sound crazy.

"Is all that true?" I asked with a furrowed brow and she raised one back. "I mean, all that
stuff you just said about his family and all that?"

"Yeah," she exhaled and looked skeptically down at the screen. "I've heard about him a
lot. Royce knew who he was. He sort of idolized him. I guess a lot of the Wall Street
guys do. I think they even went to Harvard together."

"Bells, I think you may be barking up the wrong tree," Emmitt added and lowered one
brow, but I didn't miss him wince when Rose said Royce's name.

Alice nodded and looked at the screen sorrowfully. "I guess I see a little resemblance, but
nothing that would stand out." And then she looked up at me with pity in her eyes and
shook her head before turning to Rose.

"This is like one of those sad episodes of Maury were the lady brings on the wrong guy,"
she tisked quietly and Rose nodded her head sadly. "You are NOT the father!" she
announced in a masculine voice pointing at the screen, and they both snickered, even
Emmitt had to stifle a chuckle.

"What?" I exclaimed and kneeled down flipping the laptop towards me.

"I see what you mean." I added as I scrolled through. Hundreds of pictures of Edward
looking stoic and controlled at all types of events dressed to the nines. Galas, balls,
posing with celebrities, politicians...all serious and powerful. Many of them included
Kate at his side looking elegant and in place. I sighed and went to youtube to pull up the
interview from today.

"Watch this," I ordered as I stood back up and faced them as they all huddled around the
video, Even Emmitt leaning in closer, and I put my hands on hips.

"Daaaaaaaa-" Alice started at the “stick” part but then her face fell and she stopped dead
in her tracks, as did Rose's and Emmitt frowned. Then they wordlessly snapped the
laptop closed, placing it on the coffee table and sliding back in their seats. They knew
that smile as well as I did.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ Bells," Emmitt muttered sympathetically and shook his head, but
before I could ask more Rose cut in.

"I see it. I do, honestly, but a resemblance could be just that. Maybe he has a
doppelganger somewhere," she mused as she looked out the windows into the skyline.

"Bella, I don't know about this," Alice added nervously as she began wringing her hands.

"Look, I realize how crackpot all this must sound, but I have more proof. He came in to
my store today and said he remembered me. I asked him some questions and he told me
that we did...the...uh...sexy time dance together," I added, and scowled at my nervous
habit of saying things wrong. And the I started again slowly in a serious voice. "I mean,
he confirmed we had intercourse around the time of conception."

Alice's eyes were saucers and Roses jaw flapped open wide. Emmitt seemed to be in deep
thought.

"He told you you guys had SEX!" Alice exclaimed and then clapped her hand over her
mouth. I nodded and she quickly leaned back over and opened the laptop back to the
images.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmn!!!!!" she exclaimed, and Rose elbowed her hard
and she straightened back up. "Sorry."

"The reason I'm sharing this piece of information with you is because I have no idea what
to do now," I huffed as I crossed my arms.

"I say you slap him with five years back child support and kick him in the ass," Rose
replied, with a bitter look on her face.

"That's not helpful, Rose," I admonished and turned to Alice who was busy making sex-
faces at the monitor. I cleared my throat and she sat up at attention.

"I don't know, Bella. It doesn't really make sense," she furrowed he brow and frowned.
"You wouldn't even talk to guys back then. Jake was obsessed with you for years but you
wouldn't give him the time of day. And remember when you first moved out here and I
hooked you up with that hot drummer Tyler? I begged you to go out with him and when
you finally did, you wouldn't even go past second with him after like eight dates."

"Yes, I remember," I leered and glared at the wall. "And I remember he told all your cool
friends that's why he quit asking me out. And for the record, he stole second."

"Exactly," Alice chimed. "So did you like secretly date him or something?"

"No, he said it was one night," I recalled from our conversation earlier. "And he knew the
exact date."

"When was it?" Rose asked quickly and I recited what he told me as she scrolled through
her iphone calendar. "Okay, that was....New Years Day 2004."

Shit.

"Your birthday," Alice concluded with confusion and looked up at me. "Do you
remember what we did that night?"

I wasn't surprised she didn't remember. She and Rose were pretty hard partiers back then.

Shit. The more things made sense, the more confusing they got.

"We went out," I said in flat voice. "And we got separated."

"Oh. That was the last night I saw you before....I saw you again," Alice offered.

"You mean before you tracked me down and found me," I supplied bluntly, repeating
back what Carlisle had told me once a long time ago.

"Do you remember anything?" Rose asked gently as she leaned forward on the edge of
her seat.

"No," I answered honestly, but I had journal entry that said different. Shit.

"Bella, what do you remember?" Alice pried gently. I sighed and sat on the edge of the
coffee table and stared at my dining table in the adjacent room.

"Well, I don't remember that night at all. I remember you getting me dressed and doing
my make-up and hair on New Years Eve day...and then....I remember waking up in a
hospital bed and you telling me I was about four months pregnant," I finished numbly,
and I felt a hand start rubbing my back. I turned slightly and smiled at Emmitt. And then I
drew some strength.

"Look, whatever the hell it was, that’s the past. I need to know what to do now," I said
firmly. I didn't like the sympathy because despite all that, my life was better than I could
have ever hoped for. I didn't have anything to be regretful of. I stood up and turned to
face them.

"I don't know how to tell him, or if I should, or how any of this works," I admitted.

"You should tell him," Alice said with resolve and nodded her head. "You should call
him now and tell him."

"No, no. You need to have someone steal his water glass or something so you can test it.
The dates are close, but you cannot accuse a man like that of having an illegitimate child
with you without have science and God and Santa Claus behind you," Rose said sternly
shaking her head.

I just let their words sink in and paced the floor for a few minutes while they watched me
like a human badminton game.

"If your going to hold us hostage in this house any longer, I'm raiding the fridge," Alice
asserted finally as she popped up from her chair and Rose followed her in to the kitchen.

I flopped down on the sofa, still confused and picked at my nails. I turned to Emmitt next
to me who had been silent for a while.

"What do you think, Em?" I asked quietly.

"Dunno, Bells," he sighed and reached around to scratch the back of his muscled neck.
“But I'd be careful with it."

I furrowed my brow. "Emmitt, you seem to be the most uncomfortable with this."

"Maybe, but that might be because I know him better than you guys," he replied casually
with a shrug.

"Really? You know know him?" I asked, taken aback. He nodded.

"We went to school together," he said casually. "He was a year younger, but we were on
the same soccer team."

I nodded my head slowly. "So what was he like?"

"The same I guess. Cocky, stuck up, just like everyone else that went to Harvard. But he
wasn't that bad," he said reflectively. "Did I ever tell you how my parents made their
money?"

I smiled and nodded. He smiled back and chuckled.

"Coming from a family in Southy Boston that got rich owning pawn shops wasn't exactly
looked on well in the Ivy League set. There was this goalie whose parents were big time,
but he sucked. I guess he didn't suck, but I was better. Trust me," he winked with a smile
with full on dimples. "Edward became captain of varsity his sophomore year and benched
him. Made me first string."

'That's good right?" I asked.

"For me? You bet. There was some backlash from the kids family, but Ed kept me in.
Convinced the coaches, too, even with the heat from the administrators. I always
appreciated that. He was fair," he assessed as he squinted his cobalt blue eyes at the far
wall and it looked like there was more to it than that.

'But...?" I probed and he turned to me with a mega-watt smile.

"But," he began. "Other than that, he wasn't really a good guy, Bells. He was always real
intense, real serious. He had a girlfriend he cheated on constantly. We all acted like that,
but he didn't even bother hiding it. He could be a little vicious on the field. And off
sometimes. He was definitely big man on campus and he used it."

"That doesn't really surprise me," I sighed, wondering what on Earth possessed me to
sleep with him. "But, I have faith it'll work out."

"Plus you got your good luck charm," he smiled and nudged my arm, indicating Tristan.
"If you want, you can come with me to this lounge on Friday. It's only alumni that are
doing big business in the city. He may be there and it may give you a chance to feel him
out a little."

"Thanks," I said brightly. "I may take you up on that."

"Maybe you could talk Rose in to coming, too?" he hedged with a smile, and I nodded.
I'd try. Just then Tristan came barrelling into the room in his blue PJ's I'd changed him in
to after his bath earlier. I held out my arms signaling for him to come over, but he looked
towards the kitchen and a smile quirked up on lips.

"I'll be right back," he said quickly and bolted back to the bedroom. Rose came
wandering back in with an amused look on her face and Alice trailed on her heels eating
ice cream from the carton. He ran back in and right up to Rose.

"I made this for you, Rosalie," he said with a smile and she kneeled to look at the piece of
construction paper in his hands and a smile lit up on her face.

Emmitt leaned down in my ear and whispered, "Boob man." I smacked him and he
chuckled, but then I thought of Edward at my office today checking out my chest.

"It's beautiful. The best gift ever," she gushed as she hugged him tightly and he seemed to
be blushing when she let him go and showed the picture off to us as we ohh'ed and
ahh'ed.

"Hey, isn't that the drawing you gave Mommy earlier today," I asked slowly as my eyes
narrowed in on the crayon landscape and his bright green eyes widened because he'd been
busted.

"I'll make you another one tomorrow, Mom. Promise," he admitted guiltily and fidgeted
with his night shirt. I pursed my lips and began to wonder what other unsavory traits
Edward had passed on to my son. I shook my head disapprovingly.

"Bedtime," I announced to him as I popped up and way my way to take his. He hugged
Rose and was still hugging Alice by the time I got to him. She seemed to hugging him
really tight which I thought was touching.

"Tristan?" she said as she stroked his hair and I thought she was going a little overboard
on the sentimentality.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, dear sweet boy. Sugar plum, baby cakes...," she cooed, channeling her inner June
Cleaver as she took his face between her hands and searched his eyes adoringly.

"Huh?" he said confusedly.

"How would you feel about Aunty Alice being your new step-mommy," she said in a
baby voice and I yanked her by her collar and I heard laughter behind me.

"What's she talking about, Mom? " he looked up at me with furrowed brows and quizzed.

"Nothing at all, baby," I answered as I narrowed my eyes at Alice and tried to shoot a
laser at her. As we made our way down the hall I heard her say "What? He's hot! I'm just
calling dibs!"

Tristan snuggled under his covers right away and we talked about school for a little bit
before his eyes drooped down and I watched him fall asleep peacefully. I cupped his little
cheek in my hand and thought about what this all meant for him. I decided then and there,
that I needed to make whatever decision would protect him best. I knew all too well what
rejection from a parent felt like. If Edward didn’t want to claim him, it was his loss. If he
denied him, I wouldn’t tell him who his father was because I can’t imagine the sting of
watching such a highly visible man carry on a happy life (that will surely eventually
include other children) knowing he wanted nothing to do with him. I never wanted him to
feel not good enough because that could never be true. Children are too fragile for that
kind of pain and I would make sure that never happened. I kissed him on the forehead
and shut off all the lights determined to do my best for him.

“I’m heading out,” Alice said as I joined her in the kitchen. She kissed my cheek and
headed for the front door and I just had to know.

“Alice, what happened when you found me?” I asked curiously. She looked hesitant and
surprised by my question.

“Bella,” she sighed and arched a brow skeptically. “You really want to know?”

“I think I need to,” I replied, and she searched my eyes for a few moments before pursing
her lips. She seemed reluctant.

“Well…back then you know how I was busy all the time. Just starting my line after
graduating and you were still in school at the dorms. It was normal for you to blow me
off because you were so super focused on school and keeping your scholarship and I was
traveling…partying,” she admitted guiltily. I gave her a reassuring smile to continue.

“Sooo, after that New Years, it seemed normal when I’d call and you’d tell me you were
buried under tests, books, studying…whatever. I was in and out of the country and didn’t
even realize how much time had passed since I’d seen you so I stopped by your dorm one
day so you couldn’t blow me off any longer. It was a mess, practically destroyed. Totally
not like you. I called you and you lied and said you were studying in the room and had to
go. I got worried and tracked you through your cell carrier. And that’s when I found
you,” she trailed off.

“Keep going,” I encouraged her when she seemed to be getting emotional.

“You were at the park. On a bench. I didn’t even recognize you,” she whispered, shaking
her head. “You were…out of it. You sat there all day and then I followed you back to
some place that night you were squatting at right off the park. I finally approached you
and you snapped at me. You looked like you hadn’t eaten in a while but you said you

couldn’t leave. That you were waiting for someone. You were so skittish and secretive.
Totally paranoid,” she dropped her head to the ground as her voice cracked.

“It’s okay, Ali. I’m fine now,” I soothed her, and she let out a humorless laugh.

“Bella, I was supposed to watch over you. I talked Charlie in to letting you move here
because I promised I would take of you. It’s my fault,” she said in a weak voice.

“It happened,” I said with a shrug and she gave me a tight lipped grin. “Who did I say I
was waiting for?”

“You never said a name. You just kept babbling you couldn’t leave. I called Rose and she
helped me take you but you screamed at us and fought. You finally calmed down when
we promised you could come right back but then we got you to the hospital and they said
you were three months pregnant and they held you for observation. You were in bad
shape. When we told you and asked who did this to you, you started crying and kept
mumbling he’ll be back and that you hated him. When we asked you if you’d been raped
you yelled at us no, but we thought you had Stockholm syndrome and maybe he’d kept
you captive or something. For the most part, you were totally incoherent. Then one
day…you just went catatonic, almost comatose. You stayed like that for a week or two
and when you woke back up, you had no idea what happened and that you were pregnant
at all. No memories. Your physical health was better so I checked you out and you agreed
to…not have it. I think you were scared and so was I, so I started looking for late term
places out of state, and that’s when Rose kidnapped you from my apartment and took you
to Carlisle. You remember that part right?” she asked looking suddenly very tired and
worn.

“Parts,” I replied, honestly. It was still foggy in my mind though. “I don’t know, it all
seems so crazy.” I said shaking my head.

“It was a crazy time,” she added sadly and looked down at the floor. “I'm glad you found
him, though. All these years Rose and I have really thought the worst, so this is kind of a
relief, right?"

"Right," I replied, uncertain.

"I better get going, Bella. By the way, those bags are all your new season clothes.
Whatever doesn’t fit, just give back.”

I locked the door behind her and looked down at the giant shopping bags at the front
entry. My entire wardrobe was thanks to her generosity with samples and her own line. I
dressed better, but only because she's the one who stocked my closet. Like my brand
designer label messenger bag she'd given me to use as a diaper bag. I thought it was too
much, but she called it "transitional". Turns out she was right. Maybe I should stop
betting against Alice.

Then I noticed Rose's Prada overnight bag sitting right next to the bags and looked down
to see Rose flipping through channels on the TV.

"You don't mind if I crash here , do you?" she asked shyly.

"Not at all. You know where the blankies are," I smiled and headed to my room.

About half an hour later, I was tucked in bed when I heard my door creak open.

"Do you mind" Rose asked, and I shook my head before flopping it back down on the
pillow. She did the same thing Saturday night and I woke up in the early morning to the
sound of her softly weeping and rocking herself. I wanted to comfort her, but she'd just
be embarrassed for being caught.

She curled in on the other side of the bed and sighed heavily.

"You should call Emmitt," I advised. "He misses you."

"I know," she admitted quietly. "The whole thing is just a mess."

"Are you scared?" I hedged. She seemed to not want to be alone for one second.

"A little," Rose confessed in a weak voice.

"That wasn't the first time, was it," I concluded what Emmitt and I discussed.

"Nope," she she popped the p. "Not by a long shot."

"Rose! Why didn't you tell us? I never liked that asshole," I hissed, she chuckled dryly.

"I think the only reason I stayed with him was because it was comfortable. Not the abuse,
but he knew all my baggage. It was easier to stick with the bullshit when your to terrified
to start over. And then when I finally do, he has to go and ruin it," she whispered angrily.
"But that piece of info doesn't leave this room, okay? The last thing I need is Emmitt
going Rambo on Royce."

"My lips are sealed. But I'll still kill him with my bare hands," I threatened, and she
snickered.

"It helps just to be around you. It's nice to be around someone who had more drama and
problems than I do for once," she retorted snidely.

"You just keep your gorilla feet on your side of the bed," I said with a yawn.

"Thanks Bells," she whispered sincerely and I heard her take in a breath to speak. "Are
you scared?"

I let the question tumble around in my head for a minute and I answered honestly.

"A little."

I knew I could shade the sun with all the hurdles I had ahead of me, but for the first time
in my life I knew my son had a father. I just didn't know if that father wanted a son.

Chapter IX- The Transcendentalists

About an hour later, Rose had completely fallen asleep and I very delicately pulled the
covers off of me and slid my feet off the bed, onto the floor. It took me several minutes to
open the top drawer of my night stand while retrieving my nail clippers because her
sporadic snoring startled me as the wood of the drawer creakily slid out. I turned to her
one more time in the dark and barely made out her form twisted in sheets taking up most
of the bed while drool dribbled down her chin. It just didn't look as cute on Rose as it did
on Tristan I mused internally. Satisfied that she was deep in to her REM, I tiptoed my
way to my walk-in closet and gently click closed the door behind me before turning on
the lights. I pulled out my step stool and carefully pulled down the unpacked box from
the top shelf, wobbling once, and then sat Indian style on the ground in front of it as I
sliced the seam of tape with the file.

There it was. At the very bottom of the stacks of books that held my childhood fantasies,
darkest nioghtmares and wildest dreams was a deteriorated black and white composition
notebook that held a single entry from February 15, 2004. The book was tattered with
water damage and ink bleeds on the pages, some ripped completely out, nothing like all
my other neatly organized labeled books. I carefully seperated yellowed pages to find the
entry I was looking for and it didn't take me long to recognize the manic script it was
written in that I'd only laid eyes on once after mistakenly finding it and then hiding it
away. I'd almost destroyed it. It scared me for myself and for my son.

And now, this was the piece of the Edward Cullen puzzle that confused and concerned
me the most....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

.

It was real.

You didn't dream it and your not crazy.

Don't ever let their eyes convince you.

He was real.

It was New Years Eve. I'd gone out for the night with Rosalie and Alice to an upscale
nightclub in the theater district to celebrate. The place was packed as the party raged on,
but by one am I was exhausted and wanted to go home. I told them so, but they had just
met two guys there and had many drinks so they were nowhere near ready to leave. I
threatened to leave without them because I had class the next day, but they were beyond

idle threats and rational thought so I shoved their purses into their arms and told them to
hold back their own hair when they wound up puking in the decrepit bathroom stall of the
club. I'd take the train home on my own I said.

They didn't stop me, but of course I didn't leave. They probably knew that. It wasn't the
first time. I hid, sitting in the corner of the loud crowded club. Waiting and watching. I
couldn't leave them there in their heavily inihbriated condition with those creepy
Manhattan slimeballs and I knew there was no way I'd find my own way home. I never
left campus without them. They moved out of site, so I stood on my chair and watched
the top of Rosalie's snowy blonde head as is it bobbed and bounced to the music. By two
am, they announced no more drink service and I knew the venue would kick everyone out
soon, so I hustled through the masses of sweaty people in fancy attire to rejoin my group.
I grabbed Rose's arm, but when the woman turned around, it wasn't Rose.

I kept my cool as I went to the outside door of the club and watched the entire crowd of
drunken partygoers drain from inside into the streets, but they never came out. I begged
the doorman to let me back in but he refused, insisting it was empty.

That's when I panicked. I was so worried about them. I was always the sober one, the
designated driver, the one that made sure no one slipped things in there drinks, and I'd
thrown a fit and abandoned them. I'd sulked since the ball drop because as of midnight, it
was officially my twentieth birthday and nobody noticed. It was petty because I had all
the next day to enjoy it, but it stung that Alice hadn't acknowledged it at after the ball
drop. And now they were missing. Did those strange men take them home? Were they
drugged or kidnapped or worse? I didn't know. All I could think of were my father's old
line, "you could be dead in a ditch."

I didn't have any money or my cell phone, and I cursed myself for not carrying a purse,
so I walked through the streets for blocks and ended up in the Upper East Side. I needed a
phone so I went inside the first safe looking place I could find that was open at this hour.
The Waldorf Astoria Hotel. I called Alice and Rosalie's phone repeatedly, leaving
multiple frantic voice-mails, until the concierge finally told me if I wasn't a guest, I had
to leave. I asked her if I could use the restroom first, and she agreed. I splashed water on
my face and tried to regroup, deciding I would go wait outside Rosalie's studio apartment
in Midtown. It was the closest to here, I knew that much, and if they didn't show by
morning, I'd try to track down Rose's brother to help. And possibly the police.

I walked through the halls of the elegant hotel as I made my way out. It was opulantly
decorated in guilded golds and rich butters and creams and looked like a french palace.
There were banquet halls where private parties were still in full swing and music flooded
the halls. There was a string quartet in lounge, a live rock cover band playing all the
obnoxious New Years songs in a separate hall, and couples covered in confetti laughed
and blew horns as they headed up to their rooms. But through all that noise there was an
undercurrent of something that caught my attention. Something I couldn't ignore.

I closed my eyes and focused on the sound until it lead me to a closed set of double doors
in the far corner. With an uncommon bravery, I peeked the door open and was overcome
with sound of a baby pianos' cry, the notes taking ownership of the air like it was
borrowed to begin with, reclaiming it, and the back of lone dark haired figure playing like
his life depended on it.

The room was ornate an completely mirrored with a large crystal chandelier hung in the
center, but the piano was the only furniture there. Although many tables and chairs that
had been broken down were leaned against the walls, which I only observed through my
peripheriral because my eyes were glued to the instrument. I craned my neck in to see the
player in the reflection, but his hair covered everything and he leaned over so far his nose
was practically touching the piano. He must be a master, I thought to myself. Some
prodigy of Julliard because this rivaled everything I'd ever heard from the greats.

It was the most intensely melancholy sound. It was sweet and sorrow, bitter and
beautiful. It didn't wail, it wept. And to this day, I've never heard anything like it. It
chilled me and warmed me all at once. I could see the back of the player as he hunched
over the black laquered instrument of only wood and metal, but he was making it human
and it was giving him everything it had. I watched his spinal column writhe like the
snake, his music the charmer, and his shoulder blades shift with each movement
underneath his thin white fabric of his shirt. His fingers moved furiously across the keys
demanding more, and it gave it all. He wasn't patient as I watched his head jerk swiftly on
certain notes, and nod slowly, encouragingly on others while frenzied hands crept and
lunged along the ivory and ebony ladies at his tips. But I wasn't witnessing a seduction. It
was a pilaging in it's rawest form.

The bittersweet yearning of the piece wound into a resigned acceptance and after the final
note, a quite sob echoed through the empty room. The player became completely
immobile and my eyes flickered from where they'd been mesmerized on the the keys to
meet the reflection of enraged eyes under a formidable lowered brow. Completely
mortified I'd intruded on something so private, I ran from the room, moving as fast as my
legs could take me and hoping they wouldn't fail. I stumbled once so I gathered my dress
in my hand blew past the concierge who was shouting something and out of the front
door of the hotel.

The cold night air filled my lungs in big gusts and my cheeks stung but I kept running.
Around the block, and then another, until finally they gave out. I stepped into the covered
entry of a small closed deli and leaned against the glass, sliding to the cold concrete
ground. I pulled my skirt of my dress around my ankles and wrapped my arms around my
knees, still panting, heart racing. Quite steps approached me but I couldn't see straight, so
I tried to be still.

But he was there. The Player.

He was easily over six feet tall and far too thin. His dingy white tee shirt hung limply on
his hunched shoulders with a equally dingy white dress shirt slung over the left and I

noticed underneath the fabric of the hanging shirt that his sagging jeans were bunched at
the waist. He took one step, closing our distance, and sat down next to me, inches away.
All I could think to do was bury my face in my knees and let my hair cover me.

"Look at me," he ordered, and I did. And he was looking back.

But he didn't look upset. His hair was wild and greasy, falling in his face, matted together
in places, and he looked weeks into the process of growing an ungroomed beard. His
cheek bones protruded from above the uneven line of facial hair and dark circles resided
under tired eyes. His skin was sallow and although it was very cold and he was grossly
underdressed, beads of sweat like dew formed around the corners of his forehead. His
nose looked like it belonged on a statue for all it's perfection except for a small healing
mark on the bridge and he had a single cigarette tucked behind his ear.

But despite all this, the first thing I noticed were his eyes. A brilliant green rimmed dark
pupils and his gaze was a mixture of wonder and reverence.

