A Constant in The Darkness

Chapter Nineteen - Roses Dipped in Sealing Wax

Darlings,

Hello sweeties! Thank you, lovely readers, for letting this story into your hearts AND we're almost at 1000 reviews! This is amazing to me and I appreciate all of you who take the time to share your thoughts.

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Beta beta bo beta, bananafana fo feta, me my mo meta, beta...n7of9, who deserves a resounding round of applause for betaing ahead of time so I could still update while she's on vacation. pssst...Miss you, very le sigh bb!

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

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EPOV

Name: Edward Cullen

Date of Birth: June 20, 1987

Age: 18

Please identify a person the Italian Culinary Academy might contact in case of an emergency.

I paused, unsure of what to write. My initial thought was to write Carlisle's name, but if Bella was going to be living with me in New York they should call her first, she'd be the closest person to the school and my next of kin, I guess. My mind rampantly imagined me cutting off my finger and Bella having to perform some sort of first aid and then trying to drive me to the hospital in fucking New York traffic, and I cringed as I forced myself to write her name and made a mental note to just dial 911 if something like that ever happened.

Bella Swan

I flipped the page over, continuing to fill out the application.

Program of Interest: Italian Culinary Experience

Educational Information: Currently in High School, Expected Date of Graduation: June, 2005

Financial Aid and Housing:

Are you interested in applying for financial aid: Yes

Are you interested in applying for housing assistance:

Fuck! Why do they have to know all this shit now? I mean, damn, I didn't even know they had housing assistance let alone whether or not I needed it. I didn't even know what the fuck that was, like what it entailed. All this ambiguity and decision making was really getting on my nerves. I guess I would have to go with maybe.

Are you interested in applying for housing assistance: Uncertain

That pretty much fucking summed it all up. I was uncertain. When Bella had handed me that present on my birthday, I had no idea she'd be handing me a plan for the future. And it was a good one, don't get me wrong, it was exactly what I wanted. The sight of that chef's coat reignited my eagerness for this. I tried it on when I got home that morning and just fucking reveled in it as I felt the weight of the coat, the stiff fabric on my skin making me anxious as all fuck to get to that Academy. Going to New York, even if it was only for ten weeks, would be impossible without Bella. I couldn't leave her here alone, not in the precarious state her health was in and similarly, I couldn't be there without her for so long; living there together, grocery shopping together, cooking together, even fucking doing laundry together, I wanted it all. Her plan really was the only way I was going to agree to go to the Academy but, fuck, what kind of douche bag lets his girlfriend move across the country and then work to support him while he gets to realize his every dream?

What I was left with was uncertainty; uncertainty that we could actually pull this off, uncertain that this was what Bella truly wanted, uncertain that I would even be able to hold my own in an Academy of aspiring chefs, people who had more experience than I, who already knew what the fuck they were doing. It was a lot to fucking think about.

Then there was always the chance of the now hovering ticking bomb resurfacing. Sometimes, when I was with Bella and everything felt so fucking good and normal, I found that I would forget about it. Then the realization would crush me and when I thought about the future, I was reminded of the fact that this fucking threat was never going away. I would always live in fear of the impending psychosis, forever questioning my motivation, my behavior, always searching for signs that the monster within was finally going to break free.

I sighed and pushed my hair from my face as I continued to fill out the application.

Work Experience (Please submit your resume)

Fuck. I had zero work experience. None. I'd never needed a job. The Volvo had been my mom's, a gift from my father for their anniversary three years ago. Anything else I needed was provided by Carlisle and Esme - clothes, food, gas, anything. They didn't want us to have to worry about shit like incidentals. Carlisle told us when we first moved in that we didn't need to worry about anything, that everything would be taken care of. But Carlisle couldn't write me a check for experience. I jotted down the name of the culinary classes I had taken at the community center and just hoped that would suffice.

Essay: Please use the space provided to describe your reason(s) for wishing to enter the food service industry, as well as for wanting to enroll at The Italian Culinary Academy.

Finally, a question I could fucking answer without wanting to slam my head through the wall. This would be easy as I knew exactly why I wanted to work in the food industry. Cooking just made sense to me. It had started as a way to seem normal, to avoid questions or to appease, but now it was a whole new monster. My passion in bringing nutrition to others and of finding ways to make interesting and provocative dishes now had an audience. I had always been discerning in choosing ingredients, but then I would batter and fry or seep in butter, taking these items that had been produced in purity and just beating the living shit out of them. They tasted good, don't get me wrong, they were fucking phenomenal, but when Bella entered my life she brought with her an opportunity, an avenue that I could explore in cooking that was rarely done, a challenge.