"That's nice," he spoke finally in a distant voice with a slight accent, and I watched his
hand reach up and brush my cheek. His touch was icy but not in an unwelcome way."I
was hardly expecting that."

I watched as he retrieved the finger and saw that it was wet. I patted my face and realized
I was crying. Their were blotches on the white fabric of my skirt where I'd buried my
face and I wondered for how long, fearing it was my sob that broke the quite. He was
staring at the pad of his tear stained finger watching the wetness glisten as it caught light
until finally he rubbed his long fingers together, dissolving it. He looked like he was
considering something, but the wonderment died when his eyes went dark.

"But you shouldn't have come," he said in harsh tone before effortlessly lifting himself to
his feet. As I heard his footsteps begin to fade, I grew uncomfortable with the distance, so
I followed them.

His posture was stiff but his stride was long and I was practically jogging just to maintain
our small gap. I don't know how many blocks we went like that for, but I can tell you he
passed under exactly thirty two street lamps. From shadow, to light, shadow, to light,
thirty two times before stopping underneath one. Silloutted in the lamplight, he cupped
his hand to his face and I saw a warm crimson glow before he exhaled a puff of smoke. I
could see the bones in his face as he pulled from the cigarette and I stopped a few feet
short of him, unsure of how close I wanted to be.

"Why are you here?" he asked in a hard voice. It looked like he was addressing the
cigarette.

"I..I got lost," I replied. He stared up at me for a moment, brows furrowed and a crease in
his forehead.

Finally, he nodded and said "I understand," and he sounded like he did. I felt relief but
didn't dare speak as I watched him smoke and look around the dimly lit streets. It looked
like he was enjoying the frigid night air.

"Are you going to stop following me?" he asked, like it didn't matter either way. I though
about his question for a moment.

"I...I don't know," I answered honestly.

"Do you always stutter this much?" mild irritation in his tone.

"No," I said quitely. "Not usually."

"But you usually follow strange men," he countered, as if it were fact.

"No. I don't usually do that either."

"So be it," he said as flicked the cigarette with a spark and began to walk again.

I was beginning to understand the absurdity of my behavior, but I didn't deny myself the
impulse to continue. I was enthralled and it was like nothing I'd ever felt. Since he was
now aware I was behind him, I thought he would slow his pace. As a courtesy. But he
kept kept his smooth swift gait and I could barely keep up. The streets were slushy and
slick, still littered with the discards from the nights revelry and when cars passed
occasionally, he'd duck his head. I wondered what he was hiding from or if he was a
fugitive. When he neared a flock of pigeons feasting a pile of rubbage, they cawed and
fled at his footfalls as if sensing coming danger.

He never quite stayed still, though. Always fidgeting, scratching his forearm or the back
of his neck. He'd re-sling the dress shirt periodically, alternating shoulders as if the
weight were a burden. He finally stuffed his hands in his pockets and began humming in
a deep smooth voice and for a moment I closed my eyes and smiled. When we got to the
heavily wooded edge of Central Park, I hesitated out of instinct. He turned his head over
his shoulder with one brow arched and the corner of his mouth lifted deviously.

"Aren't you coming?" he dared, feeling confident this was the end of the line.

For so long, I'd been the responsible one and if this were any of my friends I would have
told them they were mad but as I watched his figure melt into the fog between the trees,
my feet moved of their own volition. I couldn't see him, but I heard the snow covered
ground crushing under the weight of his soles and branches snapping so I used that as my
guide. My silver leather ballet flats were soaked, freezing my toes, and my hair snagged
on many branches until finally I arrived at the edge of a very small clearing with a bench
and a large snow covered boulder.

In the Spring, this was probably a sunny, lovely little picnic area full of blossoms and
butterflies, but with the moonlight casting it's eerie blue silver light on the snow capped
boulders, it was much less inviting. The tree lined surround created lurid shadows in the
snow of gnarled and mangled dying limbs. And the player was nowhere to be seen. My
breathing quickened and I scanned the area, irrationally worried he was gone.

"You're quite tempting, you know," a deep smooth voice whispered into my hair and I
jumped in surprise, my heels lifting of the ground, following my hearts' lead. He stalked
around me slowly and felt the cold air swirl as he came to stand before me. My heartbeat
paused when he smiled crookedly, but it wasn't an entirely pleasant gesture.

"You should run while you still can," he warned, taking a small step closer now inches
away, his presence blocking the light of the moon. He was looking down at me, a gaunt
face shadowed in darkness, his eyes blazing wildly with some unknown emotion while
desperately searching mine for...something. It didn't go unnoticed that he was the only
one expelling the crystallized fog of an exhale and I felt spared when he finally turned
and walked out into the clearing.

When my heart and respiratory system began functioning again, they quickly started
making up for lost time. What was I doing? I was alone with a strange man that I had
now determined was no eccentric beat-nic artist. His cuticles were blackened and his
jeans were ripped at the knee in a non-mall replicated way. His clothes were unclean and
there were scratches covering his arms long before we passed through the woods.
Whatever he was, the player, the lost one, the villain, it was all very real. And he was
warning me of whatever it was he was capable of. My sense of self preservation was
warring with something, morbid curiosity perhaps, and I considered all these things as I
watched him sitting on the bench, leaned back, long arms stretched out, thrumming the
edges, humming to no one.

The something won.

I went to him where he sat on the bench and he hunched forward, elbows resting on
knees, hands dangling limply between them.

"You've lost your halo," he said, and nodded towards my head. I was confused so I
reached up and patted my hair, realizing my silver glitter "Happy New Years" paper tiara
was gone, a casualty of the branches. I wanted to correct him but it seemed pointless.

"I-," I stopped so I wouldn't stutter."guess I did."

"That's what happens when you follow men like me into the dark," he admonished, still
warning me.

I sighed because what could I do about it now? "It's fine," I answered quietly.

"I had one once," he said fondly, looking down at his shoes, clasping his hands together.

"A ti...halo?" I asked, puzzled. Maybe they called them that in England, which I had now
deduced was the source of his accent, the same way they call sneakers 'trainers' and
feathered hats 'fascinators'. He nodded.

"I lost mine, too," he said, sounding dissapointed. I guessed they didn't sell them over
there because he made it sound valuable. I just hate when you fall in love with some
product not easily available in your country.

"I feel that way about Nutella," I thought out loud.

"What?" he asked confusedly as his head snapped up.

"Y...you know, that chocolate spread you put on crepes?" I said self consciously, and I
felt my self blush under his intense gaze. I went with Alice to Paris for her atelier
apprenticeship the previous summer. Rosalie came too and they paid my way but my
spending money was tight so I lived on cheap Nutella and banana crepes sold by street
vendors. I was sick of them until I came back and now I crave them all the time.

"You're very strange," he said and tilted his head. I didn't know whether to be
embarrassed or offended.

"But I suppose the little things are most missed," he added wisely and I nodded in
agreement, feeling more at ease.

My teeth had begun to chatter audibly and just looking at him made me shiver. His
clothing was minimal but it clung to him with sweat and I thought he was catching
hypothermia.

"You can have my scarf if you like," I offered timidly, indicating the thick fluffy white
that covered my neck like a turban. My dress was long and I had a thick cashmere camel
colored coat that fell to my thigh, so I thought I could spare it.

"What for?" he asked simply, brows furrowed in confusion.

"You're going to freeze to death," I explained gingerly.

An empty "Ah"of realization was all he replied.

"Don't you have somewhere more important to be?" he asked, suspicious, but slightly
annoyed.

"Not really," I replied, pathetically. All the sudden feeling like my friends had ditched
me, instead of the other way around.

He stretched back out on the bench and began tapping his knee rapidly as if it were piano
keys. I was looking down at where my shoes poked out from under my dress and

wondered how much longer until they got frost bite when he suddenly moved. By the
time my eyes flicked up he had removed his shirt revealing a thin bare chisled torso.

He climbed the snowy boulder with the ease of a panther until he stood on top. I was
stunned. In the moonlight I saw his skin was so pale and slick with sweat, it appeared to
be the color and texture of vaseline. His hipbone jutted out from where his dark washed
ripped jeans sagged too low, tethered to him with a cord of some sort. His hair was
impossibly wild and he pulled something out of his pocket.

"Too bad about the snow," he mumbled as he tended to the small bag of powder in his
hands. "It won't be long now," he added sullenly, but I didn't think he was talking to me.

He extended the arm and shook out the remaining contents and it seemed to hang in the
heavy winter air for a moment until a breeze caught the speckles of dust and they swirled
around the glistening skin of his bare chest. In the light watching him there, broken and
triumphant, surrounded in a cloud of dust, shimmering in the moonlight, his body unwell,
his mind it seemed less so. His music was haunting and pained, all hope drained from the
melody. And now it was clear, the song and the player were one in the same. He looked
feral, and wild, and frightening, and magnifiscently beautiful in the most tragic way. Just
like his music.

I jolted backwards when he leapt from the rock with inhuman grace and landed in front of
me in a crouch with one hand pressed into the snow.

"Don't look at me like that," he growled, as he quickly rose to his full height.

"L..Like what?" I stammered, unsure of what he was accusing. I took a small step back as
he moved towards me.

"Don't play dumb with me," he snapped. His chest was heaving and he raked his hand
though his hair and tugged at the ends. I began shaking my head vigorously with my
hands extended by sides. I was completely lost by his words and his temper.

"Don't look at me like I'm like you," he accused, eyes narrowed his shoulders rigid with
tension."Because I'm not."

"I know that," I said in a whisper, because it seemed like the response that would anger
him least. Was he bragging? Was he telling me he was better than me?

"I don't know why you're here, but it won't make a difference," he stated cruelly,
tauntingly. "It changes nothing."

I didn't know why I was there either or what difference he was referring to, but his callus
observation was a bulls-eye to the core of my insecure nature and my eyes began to well.
I was always there. It never mattered. And I never made a difference.

Not even with the people who were supposed to love me. I was a coat-rack to my friends,
a doormat to my peers, and a housekeeper to my father. And I was an absolute non-entity
to my mother. I went through life completely invisible to everyone. My entire existence
was of no consenquence.

She married Charlie at nineteen after she'd met him at a local country western bar when
she was passing through town. He was older, reliable with a steady job and she was
beautiful, young and wild. No one knew why she went home with him that night or why
she married him the next week, but they all found out a few months after I was born
when she disappeared. She inherited her trust from her family that held the stipulation
that she be married and upon the arrival of her first born, and only then she'd get her
money. She picked out the most simple, gullible man she could find to suck in to her
manipulative game.

But she abandoned me. She'd held me and gotten to know me in the months it had taken
her to secretly finalize the paperwork and get money transfered, but it wasn't enough to
make her stay. I didn't make any difference to her plan. She could have taken me with
her, but she didn't. I was just a pawn to begin with. She did all that just to end up dying in
a car accident, high as a kite with some guy in a band she'd met at a bar. And here I was,
with some druggie musician in the middle of the woods. Unaccounted for because no one
thought I was signifigant enough to count.

My head snapped up when he spoke.

"Stop that. Now." he ordered impatiently as he walked to the bench."Don't cry for me."

Yes, he thought he was better than me and he was vain beyond belief. My blood began to
boil at this arrogant lunatic and I was flooded with too many emotions at once. He
probably lived in a box under the bridge, and even he didn't want me around. It shouldn't
have hurt, but it did. I was foolishly letting him rip into the last shred of self-esteem I'd
managed to salvage for myself.

"I'm not crying for you, you stupid selfish boy!" I blurted out through a sob and he spun
around to face me. His eyes were filled with rage, but it only fueled my own.

"You can stay here and destroy yourself if you want, because that's what you're doing
with your drugs and your...bullshit, but I'm leaving," I spat out.

Because that's what this was. The destruction of another person. As soon as the words left
my lips, I knew they were true. He clearly had a death wish and my morbid curiousity
was now costing me, which is what I deserved, but I'd had enough. I turned on my heels
and and didn't start running until I was in the cover of woods.

I couldn't believe what a fool I was for becoming entranced by some strange sad boy. I'd
put my safety on the line to entertain a warped whim. Branches whip me as I passed and I
grabbed onto the bark of trunks to steady myself. A thick fog had settled and I couldn't

see more than a few feet ahead or above. I listened for the sound of cars and civilization
to use as my compass, but I heard nothing. I began to see my own zigzagged footprints in
the snow, so I'd turn and try another route. I looked up, trying to find a skyscraper as a
beacon but the I was so deep in the thick of it, there were none to be seen.

Defeated and exhausted, I fell to the ground underneath a large tree trunk. The snow was
melting underneath, soaking the fabric of my dress, and to my own humiliation, I started
to cry again. I was thinking of how ironic it was that just hours before I was worried
Alice and Rose would be the ones found frozen in a ditch, but now I was winning that
race. I was already contemplating who would give my eulogy when I caught a glimpse of
something white. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow while taking in my condition.

It looked like there was two of him.

"Did you come to finish me off?" I asked in a weepy voice. I didn't think I'd like the
answer but I was just lucid enough to understand I was suffering from sleep deprivation
and the cold.

"No," he said quitely, not making eye contact.

"Then what are you doing here?" I asked, as I wiped away a tear and he furrowed his
brow.

"You're not supposed to cry." He stated it like my behavior was the oddity of the night.

I let out a humorless laugh that sounded a little unstable even to my own ears.

"Get up," he said brusquely, like I was wasting his time.

"I wouldn't want to put you out. Aren't you running late to be the keynote speaker at some
junkie hobo convention under the bridge?" I said flatly as he strode past, my brain filter
completely shut down. I was sure I'd crossed the line, but as he turned to face me, his
features fought between amusement and annoyance.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" he asked, peering at me skeptically.

"No," I answered petulantly. It would probably just feed his ego if I told him yes and I
was too tired to conjure up an emotion as powerful as fear.

"Are you afraid of anything?" he asked, crossing his arms, looking genuinely interested.

I looked out into the fog. "You have no idea," I murmured, wishing I'd had the energy to
lie. I was scared of life and risk and everything else in between.

He nodded appreciatively. "Come on," he said, extending me a hand. I glared at it.

"No," I replied, trying to muster some dignity in my cloudy state.

"You're going to freeze to death," he retorted, using my own words against me.

"So be it," I said angrily, playing his own game.

"Suit yourself," he replied before he walked past me.

I debated my choices as I heard his footsteps grow faint and in a moment of clarity, I
scrambled to my feet. I wouldn't exactly rather freeze to death than follow him, but it was
close. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as the fog thinned and I saw city lights ahead. When
I exited the woods I saw him waiting at the edge.

"Thank you," I said curtly as I dusted off my ripped and soggy dress and pulled a few
twigs from my tangled hair.

"You're welcome," he said formally, but for the first time he looked amused. "But you
shouldn't thank me."

"Why?" I asked defiantly. I was getting a little tired of being told what to do.

"I've ruined you," he said, taking in my disheveled appearance again.

"It happens more than you think," I replied and I caught myself before I babbled about
the time I fell twenty feet out of a tree.

"That's unfortunate," he said solomnly.

He seemed a little less belligerent than before so I took my chance."Why did you help
me?" I quizzed. He was no boy scout but he even walked much slower on the way out,
which I assumed was for my benefit.

He stared out into the woods. "I'm not sure," he replied, sounding perplexed by the idea.

I snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "You're right. I shouldn't have thanked you. Good
night," I said and hit the side walk again.

"Do you know where you're going?" he called out from behind me, so I turned and
narrowed my eyes.

"Do you?" I retorted and his eyes softened.

"No, but that's not important," he said dismissively in a lowered voice. He walked out
into the street and looked both ways before he let out a loud whistle. He kept his gaze
down the street towards the intersection until he dropped it to the ground and made his

way back to the sidewalk. A few seconds later a yellow cab pulled up and he opened the
back door and looked at me expectantly.

"What are you doing?" I asked puzzled.

"You're going home," he informed me.

"I can walk," I defended, lied.

"It's too dangerous to walk alone." I let the irony of his statement pass. "And you're in no
condition for it."

"You could walk me?" I hedged, surprising myself.

"That's impossible," he said, matter-of factly and I was a little disappointed, though I had
no reason to be. The cabby yelled to him that the meter was running.

"Get in," he commanded.

"I don't have any money," I said incredulously, nodding towards the cab.

"My treat," he offered as he reached in his pocket and pulled a folded bill, which I was
stunned he had. He really looked like he could use that money for more important things
and he sensed my reluctance.

"Let's make a deal. You wanted me to have your scarf earlier, so I'll buy it from you. For
the fare," he offered reasonably. I hugged my arms around my shoulders and shivered
because my wet clothes were turning to ice. The scarf was a gift from Alice and worth
much more than the twenty, but it still seemed like he was getting the raw end of the deal.
Suddenly, I had an idea.

"Play for me. Tomorrow," I said quickly. He looked momentarily confused before he
exhaled deeply and shook his head.

"I can't offer that," he said, with finality.

"Then I can't accept your charity," I replied and began walking, holding my breath.

"Fine," he called out behind me and I smiled to myself before heading back towards the
cab. He moved his hand out dramatically, gesturing for me slide in the car but before I
ducked my head in, but I needed to be sure. He'd caved to easily.

I peered at him. "Do you really promise?"

His nostrils flared a little and he went completely still. He was standing a few inches
away from me and in the bright streetlight I could see he was sweating profusely, every

pore of his forehead visible. His skin had gone grey and his breathing was shallow. The
blue veins in his neck were pulsing and his tired eyes glistened with resign and regret as
he spoke.

"If...if I am able to...I will. That's all I can promise," he answered slowly, selecting his
words carefully and it was the saddest thing I'd ever heard.

I understood what he was saying. If he made it until then he would be there, but he didn't
think he would. My eyes watered and I pressed my lips together while I nodded. I wanted
to tell him to come with me or convince him to let me take him for help, but what little I
knew of him made me certain he would refuse. My request was unfair and I'd asked for
too much.

Without second thought, I was unraveling my scarf and looping it around his neck. He
was taken off guard, but as I reached up to knot it under his scruffy chin, he gripped my
wrist in his long fingers and closed his eyes as he leaned down to inhale the exposed
sliver of skin on my wrist as if he were sampling a perfume. I felt the coarse brush of his
frosty facial hair and the softer brush of chapped lips that were surprisingly warm before
he pressed his lips forcefully onto my skin in a brief and savoring kiss. Against my frozen
skin his lips seared like a brand, but all I was thinking of was how waxy and purple his
lids were.

"Please try," I begged, voice cracking, eyes pleading, tears falling, and for once,
completely unashamed.

"Tomorrow," he answered, but his eyes said goodbye, and my heart broke for lost boy,
the villain, and the player. I unfurled the hand that had been clutching the scarf in a
painfully tight fist and he released my wrist before taking a step back. I slid in the back
seat unable to think or speak, while he leaned in the passenger window and handed the
cabby the fare and extra tip, instructing him to make sure I got home safely. He closed
my door and I watched him from the window step on to the curb, turning in profile to
give me a thin reassuring smile that was anything but, and when we pulled off I felt like
I'd made a mistake and left something important behind.

I didn't sleep when I got back to my dorm room, instead I sat at my desk and stared out
the window into the streets until I saw a group of pigeons flocking and I couldn't look
anymore. I almost fell asleep in the shower before I changed and went to class
robotically. I was disgusted with myself for watching him self-destruct and doing nothing
to stop it. He was cruel and distant but he didn't deserve to be observed like a like a
wounded bird taking it's final breath. Just like animals in the wild, he went away to die
alone. He'd made it clear over and over he didn't want my company but I ignored him. I
was no better than a snuff film voyeur. I gave him no dignity in his darkest hour and
instead of trying to help, I watched. My phone rang but I ignored it and sent e-mails out
to the girls and told them I was sick.

Because I was, in fact, a very sick person.

The classes past by the ticks of the clock, but by afternoon I convinced myself to put it all
behind me. I wouldn't go back. If he was there, he would just call me vile things for being
a twisted disgrace to humanity or maybe he'd be out-of-his-mind high and hurt me, or
worse. And if he wasn't there...well, my conscience couldn't handle that. It was better if I
never knew what happened to him so I could pretend like he'd made it and entered some
work program, attended weekly meetings, councils other addicts and married a nice,
pretty Puerta Rican school teacher in New Jersey who would stand by his side if he
relapsed.

2.5 kids, adopted stray, matching denim shirts, Volvo sedans...

Yes, that was the picture I wanted so badly, and so I kept it. And with that image alone, I
finally allowed myself to lay my head down.

I woke up sweating, burning with fever, and saw out the window the sun had set. I'd only
had a few hours of sleep and I began pacing the room. I felt so restless and distressed so I
grasped at my manufactured image of suburban heaven, but it was now wrong and
discomforting and I wondered if my subconscious had robbed me of my solace as
punishment. I sat down on my bed and started biting my nails, a habit I don't have and
ordinarily find gross, and I knew I needed to know for sure. Before I could second guess
myself, I'd redressed and was taking a cab to Manhattan.

It was only a little after nine when I arrived at the Waldorf but I decided to wait inside. I
snuck past the desk and heard the sound of a piano being tuned coming down the hall and
my spirit lifted through the roof. I took a deep breath before I peeked my head into the
piano room, but I froze when I saw something I didn't expect. A grey haired man in a
waiters uniform tinkering on the keys. I also didn't expect to the entire room elaborately
set up for a gala of some sort.

I was in a total panic. I wished we made better plans but he said if he did come it would
be to play for me. My mind roamed to worst case scenario which was that he wouldn't
make it at all. I was scrambling as I hailed a cab and headed to the only other place I
could I think of.

The Park.

Once the cab dropped me off, I circled the edge of the woods trying to estimate were I'd
entered the night before, but I felt like I was wasting time, so I walked straight in. My
boots trudged through the day's newly fallen snow and every step felt more urgent. After
a while, I saw the tree line end in the distance and I slowed my pace. My heart was
thudding out of my chest as I neared and when I got to the edge, I almost fell to my knees
and cried.

He was there.

Alive.

And there that night, in the darkness and cold, alone, where nothing glowed and
blackness thrived, and the life around us died, I did what I knew I would always look
back on as either the best decision or biggest mistake of my life.

I went to him.

Chapter X- Flowers in the Desert

I can’t lie to myself and say that the journal entry didn’t frighten me. When I read it, it
was like I was reading someone else’s story. I wasn't the same insecure girl, and although
I knew it was me, it just didn't feel real. Based on the accent and green eyes, I knew it had
to have been Edward, but nothing else made sense. He even denied playing piano. In my
mind, I couldn’t reconcile this man, the Player, with the Edward Cullen I'd just met.

I took in to consideration that I was in the middle of some sort of breakdown when I
wrote that entry, but I didn’t think I’d made it up either. It’s almost like I’d written it to
convince myself not to doubt it. A chunk of pages following that entry had been ripped
out and all that was left were the blanks at the back so I had no more detail than that.

But what if Edward was still a drug addict? I hear all the time about big Wall Street guys
with thousand dollar a day habits. He seemed too controlled for that, but maybe he had
just mastered the art of controlling the addiction. It's possible he's sought out treatment
and was now recovered because he didn’t even drink alcohol. But that still left the
suicidal part. It seems as though he had some sort of breakdown as well, which concerned
me for Tristan’s safety. He already had a mother with a lapse in mental health and now he
had a father with one, too. I’ve heard these things are hereditary and I’d long suspected
my short bout was inherited from my own mother who was a drug abuser and manic-
depressive. And Charlie even told me she’d experience sudden fits of rage. But I guess
poor Charlie was the one who actually “experienced” the fits.

As much as I loathe this idea, it’s possible when I went in the woods that night I did
drugs with him and got hooked. With my mother’s addictive personality, maybe that first
try was enough. I'd never even smoked a cigarette before then. That would explain my
secluded, secretive, volatile behavior but why I still had the wherewithal to cover for
myself. They say addicts are the best deceivers and that would also explain my dramatic
weight loss, deteriorated health, and that could also explain who I was waiting for. It
made my stomach churn to think that Edward had possibly taken me to his dealer or some
other druggie friends of his. Maybe I was waiting for a dealer that day in the park and the
place I was squatting was some sort of drug den.

The concept seems far-fetched but when I compare it to the fact that I had unprotected
sex with someone whom I thought to be a homeless drug addict street person, then went
crazy and had his baby, it seems feasible by comparison. With the time sequence, Edward
had to have been my first. And then I wondered how many other men I may have slept
with during my breakdown. I didn’t have money for drugs so how would I have paid? It
made me scared and angry to think it’s possible that Edward Cullen may have introduced
me to or traded me off to friends after he was done with me. That’s the reason I was
never even sure the piano player I described was the father at all, because I never actually

knew if it had only been one man. I just knew in my last clear memory I was definitely
still a virgin.

But the last line of the entry made me feel like I’d made a choice. It was a conscious
decision. I’d obviously written it after it happened, and there seemed to be a willingness
to be there. That’s why I never let myself think it was a rape. When I read that last line, I
feel like I later knew exactly what I was getting myself into; I just wasn’t sure how it
would turn out.

And almost six years later, I’m still not sure.

What I know now is I have a little boy that needs me, so I wouldn’t let myself dwell on
whatever sadness was in the past. If I took drugs with Edward, I had to take responsibility
for that. And if this was the card he wasn’t ready to play when we talked at my office, the
reason behind his vague answers, a fear of being exposed, then it would stay with me.
Just like Rose’s abuse, Carlisle’s sexuality, and Alice’s secrets, I’d keep it sacred just the
same. There was no need to embarrass my son’s father if this was his private shame. It
actually made me more sympathetic towards him in some ways. Although I am
exceedingly curious what put Edward in such a desperate situation, it wasn’t my place to
dig. Hopefully, in time we can form a relationship based on trust and partnership as
Tristan’s parents and I can get some answers.

Hopefully.

Tuesday I was finally able to talk to Carlisle and he seemed unsurprised by the revelation.
Shocked by its verification, but not surprised entirely. He understood how outrageous a
concept it was just as well as I did, but he was always very perceptive and helped me sort
out some other things.

“How did you figure it out?” I asked.

“I don’t know, really. He took an interest in you that was above and beyond what was
called for. Truly, it was more than I thought he was capable of. The only thing I’ve known
him to care about is his position in the company. That night at dinner when you were
looking at each other it was like there was no one else in the room. There was just
something about it that felt…private. Not romantic, exactly. Just intense,” he finished
hesitantly.

“I guess that was when I started to recognize him a little, but I didn't realize how,” I
explained and shook my head.

“Do you think that’s all there was to it?” he asked simply.

“Of, course,” I scoffed, and hid back the fact that I had lustful feelings towards him later
that night. It just seemed a hazard of his presence for all women. “So you agree the
mixer’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s wise,” he replied in his clam thoughtful voice. “It’s important to take
measured steps with Edward. He’s not a man who likes surprises or acts without reason.
Be patient and I'll plan something formal with the attorney's for us to sit down and ask
him to submit to a DNA test to be sure. I think he'll appreciate us handling it discretely
and succinctly."

"That sounds like a plan," I agreed, thankful for Carlisle's guidance.

~o~

So, I decided to go with Emmett to the mixer tonight in hopes he’d be there. It was a
public place, so it seemed like a good opportunity to try to understand exactly who was
Edward Cullen as a person today; as opposed to the disturbing figure I’d recorded
meeting all those years ago. We seemed to do better in groups of people, like at the
dinner, when there wasn’t opportunity for things to get…off track. He was actually
relatively kind during those interactions and I needed to be more secure about his true
nature before I threw an innocent child into the fold.

Emmett showed up around 6pm to pick me up and I kissed Carlisle and Tristan goodbye
before we left. It was being held at Moran's down on Wall Street and the place was pretty
full when we arrived. I dressed in a black knee length cocktail dress with cap sleeves and
pencil skirt with low black heels and I wore a khaki trench coat over it. I wore my hair
down with my side swept bangs in place and some small gold hoops. It was conservative
without looking dowdy. Emmett, of course, was in a designer dark navy suit with tiny
pinstripes, white button up with cufflinks and a blue silk tie. The place was dark with
wood paneling and tartans and crests hung on the walls. It was definitely an old school
Rat Pack kind of place.

"I don't see him," I observed, as I casually craned my neck around on tiptoes. The place
was filled with other nicely dressed people in their twenties and thirties all in similar
attire. We were hanging out near the hor d’oeuvre table in the far corner while Emmett
"quality tested" every kind they had.

"He'll be here. I've heard a lot about him being in town and the other alum's were buzzing
about it this week. There's a lot of talk about him moving his company. Word on the
street is his dad's not too happy about it," he informed me as he checked out a woman
who walked by in short red dress. I frowned a little thinking about what Edward had said
about coming back, but surely he didn't mean it the way I thought he did. I highly doubt
he relocated his company just to get me in bed. That would be...crazy.

"Emmett, how old is Edward?" I asked, curiously.

"I think he's 28," Emmett replied with a furrowed brow.

"Do you know long he's been running this company?" I inquired, trying to put together
some sort of timeline in my head.

"Ahhh, let's see. About four years, I think. I just remember the press release when his dad
retired and ran for some sort of office over in England. That's when Ed took over," he
answered but seemed uncertain. "A lot people thought he wasn't ready because he was
real young and hadn't worked for the company beforehand. Nepotism and all that. But the
guy's a genius and he handed the board their asses when he took over. Oh!"

"What?" I asked as I whipped my head around. He patted my back quickly in excitement.

"Tuna rolls. Be right back, Bells," he said quickly as he chased down a waiter with a
silver tray hoisted in the air.

Emmett was gone a while but I didn't really talk to anyone except when someone would
ask what year I graduated. Once they found out I didn't to Harvard, the conversation
ended, which was fine by me. They all seemed so stiff and uptight with their scotch on
the rocks and golf trips abroad. What a boring life.

"Ms. Swan," I heard a smooth voice that I recognized right away. And I don't know why,
but it made me smile really big.

"Hi Edward," I replied through my grin as I turned to see him standing next to me. He
looked great in a charcoal gray suit and white shirt with no tie. And amazingly, he
returned my smile-for-no-reason ten fold, all the way up to the eyes as he studied me. He
was so good looking it almost hurt.

"Now that's how you should look when you see me, Ms. Swan," he commented sounding
sincere, and his green eyes danced as he raised his hand and brushed my chin with his
thumb slowly. My mouth hung open a bit until he moved his hand.

"You mean dry?" I retorted self deprecatingly as I looked down at my outfit, trying to
stay focused on building friendly rapport.

"That part is optional," he replied coyly, and the smile got a little devious before he
became serious and looked at me interestedly. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Just here with a friend," I answered, and noticed two guys in nice suits walked up behind
him looking like they wanted autographs. Or his personal number.

"I think you've got some fans," I said quietly and darted my eyes around his arm. As soon
as he tilted his head enough to see them, the bored stone face returned.

"You'll be here for a while," he asked plainly, but his eyes were asking me to stay and I
nodded before he strode off chatting with the men. I bounced on my heels a little bit,
really excited about my five seconds of progress.

"Emmett! Emmett!" I called in a hushed voice as I waved my hand when I saw him
through the crowd a little while later. He smiled and made his way over.

"What's gotten in to you?" he asked smilingly, as I did a happy dance with only my arms.

"Good stuff, Em. This was a great idea. Thank you," I gushed as I rose on my tiptoes and
kissed his cheek. He chuckled.

"Glad to help. Now I need your help. Taste this," he said and shoved a gross looking hor
d’oeuvre in my face.

"Eww, it smells," I replied and fanned the air.

"Come on, Bells. It's an Irish delicacy just like my mom used to make. Now do that thing
where you can taste something once and know how to make it. I forgot what this is called
but I want you to learn how to make this for Sunday's" he pleaded enthusiastically and
shoved the slimy weird thing in my face. I told him I wouldn't do this again after last time
I made him Dublin Coddle. Yuk.

"Fine," I said as I took a bite from the napkin he held out. Sausage, mushroom, parsley,
liver?...

"Mr. McCarty," Edward announced with an edge. And I furrowed my brow up at him as I
swallowed down hard. Edward was back in grumpy mode. More like pissed. My eyes
darted over to Emmett who was peering at Edward curiously and then a smirk crossed his
lips.

"Cullen. How are you?" he asked nonchalantly as he popped in the rest of the hour devre
I'd bitten off of and chewed it with a smile.

"I see you've met, Ms. Swan," he stated as his narrowed eyes went back and forth from
the two of us.

"Yeah, Bells and I go way back," he grinned and patted my shoulder. Edward was
looking at the hand like if he stared hard enough it might explode.

"Bells," he repeated to himself. And then he narrowed his eyes at Emmett and his hands
seemed to be in fists. "Yes, I saw your performance on television this week McCarty.
Always the hot head."

"It can get hot," Emmett replied slyly with a smirk, and it came across a little like a
warning and I didn't like where we were headed.

"Emmett invited me to come. He said it would be a nice little get together so I thought I'd
check it out," I interrupted, and Edward's eyes met mine.

"I see," his said with a tight jaw. "And where is Carlisle tonight?" he asked me with a
cocked brow and studied Emmett's reaction.

"Oh, he's babysitting," Emmett supplied quickly with a wink and I elbowed the living
crap out of him. "Little mama here needs a night out every now and then."

"I see," Edward, said quietly as Kate the TALL came up by his side wearing a tight black
skirt suit. She must be at least 6'1. And then I noticed the 5'10 brunette next to her
holding an infant and the slick haired man in a tie and suspenders with them. Emmett
stiffened next to me.

"Edward, you remember Royce King. And this is his fiancée, Irina," Kate said as she laid
a hand on his shoulder, and I think Edward gave the most subtle droll eye roll I'd ever
seen. Emmett was practically blowing steam out of his ears and Royce looked a little
worried as he ran his finger through his brown hair.

"They wanted to come and say hello. They just had a baby, isn't that wonderful?" Kate
said cheerfully, but she seemed like she was up to something. Edward just turned to face
them and raised his brow before nodding his chin a millimeter. They both seemed very
excited by the gesture.

"Is so nice to meet choo," Irina purred in her accent and if she wasn't currently cuddling
her ticket in to the upper crust, she looked like she would probably be cuddling Edward's
"ticket". She looked like a low budget Angelina Jolie and when she bounced the baby and
flipped her hair, she noticed me. "Oh, hell-o Bella."

"Hi Irina," I replied and tried not to grimace because she actually did Rose a huge favor.
Kate didn't recognize me at first but when her eyes narrowed, I knew she'd placed me.
And then ignored me once she laid eyes on Emmett.

"And who might this be?" Kate said, batting her lashes at Emmett who grinned wide and
held out his hand. Kate placed hers in it and smiled.

"Emmett. Emmett McCarty," he said in his Bond voice as he bent to kiss it. "It's always
nice to meet a beautiful lady,” he added with a wink and Kate laid her hand on her chest,
flattered. Edward looked at his watch and Royce launched in to some speech about muni
bonds.

"You're just darling. I'm Kate Denali," she said and then turned back to Irina. "Irina, how
old is little Royce?"

"Oh, hees 3 mouthes ohld," she cooed and held him out to Kate. "Heer, you can hoyld
heem."

"Just precious," Kate said as reached across Edward, who almost looked repulsed, and
grabbed the baby. Only Irina would bring a baby to cocktail party, fearing she'd be denied
entry without her little King.

"Isn't he the handsomest thing?" Kate crooned, batting her lashes as she held the baby
towards Emmett and me who both widened our eyes. Kate had a smirk on her face and I
knew she was setting us up because, sadly, Alice was right. That poor baby was a little
gremlin. Emmett coughed/ laughed and then started choking and I beat his back
furiously.

"Yeah...he's..Uh...something else," Emmett said but his face was beat red, and then Irina
and Kate turned to me. I was such a terrible liar, and I was nervous so I blurted out the
first thing that popped in my head.

I told her Royce Jr. looked like a boiled potato rolled in margarine.

"Comme une pomme de terre cuite à l'eau a afflué margerine," flowed out and then I
recoiled, hoping my split second switch kept me from getting jumped. I guess there was
at least one other person in the group who spoke French because Royce stopped talking
dead in his tracks and whipped his head towards me with angry eyes and the looked down
at his baby sadly. And Edward laughed.

It was truly a great laugh, not too loud, not too rough. It was as smooth as his voice but
honest, not sugar coated. It was second only to the sound of my son's. He quickly
disguised it by coughing into his fist once, but Kate looked at him like he'd just laid a
golden egg from his nostril. Even Emmett looked surprised and he squeezed my shoulder.
And then Edward strode off, with Royce trailing behind him.

"Oh, is good to use foreign langweeg with baybees. I speak Russian to heem awl the
tyme," Irina said as she smiled and cuddled the baby back from Kate. "Waat did you tell
heem?"

"Um, you're very luck to have such a healthy baby," I lied softly, and looked down out
my shoes guiltily. Even if she did crush Rose by confronting her with the affair, I should
be nice to the little one. He's not the backstabbing, woman beating cheater.

"Yes, hees very healthy," Irina cooed and patted his back. He was a little on the plump
side. "So, hwen are you and Ed-ward goin too hafv cheeldrin?"

My head snapped up and I exhaled when I saw she was talking to Kate.

"Oh, no. Edward and I aren't going to have children," she chided snobbishly, like it was a
cute novelty but the responsibility to carry on the human race should be left up to people
that don't own sailboats. "Now come, let's go show this lovely baby to the Coopers. I just
know they’d enjoy that."

She spun around and sauntered off with Irina without even looking at me twice. And then
I shivered when I realized this woman could be Tristan's stepmother one day. Alice's
proposition was looking better all the time. I hung around the table while Emmett made

himself scarce but I didn't see Edward for the rest of the night. And on the ride home, I
gave Emmett and earful.

"Emmett, what the hell was that? I thought you said you guys were friends?" I asked
incredulously as I slapped my palm to my forehead.

"Whoa, now. I said I knew him, not that we were friends."

"But that was hardly civil and the whole point was to befriend him," I stated.

"I know," he exhaled. "But he just brings it out of me. I'd almost forgotten what a prick
he can be! Calling me Mr. McCarty, like he didn't see my balls in the locker room every
day for two years. That was just his way of telling me I can't call him by his name. That
we're not cool anymore," Emmett explained and rolled his eyes.

"Well, you went overboard. I know what you're like when I'm not around, but you put it
on a little thick intentionally," I said, ignoring his crass statement.

"I know. I let him get the best of me. It's just that he used to get any girl he wanted. He
would take a girl from another guy if he felt like it and he took one of my girl's once. She
was cute, too. You’re not supposed to do that to your teammates, it's like an unspoken
rule. So when I saw him getting all froggy over you, I couldn't help but push his buttons,"
he said with a smirk. "And then he made that underhanded hot head comment he'd used
after he pulled from a title game once. The fucker."

"Emmett, this is not a game or some college girl grudge. He is the FATHER of
TRISTAN," I explained, trying to keep myself calm.

"I know," Emmett said, stunned staring out the windshield. "It's crazy. But anyways, I
guess you must have been pretty decent in the sack. I should have taken my chance when
I could," he said eying me and wagging his brows.

"Remind me again when you had a chance?" I replied sarcastically. "And don't talk about
me and you having sex. That's like incest. It grosses me out."

"Yeah, I guess it is kind of gross. But we'll never know unless we try," he hedged, and I
slapped his arm before he burst out laughing.

"It is pretty sad that the only time I know I've ever had sex in my life, I can't remember
it," I said lamely as I drew squiggles with my finger on the inside of the fogged up
Escalade window as the rain trickled down outside.

"Nah, Bells, you're lucky," he sighed heavily. "You get to do it right next time. Most
people would kill for a do-over in that department. You're like a born again virgin, or
some shit."

"Or some shit," I breathed out lamely, fogging over the old squiggles on the glass.

When Emmett dropped me off around eight thirty, Tristan was already out for the night
and Carlisle left shortly after. I told him how it went and he seemed as disappointed as I
was. Rose had a very good point; the last thing I wanted was to be some tabloid victim
accusing a wealthy man of fathering a child out of wedlock. Luckily, he'd already seen I
was a business owner and not in need financially. He clearly didn't like children and
tonight I'd learned he didn't want them either. That was probably the worst news I could
have gotten but if there was any child that could change someone's mind about that, it
was Tristan. Maybe he didn't want them because he thought they'd hinder their busy
travel schedules and golfing excursions, but with Tristan that wouldn't be a problem.
Then I started wondering what kind of visitation he'd want if chose to be involved at all.
Although I think I'm pretty great, his family will likely see Tristan as not one of them,
which I considered a good thing.

I was thinking all these things as I sat at my dining table, snipping photos for Tristan's
kindergarten scrapbook when I started to get a weird feeling in my leg. It was like when it
falls asleep but tinglier. I peeked up at the clock and saw it was almost midnight, and
decided to pack it in for the night. I was double checking to see if it was locked and when
I swung the door open, there was Edward Cullen standing at my doorstep. I was even
more surprised because he was wearing dark wash jeans and a white shirt under a zipped
leather jacket with upturned collar. Dressed like that, he looked more like a handsome
graduate student or clothing model than a CEO.

"Hi," I greeted him confusedly in a breath, and he took one long step past me into my
house.

“Where’s Carlisle?” he asked directly as he paused a step past me and scanned the space
ahead.

“Oh, uh, not here,” I answered, shaking my head, sounding stupefied as I noticed the tiny
raindrops glisten in his hair like little diamonds.

"What are you doing?" I managed out, stunned as I watched him take long strides
towards deeper in to my house.

"Your room?" he asked casually, as if it wasn't the most bizarre thing in the world for
Edward Cullen to be standing in my living room at twilight. His head turned towards a
door and raised a brow inquiringly.

"Uh..yeah, it is but what are you--" I stumbled dumbfounded, but I stopped mid sentence
when I watched him head straight in. After a few confused moments I followed.

"Edward what are you doing?" I asked, concerned as I watched him carry my suitcase out
of my closet and toss it on the bed purposefully.

"You're coming," his powerful voice announced as he turned back to the closet
completely undeterred.

"Edward. I'm not sure what's going on but..." I trailed off with my palms held out in the
air as I watched him come out of my closet with a thick stack of clothes on hangers
cradled in his strong arms and threw it in to the bag.

"Edward, you need to stop," I ordered in a shaky voice as I followed him to the closet
door and panic set in. I'd never seen Edward act like this.

"I'll buy you new things then," he agreed with a slight nod as he stepped closer to me
with a tightened jaw and his green eyes were glowing with intensity. He fully expected
me to go.

"I'm not going anywhere. I have a little boy asleep in the other room and I think you need
to leave," I informed him in my calmest voice.

"We're going. Have Carlisle pick up his son," he ordered harshly, and folded his long
arms across his chest in resolve as if he was waiting for me to make the call. This was
spiraling downward quickly.

"Listen to me. I'm not leaving and neither is my child. You're the one who needs to
leave," I said firmly as I quickly made my way out to the living room and pointed a
shaking finger towards the front door and his eyes narrowed at me.

"McCarty was the worst of them all. What do you think he wants from you?" he asked
venomously as he took a step closer.

"Emmett is a friend. And a good one, at that," I defended, but he didn't seem to be
hearing one word I said. His mind seemed determined.

"And what about Carlisle? You said he's a good man and he's still not enough for you,"
he accused and raised one brow, eying me disdainfully.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I said vehemently as shook my head.

"Is any man enough for you?" he asked harshly as he glowered down at me and his eyes
searched mine. "Do you love them?" he interrogated as his nostrils flared slightly, and his
eyes were boring so deeply in to mine I couldn't look away. My breath caught in my
throat and then I shook my head.

"I don't appreciate being interrogated by you in my home," I replied angrily as I turned
away from his intense gaze and on the inside I was shaking.

"Have there been so many since me that you've forgotten?" he accused angrily, but his
eyes were searching as stepped forward to tower over me.

"Edward, please leave," I begged pointing to the door, because I wasn't sure if there were
others and if maybe that's what drove me to the edge.

"This is your revenge, isn't it," he stated accusingly, but his eyes just wanted answers. "Or
am I so forgettable to you," he said with pride and raised a brow.

"I really don't remember," I pleaded with him to understand and he seemed to shake
himself back to the present when his eyes flickered and went hard again.

"It doesn't matter. This is for you're own good. You're coming tonight," he commanded
and his face was stone while it seemed like every muscle in his body went tight, like was
going to take me whether I liked it or not.

"Edward, I'm not going anywhere with you. I hardly even know you!" I exclaimed as my
eyes searched for my cell phone.

"It is Carlisle then, isn't it? I can get rid of him," he justified quickly and it looked like his
mind was racing.

"No!" I burst out because I wasn't sure if he was talking about firing him or killing him.
"No. Look, I think you need to go home. We can talk again tomorrow when you've
calmed down." And I turned quickly to show him the door.

Before I knew what was happening, his arms wrapped me and I was pinned against the
wall and he was kissing me. Hard. His lips pressed firm and moist, trapping my own, but
before I could think to respond he pulled away breathing heavily.

"Fuck," he whispered his frenzied eyes probing me like he'd just pulled me from a
burning building. "It's you. It's really you."

My heart pounded and his sudden change in demeanor stunned me into silence. My
mouth hung open but I was too confused to speak.

"I still can't let myself believe it sometimes, you know. You don't know how long..." his
rough whisper trailed off, while rubbing his hands up and down my arms like a man
warming against a fire. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you."

"Edward, I..."

"No," he interrupted his voice harsh but the hand caressing my hair was anything but. "I
won't take no for an answer. This is right. You have to know that. I can't let this go
again."

"Mommy?" a small scared voice called and I gasped at the sight of Tristan in his light
blue PJ's dragging his blanket behind him. I pressed against Edward's chest until finally
he relented and stepped back, but his eyes never left mine.

"Everything's fine, honey, go back to bed. Mommy's okay," I said quickly, trying to get
control of the situation.

"Who are you?" Tristan interrogated, his nostrils flared slightly revealing how upset he
was by the scene he'd just witnessed.

Edward, who was clearly on a mission tonight, still hadn't taken his attention away from
me but upon the inquisition his face relaxed into the charming controlled man I'd seen on
TV.

"My name is Edward. I am a friend of your mother's," he said formally, the picture of
tranquility.

My eyes darted back and forth and I needed to calm myself.

"Yes, my love, he's just a friend. Please go back to bed now. I'll be in a minute," I said
soothingly. He didn't want to disobey me, but I could see the conflict in his eyes. And
then his little face steeled with bravery.

"You're not my Mommy's friend," he accused, returning his innocent eyed gaze to
Edward who narrowed his in return.

"I assure you, young man, that I am," he said pleasantly, but I could tell he thought it was
out of line for him to question an adult's authority.

"How come I've never seen you before," Tristan persisted curiously, and Edward cocked
a brow.

"I don't live here. I'm from England," Edward replied politely.

"Is that why you talk funny?" Tristan asked, genuinely curious and tilted his head up to
Edward with a furrowed brow.

"Yes. That's why I talk funny," he answered and then he smiled beautifully, disarmingly.
Tristan returned it with an equally glorious one of his own.

"Okay," Tristan said, looking to me and I gave him a reassuring smile, relieved his
curiosity was satisfied and quickly stepped to shoo him in to bed.

"I'm Tristan. It's nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand. Damn Carlisle and his
manners. Edward strode towards him and crouched down to meet his level.

"Likewise," he said sincerely. Tristan gave a sturdy shake despite how absurdly small his
hand looked in Edward's and I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that this was not a
complete disaster. It was entirely salvageable, and actually advantageous. The

groundwork was laid and it would make the revelation to them both much easier. The
plan was still in tact.

His head angled slightly studying Tristan's face. And his grass green eyes.

"How old are you?" Edward abruptly asked. My heart skipped.

"I'm four," Tristan said grinning. Edward nodded thoughtfully and I stepped towards
them.

"But I'll be five next month," Tristan volunteered, sounding like he hoped that was a
better answer. Edward's eyes widened minutely and then his face became unreadable. I
swayed on my feet.

"It's getting late and we have a busy day tomorrow. He really should be getting back to
bed," I rushed out. Edward's eyes were slits a now and if he was aware of me at all, it was
only in the peripheral.

Edward gave a tightlipped grin. "Five is a good age, Tristan," he continued in a controlled
voice. "Tell me, what do you do for fun?"

Tristan seemed pleasantly surprised. "I like to go to the zoo. And sometimes the park. I
like my school, too."

"Those are excellent interests. Who takes you to all these places?" He pressed and Tristan
looked thrown off.

"Uh, my Mom does. Or sometimes Cawrlisle," he nervously answered, thinking very
hard. And it didn't escape his attention that he called Carlisle by first name. Edward
seemed to inhale sharply.

"And what about your father?" he inquired directly, curiously. Tristan looked like
someone flushed his pet lizard and then asked him the secret of the universe.