What if I could make the same staple dishes found in all the gourmet restaurants, but make them good for you too? Like take a chicken parmigiana, but instead of breading the bird with egg batter and throwing it in a vat of oil, maybe I could use something healthy instead, like sweet potato puree as an adhesive for wheat bread crumbs and baking the pieces instead of frying, or using meat substitutes, creating new and interesting vegetarian meals. I already had tons of ideas, spending most of my class time thinking of vegetable and fruit juice substitutes for oils and fats and scribbling them in my notebook now reserved just for recipes. I wanted to create a whole new way of cooking and eating centered around health, using food as a source of nourishment that would benefit the whole body not just the taste buds, and I wanted to do it in a gourmet setting. It was fucking revolutionary.

In this way, I could use what I had learned about nutrition and health from my experiences with Bella and Charlie to help others find a way to enjoy food, even if they had certain obstacles, like a sensitive digestive system or a failing heart, diabetes, lactose intolerance, the medical mayhem went on and on. And these people deserved good food too, right?

I had seen it work with my own eyes. Bella was getting better and I couldn't help but think the food had something to do with it.

The new school year had started, my fucking senior year, and I had rearranged my schedule so that I had Bella in most of my classes in case she needed me. It's amazing what you can persuade people to do with homemade chocolate cake. I had the office secretaries eating out of my hand, literally. The only difference was that Bella was taking an advanced literature class that I had already taken last year. Instead, I had opted for the English language conventions class, though I don't know what the fuck good this class was going to do for my future. Instead of semicolons and irregular verbs, I wrote recipes and read about different types of vegetables and fruits, researching spices and additives. Even with our side-by-side schedules I was a fucking mess every time I had to leave her, worried about where her mind would wander and whether she would give in to her bulimia when I was absent.

Emmett had moved to Pullman leaving behind an empty room that was now being occupied by Jasper. He didn't technically live with us, as in address change and shit, not yet but, fuck, he kept all his shit in that room, he ate dinner with us every night, he even had his fucking toothbrush in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom on the second floor. Carlisle had given him Emmett's room on one condition, that he stop selling drugs. Jasper agreed, saying he never made much cash off the venture anyway because all his customers were his buddies that expected freebies. Jasper hadn't needed the money at the time and now they were accustomed to his generous nature. Instead, he passed on his clientele to his supplier and I had to admit, I was pretty surprised. I had feared he would get into selling the harder shit just to make some cash, and that can get pretty dicey. I didn't know for sure, but there was a chance my sister may have had something to do with that decision.

I finished filling out the application, signed my name at the bottom and stuffed it into a manila envelope. I tied a red ribbon around the envelope and slipped Bella's birthday card under the strip. This was my birthday present to Bella. She had made me promise not to spend any money on her saying any bit of cash we had we should save for New York, and I had reluctantly agreed, considering what she must have spent on the Academy uniform. But this was what she wanted so I complied because that's how bad I love this girl. Yeah, I was fucking whipped and I fucking adored it.

Bella would be here soon to help me finish up the cake for her birthday party. We recently discovered that Bella hadn't had a birthday party, like a real party, since she had turned eight. Alice was flabbergasted and saw an opportunity to take it upon herself to organize a small party for Bella's eighteenth birthday, complete with balloons and streamers and party games. Alice had said she wanted to recreate the quintessential children's birthday party, loving the shit out of the irony of the fact that this birthday actually made Bella an adult. Yeah, my sister is such a freak.

Anyway, the house now looked like a crayon box exploded, fucking primary colors all over the place. There were balloons filled with confetti and streamers wrapped around every fucking thing imaginable. The bar in the kitchen was covered in red paper and bowls filled with three different kinds of chips and dip and trays of veggies and fruit. I had made honey wheat pizza dough and marinara sauce and we were going to top our own pizzas for dinner. The fridge was stocked up with bowls filled with any and all toppings I could think of from the usual pepperoni, sausage and veggies, to the more unusual spinach, bacon, chicken, sugar glazed walnuts, cranberries, and even a variant of cheeses, from mozzarella to a more heady gorgonzola or feta. It would be an anything goes pizza extravaganza. Alice had planned all kinds of stupid-ass games like musical chairs, pin the tail on the donkey, and even a three legged race. I rolled my eyes when she had told me about these games, vowing I wouldn't be caught dead playing anything that included three legs or a donkey, but Alice had a gift when it came to mercilessly bullying people into doing what she wanted. And again, if Bella wanted to play, then I would play.