"That's enough," I snapped, crushed, desperate, enraged.

Afraid.

Tristan's eyes were wet and confused. Their hands still clasped long after the shake were
finally released when Edward swiftly rose to stand.

"You're mother is right. It is indeed very, very late for this," he said sharply.

His composed form briefly turned to me, revealing narrowed eyes blazing fiercely with
anger. And I withered. And then he was gone.

Chapter XII- The Forsaken Pollination

I called Carlisle right after Edward's swift departure and asked him to come over. Tristan
was still upset by the events of the night and we lay in my bed with Tristan between us
while we assured him everything was fine and that Edward really was a friend and not an
intruder of some sort. He nodded sadly while looking down at his little fingers as they
fidgeted with the sheets, but there was confusion in his eyes and I could tell he was
holding back. He was braver than any little boy should ever have to be.

"What exactly happened, Bella?" Carlisle asked quietly after Tristan had fallen asleep. He
was lying on the other side of the bed propping himself up on his elbow facing me.

"Honestly? I don't know. He just showed up and he wanted me to go with him. I'm not
sure where or why, but he seemed pretty adamant about it. We were...discussing it when
Tristan woke up, and Edward was there, and he started asking questions...and Edward
just figured it out," I answered as I stared at the far wall. I didn't want to worry Carlisle
with too many details and I was downplaying it for my own sake. The whole night was a
blur of chaos except for how utterly vivid it was watching them shake hands of the same
flesh, and unknowingly smiling the same smile. A father and a son meeting for the first
time in their lives. One finally meeting the person they've been waiting for their whole
life, and the other not even realizing the other even existed.

"Did he say anything about...it," Carlisle probed cautiously and darted his eyes down to
the sleeping boy.

"No. But he knows. I'm sure of it," I answered firmly with downcast eyes. Carlisle pursed
his lips and nodded.

"I'll call the attorney tomorrow and let them know to move up contacting his people for
the DNA test and any other matters that may come up. There's no point in putting it off
now that he knows," Carlisle affirmed. "I guess he didn't say anything too compromising
in front of Tristan."

"Not directly, but the whole thing rattled him. He just asked him who his father was and I
guess when he didn't say you..." I trailed off, and then I looked down at the dark
chocolate brown lashes. He was so inquisitive and curious but I was always patient with
him and his need to understand everything around him because he was patient with me.
He taught me how to be a good mother to and there were some questions he never asked.
"He's never asked me, you know. I could see in his eyes he wanted to so badly tonight--
before you got here. It hurts him."

Carlisle was quite for a while and then he sighed and scratched his hair blond hair.

"He asked me once," Carlisle said gently, and my eyes met his. "He...he asked me if I
would be his Dad." I watched him look down at Tristan and although his expression was
steady, his eyes seemed glassy.

"I'm so sorry, Carlisle," I breathed in a broken whisper. "I didn't mean...I never meant to
put you in that kind of position..."

We were both quiet for a while and then he gave me a thin reassuring smile.

"It's fine," he finally said quietly. Sometimes I did wish Carlisle was his father just for the
sake of simplicity and both of us knew that five years ago, it was almost the truth. His
eyes met mine again with surety and resolve. "I'm staying here tonight, Bella. In case he
comes back."

"That's not necessary," I assured him while my mind flashed to the Edward's angry eyes
and I sighed. "He's not coming back."

"Nevertheless," he said as he lifted himself off the bed and pushed the sleeves of his
dusty blue nightshirt over his forearms. He was already in bed at home when I called and
he raced over. "I'll make sure we're locked up for the night. I'll be on the sofa if you need
me," he said with a smile, but his eyes were tired.

"Goodnight Carlisle," I said in a hushed voice as he clicked off the lights. I curled up in
bed and fell asleep next to my son peacefully, because we were safe.

~o~

The next morning I woke up and realized that everything was a mess. An absolute mess.

That was not how envisioned their first meeting and it was anything but ideal. For
starters, waking up in the middle of the night to find your mother in an embrace, kissing
some man you've never even met before was traumatic enough, (especially considering
he'd never seen me kiss anyone on the lips) but I wondered how much of the conversation
he'd heard. He was so upset and our lively discussion was certainly the thing that woke
him. What's worse is Tristan's first impression of the man that is his father was not a good
one. I didn't appreciate Edward intimidating my son whether he meant to or not,
although, it was clear Edward was actually containing the magnitude of his feelings about
it.

Was he angry with me? If he was, he had no right to be. I've made it more than clear that
I didn't know him, so he couldn't have expected me to track him down and tell him years
ago. I had no idea who he was. Based on my reaction, I think he realized that I'd already
figured out that he was the father in the short time I'd known him and just hadn't told him
yet. Maybe that was it, but he couldn't have expected me to walk into that mixer and
announce that he'd fathered a child with me after knowing him for one week.

Maybe he was just angry at the situation, or possibly himself. He certainly had a legacy to
carry on and probably the last thing he was expecting was to have fathered an out of
wedlock child with a random college girl he'd had a one night stand with during his
episode self-destruction and drug use, although it did seem like more to him than that.
Tristan was a living reminder of a very dark time for him and maybe he was angry with
himself for being so reckless and irresponsible. Although he appeared to have a large
sexual prowess, I doubt that included negligently impregnating women. I wondered if
that was why he was so insulted that I didn't remember, because I imagine most women
would never forget being with him intimately. I have no idea what kind of woman I was
with him because his impression of me seems totally off base. But just like how he was a
different Edward in my entry, maybe I was a different Bella with him, too. I can't imagine
what I could have done to give him the impression I'd be willing to abandon my child to
leave with him and where did he plan on taking me?

Based on his behavior last night, I have to lend new credence to the idea that he
potentially still uses. Maybe he was relapsed and wanted his old drug buddy back. I have
no idea, but the things he said to me floated loosely in my mind because it just didn't
make sense. He didn't seem to be intoxicated exactly, but his behavior was so irrational it
seemed plausible. Then I dismissed the idea when I recalled how methodical he was
about the whole thing. He knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted and his
actions only changed when I turned him down. For a man like him, that surely seldom
occurred and maybe he just had no idea how to react to not getting his way because it
never happened before. I was sitting at the dining table with Carlisle the next morning
and made a decision and once Tristan went to his room to feed his pet lizard, I stated my
case.

"Carlisle, I want you to hold off on having our attorneys contact his," I said peaceably as
came back from putting our dirty waffle plates in the sink. He looked thoughtful for a
moment before he spoke.

"Bella, it's your decision, but this is the way things like this get done. I don't want there to
be any more potentially damaging friction between the two of you," he explained, and
raised a brow, reminding me of what transpired last night.

"I agree, which is why I think I should try to smooth this out between he and I. If he's
upset with anyone, he needs to take it up with me and not take it out on Tristan. And I
certainly don't want him to think I'm coming after him with legal actions, because that's
not what I want. I don't care if Tristan has a father on paper, I only care if gets a father in
person. I think he will react badly or get the wrong impression of what I expect from him
if I just send him paperwork for a blood test. He'll think I'm pursuing him for the wrong
reasons," I explained reasonably.

"I see your point," he agreed as he squinted his eyes and took a sip from his coffee mug.
"If you want to get in touch with him, I'll give you his e-mail address. That's probably the
best way. Be polite, but concise. He seems to be blurring the lines about his boundaries
with you," he finished with a frown. Carlisle was the gentlest man I knew, but he was

also protective. I was nervous about what kind of treatment Edward would give him
come Monday after some of the things he'd said and I hated that this situation was
embroiling him on all fronts. Carlisle seemed thoughtful before he spoke again.

"We'll give it one week. If he doesn't respond to your olive branch, than we'll have the
attorney contact him," he held his hand out stopping me before I interrupted. "Bella, the
only reason we'll be contacting him is to get his medical history and we'll do it discretely.
Think about how many years have we pined away for that type of information."

I nodded in agreement. It was the least Edward could do. The very least.

On Sunday I decided to send the e-mail so he'd get it first thing Monday morning. He'd
had the weekend to absorb it and hopefully a cooler head will prevail. I typed it and re-
typed it maybe twenty times before hitting send.

- Sunday 10am-

Sender: bswan- swandesigns

Recipient: eacullen- MasenCullenCorp

Dear Edward,

I think we should to talk. Please contact me at the office or on my mobile at your earliest
convenience.

Kind Regards,

Bella Swan

Office: 718-237-1115

Cell: 718-237-1125

The phone was silent and the inbox stayed empty.

Wednesday afternoon, I met up with Carlisle and Emmett at the local park with Tristan
for a little soccer game with Tristan's buddy Seth. Seth was just a little guy with tanned
skin and ebony hair in a neat little bowl cut with the cutest high pitch voice that went to
school with Tristan. Seth's Mom was somewhat aloof and she appeared to be a single
parent as well so she allowed him to come out with us for some male bonding. After a
rousing game between Team Godzilla (Emmett and Seth) vs. Team Superman (Carlisle
and Tristan) that I ref'ed (because Emmett took it way to seriously), the adults had a seat
on the bench and watched the little balls of energy kick and chase errant balls around the
field.

"Still no word?" Carlisle quizzed cautiously as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a
towel. Although he was an excellent athlete and in stellar shape, he wasn't really one for
too much physical activity.

"Nothing," I replied, contemplatively as I handed Emmett his water bottle and tried to lift
his sweaty arm from around me to no avail. "How are things at the office? Has he said
anything?" I probed curiously, and Carlisle looked out onto the field.

"No," he replied reluctantly. "He's actually been on a bit of a tirade all week."

"What do you mean?" I asked, and he shook his head to himself, seemingly distressed.

"Let's just say he's been less than pleasant," he said politely and I scoffed, as if it that
weren't the norm. He turned to me with serious eyes and I was taken aback as he added,
"More than usual."

"How so?" I asked worriedly.

"He implemented a slew of new rules. It's a miracle I got off in time for this," he said
waving his hand towards the field. "Midnight conference calls to Tokyo, he cut back
vacation time for all upper level management, working weekends through the transition.
He even sent out an email banning certain things from the corporate office he's deemed
"counterproductive"."

I squinted and studied Carlisle's expressionless face for a moment. "Like what?" I asked
slowly.

"Coffee machines, Casual Friday's, which no one ever dressed for anyways..." he mused
as he trailed off. I raised an eyebrow and he exhaled. "And personal photos in the office."

"Yeah, he's a sneaky bastard, alright," Emmett, offered as he slumped back into the bench
while he twirled the ends of my hair. Carlisle chuckled, but it didn't seem genuine.

"He's really pissed," I verbalized as I watched Tristan try to pry the soccer ball from
underneath Seth who had collapsed on top of it and curled around it like a little roly-poly.

"I guess I can see where he's coming from though," Emmett added and I looked up at him
incredulously.

"Why are you taking his side on this? I thought you didn't like him?" I asked curiously.

"I'm not and I don't," he confirmed with a smirk. "But, I get where he's coming from." he
finished with a shrug.

"And where exactly is that?" I asked, curious to hear the wisdom of a man who once tried
to convince me banana laffy taffy had medicinal healing qualities.

"Bells, your too nice for your own good. You just don't get it. Somehow you've managed
to do what every girl who's ever met Cullen would have killed for. He's sneaky, but the
girls we went to school with wrote the book on it. The only reason all those girls left their
boyfriends that they were supposedly in love with to sleep with Cullen was because they
thought it was worth the risk," he said suggestively and cocked a brow.

"What risk?" I asked, stupefied. Why would you risk love for sex?

"They thought they might be the one to lock him down and get a ring or have his kid," he
said as he chuckled and shook his head. "I've had my share of it, too, but not like the guys
with big family names, and definitely not like Cullen. These girls would always show up
a few months later whining about "I'm late" or "I thought we had something special"
Blah, blah, blah."

"That's really mean," I pointed out frankly with a frown, and Emmett furrowed his brow
and pouted a little.

"They're the mean ones. It was just a strategy to try to hitch their wagon to the biggest
swingin' dick they could find. It's not like they actually gave a shit about us," he added
nonchalantly, with only a slight undertone of bitterness, before he held out his water
bottle and squeezed a stream into his mouth and swallowed. "All those girls had an end
game. They're not much different here, either. My personal favorite is "Don't worry about
the condom, I'm on the pill". When a girl says that, I double bag it. Or run! You know
what I'm saying?" he said comically and held his fist out for a pound from Carlisle who
looked down at it disapprovingly.

Emmett cleared his throat and continued. "Right. Well my point is having a kid is a big
deal, but Edward Cullen having a kid? That's a HUGE deal."

"Huh," I said thoughtfully.

"Like a MAJOR fucking deal," he continued, wide eyed staring out at the field.

"Right," I said, and shifted my eyes downward as he turned his face up to the sky.

"Like a Fresh Kills Landfill sized deal. The kind of deal you can see from outer space,"
Emmett added wistfully.

"I think we're good on the size of the deal, Emmett," Carlisle chastised, but Emmett's
mind was already elsewhere.

"Just a MASSIVE, gaping, ENORMOUS--" he started while spreading his giant hands
out.

"I got it, Emmett!" I snapped, interrupting his adjective practice session and Carlisle
finally chuckled in earnest.

The things Emmett said to me that day stuck with me the next few days. I already knew
that this was not a matter to be taken lightly for someone in the public eye, but it also
made me wonder about what really happened between us. All this time I'd assumed that
what I'd written was the final word on my impression of him, but as I thought about it
more, another version of events became entirely possible. I did find him at the grandest
hotel in the city so it's possible he'd told me who he was and all that that entailed. Piano
training is not cheap and I seemed curious about where the cash for the cab came from,
too. Maybe I led him on or gave him the impression that I was on some type of
contraceptive because Emmett's point was an excellent one. There's no way Edward
Cullen with a clear mind would have had unprotected sex with me. He didn't like kids, he
didn't want kids, and he was not happy when he'd figured out we'd had one together.
Maybe I became intoxicated with the idea of being with someone like him and deceived
him in to impregnating me. Maybe I learned the Pauper was actually a Prince and thought
myself lucky to have found him in his moment of weakness so I could have my chance at
hitching my wagon.

I didn't know which idea I liked least, being a druggie, being a whore or being a gold
digger, but they were all very real possibilities.

I decided on one last attempt at contact and decided on a more personal appeal. Although
it was against Carlisle's advice to be informal, there was no matter more personal than
this. I exhaled as I pressed send on my blackberry, hoping I wasn't being to pushy, but I
figured two emails in the lifetime of an almost five year old boy to a father he never knew
wasn't asking too much.

-Friday 9am-

Sender: bswan- swandesigns

Recipient: eacullen- MasenCullenCorp

Dear Edward,

I hope your week is going well. I’m not sure what to say, but I’d just like to hear from you
if that’s possible.

Sincerely,

Bella

-Friday- Reply Email-

sender: eacullen -masencullencorp

recipient: bswan - swan designs

Dear Ms. Swan,

Mr. Cullen has requested the sender discontinue contact.

From the desk of:

Edward A. Cullen II

Chief Executive Officer

MasenCullen Corporation

New York, NY - London, UK - Tokyo, Japan

NYSE: MSCI

My heart broke as I frantically read the reply e-mail over and over, realizing he wanted

nothing to do with us at all. My phone buzzed again a few minutes later and I opened the

new email in my inbox to find the final nail in the coffin.

sender: eacullen -masencullencorp

recipient: bswan - swan designs

This is best.

~o~

By Saturday, I was riddled with guilt. I had allowed myself move on from whatever it is I
did that got me pregnant and disturbed, but it seemed these action now haunted my son’s
opportunity at having two parents. He was paying for my sin’s in the form of whatever
retribution Edward was serving by ignoring us completely. No matter how I sliced it, it
was my fault. Even if Edward was motivated by selfish reasons for denying Tristan, I was
the one who got pregnant by him instead of some nice man who could have loved his son
and wanted a relationship with him. I'm not sure if he meant best for him, best for me, or
best for Tristan, but I had a pretty good guess of who's interest's he was really looking out
for. He most likely would be compromising his own position with his family by
acknowledging Tristan as his blood.

But I kept reminding myself that we were fine before him and we'll be fine long after
him.

Saturday night Rosalie offered to take us out to dinner to try to lift our spirits. Tristan was
still somewhat affected by meeting Edward because he wanted to be by my side at all
times and hovered around me like a little guardian. It would have been terribly cute if it
weren’t for such an unfortunate reason. Carlisle came but Alice was still in Miami until

tomorrow and Rose was still tiptoeing around having to face Emmett, so it was just the
four of us. We went to Tristan's favorite restaurant, Del Posto, for his favorite treat.

"Ms. Hale, your table is ready," said the maitre de and we followed him through the trail
between tables until we arrived at a square table in the center of the room. Rose stared at
the table incredulously and I already knew what the problem was.

"Javier, dear, I think you've made a mistake. My table is the booth in the corner," she
informed him and turned to point out the leather-backed booth that looked out on the
floor. Then her eyes narrowed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Carlisle and I followed her gaze to the table we always sat at, but it was filled already. Of
all the restaurants in all the world... Edward Cullen was sitting, with a table full of men
all in suits. Under the dim lamplight, I could see his angular features clearly and the
polished navy suit he wore with a white shirt. It looked like he was furious as he stabbed
his finger forcefully down on the table, and narrowed his eyes in a menacing way at the
petrified group.

"This table is fine, Rosalie," I said tiredly as I exhaled and pulled out a chair for Tristan.

"We can go somewhere else, Bella," Carlisle encouraged as he took my arm and looked
at me sympathetically, but Rose spoke for me.

"The heck we are! We are staying Right. Here. And he can take his Beatles loving British
ass somewhere else if he doesn't like it," she asserted as she flipped her long blonde hair
as she sat down. Tristan squeezed my hand and looked up at me with his "Ohh, she's in
trou-ble!" face because Rose cursed but I just smiled back. I'd let this one slide.

"Javier, go ahead and put in an order for the calamari appetizer. Tell Mario I expect it to
be on the house for the inconvenience," she ordered as she perused the menu.

"Yes, ma'am," he said before hurrying off.

"Bella, we really can go somewhere else," Carlisle said as he leaned in closer and his
eyes darted to Tristan.

"Why would we go?" Tristan asked, oblivious as he tried to angle a breadstick as long as
a ruler into his mouth, but kept stabbing his cheek. "This is my favor-wit."

"We're not going anywhere, honey," Rose cooed lovingly and Tristan smiled back with
his eyes alight. I was really going to have to put a stop to this little crush.

We chatted for a few minutes as they brought out our drinks, but the appetizer was taking
a little long and Tristan was getting impatient.

"Excuse me!" Rose said as she snapped her fingers in the air at our passing waiter. He
looked nervous as he approached the table. "Where is my appetizer? It's been almost
fifteen minutes?"

"Oh, which one did you get, ma'am?" he asked confusedly, and Rose was visibly irritated.

"Are you new or something? The cal-a-mar-i. Javier put the order in and this delay is
unacceptable," she said, and he looked like he was going to pee himself.

"Uh, Ms. Hale? See, the thing is, we're sold out of that for the night," he said quickly and
flinched. Rose was livid.

"That piece of information would have been helpful when I placed the order, but now it's
just beyond incompetence. Get Mario out of the kitchen," she ordered. Carlisle and gave
each other weary looks. We knew this wouldn't end well. Mario Basally came strolling
up to the table with his brass colored hair in a ponytail and his chef's coat on.

"Good evening, Rose. What can I do for you?" he asked with a big white smile and she
smiled back batting her lashes.

"Mario, what's this about not having any calamari left? You know that's what I come here
for," she said in a seductive voice and pouted out her pink lips.

"Rose, I am so sorry. How about I cover the tab for the night?" he offered as his eyes
roved her exposed long legs. She seemed to delicately huff in frustration and then she
smiled warmly.

"That's fine for tonight, but next time I just know you'll remember to give a lady what she
wants, right?" she asked suggestively and raised a brow. I shot a glance over at Carlisle
who was shaking his head with a slight smirk.

"Anything for you, My Rose," he replied affectionately, and to my absolute surprise, my
little son's mouth was tighter than a guitar string and he was narrowing his eyes at the six
foot tall, three hundred pound chef. This was all bad. Mario walked back in to the kitchen
and he seemed to relax a bit.

"Sorry, honey, no calamari tonight," she said defeatedly and Tristan looked a little sad.
"What about the fried mushrooms or the--" She cut herself off and I watched her eyes
follow a server hoisting up a black server tray with a plate of what looked like calamari.
We both watched the tray travel across the room until he set the tray down on a prop and
began unloading food on Edward Cullen's table. My eyes widened and flashed over to
Rose.

"That rotten, scum sucking, dirt licking..." she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Rose? Rose, now calm down, now. It's no big deal," Carlisle soothed urgently, and I saw
him tense to restrain her if need be. Rose's line of vision was unbroken as she spoke.

"Tristan, I think you'll have your calamari tonight after all," she said quietly and Tristan
smiled.

"Really?"

"Really," she replied as she shrugged off her coat and adjusted her cleavage to sit
impossibly high in her tank top.

"Rose, you need to sit down," I ordered as she stood and wound the waistband of her skirt
a few times until it was super short. She fluffed her hair and in a matter of seconds she
went from a stunningly gorgeous woman to a dangerously sexy one.

"I'll be back," she said flippantly, and then leaned over to Tristan. "A kiss for luck" she
said pointing to her cheek and he smiled and obliged. I tried to snatch her wrist, but she
anticipated it and smirked back at me over her shoulder as she sauntered her perfect lean
model physique over the Cullen table.

"This is bad," I murmured, thinking now would be a good time to hide under the
tablecloth.

"I know. But you can't look away, can you? It's like a train wreck..." Carlisle commented
as his gaze stayed with mine, following her slinking form. They didn't call her Rosalie
"The Body" Hale for nothing.

We couldn't hear the interaction from where we seated across the restaurant, but we
watched as she stopped at the edge of the round table with one long leg extended out and
a hand on her hip. Edward was still in the middle of his intense discussion when all the
men looked up, pleasantly surprised by the intrusion except Edward. He eyed her
contemptuously as she started speaking with her hands, and then leaning over the table
exposing her cleavage. From the back we could see her skirt was only an inch or so short
from pulling a Britney and revealing her girly bits to the rest of the room. I saw her turn
her head and point a manicured finger back to out table and I spun my head quickly
before Edward eyes made their way to mine.

"What is he doing?" I murmured to Carlisle, and watched Tristan happily distracted with
another breadstick.

"I think they call it 'glaring'," Carlisle replied casually as he took a drink of water.

I chanced another look and saw Rosalie reach across the length of the table and lift the
appetizer plate that sat directly in front of Edward before sauntering back to us with a
smile, and I darted my eyes away again when I saw Edward's gaze heading towards me. I
briefly wondered if he preferred Gruyere to cheddar, too. When I heard the cadence of

heels approach, I looked up to see Rosalie standing triumphantly with a plate in her hands
and turn back towards their table.

"Thanks guys!" she called across the room and waved. The men waved and became
distracted with high fives and whispers, but Edward stared at her with a face of stone and
then he said something to the group that got them back in line. She smiled broadly as she
flicked him off and set the plate down in front of Tristan who's eyes lit up as he quickly
shoveled in some pieces he'd dunked in marinara.

"What did you say to them?" I asked as she reached over and happily pinched Tristan's
marinara covered cheek.

"I just told them that I had a special little guest with me tonight who came special for that
dish and they very generously offered it to me. Wasn't that sweet of them?" she asked in a
syrupy voice to Tristan who grinned and nodded.

"All of them?" I asked skeptically.

"Well, all but that one fellow," she stated contemplatively and tapped her chin, really
enjoying her little victory. "But once I pointed out who my little guest was, he didn't say
one little thing. Not. One. Word." she furrowed her brow and shook her head looking
mystified, and then a satisfied smirk crossed her lips.

Rose was smug and cheerful as can be, until about ten minutes later Mario himself came
rushing out of the kitchen with a steaming hot plate of calamari and looked to be
apologizing profusely to Edward as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a dish towel. That
took some major wind out of her sails. The rest of dinner went fine and we ate quietly.
When we were on our way out the door, Rose stopped and posed for some pictures with
tourists and let my eyes wander to Edward's table. Maybe he realized I was looking, but I
saw him slowly raise his gaze to meet mine and his green eyes were cold and
expressionless. It was only a second, but I thought to myself how much easier it would be
to be more upset with him if he were an ugly man. It's unfortunate how something so
wonderful looking on the outside could be so disappointing on the inside. It was like false
advertising from God. His little joke. I would have settled for a terribly ugly man who
was a plumber if it meant he'd play at the park with him on weekends and teach him what
life was about. Then I saw him cock his brow and look downward. I looked down too and
saw that my little son who was clinging to my leg was giving him the same dirty look
he'd given the chef earlier that night. I patted his hair and he looked up at me sorrowfully
and then Carlisle put his arm around me and we left without looking back once.

~o~

I lay in bed that night alone in the dark with my palms resting on my forehead taking

controlled breaths and fighting the stinging feeling in my eyes.

Chapter XIII - Black Flowers Blossom

By the next day, I had come to terms with our situation completely and put it behind me.
I'd gotten good at that over the years. I considered my restless night the final mourning
for the father Tristan would never have. Although I'd spent years completely unconcerned
about his biological father, I am inherently somewhat of a dreamer and I guess in the
back of my mind I'd held out some tiny ray of false hope that he would be the kind of
man worthy of calling himself a father to my son. The mystery was now dead and so was
the chance at a happy ending. The happy ending I never got as a child. No white knights,
good white witches or fairy godmothers. This was the curse of the Swan's.

Everyone came over a little early for our Sunday festivities. Emmett was eager to see
Rose, and Alice had been out of town for a while so it was nice to all be together again. I
didn't go in to detail with anyone about how's and why's, but they all knew that Edward
had waived his opportunity. Carlisle was the only one who knew about the midnight visit
and it seemed unnecessary to broadcast it to anyone else. Carlisle, Tristan and Emmett
were assembling a puzzle on the dining table while the girls hung out in the kitchen.

"What a prick," Alice said; as she disorganized my spice rack again that I'd just put it
back in order.

"Is that the best you got? I can think of much more colorful things to call him than that,"
Rose sneered.

"Like Lord Edward of Douchebaggery-ville," Alice announced in an English accent and
we giggled.

"What about Craptard-ward A. Sullen. Or Captain CrustyCullen AssMuncher,"Rose
added inventively, and we snickered again.

"If he were a doctor on a TV drama, he'd be Dr. McSteaming Pile of Horse Shit," Alice
added and then almost fell off the kitchen counter while laughing at her own joke.

They joked a little more and I didn't bother stopping them. It was mildly amusing and this
was their therapy. In think the rejection stung us all a little bit because the one thing we
would have never guessed was that there was someone on Earth who wouldn't want to a
part of Tristan's life. We were so used to us all jostling to get his time, it seemed
unfathomable that someone could deny him. And we took all of our individual successes
and failures as a whole, as a family, like it should be. I began unloading the produce to
prep for dinner when Carlisle came in the kitchen.

"Bella, do you have the number to that cabin we stayed at when we went camping last
year?" he asked, with a furrowed brow and I smirked when I saw him wearing his thick

black-framed grandpa readers that he wore for doing puzzles sliding down his chiseled
nose.

"I think I have it saved in my phone. Why do you ask?" I quizzed.

"Tristan was just telling me that's what he wanted for his birthday so I figured I'd check
their availability," he replied. "They book up quick and I bet they’re already full but it's
worth a shot. Where's your phone?"

"In my purse on the coffee table," I answered as I went back to chopping some corn right
off the cob as I prepped for dinner. Alice shook her head and tisked while she watched
him walk off.

"How can someone that freakin' hot be so...Mr. Rogers?" she mused, and Rose smacked
her arm.

"He's just conservative. And he happens to like sweater vests," she answered lightly,
defending her wholesome big brother. They were both the personification of all
American beauty. Carlisle strolled back in looking down at my phone with an intense
expression.

"Did you find it?" I asked as I darted my eyes up to his.

"No," he replied solemnly and looked up at me while extending the phone out to me.
"You have an e-mail."

I squinted my eyes at him and laid down the knife before wiping my hands on my apron
and reaching for the Blackberry.

New Messages: Sender- E Cullen

-E-mail Sunday 3:45am-

Sender: E. Cullen

Recipient: bswan- swan designs

We'll talk over dinner. 7:30 sharp.

51273 Fifth Avenue- Manhattan, NY 10128

Edward

"He wants to talk," I said quietly as I reread the email.

"Oh, HELL no!" Rose exclaimed emphatically as she stabbed my long kitchen knife
blade into my cutting board.

"Keep it down, you fowl mouth," I shushed her. I gave her a free pass last night. You
give'em and inch, they take a mile.

"No! No, no, no. He missed the boat. This ship has sailed. Tell him to go wank off his
packet," she rushed out a she began to pace the tile and talk with her hands.

"I'll decide that, Rose," I answered firmly as I leveled my eyes with hers and she stomped
her foot.

"No, Bella!" she whined and looked sadly at Alice and Carlisle for back up. He looked
back and forth from she and I before he spoke.

"If he is willing to be reasonable, I don't see why it's a bad idea," he explained calmly and
shrugged casually.

"Maybe he just needed some time to think about it..." Alice trailed off lamely, and we all
looked at her. I was expecting her to be with Rose on this.

"You CANNOT be serious right now," Rose said and put her hand on her hip.
"Remember? Lord Edward? Douchebaggery-ville?"

"But if he's seen the error of his ways, maybe she should give him a chance? Maybe he
reconsidered?" she replied sadly and looked down at her clasped hands. When she looked
up I gave her a reassuring smile and she returned it.

"Oh, okay. I see," Rose started sarcastically. "This makes sense now. Of course you three
would think this is a good idea. You could fill the Pacific Ocean with all of your
abandonment issues."

"Rose," Carlisle, snapped in a stern voice and she looked taken aback. "I think we've
heard enough from you." Their father wasn't a big fan of his lifestyle choice and had
essentially disowned him, but in the time they were bickering I'd made my decision.

"I'm going to go and talk to him. He didn't sign up for this and maybe he just had a case
of too much, too soon. I can't let my personal feelings about him negatively affect
Tristan's future," I finished resolutely.

"But why, Bella? He's such a friggin' dick," Rose whined and stomped her foot, smelling
defeat.

"Rose, think about it a little," Alice started. "He's actually taking this much better than
any of us did. Hell, even Bella had more...intense reaction to finding out she was

pregnant than he did about finding out he had a little living breathing four year person in
the world."

Carlisle smiled proudly at Alice and her atypically astute observation.

"If he has a chance to have a real father, and Edward Cullen is prepared to be that man,
than I say take it," Carlisle added with a nod.

"This is bullshit," Rose mumbled and crossed her arms and we ignored her. It was the
only thing to do when she got like this.

"Where and when does he want to meet you?" Carlisle asked turning to me.

"Uh, tonight. He said he wants to talk over dinner. Some place on Fifth Avenue," I
relayed as I scrolled through the message on my phone, and when I looked back up
Carlisle's features were one of concern.

"I think that's the house he owns in the city," he said cautiously, and darted his eyes to
Rose and Alice and I knew what he was getting at. He didn't want to discuss it in front of
them but he didn't think it was a good idea to meet Edward at his house. "Did you want
me to come along?" he ventured with a brow lifted in the air.

I pursed my lips and twisted my mouth as I scrolled through re-reading the message when
I found a second one in the inbox.

-Incoming e-mail Sunday 3:46am-

Sender: E. Cullen

Recipient: bswan- swan designs

Come alone.

I closed the e-mail.

"No, this is between he and I. I think it will be fine," I said quietly and looked up giving
them all a reassuring smile. Alice scoffed.

"Just remember Bella, last time you met him without us there, you ended up missing for
three months and pregnant," she said teasingly and popped some M$M's out of the dish
and in to her mouth. It was definitely a good call not tell the girl's about the almost
kidnapping I thought to myself wearily.

I didn't even bother replying to confirm my attendance because it seemed it was assumed.
I had several hours to pass before the meeting and I became more and more nervous as
the time slowly passed. I helped Tristan with his puzzle for a while but my eyes kept

darting to the clock. When I decided to get dressed, Alice insisted on dressing me. She
pulled out a hardcore black DKNY power suit and some pumps, telling me that I needed
to be "about my business" for the discussion. Rose, looking for a sympathetic ear, filled
in Emmett on the details and although he's normally the neutral party in serious matters,
he unsurprisingly took her side.

"Bella, he's a jerk and I don't like him," he huffed as he folded his arms and leaned
against my closet door.

"Regardless," I said with a sigh. "This is for Tristan, not for us."

"I'm coming with you," he asserted and stuck out his lip. I chuckled. Emmett could be
almost as cute as Tristan sometimes.

"Wouldn't you rather stay here and help Rose cook?" I hedged as I raised a brow. He
looked like that hadn't occurred to him and then smiled with full on dimples before
strolling back out in to the living room, delighted that she was talking to him again.
Easily distracted.

I was trying to amp myself up for before I left and as I stared in the mirror I realized I
looked ridiculous. I was already on edge and I felt even less comfortable in this funereal
outfit, so I changed in to the same slim dark jeans and tailored white shirt I'd worn to the
patio lunch with my slide on wedges and a my tan fitted blazer. I must have run the brush
through my hair over a hundred times, just looking for something to preoccupy myself
with.

I kissed everyone goodbye and told Tristan that I had to run an errand and I'd be back
soon. The cab ride felt like an eternity but when we pulled up, I felt like it was way too
short. I almost guffawed when we pulled up to the residence on the address. I didn't even
want to speculate the cost, but it was a monstrous limestone architectural marvel that
overlooked the park. I took a few deep breaths and went over the high points I'd
discussed with Carlisle that I needed to cover before I climbed the stone stairs.

I knocked gingerly on the massive mahogany door at the front of the townhouse and held
my breath as it slowly creaked open. A butler of some sort straight out of The Great
Gatsby eyed me suspiciously like I was here to sell him a new religion.

"Mr. Cullen is expecting me," I explained, but as I did, I heard the rapid footfalls of
expensive Italian shoes on the marble floor approaching. From down a hall behind the
grand iron stairway, Edward strode quickly towards us with a hard look on his face.

"Let her in," he ordered, his eyes narrowed at me and the he turned and said over his
shoulder. "Follow me."

I gave a nervous smile to the butler and quickly stepped in the home, and hurriedly
followed Edward's descending figure through the house. It was palatial and grand with a

strong English influence. Gold framed oil paintings and sconces; all the furnishings were
rich but not too dark. It was a spectacular home. I kept my eyes on everything else but the
back of the angry form that walked with determination a few feet in front of me. I saw a
chandelier hanging in a lit room as we approached the end of the hall.

"We're dining in here," he said when he stopped momentarily and turned to face me. His
green eyes were cold and distant as he strode to the head of the long mahogany table and
pointed to the other end. "Sit."

The table had to have been fifteen feet long, surrounded by empty dining chairs, but I
turned and obeyed by taking a seat at the entirely opposite end where the only other place
setting was. I scooted my chair in and saw Edward at the other glaring at me intensely
with his mouth in a tight line. I'm guessing his seating selection was more symbolic than
I'd realized. The very air around him was adversarial and the only sound was the
metronome ticks of the grandfather clock, creating an eerie echo as the sound
reverberated in the empty space. It became the Russian roulette of all staring contests
until the butler entered and finally interrupted by clearing his throat.

"We'll be having the cabernet," Edward said dryly, and the butler poured his glass from
the bottle of red in his right hand while holding the white wine in his left. I was surprised
because Edward had told me he didn't drink. When he came to my glass I put my hand
over it indicating I'd pass, but as the butler pulled his arm back, Edward snapped. "Pour
it."

I smiled reassuringly at the butler as he poured, but when I saw his face he looked angry
now, too.

"Take her coat," he added. I hesitated but when I saw Edward cock one brow at me,
daring me to contradict, I decided on the path of least resistance and shrugged off my tan
corduroy blazer and I felt uneasy as he watched the procedure with interest. Once I
handed away the coat, I straightened in my chair to my most professional posture and
looked at him expectantly, hoping to have a civil conversation. Edward just took a drink
from his goblet and stared me down. I cleared my throat.

"So, you're ready to talk?" I encouraged, he narrowed his eyes and set his glass down
hard on the wooden surface.

"I've changed my mind," he replied coolly, and furrowed my brow, worried what exactly
he'd changed his mind about, but his eyes darted to my glass.

"Drink." he commanded. I really didn't want to pick up that glass because I knew it
would give away my shaking hand. His eyes were boring in to me and I did as I was told,
hoping my acquiesce would calm him. I noted that the butler set Edward's plate down
before mine, which was contrary to etiquette, but I thought it best to keep that to myself.
The plate of food smelled delicious but I had zero appetite. The thick pungent tension in
the air was now scented with the lovely aroma of rosemary and filet, but like a spritz of

perfume on a skunk, it concealed nothing. When the butler finished, he stood patiently in
the corner with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Out," Edward said without lifting his eyes from mine, and the butler scuttled away.

I sat silently watching Edward take another drink and begin his meal. He looked as
magnificent as ever when I saw him in the foyer dressed in crisp black slacks with a
black button up, a few buttons undone exposing his collar, and coordinating black belt
with silver H buckle. And now I watched him as he rolled up the sleeves over his strong
forearms and began cutting his steak. He kept his eyes on his plate and eating seemed to
have distracted him from his anger, but maybe he just found a new outlet for it. I watch
him slice and chew efficiently, intermittently taking drinks of wine, and it seemed unfair
to the rest of us that someone could look that attractive when in the midst of a rage. His
jaw flexed with each bite, his forearm muscles rippled as he sliced. I suddenly reached
for my wine and took a big gulp. I couldn't let him distract me from what I came to do.
There was someone more important at stake here than both of us. I wouldn't let him draw
this out any longer or leave us in limbo. It was now or never.

"I'm not asking for any sort of financial support," I started bravely, calmly. "We just need
to know what kind of contact you're interested in." His silverware stilled in his hands and
he didn't look up from his plate, but after a few seconds he continued eating as if I hadn't
spoken at all. A few more uncomfortable minutes passed and my knee began to shake.

"I understand it's all very new for you and I want you to take as much time as you need,"
I said in a sincere and understanding tone. He kept his eyes on his plate and reached for
his wine. After a long pull from the glass, he cut his steak with renewed vigor.

"But," I started and cleared my throat. "But I need you to be sure. I can't introduce you as
his father only to have you disappear from his life. We can't risk that," I finished sternly,
finally getting it off my chest. He hunched over and bowed his head over the plate,
setting both his elbows on the table wide apart, and released his silverware from his
hands. The weighty metal clattered loudly on the table, echoing through hollow room and
I jumped in my seat. With his head still bowed, he picked up his steak with his long
fingers and lifted it to his mouth, ripping off a chunk of meat and chewing. My nerves
were completely frayed and that must have been why I found the action completely erotic
as the juice ran down his chin.

"And I've arranged for a paternity test," I added, my eyes still glued to his down turned
head and flexing jaw. "I want you to be sure...that...he's yours."

He took one more rip of the meat and dropped the savaged chunk onto his plate
carelessly. Without looking up at me, he waved me over. I swallowed thickly and stood
from my chair, slowly crossing the room making my way to him. I wasn't sure if he
wanted me to sit or if he was dismissing me, so I just stared at his immobile hunched
form.

He suddenly pushed himself back from the table, sliding back in his chair. He lifted his
napkin from thigh and tossed it on the table roughly.

"Sit," he said, still looking down.

I pulled out the chair next to him and began lowering myself, when he reached over and
hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me between his legs. I gasped at the sudden
movement and my heart started pounding. He let his eyes travel up my body slowly and
when they met with mine, I saw they were completely on fire, all the emerald facets
blazing with heat.

He jerked me down onto his thigh and hissed, "I said sit."

This proximity was bad for my health and doing crazy things to my body. I timidly
searched his face trying to understand what was going on in his head, but when he
gripped my thigh and slid me further up his, I got a good idea of what he was thinking.
He wasn't lying about his "stick" and couldn't stop my body’s own chemical response.
My heart was fluttering in my chest as his eyes studied mine, but his face was still stone,
giving nothing away.

My body shifted with his from where I perched on his muscular thigh as he reached for
his wine and brought it to his lips for a long pull. I watched his Adam’s apple bob and
tried not to think about how wonderful he smelled. Then he brought the glass to my lips
and nodded his chin up minutely.

"Drink," he said, and I tilted my head back as he poured the drink in to my mouth, and he
watched me swallow. I felt a little braver so I spoke.

"If you want to walk away now and wash you're hands of this, you still can," I quietly
said the words I dreaded, but I was giving him his final out.

"There's still time. I won't hate you," I added. If he walked out now with no damage done
I couldn't blame him.

He narrowed his eyes and I could see he was breathing harder, as was I, and then he
reached his free arm out to his plate and swirled a finger in the béarnaise sauce. He
slowly brought his finger to barely touch my lips and I panted a little.

"Does it look like I want to wash my hands of this?" he asked in a rich smooth voice, and
then involuntarily I slid the tip of my tongue out to his finger and he sunk it in between
my lips. The pull was back. Whatever it is that makes my body aware when he's around,
and the loss when he's gone, was back. The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him
was making me dizzy. He withdrew his finger slowly and his arm around me tightened
and his hand started creeping under my shirt, up to the smooth skin of my back.

"As for your other questions," he said as looked down in his lap and watched his own
hand begin rubbing my thigh. "I was out of time a long time ago. And you probably will
hate me."

His hand was running circuits on my thigh and I thought I was melting. He lifted his eyes
up to meet mine evenly, because for once, while sitting on his lap, we were equal.

"I know he's mine," he said in an emotionless tone, but then he ran his hand all the way to
my inner thigh lightly stroking my center, causing me to quake.

"And you should be, too," he smoldered when he looked at me, and then gently pressed
his warm soft lips on mine. Without thinking, I responded, my lips moving in slow deep
synchronicity with his, like they needed no introduction at all. He pulled me against his
chest and held me against him firmly. Our lips stayed molded as I angled my mouth,
deepening the kiss, and his tongue found mine. Our heavy breaths were fogging our
cheeks as we breathed harder and harder, refusing to break. I let my hand slide up his
forearm and up to his muscular shoulders and then around his neck, pulling him closer,
my fingers slipping in his hair, and his hand pushed the fabric of my shirt up until he
reached the back of my bra and started to unsnap it. I tensed momentarily and he began
softening the tempo of the kiss and spoke against my lips.

"You can do this, Bella,” he whispered in a husky voice. "See how easy it is?" and then
he pulled me tighter right on to his hard dick, and in an instant I was unbuttoning his shirt
and running my hands up and down the smooth hard muscles of his chest. Maybe it was
the wine and spirits, or maybe I was possessed by a spirit, but my body was speaking a
language with his I'd never learned.

Fluently.

He lifted me off his lap until I stood between his legs, and I almost resisted, wanting the
kiss back, until I saw his hands go to the button of my jeans. I stepped out of my shoes
and he slid the jeans down my legs. I began to step out of them, too, but he grabbed the
back of my knee and gently bent my leg for me, pulling the fabric off my ankle, and then
he did the other. He put both hands on the back of my knees and slowly stroked his way
up the sides of my thighs and under the thin black satin bands of my panties that clung to
my hips. He leaned forward and softly kissed my thigh right under the fabric as his big
warm palm slid up the inside of my thigh directly to the pooling heat of my center, and I
trembled as he stroked it lightly with one finger.

"And this should be mine," he said resentfully, and he looked up at me with fire and
determination in his eyes. In a flash, he stood to full height, lifting me off the ground with
him as he crashed his lips in to mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he pressed
me against the wall, kissing, panting, hungry, and starved.

I felt his hand reach between us, quickly undoing his belt and pushing his pants lower.
And then I felt his throbbing hard cock unleashed against my wetness. He pressed me

against the wall harder, and I felt every inch. He broke the kiss and pressed against me
again.

"I'm going to fuck you until you remember me, Bella," he whispered harshly into my hair
as he hiked me up higher and reached between us to slide my panties out of the way for
him to enter. He was right there at the slippery edge, hard and smooth. And without
warning he shoved inside me and groaned loudly. I gasped and clawed at his back, I felt
like I was drowning, I couldn't breathe and the heat of him inside me was incredible. I felt
filled to the brim, painfully so, and then he slid out slowly, agonizingly.

"I'm going to fuck you until you forget everyone else," he hissed, and slammed into me,
my shoulder and back thudding against the wall and he kept his hard firm body pinning
me to it. I writhed against him, my hips squirming as I adjusted to his size. I felt delirious
and high. He slid his hand between us and rubbed my slippery clit with his thumb and I
was a goner.

"You know why you're so wet for me, Bella?" he asked as he bent his head and leaned his
lips against my ear, tickling with his breath, as he swirled his thumb around and around
and my head fell back as I whimpered helplessly. He removed his hand and gripped my
ass tightly with both hands as he kissed the tip of my nose and readied himself.

"Because I'm the one that taught you this," he growled and thrust powerfully in to me, so
hard, and I thought I'd split in two or blackout. He began devouring my neck
aggressively, mouth and teeth, licks and sucks, and rocking in to me, against my clit,
pressing his hard cock impossibly deeper, shoving me closer to him as he gripped me in
the palms of his hands, and I started to unravel. It was like a wave crashing over me made
of everything good in the universe, sucking me in, taking me under, and then it surged,
breaking the surface and exploding in bursts, my skin tingling everywhere, and my arms
were wrapped too tightly around his neck because I needed a life preserver so I wouldn't
disappear. He was relentless and I finally felt him pulse inside me, before letting his hard
body collapse vertically and press completely against me, sandwiching me between the
rock and the hard place. I didn't even care. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt. He
leaned his forehead onto the wall behind me as mine rested on his shoulder, still trying to
find air. We stayed like that for a while, but the trembling thrill in my blood wouldn't
calm.

I felt him stir and I hoped he didn't put me down because my legs were still rubber and I
felt his head turn until his lips were near my ear.

"You're not leaving until I show you," he snarled and I gasped when I felt him getting
hard inside me again and then he spun us, walking a few feet and laying me on the dining
table like I was a piece of fine china, just so he could smash it like a battering ram.

And for the next few hours, he did.

Show me.

Everything.

~o~

He finally started to drift off to sleep and I tried to lift myself off of his chest, but his arm
was ridiculously heavy. Or maybe I had not a drop of energy. I let my head fall back on
him, my ear nestled against the warm skin over his beating heart and just listened for a
while. A few minutes passed and I decided I couldn't wait any longer to call home. I
wriggled from under his arm and slipped out of bed, tiptoeing around his dark bedroom to
find something to cover up with and saw his shirt lying on the floor next to his side so I
bent over and grabbed it, sliding it on. As I started to do the buttons, his hand whipped
out and grabbed my wrist, drawing me close until my knees hit the edge of the bed.

He wordlessly unpropped himself off his elbow, laying back on the white pillow, and
pulled me until I had one knee bent on the mattress and was leaning over him, my long
dark hair curtaining us in. His hair was disheveled so attractively and he had a few
scratch marks on his chest and I smiled. Silently, he reached up and began buttoning the
buttons of his shirt over me, only pausing once to stroke my breast with his fingers,
inspiring a shiver, and when he was done he ran his hand up the muscle of my thigh and
under the tail of the shirt. I gave him a questioning look but he just removed his hand and
rolled over in the bed stretching his broad back and tucking his long arms under the
pillows.

I shook my head and smiled as I tiptoed through his home, trying to find the dining room
where I'd left my purse. I followed the gingerbread trail of clothes, which lead me there
easily, and started digging through my purse for the phone. And then I froze when I heard
clicking heels.

"What are you doing here?" Kate said, surprised. I turned around and saw her standing in
the entry to the dining room in a powder blue blouse, slim black slacks and perfectly
coifed vanilla blonde bob. I was able to observe all of these details, including the small
birthmark on her right thumb, because I couldn't speak. I was literally speechless. As was
she. And the metronome ticks of the clocks were suddenly as loud as a church bell.

I saw movement in the corner of my eye and it was Edward standing in only black silk
drawstring pants, his muscular chest, rippling abs and pecs, complete with zebra pattern
scratch marks courtesy of moi'.

"What is she doing here, Edward?" Kate asked, desperate to hear that I came to drop off
some flowers he'd for bought her, and that's all. Edward looked totally relaxed beside a
small tinge of annoyance that rippled his upper lip. He stared boredly at her and blinked
once before turning.

"I have a son," he said mildly, and walked over to the tray of fruit that was supposed to
be dessert. The cart the tray rest on was shoved against the wall with a broken wheel from
when he bent me over it and most of the grapes were crushed to wine by my shoulder

blades when he flipped me, hitching one knee on his hip and drew the other ankle up to
his ear. My handprints in his sweat marred and smudged the creamy wall behind.

He casually rolled a grape between his lips as if he didn't just drop a Hiroshima sized
bomb in an already atomic conversation.

"What does that mean? What do you mean you have a son? Why is she here, Edward?"
Kate's voice was unsteady, as were my knees.

"I don't think it bears repeating, Kate," he warned, lowering his brows. I had already
started tiptoeing towards the door with my clothes in my hands (or what I could find
anyway) and my bag slung across my chest.

"You stay," I heard Edward order and I turned to see he was staring at me.

"What?! What do you mean she stays?!" Kate pleaded, blinking rapidly and took a step
towards him. "What are you saying?"

"I mean She. Stays," he repeated and raised an eyebrow over his cold green eyes. I
needed to get out of here.

"Edward, I really should be going," I said quickly and headed down the hall I hoped led
to the door. I heard Kate say something vaguely, but the ringing in my ears drowned out
everything else. I knew long before I heard him I wouldn't get out of there unscathed.
While I was fidgeting with the 500 locks on the door, I felt his broad chest press against
me.

I sighed and dropped my forehead onto the wood door with a thud and spoke with my
eyes closed.

"I should go," I whispered.

"You should stay," he replied firmly, and I lobbed my head back and forth against the
door in what was meant to be a shake.

"No. No, I need to go. Tristan needs me," I said quietly, lifting my head and gripping the
knob with resolve. After several seconds, I felt him step away from my back and I turned
the knob. As I stepped through the doorway, I chanced a peek back at Edward, who stood
stoically with his arms by his sides in big fists, his beautiful body still taught from
exertion, and a flash of betrayal racing through his eyes.

I closed the door.

And then I let my back fall against it on the other side and exhaled deeply into the chilly
night air. For the second time in my life, I'd given Edward Cullen my virginity. And I
still had no idea why.

Chapter XIV- The Dawn of the Orchid

He turned me around and laid his palm at the nape of my neck and began slowly running

his smooth hand down my spine. My body understood so I bent over for him, my hair

swung over my shoulder, a few stray locks clinging to the sweat slicked skin of my back.

His slid lower until his palm rest on the small of my back he rubbed swirling circles on

the smooth skin there and lightly pressed down in the center and my body instantly arced

in response, my bottom raising higher for him to enter me. I lifted onto my tiptoes and

gripped the edge of the cart with one hand, the other pressed flat against the wall,

anticipating the needed resistance.

He pressed himself against me and I felt his hot hard cock on my warm wet flesh and I

needed him inside me so I pressed back and grinded against him.

"Is this enough for you, Bella?" he asked in a deep thick voice as writhed against him, his

skin on my skin.

"Mm-hmm," I moaned as I begged for him to enter by pressing back against him again,

but he rubbed more circles on the small of my back and I stilled but my legs were

quivering.

"Is this big enough for you?" he asked again in his velvety accent as he teased me with it,

rubbing himself against me, sending tingles everywhere in my body.

"Yes," I gasped in a desperate pant and bucked against him, but he continued his soothing

motions on my skin and I tried to stay still as he swirled himself in what little space was

left between his big dick and my spread thighs.

"Tell me you want me, Bella," he ordered in a whisper as he slid the tip of his cock inside

me and then back out before he began sliding three fingers back and forth smoothly

against my silky lips and clit, slipping in a single tip, swirling his way out as he slid the

finger down my swollen clit again teasingly and I was dripping wet for him as I heard

him moan.

"I want you," I pleaded through my heavy, heavy breathing, and he ran his warm palm up

and down my back slowly.

"Say it, Bella," he coaxed in a hoarse voice as he pressed against my ass and began

sliding his length back and forth, back and forth, against my soaking wet center and I was

getting so hot I thought I thought I'd burst in to flames.

"I want you, Edward," I begged and the anticipation was driving me mad as I felt his big

hands wrap around where my body bent for him, his long fingers still wet with me

digging into my hip bones, gripping me tightly and he readied us both as the head of his

hard cock found it's home at my entrance.

"Then have me," he growled and shoved himself inside me so hard my arm collapsed

down from the wall, my splayed hand gaining purchase crushing the grapes on the plate

underneath me and he slid out and slammed in again.

~o~

"Damn," I muttered to myself as I rolled over in bed after waking up aroused for the first
time in my life. I couldn't even escape it in my dreams and there wasn't enough cool
water in the Hudson to calm it completely. It was still dark out but I got out bed for an
early start, a fresh start, determined to have a good day. Last night was way too heavy for
me and I'm certain I redefined the term "walk of shame" on my way home from the den
of sin.

~o~

On the cab ride home last night...

Twenty-five years.

Twenty-five years of order and control. Discipline, restraint, responsibility…all
calculated and risk free. Except for the four months I can’t remember, this has been my
life. As a child, my stuffed animal was in order by species and then color, by twelve I had
a rotating menu for the dinners I prepared for Alice and Charlie. Tacos one night,
enchiladas the next, so as not to waste one cent of beef. As an adult my shoes were
organized by designer and you could ladle soup off my kitchen floor with less bacterial
exposure than a china bowl from a five star restaurant. Perfect attendance for every year
of schooling, only marred by the time I broke my leg in three places and Charlie refused
to let me go. Dean’s list in college and Honor Roll for every semester of school I’d ever
attended in my lifetime.

But there was no honor here.

Or control.

As I leaned my head against the glass, I swirled lazy squiggles in the fog of my exhale,
but I stopped myself before I could breathe new breath and erase them like I had in the
car with Emmett only a week ago. I was marked again; my second chance at doing it the
right way was gone and there was no cleaning the slate this time.

I was in a vulnerable position, no doubt. Did I see Edward’s acceptance of my son as the
lost acceptance I’d longed for from my own mother? Maybe. But I didn’t think myself
weak enough to fall prey to those insecurities anymore. That girl was gone, or so I

thought. I could rationalize it was Edward’s magnetic sexual appeal combined with years
and years of abstinence flooding my senses all at once, avalanching my better judgment.

Could be.

But I had never felt like that before. Sure, men had admired or pursued me over the years,
but I never felt like I didn’t even want to say no. I always said no. But not tonight. It
never even crossed my mind. Although, his seduction techniques were certainly
unparalleled, it’s shameful to know all it took was the feel of a man’s erection against me
to take me over completely. And when we were together, it was all consuming.

Was I really going to call home and lie so I could nap with him in my sex-induced
stupor? While my trusting family waited at home for me--reliable Bella--to return home
with the news? Away from my own child? And with an engaged man? Although his
feelings about Kate were surely not as sincere as they should be, how could I possibly do
that to another woman? Especially after witnessing firsthand the devastating heartache
Rose suffered from Royce’s betrayal with Irina.

All these things confused and worried me, but truthfully that wasn’t the worst of it. I may
not have any recollection of sex, but my body certainly did. He lead, but I was not far
behind as he bent and contorted my body for him. He may have been animal, but was no
less savage than he.

I took every cue instinctively like a thoroughbred back at home with the trainer who
broke him. He said we’d only been together once and I believed him. I still do. But this
resurfaced my worst fears. Subconsciously, I knew sex. Well practiced and well versed.
And I must have had a lot of it, because I was good. When the psychiatrist in the ward
diagnosed me with psychogenic amnesia, he told me I should expect to retain any learned
abilities that occurred during the lost episode. When I asked what he meant he replied,
"For example, if you learned to play flute during the lost time, you'll play flute again
effortlessly."

Apparently, I'd taken up another sort of instrument entirely. And that was terrifying.

I paid the cab from the back seat, and slid across the vinyl to stand on the pavement in
front of my building and this was all too much. I was a successful business owner and a
single parent working hard to provide for and offer every advantage to my son that I
never had. I was a mother, a friend, a sister, a caretaker, a confidant, a rock, and in order
to be those things and believe in those things, I had to believe in myself.

I had to believe I was good.

Good enough to be those things to all the people who loved me and I loved in return.
Good enough to deserve their love and respect. There wasn’t space in my mind for this
kind of fear, so when I grabbed the handle and clicked closed the back seat of the cab; I
closed the door to the room that held it.

And maybe I was a coward, but at least I was a sane coward.

When I got off the elevator on my floor, I did one final check of my wardrobe and
smoothed out the lapels of my shirt before I made my way to my front door to face my
family.

“Welcome back!” Alice chirped as she swung the door open, and I entered only
glimpsing for eye contact.

“Where’s Rose and Em?” I asked casually in avoidance as I set my purse down on the
table and saw Carlisle watching me carefully.

“She went home to cry some more to Emmett. She said she didn’t want to hear anything
that CrustyCullen AssMuncher had to say,” Alice said with a snort as she slid in her seat
at the dining table. “And Tristan’s already in sleepy town for the night. “

I nodded, having assumed that based on the time but grateful for the temporary respite. I
looked around my home that was lit with love, warm with family and the aroma of trust
and everything was in its rightful place again. The bubble was safe.

“So, how did it go?” Carlisle asked gently and his blue eyes twinkled in the soft light.

“Good,” I replied, but my mind was still reeling a little.

From the sex.

“What did he say? Spill already,” Alice asked nervously as she bounced in her seat. I
paused and tried to organize my thoughts.

“Well, he acknowledged Tristan as his son,” I started, and tried to keep my hands from
wringing the napkin in front of me. Carlisle and Alice both smiled a smile of relief at
each other and I smiled back, relieved that I’d managed to get some news out of this
crazy night.

“And?” she probed.

“I told him I didn’t want support. He understood that part,” I added, completely winging
it. “He didn’t request the DNA test, but he understands it’s on the table and we may
revisit the issue later. And we are still discussing visitation and how much he wants to
participate in his life.”

“What kind is he interested in?” Carlisle inquired curiously.

“Limited,” I replied, remembering the look on his face before I left.

“Come on, come on, what else?” Alice asked excitedly. “You guys must have talked a
lot. You’ve been gone a while.”

“We covered all the basics,” I said as I looked down and tried to piece this in a way that
wasn’t a total lie. “But Kate, his fiancé, showed up and we sort of got sidetracked.”

“Oh,” Carlisle said introspectively and I looked up at him, wondering if he read through
the piece-mail lie. I yawned from exhaustion.

“I’ll give you more details tomorrow, but it’s been a long day,” I added as I stood and
scooted out my chair. "I'm heading to bed."

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, then,” Carlisle said warmly as he came over and hugged me,
kissing my forehead. “You did well, Bella. It takes a lot to stand up to a man like
Edward.”

I felt a physical pang of guilt in my chest, but managed to not wince. Carlisle was such a
good man, and he thought I was as good as him. And until tonight, I thought I was, too.
He trusted my word and I didn’t deserve it.

“I know,” I said with a nod and tried not to think about how little standing up was
involved. I walked Carlisle out and stood at the door holding it open for Alice who was
flitting around the living room.

“It’s been a long night, Alice,” I called to her with a sigh and rubbed my forehead with
the back of my hand. She didn’t respond and I looked up to see her looking back at me
with a smirk.

“I can tell,” she replied smugly. “So, you were about your business then, huh?” I looked
at her confusedly for a moment, but the realization dawned.

“Yep,” I replied tiredly, remembering her little motto as she dressed me in the power suit
I'd changed out of.

“That’s funny,” she remarked wistfully as I watched her extracting random pieces out of
the center of the puzzle, smiling to herself. “Because it looks an awful lot like someone
gave you the business.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said gently as I closed the door and headed to my
bedroom. I sat on my bed and began removing my earrings when she pranced in.

“Bella, that shirt is a D&G from last season,” Alice said as she sat on the corner of the
bed.

“And?” I replied as I set down the gold hoop earrings on the nightstand with a clink.

“And those buttons, my dear, are not D&G buttons,” she observed coyly, eyeing my
chest. “But they were definitely the right buttons when you left.”

“Damn,” I said looking down. Leave it to the fashion police to bust me. I’d redressed in
the cab and the cabbie didn’t even flinch, having seen much worse in his time I’m sure.
But I made him stop at the CVS to refresh my make-up, buy a mending kit and sew on
new ones to replace the missing buttons from my blouse. I also bought a cheap Playtex
bra because all my undergarments had found at new home back at the Cullen residence.

I looked up at Alice and we just stared at each other for a moment. She looked shocked
into disbelief, but then she blinked once and shook her head.

“HOLY SHIT! You freakin' hooker! You slept with him!” she announced, sounding both
amazed and excited.

“I know,” I said guiltily, still perplexed.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!” she panted as she bounced on her knees at the
edge of the mattress clapping her hands together. “How the hell did that happen?!”

“I’m not really sure,” I answered honestly. “It was weird.”

“Ohhh, the sex was weird, eh?” she pried and wagged her eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have anything to compare it to,” I replied lamely, because I
truthfully didn’t. “I just can’t believe I did it.” And I knew I must have been wearing a
pretty confused expression because Alice abruptly stopped and looked seriously at me.

“Look, Bella, don’t start this shit,” she snapped. “You had sex. Big deal?” she shrugged.

“It is a big deal, Alice. A VERY big deal,” I added guiltily, thinking of the surprise guest
that arrived late to the sex-a-thon.

“Whatever. You can beat yourself up if you want, but I’m happy for you. Delighted,
actually. It is sad and strange that you have gone all these years without having sex. Well,
except for that whole period of time…” she corrected herself apologetically. “But this is
good, Bella. It means you’re not broken.”

“What do you mean?” I quizzed, wondering if I should be insulted.

“I don’t know. I always thought you were missing some sexual organs or something. Or
maybe you were tucking something away down there,” she said pointing to her crotch.

“Did you just call me a hermaphrodite?” I asked incredulously, and she laughed.

“Yes. But what I mean is, you push men and sex away completely. You hide yourself
from sex. I told you, you’ve completely turned yourself off to the experience. Your more
sexy and confident now, but you still won't date, you won't hook up, and you visibly
cringe at men's advances. Now you're set free! Let the spirit of the va-jay-jay move you,
Bella! Now that you know what you've been missing, there's no going back! And there’s
nothing wrong with a woman enjoying herself,” she said, and it sounded more like she
was defending herself than defending me, but she had a point. After I had Tristan, I
actually became worried some wires got crossed because I just did not get turned on by
anyone. I was like and a-sexual neutral party. Like an amoeba.

“But it’s Edward Cullen,” I reminded her in a level voice.

“Big deal. He's yo baby Daddy,” she said nonchalantly with a shrug and I snorted though
I hated that expression. Then her eyes went as wide as saucers.

“OH MY GOD! How was his junk? I bet he is so freakin’ good.“

I smiled a little because my mind couldn’t help but wander back.

“He’s good,” I admitted, shaking my head to myself in awe.

“Details! Details!” she said as she bounced on the edge of my bed. I pursed my lips and
stared at her for a moment. I remembered the nights in our teens when she would come
home and tell me about her sexual experiences and it seemed odd to have the shoe on the
other foot. And now she looked so excited, it was practically contagious.

“Well…he is very well equipped," I confirmed.

“EEEEEEEEEK!!!!” she squealed and I giggled a little. "More! More! More!"

“And he’s certainly has a lot of stamina…” I trailed off, and scratched my head.

“Oh my god! You had an orgasm didn’t you, you dirty, dirty biotch!” she accused
jealously, and I bit my lip a little.

“A few,” I murmured, although the truth was it was more like one long never ending one
and I thought her eyes would pop out of her head.

“A few?” she repeated in a spellbound tone. I nodded.

“Dammmmmmn! I haven't had one since leggings came back in! How many times did
you do it?” she asked incredulously, and I shifted in my seat before clearing my throat.

“We didn’t really stop doing it,” I furrowed my brow with a guilty frown.

“What do you mean “you didn’t stop?” she quizzed, looking concerned and I wasn't sure
how to phrase it.

“I mean, I think I just had three hours of tantric sex with Edward Cullen,” I replied
stupefied and Alice fell off the bed onto the ground with a thud.

“Are you ok?” I asked concernedly as I quickly reached down to help her up. She threw
one arm on the bed and her head popped up on the mattress with her shoulder length
black hair flipped to one side haphazardly.

“Are YOU okay???” she asked incredulously with wide eyes and I snickered.

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her but really wanting a hot bath for my all over body soreness.

“He went for three freakin’ hours?” she asked in a daze.

“Give or take,” I answered embarrassedly.

“It’s magic,” she said dreamily as she stared at my headboard.

“I’m sorry?” I asked confusedly with my brow furrowed.

“His stick! It’s magic!” she exclaimed and popped up to her feet, waving around an
invisible wand in her hand.

“Okay, enough sharing for the night,” I said as I flopped down in my pillows.

“No, I’m serious!” she exclaimed and ran to my bathroom and returned with the nozzle of
the blow dryer hanging out of the unzipped fly of her skinny jeans and started doing
pelvic thrusts against my furniture while singing in a baritone voice.

He’s got the magic stick!

baby if I can hit once,

I can hit twice!

They call it maaaaa-gic.

What? What?

Maaaaa-gic!

He’s got the magic stick

I’d finally had enough and threw the pillow I’d buried my face in at her head.

“Oh, Bella chill out,” she chided as she took the dryer to the bathroom. “Wait, didn’t you
say that lady Kate from the photographs was there? Oh God, please tell me you didn’t
have a threesome!”

“No!” I defended quickly and the buoyancy Alice had generated suddenly left my body.
“But she showed up.”

“You got busted hooking up with him?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes. I did. And it was the most terrible thing, Alice,” I answered sadly and she looked
reluctantly sympathetic. "I think it broke her heart."

"Damn. That sucks. You know what? He's a bastard for putting you in that position," she
asserted firmly while pointing her finger accusingly, but then her face relaxed.

And then a smirk crossed her lips. "But he's not a bastard for putting you in all those
other positions! Oh yeah! Get it, get it, get it!"

I laughed as she hopped around the room whipping a fake lasso and riding a fake horse. I
finally kicked her out when she started singing "Oh, me so Horny" with an Asian accent
while doing a booty dance. I was grateful to have Alice because although she took almost
nothing seriously, sometimes that's exactly what I needed. I checked on Tristan who was
deep in slumber and brushed his hair to the side before kissing his forehead. I took a
scalding hot bath and scrubbed myself thoroughly, but I never did quite feel clean and
when I got in bed, I kept drawing on the image of a crushed Kate. I did it intentionally to
fight off the sated and satisfied smile that my lips traitorously threatened to form at the
memories of the pleasure that was all wrong.

~o~

I got Tristan up early so we could have breakfast at a little diner around the corner from
his school. He chewed his scrambled eggs and we both giggled as I wiped lemon muffin
crumbs from his face and we blew bubbles in our milk. I wondered how it was possible
that Edward wouldn't want to get to know such a special little person. I'm not sure what
his expectations were, but it seemed clear by the look on his face last night his only
interest was getting me in bed and not getting to know Tristan. I still have no idea why I
slept with him and shared such a big part of myself with someone I hardly knew. Or liked
really. I'd known him for two weeks, and only been in his presence about half a dozen
times. But it was unsettling to me what little progress we'd made in conversation was
wiped clean by his parting glance.

Hours later, Angela and I were heavy in to the Monday morning drill trying to get things
wrapped up before my meeting uptown, when we heard the front door bell lightly ding.

"Ohh, for me?" Angela said as her head poked over the counter and clasped her hand to
her chest dramatically. I didn't even look up from my financial calculator.

"Ah yoo Miss Swan?" I heard a thick New York accent ask and I set my work down
before standing.

"I'm Ms. Swan," I said automatically and when I looked up, I saw a short tanned man
with black hair in a khaki uniform. Holding a giant orchid plant.

"Ohh, gimme, gimme, gimme!" Angela said reaching her arms across the counter and the
deliveryman's eyes shifted to mine for permission. I swatted Angela's hand and she stuck
her tongue out at me.

"I'll take those," I said as I reached across the counter and set them down.

"Carlisle is so ridiculously sweet. If you don't marry that man, I'm leaving Ben and
stealing him away. The last gift Ben got me was Joy Division CD and a antique Russian
Protractor," Angela complained as she sat back down.

"Carlisle is very sweet," I agreed, and then crunched my nose at the secret double
entendre. I knew before I opened the card they weren't from Carlisle.

You were wonderful.

That's all it said. I suddenly felt my face get hot and not in the flattered way. He was
applauding my performance. What was that supposed to mean? Was I a dog? Was this
my treat for sitting when he said sit? Did I rollover well enough for him?

And then I took a deep breath because the reality was, I did.

No "Sorry for getting you caught in the middle of my elitist love triangle"?

No "Sorry for not having an ounce of concern for the boy I fathered or anyone in the
human race without breasts?"

At the very best I felt like a bottle of wine from his cellar. Shouldn't he be sending the
woman who's beating heart was ripped out before me an arrangement of flowers? Or
maybe he sent her some, too and he's just covering all his bases. Once he realized I
wouldn't be warming his bed, he probably said, "Just kidding about the whole "she stays"
thing, now get naked."

He hasn't sent Tristan not a single Lego block since this whole thing started, not that I
wanted anything from him, but this showed his priorities were beyond convoluted. He
didn't even sign his name, probably from fear of being exposed. No paper trail back to his
brandy haired mistake. Apparently I was good enough to be his mistress, but not the
mother of his child.

I wasn't up for all this clandestine rendezvous seduction crap, and maybe he wasn't good
enough to be the father of mine. I glared at the flowers and they felt like blood money or

a payoff. Regardless of whatever happened last night, I was not his whore or anyone
else's for that matter. But these flowers made me feel cheap.

This put me on par with Irina and he was no better than his married friend giving out his
business card at the resort.

And, yes, this was a manipulation. He invited me to his home, asked me to come alone, to
drink wine, to sit on his lap, and I played along for the benefit of my son. If I did turn in
to sex-possessed beast, it was only at his provocation. He had no intention of being a
father to Tristan and used my vulnerability in trying to make this work to ensnare me for
the only thing he's wanted from the beginning. Sex with me.

"Throw these away," I said to Angela as I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.

~o~

Hours later, I broke from my meeting with the distributor reps and checked my
Blackberry for my messages. Alice had flooded my inbox.

A: How's your cooch, hooker?

A: Why don't you stick some Preparation H on it, haha.

A: Tell him I'm next. Don't be stingy, Bella, you owe me.

A: I loaned you my Reeboks in the third grade, remember?

A: They were fresh and you got scuff marks on them.

A: Just tell him it's the Swan Family relay race and it's your turn to pass the baton.

A: His baton.

A: I'll show him where to pass it to.

A: Oh, yeah, right there.

A: Stop ignoring me, Bella.

Alice's sense of humor was not helping today and I knew I'd regret admitting it to her
because she was going to have a field day with this. I went to the next message. The next
was from Emmett.

E: Bella-Bella, fo fellla, fee fi fo fellla, banana-nana mo me-llla, Be-lla!

E: Rosey-Rosey, fo fosey, fee fi fo fosey, snugglin' gettin so coo-zy, Ro-sey!

Emmett must in a very good mood because the only time he types me little rhymes is
when he's sitting in boring meetings and he's too excited to pay attention. And then I
braced myself before opening Carlisle's.

C: Hi Bella. Just checking in to see if you had some time to talk a little more since last
night. Call me.

This was a bad spot because I actually didn't have any more information that what I'd
already told him. I wondered if it was too late to try to convince him that Edward and I
played Mario Cart on his Way for a few hours and that's why we didn't get to talk. As I
came up with preposterous alibis in my head, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"I'm just calling to see what you're doing this Saturday. I got those tickets you wanted to
Wiggles Goes Bananas for you If you still want to go" Rose said politely, but her voice
held the strain.

"You did! That's great! Thank you, Rose," I replied excitedly. Tristan was going to be so
excited.

"It only took a little bribery, but hey, what are godmothers for?" she said deviously.

"Felonies, apparently," I replied and snickered.

"Speaking of felonies, how did it go with Edward AssMuncher last night?" Rose retorted.

"It went fine," I replied innocently.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," she said condescendingly and I sighed. I knew her bitterness
was rooted in what she was now calling "Calamari-gate". Since retiring from modeling,
Rose ran All Hale Agencies, the premier talent agency for A-List entertainment and
modeling talent in NYC. On top of that, she's a Hale--an American family that’s last
name carried some weight. That night at Del Posto one Cullen trumped two Hales and
she was none too pleased.

"So what's his first planned outing with our little angel? Is he going to take him to a game
of cricket and hit up a strip club under the Holland Tunnel?" Rose sniped, and I knew
Emmett must have dished on Edward's rep.

"Nothing's been determined yet," I replied calmly.

"Well, I've made a great deal of determinations. Like Edward is a raging moron and an
uppity shit that I wouldn't piss on if his balls were dunked in diesel fuel and set ablaze
while being juggled at the Cirque De Soleil," Rose quipped cuttingly.

"My meeting just got called back in. I'll have to call you back later Rose," I said quickly
and hung up.

Yes, Rose had certainly made determinations, but they sounded an awful lot like
judgments. I didn't want my own bitterness or anger to be a roadblock for my son. That
just wasn't the kind of person I was. If he comes to me twenty years from now and asks
me why he never got to know his biological father and I had to explain to him that I was
the one who potentially blew it by letting my hormones and person resentments get the
best of me, I don't thing either one of us would forgive me. I didn't want to become one of
those dysfunctional women who teach their child to dislike or alienate their father
because of what happened between us as adults.

Before I could second guess myself, I was calling CullenMasen Corporation corporate
office number and asking for Mr. Cullen.

"One moment, please, Ms. Swan. I'll transfer you now," a woman's voice said and I sat
down on a chair outside the conference room and tapped my toe to the elevator music.
Then I heard the phone click.

"Ms. Swan," answered a direct English accent and I braced myself.

"Hi Edward. I just wanted to touch base with you to get some clarity on a few things. We
didn't get to hammer out all the details last night," I said in a business-like tone.

"Oh, I believe I hammered out quite a few things. More than once, if you recall," he
replied in a velvety lowered tone. This guy was trouble.

"I meant regarding what type of contact you're interested in, if any," I persisted sounding
professional.

"I'm interested in the same type of contact we had last night," he answered point blankly.
"Frequently."

"Please be cooperative," I pleaded sincerely, realizing he could beat Alice at her dirty
word game six ways to Sunday. And she never had this kind of effect.

"I like it when you beg for me," he replied in a silky voice and a shiver ran through my
body at the memory. I cleared my throat before continuing.

"I think we should start slowly before I introduce you, if that is in fact what you want. He
has a karate tournament next week and you should attend. They are actually really fun.
There will be lots of people there and you can warm up to the idea slowly," I replied,
knowing this would only work if we stayed in public places. Maybe if he got the chance
to observe Tristan, he could make an informed decision about whether he wanted to close
the door on it.

"I can go slowly, if that's how you'd prefer it," he answered directly, and I was a little
puzzled.

"I'm not actually sure if you're being serious right now," I said confusedly.

"My offers are always serious," he replied, and I think we were actually talking about the
same thing.

"So, does that mean you're coming to the karate tournament?" I asked uncertainly and he
was silent for a long while.

"Send me the details and I'll check my availability," he finally replied in a business-like
voice.

"I'll do that," I said with a smile, encouraged by his effort. "I'd like it very much if you
would come."

"Bella..." he crooned.

"Yes?" I replied as I scratched down some notes on my pad.

"I like it very much when you come, too," he said seductively and I dropped my pen
while my eyes widened a little bit.

"Right," I said as I recrossed my legs and pulled the fabric of my skirt over my knees
snugly. "Well, sounds good. Bye Edward."

"Bella..." he sang, and I swallowed thickly.

"Yes?" I croaked.

"When you went home like a good girl did you tell Carlisle how you screamed when I
was inside you all night?" he asked slowly in his rich deep voice and I recrossed my legs
while shifting in my seat. Was now a good time to tell him that I've only been pretending
to be Carlisle's other half for the last few years because I was his beard? No, certainly
not. Let him think I'm off the market. It I couldn't get any words out and I knew he heard
my heavy breathing on the other end.

"Did you tell him how wet you got for me, Bella?" he asked, and my heart rate picked up.

"I didn't scream," I defended quietly. I was a lot of things, but I wasn't a screamer.

"Your body did," he said and goose bumps pricked on my skin.

"You're wet for me, now aren't you?" he asked and it sounded like his lips were right on
the receiver and I really didn't want to answer that question. "Would you like me to come
down there and take of you?"

"I, uh, need to go, Edward," I said quickly before I could give him an address and clicked
the phone closed. I let my head fall back on the chair and closed my eyes. I was in no
shape for a meeting at the moment. I never would have guessed I was in to phone sex,
too.

A few hours later, I decided to drop off the orders at the office before I swung by to pick
Tristan up for the day and tell him the great news about our tickets. That show had been
sold out so Rose really must have pulled some strings.

"You are one popular girl!" Angela announced as she popped up from her chair at the
sound of my heels.

"What do you mean?" I asked with a furrowed brow as I laid the stack down in her inbox.

"Mr. SexyHotBritishGuy came by for you again!" she exclaimed and bounced on her
heels.

"You're kidding?" I asked quickly. He was serious?

"Oh, I could never joke about something like this Bella," she replied and raised a brow.
"He is sex on legs!"

"Angela, what did he want?" I asked trying to keep her focused.

"He just asked for you and I said you weren't here. But that's not the best part," she said
excitedly.

"Just spit it out," I asked.

"He had some sort of gift for you in a box! I totally think he wants you!" she said as she
looked up at me like I had just turned into the Pope.

"Did he leave it?"

"No," she said furrowing her brows. "But I told him you'd be back and I'm sure he'll stop
back by. It looked like a fancy box, too! And I even think you've got him a little jealous."

"Why?" I asked.

"He asked about the flowers out on the curb and I told him they were from your main
squeeze but that you trashed them! You should have seen the look in his face!" she said
excitedly and I slapped my palm to my forehead.

"Oh, no," I said as I peeked through my fingers out onto the sidewalk facing the bustling
street where the plant laid rolled over on it's side up against a pile of trash bags. I still
didn't want the flowers but I didn't want to insult him either.

"Oh yes! You've totally got the upper hand now, Bella! Playing hard to get is a very good
thing!" she said and squealed. "Look, do you mind if I close up early?"

"That's fine," I huffed as I plopped down in my chair.

"Great! I've got to get in a little quality time with the rabbit before Ben gets home," she
said as she shoved things in her purse.

"Angela! At least make something up next time! Whatever happened to "I have a
stomach flu" or "I need to feed my cat"?" I asked as I shook my head and tisked her.

"Well, I do need to feed my cat," she replied with a wink. I was surrounded by perverts.
"After Mr. SexyHotBritishGuy's visit, I need the relief."

"Why are we all so weak?" I mumbled lamely wondering how the hell Edward Cullen
had this effect on every single woman on the planet, even me who I thought was
completely immune.

"Bella, it's not weakness. It's indulgence. That guy is so hot, I wouldn't even make him
wrap it up," she retorted as she waved and flew out the front door.

And then like a hundred pound hammer to the head it hit me that Edward Cullen II, with
a clear mind, had no-questions-asked unprotected sex with me.

Again.

Chapter XV- The Garden of Good § Evil - part I: Forbidden Fruit

~o~

“How could you ever think I wouldn’t have you again, Bella?” he rasped out hoarsely as

his sweat-slicked body covered mine where we lay on the rug. My arms were hooked

under his and I dug my nails deep into his strong shoulders and he thrust into me

continuously, so powerfully, his body sliding against mine with friction and heat. I was

panting so hard but I couldn’t find air as he kept pounding into me and his eyes were

burning with the thrill and satisfaction of fucking me.

And I knew they only mirrored my own.

“You are for me. You’re mine. You always were,” he told me in a rough voice between

grunts and my body shook underneath him, my back chaffing the rug from the steady

impact of his big dick pounding me. I saw him reach for down for me and I tilted my face

up to his so he could taste my lips and devour me completely.

~o~

I rolled over in the sheets and groaned because two weeks later, I was still dreaming
about our sexual encounter. Every single night it was the same, and the daylight brought
the same unanswered craving. I rolled out of bed reluctantly and headed for a cold
shower like I did most mornings now, but it never seemed to help and today it seemed
particularly ineffective. As I lathered my body, my eyes closed and my mind wandered to
his hands as I let myself remember him inside me. Timidly, my touch wandered to his
touch and it wasn't long before my own mind let me imagine it was him. And although
my fingers weren't as capable as his, for the first time in my life I let newly yearning
body find relief in my own hands.

Like Angela said, this was indulgence.

~o~

I hadn't spoken with or seen Edward since our phone conversation that day in the lobby.
Carlisle told me he'd flown overseas for meetings and that he was overwhelmed with his
company's transition. We hardly saw Carlisle these days.

I'd sent Edward an email with the information for Tristan's event, but there was no reply
and he was a no-show. I knew he was a very busy man, but I had an uncomfortable
sneaking suspicion that I was being intentionally avoided. Edward had made an honest
effort on the phone that day, or so I thought, and I couldn't help but think that my

rejection of his advances by discarding his flowers was playing a bigger role in the
picture.

I didn't like the idea that Tristan may have been getting in schoolyard fights because of
my negligence and irresponsibility to begin with. What's worse was now that I had found
the man that fathered him, I was bumbling it up with my own lack of self-control.

I had thought several times about the fact that the intercourse we had was unprotected.
About two years ago, my periods started arriving closer and closer together until I was
having them almost every three weeks. My doctor said it happens sometimes in women
who aren't sexually active because your body knows your not being... fertilized and he
prescribed a pill I take every three months to regulate my cycle. It's also a contraceptive,
but Edward didn't know that, nor did he ask.

I had to assume it was the heat of the moment that made Edward lose his sensibilities,
and I was more than guilty of that myself, but it seemed even more reckless of him,
considering our current circumstances and stories from his past.

The days rolled by and I resisted the urge to contact him aside from a second invite email
I'd sent on impulse. The ball was in his court now and our lives went on without him.

It was Saturday, the end of another long week, and the girls came over for a late breakfast
with us before we made plans for the day.

“You didn’t tell me how the Wiggles went, kiddo,” Alice addressed Tristan as she
squeezed a mountain of ketchup on her eggs. I blanched.

“It was okay,” he replied with a shrug and Rose lowered the newspaper in her hands with
a frown. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that although we went, Tristan had decided The
Wiggles were for little kids, not Big Boys who were about to turn five.

“Just okay?” she asked with a furrowed brow, and his eyes widened a little because he
knew she’d supplied us with the tickets.

“I was just joking, Rosalie. It was really cool,” he back-peddled and waited worriedly for
her to smile before he returned it and she went back to The Post.

“There’s something suspect about those Wiggles, if you ask me,” Alice leered.

“No one asked you,” I interjected but she continued.

“Think about it. Four grown men wearing rainbow colored costumes, love wardrobe
changes, singing in harmony, and stage shows? They’re one step away from the Drag
Queen Puppet Bingo show down in Chelsea!” she laughed with a snort and I dropped my
head in hands.

“What’s a drag queen puppet bingo?” Tristan quizzed and I seethed at Alice who was
suddenly very busy staring down at her plate.

“Just a game of bingo, love,” I answered smilingly as I poured syrup on his pancakes.

“Well, well, well,” Rose said slowly as she lowered her paper with a flourish.

“What?” I asked.

“Look who made Page Six,” she smirked, handing me the paper and Alice practically
leaped across the table and into my lap to see.

“Is it my pap photos from last night?” she chirped but then quieted as we both saw what
Rose meant.

Under a photo of the back of a tall, blond, bobbed woman and a shorter, sandy-haired
man with a black cloth napkin obscuring his face ran the blurb:

Recent UK transplant, socialite Kate Denali, was spotted diamond ring fingered and
bloody red handed out on the town with a mystery man last night after leaving an
intimate dinner at Bon Appetite Supper club.

“They looked very cozy,” observed one diner. “Canoodling and whispering in each
other's ears, it seemed very intimate. I almost told them to get a room!”

Oh, the tangled webs we weave, Ms. Denali.

This is one gossip columnist who wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the pricey Fifth
Avenue residence of MasenCullen CEO, Edward Cullen when he hears about this.
Although very private, it is well known in silver spoon circles on this side of the pond that
Kate has been his lady for over a year now and although no official announcement has
been made, when his mother was asked last month, Lady Esme Cullen did not deny that
the six carat stunner Kate’s been sporting of late is a sign that Ms. Denali is soon joining
the Cullen clan.

“She’s a lovely young lady,” was her only statement on the matter.

To be a fly on those Chantilly and chinoiserie walls. Yowzers!

“That broad’s smarter than she looks,” Rose said smugly as she snatched the paper back.
“I don’t care if there’s a hobbit hiding under that napkin, it’s gotta be a step up from
CrustyCullen Assss…cot wearers,” Rose corrected herself last minute, realizing
“assmuncher” was inappropriate language in this company.

“Yeah, I wonder what happened?” Alice mused with mock innocence as she retook her
seat and I shot her a dagger.

“She probably tried to dislodge that stick that’s been lodged up his assscot neck tie,”
Rose scowled at her near miss as I eyed her disapprovingly. “But I think we all know
they get these stories wrong anyway. The 'diner' they interviewed was probably a bum
loitering near the dumpster they paid off with a half-eaten bologna sandwich.”

They laughed but I just my lowered my head and pushed my food around my plate. It was
bad enough I slept with him to begin with, considering my formerly neutral opinion of
him had already shifted into dislike, but now I had the collapse of a relationship on my
head. I could see my legacy now etched out on my epitaph.

Bella Swan, the skin flute concerto, taught by the best: Edward Cullen, the pied piper of
poon. Harlot; homewrecker; oh, and she made nice furniture, too.

~o~

I spent the rest of breakfast distracting myself by thinking about the important meeting I
had scheduled for tonight. After we cleaned up the remnants of our meal, the girls,
Tristan and I decided to head out for a fun filled, stress free Saturday. We went to the
aquarium and then Emmett met us back at my house where Alice decided we should sing
karaoke to bad Eighties music. Rose was totally in character, singing Lita Ford in the
high pitched warble of a wild bird, when it was time for me to venture forth on my
mission.

"You're wearing that?" Alice gasped incredulously as she eyed my outfit. I was wearing
black, fitted, button up shirtdress that was a little shorter than I was entirely comfortable
with, belted with a wide, patent leather fuchsia belt.

"It's a Stella McCartney and you gave it to me. What's wrong with it?" I asked as I tugged
at the hemline and Rose stopped singing to eye me with disapproval as well.

"You're going to X, Bella, not dinner with the Mayor," she remarked with exasperation,
rolling her eyes. "Why don't you put on one of those bright colored bandage dresses I
gave you?"

"Ali, I'm not trolling the streets for business, I'm just going to talk to Jake. This is just
fine," I answered frankly as I grabbed my small black clutch and adjusted my diamond
stud earrings and snickered as watched Emmett lose a game of thumb war to Tristan over
who got to sing next.

"At least go put on the black Louboutin's. No sister of mine can be seen wearing ballet
slippers to X. People will think I've lost my touch," Alice huffed and folded her arms
across her chest lithely.

"Or any friend of mine. Try again," Rose added as she sneered at my shoe choice and
then walked over and spun me back into my room.

I changed into the strappy danger shoes and came back out a few minutes later and was
met with catcalls and wolf whistles.

"Much better," Alice approved with a big satisfied smile and Rose nodded grinningly as
she took a seat on the sofa next to Emmett and Tristan.

"You look pretty, Mom," Tristan complimented with an awe-filled smile as he ran over to
me and took me in.

"Why, thank you, little cutie," I replied sincerely. That compliment made it worth the
painful shoe change.

"Tell Jake I said sorry I couldn't make it, but I'll see him at the gym Monday," Emmett
requested in a serious voice and then started trying to covertly shift his eyes to Rose in
message and I laughed when he wagged his eyebrows. Emmett and Jake have had the
bromance of the ages going on since the day they met. Part of the reason Rose never even
noticed Em was because she swore he and Jake were secret lovers.

"Bye, my love, give Mommy a kiss," I appealed to Tristan as I leaned down, lending him
a cheek, and he complied.

"Can I come see Uncle Jake, too?" he asked hopefully.

"No, baby, I need to go alone, it's for adults. But I'll be home soon," I replied reassuringly
as I smoothed out his cowlick.

"Tell him I said to remember to take his boots off first!" Alice chimed with a smirk as I
stood up and headed for the door. I shook my head trying to shake the image of Jake and
Alice having sex.

"Rose, do you have any pleasantries you'd like me to pass along?" I taunted and her lip
curled.

"Not one. Except go easy on the Axe, I can smell him from here," she noted with a shiver
as she reloaded the CD deck and I chuckled.

As I opened the door to leave, Tristan ran up and hugged me again. "What was that for?"
I inquired delightedly with a smile.

"I don't know," he replied simply with a little shrug.

I smiled wider and he returned it. "Bye Mom."

My face fell a little as I stared in to his green eyes and the smile I recognized from
someone else now, too. "Bye, baby," I said with a kiss on the forehead and headed on my
way.

In all this change, there was one person who had been left out completely. Jake was my
oldest friend and we used to be as close as brother and sister. After my mother
disappeared, Charlie was left with an infant girl and not a clue where to go from there.
Jake's dad, Billy, was Charlie's best friend and his wife, Sarah, volunteered to help.

From the stories I've been told, Charlie would get up in the middle night when my diaper
got dirty and drive to their house to have it changed. Sarah watched me while my dad was
on shift at odd hours as the Police Chief in our town and I spent all my formative years
running around their house chasing Jake, who was two years older and considered me a
total pest.

When I found Alice and she took me under her Gucci print wing, Jake reconsidered my
status as an annoyance, deeming me cool by association. He also developed a huge crush
on her, and as adolescent nonsense goes, I developed a huge one on him. Alice paid him
no attention until eighth grade when other girls began noticing him and one night that
year, she snuck out of my window and returned a few hours later minus her virginity.

It blew my twelve-year-old mind that they'd had sex together (or sex at all) but it hurt
because Alice knew I had liked him for years. She apologized and said losing her
virginity was a strategic move in her plan to be a fashion designer and she only picked
Jake because she wanted someone who was just as inexperienced as she was and
wouldn't talk bad about her if she sucked. Alice was true to her word and never dated
Jake after that.

Any romantic feelings I'd had towards Jake died the night he slept with my sister. Time
went on and a year later, his mother, Sarah, passed away from cancer. She was the closest
to thing to a Mom I'd ever had and I took the hit as hard as Jake did. We consoled each
other and cried together, and I think that's when Jake decided I was the girl for him. It
seemed like he began to see me as a living extension of his own mother's love and a
replacement for his then unrequited love, Alice.

Jake pursued me relentlessly after that and even turned down a baseball scholarship to
stay behind while I finished high school. He'd take me to movies and talk about our
future while I just frowned and wondered where he'd got all these ideas when we weren't
even dating. The attention was flattering, but I knew in my heart I was always runner up
to the girl he wanted first, and I couldn't settle for that. I felt like slightly less desirable
fill-in.

When I got my scholarship and moved to New York to follow Alice, Jake was crushed
and angry. We had a huge fight before I left and he hardly spoke to me on my rare visits
home, but he'd call occasionally late at night with a sad voice and tell me how he found a
house I might like or about a job I might want.

Jake wanted me to come home and marry him and live a happy quiet life. I'd be lying if I
didn't admit I had considered it more than once. It seemed like the easy answer; become a

CPA, move home with Jake, and watch him mow the lawn from my kitchen window.
Simple.

Then I got pregnant.

Alice and I didn't tell anyone about it, including my father, because her plan was to
terminate and try to get things back to normal. Then Rose snuck me out of Alice's
apartment in the middle of the night and took me to her brother, Carlisle. I was in no
condition to protest and my mind was almost on mute during those final months, but I
remember him begging me to carry the child to term because he wanted to adopt it. I
asked him why he would want the child of a nobody school girl and whatever riff-raff
man that had sex with me while I was destitute on the streets.

Carlisle said the baby deserved a chance and he might never get another opportunity to
have a child. That's when he told me he was gay. At the time he was in a long-term
relationship with a man named Garrett who wasn't ready for that and their relationship
was already strained by the secrecy, but Carlisle chose us. He chose me and the baby we
didn't know. He paid all my bills and catered to me as I shuffled lifelessly around his
house, broken, ruined and disgusted with myself.

I ended up having to an early emergency C-section and I was out for a few days due to a
bad reaction to the anesthesia, but when I woke up, there was Carlisle proudly cradling
his new son. He asked me if I wanted to hold him as a goodbye. Reluctantly, I said yes.
When I held him, he smiled at me.

I never let my son go again.

At first, Alice argued with me and said I was keeping the baby over a smile that was
probably a case of gas, but I pleaded and she paid Carlisle back for the expenses and
delivery, and Carlisle unwound the adoption. It didn't take her long to understand.

The worst part was I was so in my bubble with my new little son, I never even apologized
to Carlisle for disrupting his life and keeping the baby I said I'd never want in a million
years. Still, he became my biggest supporter and helped me get on my feet so I could do
this on my own.

After I decided to keep my son, Alice and I had to tell everyone.

Jake flew out as soon as we told him and he cried for days on the sofa while I nursed my
child. Then he proposed and insisted I move back to Forks and that he'd raise Tristan as
his own, but I knew it wasn't right. I didn't love him in that way, not in the way he
deserved. So instead, he moved to New York and started working in the service industry.
He decided he wanted to open his own nightclub and restaurant, so last year Carlisle
helped him get special business loans for Native Americans and for the rest, we all
chipped in as equal investors.

I got out of the cab and headed for the bright lights of Jake's club Exodus, or X, as the
scene people called it, to have a conversation that was almost five years in the making.
The club was totally packed, as was to be expected on a Saturday night, and I weaved my
way through the swaying bodies trying to block out some of the loud music coming from
the DJ booth.

I spotted Jake in his corner booth surrounded by a few women and I smiled as I
approached his table. He was wearing black jeans and a black vest, showing off his
muscular tanned arms and chest, almost the color of earthen clay, with a chain dangling
from his pocket. He looked like a total badass and when he saw me he smiled hugely but
then caught himself.

"Excuse me ladies, I've got a special guest tonight," he informed them suavely as he
scooted the women on his left out of the booth and rose to his six foot one stature to
welcome me.

"Hello, Jacob," I greeted amusedly as I looked up into his deep, warm brown eyes and
they twinkled a little as his lip tugged in the corner.

"Bella, I'm so glad you could join me. You look delicious tonight," he crooned
seductively in a lowered voice and leaned down to kiss my cheek, lingering in a move of
seduction.

"And you as well, Jacob," I replied fighting my grin at his cheesiness.

"Ladies, we'll need some privacy," he said with a wink to the few women still sitting in
his booth. They all gave me the dirty stink eye as they slid out and fluffed their hair
before strutting away.

"Have a seat," he offered and it looked like he was fighting a smile of his own as he laid a
hand on my lower back and ushered me into the booth. Jake slid in after me and then
drew closed the opaque velvet privacy curtain of the booth, waving out into the crowd
before it closed completely.

"Can't we meet at a coffee shop like normal people?" I asked as I shook my head and
took in the Moroccan lantern that hung over the polished dark wood table I'd designed.
He said this was the only time and place we could meet when I called last week.

"Ahh, you know how it is, Bells. I'm in this place 24/7 these days. I think it owns me
rather than the other way around," Jake complained exhaustedly, but I could see the
excitement and pride in his face when he nudged the curtain open for a glance.

I smiled. "Do women really fall for this crap?" I teased as I reached over and fidgeted
with the multiple silver chains around his neck.

"Yes, I'm peacocking and this, Bells, is plumage," he replied seriously and then his lip
quirked up because he knew how ridiculous that sounded out loud.

I laughed.

"Hey, don't hate the player, hate the game," he mused with a smile as he swatted my hand
from the chains and I let my hand drop as I pursed my lips. Jake was definitely spending
too much time with Em.

"I miss your hair. I always liked it longer," I remarked as I took in his modern spiky
ebony hair and he reached up and ran his fingers through it.

"I know you did," he admitted with a sheepish grin and then it fell. "You just didn't like it
enough," he added with a slight edge and I smiled weakly, not wanting to dredge up more
than I had to tonight.

"You haven't been around in a while," I observed. "Everyone misses you."

"What are you talking about, Bells? I see Emmett three days a week at the gym and you
and Alice just mauled me outside the playground two weeks ago!" he joked with a
chuckle, trying to lighten the mood in classic Jake style.

"You know who I mean," I replied seriously and his eyes softened a little.

"I know. Tell the little guy I miss him," he admitted and looked down at his folded hands
on the tabletop. "What did you want to talk about? I know you didn't come all the way to
Uptown just to guilt trip me," he commented humorously with a smirk.

"No, that's not why I came," I allowed as I stared at his folded hands.

"What's up Bells?" he asked concernedly as he leaned forward across the round table.
"Spill."

I took a deep breath and stared at the red and black velvet damask wallpaper Alice picked
out.

"We found Tristan's biological father," I stated finally and turned back to Jake.

His mouth fell a little bit open and he stared at me with widened eyes for a few beats
before he sat back deeply in his seat and his shoulders slumped a little. He didn't speak
for a while as he gazed at the inner lining of the velvet and I watched the spice colored
glass lantern twirl a little on its chain, sending prisms of coriander light on his proud
Native American features.

"I guess it was inevitable," he commented as took a deep breath and raked his hand
though his short hair.

I nodded as I looked into his eyes that were a little glassy.

"Coulda' been us, Bells," he exhaled with remorse and bitterness. "It could have been
good. Really good."

"I know," I replied as I stared hard into the eyes of the only man I'd ever come close to
loving. Strong eyes. Reliable eyes.

"I tried, you know I did," Jake continued, frustrated, in an unsteady voice as his eyes
began to well. "So fuckin' hard," he finished, hanging his head and his voice cracked.

"I know," I whispered as I watched him swallow back hard and stare at the lining again.
When his wet eyes met mine again, he gave me a thin smile and shook his head with his
brows pinched together.

"It's just... why'd he have to be so damn white?" he added humorously with a forced
chuckle, and I laughed a little, too.

"Hey, now, that's my son you're talking about," I responded with false disapproval,
thankful for Jake's levity. When we used to go places with Tristan as an infant, Jake tried
so hard to be a father to him despite my discouragement, but it was always hard to
pretend that a child that looked nothing like you could ever be yours. I knew how that
felt, too.

"Yeah, your son," he replied soberly with a deep exhale.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a little blue envelope. "I brought this for you," I
smiled as I slid the little blue envelope across the table.

He flipped it over in his hands a few times before pulling out the card inside and reading
it silently. Then he chuckled.

"That's really fuckin' cute, Bells," he commented as he grinned up at me and I smiled
back proudly. "Fuckin' adorable, actually."

"Thank you. I got some new pole punches that cut out those little dinosaur shapes and the
ribbon was a bargain," I said excitedly as I reached across and pointed at my homemade
handiwork. "So you'll be there?"

"Count me in. Come hell or high water, I could never say no to one of your cakes," he
enthused, and the little twinkle in his eye returned. His mother was the one who taught
me how to cook and I got all her recipes when she passed.

I suddenly felt the urge to get out of there and grabbed my purse. "I better get going," I
announced as I began to slide out of the seat.

'You want me to walk you out?" he asked as he stood up pulled back the curtain.

"I'm fine alone," I assured him. "You look like you've got your hands full anyways," I
mused as I tilted my head towards the pack of tigresses headed for the meat.

He looked down at me and smiled again sheepishly. We both knew this wasn't really him.

"Love you, Bells," he spoke sincerely and wrapped me in a tight hug, lifting me off the
ground.

"Careful, Jake!" I exclaimed as I swatted his shoulder playfully because my skirt was
riding up.

"Bye Bells," he said as he set me down and I kissed his cheek lightly before I turned and
navigated through of the dark, noisy club. I could feel his eyes on me as I made my way
out.

The air outside was nice and calm against the vibrancy of the club so I decided to walk
for a while. Too many heavy things were looming and time alone to think was a rare
commodity for me.

I'd rounded a corner, lost in thought when I heard several footsteps in the distance behind
me and the sound of hollow aluminum hitting hard concrete. I chanced a peek over my
shoulder to see a group of men around my age drunkenly staggering down the sidewalk
of the narrow side street. I stepped to the curb, deciding it was time to get a cab and head
home. As I craned my head both ways, I heard a voice disrupt the silence of the night.

"Hey sexy, where you goin'?" called out the dark-haired, shortest member of the group.

There were no cabs in sight so I ignored them and started to make my way towards the
intersection ahead.

"Why don't you slow down, bitch?" a different, higher tone called and I quickened my
pace, gripping my clutch tightly and greatly regretting my shoe choice.

"I said slow down, bitch!" he yelled again and my heart rate increased exponentially.

I didn't need to turn to know they were quickly closing the gap and my heels almost
caught, trying to keep pace with the pounding in my chest.

Chapter XVI- A Streetcar Named Desire

Out of my peripheral vision I saw headlights rapidly approach and the sound of hard
brakes halting right off the curb beside me, but I was focused on my safe destination
ahead.

“Get in,” I heard the English accent command brusquely and I turned to see Edward
leaning across the back seat of a black limo, holding the door open.

Stunned, my eyes darted back to the group of men who'd begun yelling obscenities, now
only a dozen feet away, and then back to Edward's brows, lowered over angry eyes. I
dashed towards the car, splashing through a puddle, choosing the lesser of two evils.

I slid in quickly next to him and reached to pull the door closed, but he leaned across me,
extending his arm, the fabric of his blazer swishing against my chest and held the door in
place. I gave him a confused look, really wanting to get the heck out of there. Edward
arched a brow impatiently and I dropped my hand as he pulled the door closed tightly in
on me. Then he leaned to the opposite side and hit a button I assumed was an intercom to
the driver on the other side of the glass partition.

"Ms. Swan's," he directed in a clipped tone before releasing the button. As the car pulled
off, Edward sank deeply into the leather of the seat towards me, his broad shoulder
brushing mine and his knees wide apart as I sat straight as a pin, still on edge and
crossing my legs at the ankles. He distracted himself with the Blackberry in his hands and
began scrolling through, reading it like this was all perfectly normal, but I could sense the
tension radiating off him. He looked a little tired but as handsome as ever in a black suit
and white shirt, with the collar undone.

“Thanks,” I murmured with a furrowed brow as I finally processed that I was grateful for
Edward's save, but suspicious as to what he was doing alone on a side street, Uptown on
a Saturday night, especially when Carlisle had told me he was out of town.

“You always could find trouble, couldn’t you?” he replied rhetorically with mild
agitation, not bothering to look up from his Blackberry.

“I think it’s more the other way around,” I countered wearily, adjusting myself in my
seat, moving further away from his warm body and I gazed out the tinted window.

“That may be true as well,” he added resignedly and I frowned further. We rode in
silence for a while, bumping along the city streets while I calmed some.

“Can I ask you something?” I inquired finally as I turned towards Edward and spoke to
his profile, illuminated by the soft blue light of the phone, just in time to watch his eyes
dart back from my exposed thigh to the screen.

“You may,” he answered decisively, “although I may or may not answer.”

I huffed lightly and thought about how to ask this.

“When I met you, did we do anything… illegal?” I probed cautiously. It had been in the
back of my mind that he'd implied I'd want revenge against him and the truth was, at the
rate we were going, I didn't know if I'd get another opportunity to ask, although I was
somewhat afraid of the answer.

“Yes,” he replied bluntly and then I watched his jaw line tighten and his brows pinch
together.

“I figured as much,” I said quietly, disappointed in myself, or the weak girl I used to be,
as I stared back outside at the passing cars.

“Does that bother you?" Edward inquired patronizingly and my head snapped towards
him and found he was looking into my eyes. "That you're capable of wrong?”

“Of course,” I defended incredulously and then relaxed in contemplation. “But I guess I
should be thankful. I’ve forgiven myself for whatever it is I did in the past, but I’m also
lucky enough to have forgotten.” I decided long ago I had nothing to bitter over. I had my
son. My life was good.

“I envy you,” he responded.

“You envy me?" I repeated, puzzled by what Edward Cullen could possibly ever envy me
for, and then I retraced my steps. “Because I forgave myself or because I forgot?”

“Maybe both things,” he confessed in a low voice and his eyes seemed entirely unfocused
on the screen. At least he had the decency to feel guilty about it.

“But you’ve… given up all your… vices now, right?” I hedged cautiously, curious if he
still secretly used, considering he'd lied about drinking.

“I’ve never had a vice,” Edward replied resolutely. Then he pursed his lips in thought
before he turned, raking me in, with amusement playing in the corner of his lip. “Well...
maybe one.”

“Right,” I agreed. Sex. Equal parts annoyed and uncomfortable, I turned back to the
window.

“You missed the karate tournament,” I observed, deciding to call him out. He was back
on his Blackberry, but I felt his muscles tense next to me and his mouth became tight. He
seemed to be ignoring me.

“And you haven’t responded to the birthday invite. It’s kind of an important one. He’ll be
five,” I continued casually, referring to second e-mail I'd sent. “You're welcome to
come."

“Is that what you want?” Edward asked in low tone, turning his face to me as he stared
hard into my eyes. His face was too close, so I shifted away again, but his body seemed
to follow.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s the right thing to do,” I replied sharply, and leaned
away again because he smelled too nice. Something natural, of man and strength and
body.

“I asked you if that’s what you want,” he repeated in serious tone but his eyes were soft
now, searching.

I paused, uncertain. “It would be nice, yes,” I admitted quietly, and his face seemed to
fall some as he nodded and looked down at his phone, as if I'd answered wrong.

“I don’t expect you to be Mr. Cleaver but you could at least put in some sort of effort,” I
commented, slightly frustrated.

Edward pocketed the Blackberry and pursed his lips. “I was never meant to be a father,”
he remarked detachedly.

I narrowed my eyes as I felt my nostrils flare. “Well you are one, so play the hand you’ve
been dealt. I didn’t get pregnant by myself and these consequences and responsibilities
belong to us both. And I’m not saying that for my sake,” I replied sharply, drilling my
gaze into his green eyes, but his hardened features became peaceful.

“I meant I can’t have children,” he spoke softly, deliberately, and my mind flew at
hearing these words.

We stared at each other for a while and my eyes searched his face, but there was honesty
there, and sympathy, too. I was still reeling but he tilted his head and seemed to be
studying me.

“Or maybe I can only have them with you?” he wondered almost to himself, seeming
puzzled by the notion but I couldn't form a thought. Not one thing. Edward's face was
only inches away and right there, right there... is when the charge in the air seemed to
change. I could almost meter the moment to the flicker in his eye when the static charge
between he and I generated itself in my skin. It felt like warmth rushing through me, and
a sedated calm I can't explain.

“I think you should let me find out,” he suggested as his tongue slid along his bottom lip
and it glistened in the dim gold interior light in the most captivating way. He slowly
leaned towards me and his eyes were burning with something I didn't recognize as he let

his gaze drop to my lips. Edward paused right before his lips met mine, our breath heavy
on each other's cheeks and his eyes darted briefly up to mine for consent.

His delicious scent was all around me and I parted my lips slightly as I closed my eyes.
He kissed me softly once and then again with lingering and I returned it, liking the
warmth and moisture and the way his soft bottom lip fit between my full ones. We kissed
more deeply for a while but finally he broke away slowly and gazed into my eyes.

"May I?" Edward asked quietly and his molten green eyes filled were with yearning as
they briefly flicked down to his hand that now hovered over my collar. I wasn't sure what
he meant but I couldn't break eye contact as I nodded minutely.

The back of his hand stroked the exposed skin above my collar a few times and he held
my gaze as I felt him unbutton my buttons down below my ribs, unfastening my belt. My
breathing hitched as he slowly slid his warm hand inside the fabric, covering my breast as
he cupped it and then massaged it tenderly.

My chest was rising and falling heavily now and I know he felt my heart pound slow and
hard as he pulled down the stretchy sheer fabric of my bra cup and I felt the cool hair hit
my breast, hardening my nipple. Edward's fingers danced lightly, causing a shiver and he
pulled the collar of my shirt down over my shoulder so my neckline and breast were
totally exposed. He slid his hand slowly down from the creamy skin of my bare shoulder
and he began to circle my nipple with the tip of one finger, tickling as light as a feather.

"Look how lovely you are, Bella," he remarked adoringly, and it sounded like poetry as
his hungry eyes dropped from mine to admire himself touching me, encouraging me to
follow his lead.

I kept my eyes on Edward because I knew watching him pleasure me in that way would
send me over, his touch already too much.

"May I?" he asked as his eyes flicked back up to mine and they were on fire with want.
The air seemed lethargic, not urgent, like an elixir and each breath was a drink. My chin
moved slightly without my permission and I saw the corner of his mouth lift fractionally
before he reached across me and lowered himself down to my chest.

His hot mouth began gently sucking and licking my breast as his large hand slowly
kneaded it while my hands gripped the edge of the seat tightly and I kept my eyes fixed
on the roof instead of on the beautiful man at my chest. Edward slowed and twirled his
tongue, the contrast between the cool ventilated air and his mouth driving me wild inside,
and then he affectionately licked my nipple one last time.

"It's just us, Bella. No one can see," he reassured in a smooth, deep voice, his breath
fanning the moisture his lips left on my skin, and I felt like there was no one else in the
world but he and I in the back of this black limo on a New York street, on a New York
night.

I couldn't resist anymore, or I just didn't want to, and my hand slid into his hair, pulling
him closer and long moan of pleasure escaped me as he went back to my breast. I felt his
other hand on my knee and he rubbed it in signal, but I was already wet as my legs parted
for him and he slowly slid his hand upwards.

His now ravenous mouth kissed and sucked it's way higher, to my collarbone, then my
neck and his hand slid under the back of my hair and pulled me closer to him, my head
rolling back granting him better access as his broad chest pressed against me. I felt
Edward's fingers graze my panties gently, like a whisper, and my thighs spread further
and he began rubbing me along with the tempo of his mouth at my neck and I was
moaning as my eyes fluttered closed and let myself feel it completely.

I felt his finger hook the fabric before plunging it inside me and then another as he slowly
pumped his long fingers in and out, and his thumb found my clit. I was moaning and
breathing hard as he circled my slippery clit with his thumb, pumping in and out and the
throbbing increased as I started to feel the rush and pressed myself into his hand.

Suddenly, Edward removed his hand and my thighs squeezed, wanting it back, but his
slick finger trailed across my thigh and he leaned completely over me as both his hands
went to the sides of my panties and I lifted off the seat as he slid them down my legs and
off and let his hand stroke its way back up slowly. I looked at him with longing,
desperate for the release he denied me.

"May I kiss you, Bella?" he asked smoothly, and it sounded like song. I gasped as his
thumb strummed my clit like a master at his instrument and my breathing hitched because
I realized what he was asking.

"Yes," I gasped, panting as his fingers slid up and down against my wetness and his eyes
glinted with lust. He quickly removed his jacket and lowered himself to his knees on the
carpeted floor in front of me and nudged his hips against my knees. They spread wide to
make room for his body between them.

Edward slid me forward before he kissed his way slowly down my chest, undoing and
removing my dress, then slipped a finger inside me again, quickly joined by another. My
heart was fluttering as he got lower and I felt his silky hair brush my the inside of my
thigh right before his tongue licked my clit, feather light, and my whole body shuddered
from the rush, then his skilled tongue slowly teased me in circles.

His fingers pumped faster as his tongue began to swirl and he lifted one leg over his
shoulder and slid me closer to him as his talented tongue delved deeper. I was
whimpering uncontrollably and my head lolled back as I slumped in my seat and his
tongue became more persistent, faster and faster, licking me, sucking me, twirling my clit
while his fingers worked inside me, not wasting a drop. I combed my hands in his hair,
pulling him right into my center and Edward moaned with pleasure as he held me firmly
against him while I writhed and came on his lips. I was still quaking from the aftershocks

as he gently lifted my leg, setting it back down and I felt his finger under my chin but I
was still flying.

"Thank you for being so good while I licked your pussy for you, Bella," he said slowly in
velvety voice as he looked up at me through his dark lashes and he began teasing me with
his fingers and I'd thought I'd orgasm again on the spot.

I was panting heavily, my head rolled back on the cushions as Edward sat down beside
me, undoing his pants, unleashing his massive, throbbing hard cock. My mouth watered
at the sight and he pulled me onto his lap so I straddled him, my hands resting on either
side of the leather behind his head. He held me up above him with my head bent over,
touching the roof, as his hands slowly caressed up and down my sides.

His eyes were blazing as he tilted his head and leaned forward kissing me softly, his full
bottom lip sucking gently on mine, while I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my hands up and
down his muscular chest. I could feel the large head of his cock touching my center, even
though I wasn't that close, and he held me firmly as I tried to press down but I couldn't
look away as his glittering green eyes stared straight in to mine.

"May I fuck you, Bella?" he asked in a husky tone with his smoldering eyes requesting
the same so I leaned down licked his bottom lip because I liked the way it glistened and
the way I tasted on him, in word and in flavor. Edward's mouth curled a little in the
corner as he pushed me down around his big, hard dick and we both groaned while he
ground me down and slid me back up to the head. The heat and size of him was jarring
and comforting all at once as he shoved me back down and my writhing was frenzied as I
ground down again while his cock filled me to bursting.

I took over automatically and began rocking against him and then popping back up before
slowly sliding down his long, hard cock while his hands dug deeply into my thighs. He
leaned back in his seat watching me work him as I slid up and down on his big dick and
his eyes were on fire as I felt his hand slip up my spine to my neck. Suddenly Edward
jerked me against him and I gasped as he put his lips to my ears.

"You're so good now, aren't you?" he taunted in a rough whisper and at the sound of his
voice I whimpered and ground against him again but he just gripped my ass tighter and
shoved me harder down on him. "But you'll have to do better than that for me."

Without thought, I leaned my body back at an angle with his big hand on the small of my
back, guiding me, and stretched my body out, raising my hands to press against the moon
roof of the limo.

He grasped my ass with both hands then and rocked me once and I instinctively followed
his lead, pressing down on him hard, using the resistance and riding him with every inch
of his big cock inside me. The pace got more desperate, harder and harder, and I was
making noise like a drowning woman, panting, gasping, as he filled me and fucked me,
and he thrust up to meet me and then I was right at the edge again.

Edward groaned loudly and then slammed me down hard, dragging me against his chest,
and then thrust up again, hitting the spot that caused me to burst with more wetness and
my body snaked against his in impatience as I felt his lips at my ear.

"May I come inside your wet pussy, Bella?" he whispered hoarsely and it sounded like
symphony, like this was the Rapture, and my body sang it for him as he sang it back
because it already started at the sound of his voice. I heard his hard breath in my ear as he
rocked me faster and faster, his hands gripped me tightly and I clenched around his big
cock as I rode out wave after wave of euphoria with Edward's body in mine. I felt
weightless, suspended, my skin sparking all over, with him inside me, I’d never felt so
alive. Like a fountain of a thousand divine needles all piercing me with the sensation of
him; coiling me in the thrilling descent. He threw his head back and groaned as I felt him
pulsing inside me and I couldn't stop coming on his dick while he rocked me on top of
him until finally I collapsed on his chest and his arms encircled me.

We stayed like that for a few moments, calming our breathing as the air seemed to thin.

The electricity unplugged as the small static snaps silenced and his body in mine began to
seem cold and foreign. Reality rejoined us and I gingerly laid my hands on his chest to
push myself off, and when his body slid out of mine, it felt like mine took a deep breath.

Edward was still breathing heavily when he opened his eyes, wearing the same glazed
over, vacant stare that I was sure my eyes reflected.

I rolled off of him onto the seat, pushing myself into the far corner away from him and
began to button my dress and refasten my belt as I saw him reach for his jacket coat and
slide it back on after he adjusted his pants and buttoned and tucked in his shirt. Back in
order, like it was just nothing, because that's exactly how it felt.

I felt every pothole and heard every hum of the city as the silence grew strained, caught
in some vapid vacuum as my mind raced in loops of what the hell just happened like a
skipping CD that just wouldn't stop. The cab of the limo was stale and stagnant with
empty sex and the collateral damage of the crash of the wave.

I watched life roll past outside the window in streaks of bright lights because I didn't like
how I felt and this wasn't who I was. This was empty. This was sex without love. This
was sex without like. This was only animal lust. This wasn't me. I wouldn't let it be me. I
felt brainwashed around him, disoriented, a stranger in my body, and it scared me.

I chanced a glance over at Edward and couldn't even be upset with him because his brows
were knitted together and seemed to be just as deep in thought as I was. I felt the car
coming to a halt, and when it did, I wordlessly opened the door, stepping one stillettoed
foot out onto the pavement, but I needed to clear the air.

"I can't do this, Edward. I won't," I said in a firm tone, as my mind swirled with
confusion and regret. "I don't like who I am when I'm with you. I don't know what kind
of... influence I was under or what condition I was in, but this isn't me."

I waited, but he didn't reply and long moments ticked by, so I peeked over my shoulder.
His jaw was flexing as his face was turned towards the opposite window. I took a deep
breath and said what I had to say.

"When I'm around you, I question myself... and I can't do that. I have too many people
counting on me, but the only thing I want from you, the only thing I'm asking you, is to
be a father to your son. That is the only opening in my life, and the only hole in my son's,
and if you want it... it's yours. But if not... then I don't ever want to see you again," I
admitted honestly and still he stayed silent.

I was overcome with emotion, disturbed by my lack of self-control and I felt like I was
robbing my son of his chance to know his father because I indulged in meaningless
backseat sex. How could ever expect Edward to take me seriously when all I did when I
was near him was take off my clothes?

"He's an amazing person, but I won't beg and I won't ask again. We're okay without you,
but I think... I just think... he could be good for you, too," I finished peaceably. Despite
all Edward's wealth and success, I knew there was loneliness, too. I turned to look at him
again and his lips tightened as he sat stoically facing the window so I spoke without
knowing where the words came from.

"You know, I see you in him now and I don't know why, but I think you can do this. I
think you could be a good father if you let yourself try," I said quietly with an unfounded
surety and I slipped my hand on top of his in the only genuine touch of the night.

He turned and looked down at our hands together. Then he looked up to face me, his eyes
seemingly far away and his face held all the perfection and warmth of a mannequin.

"He's ours, Edward," I reminded, because I was willing to share him, I'd seen the great
change Tristan had brought to all of our lives.

Edward rolled his hand over, taking mine in his and squeezed it lightly. I smiled a little
before removing my hand and stepping out of the limo and closing the door.

"Ms. Swan," I heard his smooth, velvety voice call out above the sound of the power
window rolling down and I turned and looked over my shoulder expectantly.

"You forgot something," he said with hard eyes as a devious smile spread on his lips and
he extended his hand out the window with a piece of tiny sheer black fabric dangling off
his finger.

I closed the gap quickly and snatched my forgotten panties from him and stared down at
the souvenir as the car pulled away from the curb. As I looked up and watched his black
lacquered limousine stop at the intersection, its two crimson brake lights glowed
ominously back at me and I knew no matter what, I wouldn't allow myself to be lured
into playing this game with him because I could never win.

I knew now with certainty that there was nothing in my lost time to be sentimental about.
It gave me my son and that's all I needed to know. The psychiatrist told me the
suppression I experienced was my mind's self defense mechanism to block out whatever
horrific trauma I'd endured and it was common for episodes to reoccur at the resurfacing
of the memories. Forgetting was the only thing that saved my life. It was my mind's last
defense and I was smart enough to realize that remembering could destroy me and
everything I'd built. But he also warned me it was easily triggered and to avoid all
stressors, which is why I'd dedicated my life to the positives and didn't allow myself to
wander to hidden corners. I couldn't risk the trigger of ever knowing because my selfish
curiosity could spawn a new episode and cost me everything... my life as I knew it and
the thing I loved most in the world. My son.

According to my journal entry, my naive curiosity is what got me into this position in the
first place, but I wasn't naive anymore. So I stayed out of the dark alleys in my head and
carefully navigated around potential rabbit holes.

In the fog of my mind during the gap between coming out of my paralyzed state and
giving birth, I remembered very few things. But I'll never forget the suicidal thoughts that
I couldn't stop from forming, bubbling forth into my consciousness. It sickened me to
know I had considered killing myself and consequently the innocent child inside me, but
my will to live was gone and I was scared because I didn't know this stranger, this thing,
that grew in me everyday. At the time I was sure I had been raped, but Alice told me I'd
insisted otherwise and when I found my journal entry, I put that demon to bed for good.

I didn't know that child would be my everything and the thing that brought me back to
life. I remembered that moment when Carlisle placed my son in my arms with such
precision. I'd never before felt such love and happiness and all the darkness went away
for good. I was determined to keep it that way, so just like my journal entry and my
psychiatric records, I sealed it all up and locked it away. This was self-preservation in its
most primitive form.

I did this because somehow I knew I'd left more than just a piece of my dignity back in
that limo. I'd finally found my son's father, but I also found my trigger.