All I had left to prepare now was the cake. I had decided upon a light angel food cake served with zabaglione and garnished with a fresh peach and raspberry glaze. Angel food is a very light cake really, only flour, sugar and egg whites, so it was low in calories when compared with other desserts. Of course, the zabaglione is originally saturated with fat, the custard consisting primarily of egg yolks and sugar. Instead, I used a sugar substitute and cut the egg count by half by using the whole egg instead of just the yolk, retaining the volume but reducing the fat. I mean, it wouldn't be as rich as a traditional zabaglione, but it would still be fucking good and rich with a hint of Marsala, the sweet vintage wine a dessert all its own.

I had prepared the cake yesterday but held off on the custard, wanting it fresh and served at room temperature. Bella was going to help me with the peaches and berries by boiling the fruit until softened, the natural sugar of the peaches providing much of the syrupy texture and hardly requiring any additives at all.

Pulling the ingredients from the fridge I set up an area for Bella to do her slicing, sharpening a knife and laying it by the cutting board, the box of peaches set on the counter. I set up my own workspace by the stove, filling the bottom pan of the double boiler with water and turning the burner on to a low setting. Zabaglione requires a lot of whisking and I had to have everything I needed close at hand so as to prevent scrambling the eggs.

"Hey," Jasper said as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of chips from one of the bowls on the bar. He leaned against the counter, stuffing whole chips into his mouth one at a time.

"What's up? Don't let Alice see you just standing around, she'll find something for you to cover in crepe paper," I remarked.

"Dude, I know. I've been twisting shit in crepe paper all morning long, the same amount of twists in each strand. She made me fucking count." Jasper smiled and shook his head as he continued to munch on chips.

"Did you hear if Emmett and Rose are going to make it? I heard they were going to try to drive up. Believe it or not, Rose is homesick. Not actual homesick but here homesick, you know?" Jasper said.

"Yeah, I think they were going to leave by noon, drive straight through. The way Rose drives they ought to make it here in less than five hours," I remarked. Pullman was a good four hundred and fifty miles from Forks but Rose had a lead foot and a fucking talent for getting out of speeding tickets. This made her unhesitant when it came to breaking the speed limit.

"True, true," Jasper replied. Just as I was going to start cracking the eggs into a bowl the door bell rang.

I opened the door to find Bella standing on the porch, her heart shaped face beaming up at me excitedly. Her pink lips spread into a wide grin, the rich hue of her chocolate eyes infiltrating mine as I pulled her into my arms and nuzzled my face into the bend of her neck. Her skin here was so fragrant, so soft, and I gently brought my lips to press into the space. I inhaled deeply, trailing my hands through the dark tresses swirling down her back and recognized the scent at once: comfort, ease, home.

Bella wrapped her arms around my waist and her warm body pressed against me as I relaxed into her familiar touch, her thin hunter green sweater ribbed beneath my fingers. She was wearing a knee length black skirt, the stiff fabric pleated around her hips, her figure shapely beneath the material. I eased at the fact that Bella's fuller figure meant her health was improving but, fuck, I ached to press my hands into her curvier flesh. I took it as sign that the plan was working, that we were kicking the piss out of this fucking eating disorder and as much as it was Bella's success, I took pride in it too.

"Hey," she said, smiling up at me. Bella was so fucking beautiful, full rosy lips, dark lashes framing her wide velvet eyes surrounded by smooth, luminous skin. What struck me most, though, was that the creature wrapping herself around me in this moment was the most complex person I'd ever known, the inner workings of her mind tuned in to the delicate facets of all parts of life. In our discussions, more than anything or anywhere else, I found a wealth of ideas, each of them indicative of Bella's gracious and loving nature.

"Hi," I responded. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," she said, releasing her arms from my waist and walking towards the kitchen. "So, how bad is it?"

"What do you mean? It's Alice. It's exactly as bad as you think it is," I grinned as we walked into the kitchen which opened up to the family room, Bella's eyes widening at the display of color overwhelming the two rooms.

"Holy shit, you guys were busy this morning," she laughed, looking around. "Oh my God, is that pin the tail on the donkey? That's hilarious! Did she get a piñata? Please tell me there's a piñata."

"Of course there's a piñata? What kind of birthday party do you think this is?" Alice asked while she bounced down the stairs, her black hair curled around her ears. She was wearing her hair a little longer now, her pixie cut having grown out so that her natural waves were starting to show themselves.

"Alice, I can't believe you did all this. It's seriously awesome," Bella hugged my sister, Alice grinning and relishing in her handiwork.

"I had help, you know," Alice said, moving to wrap her arms around Jasper's waist. She kissed his cheek in appreciation, as if twisting crepe paper was the most fucking brilliant thing in the world.

"You guys didn't have to do all this. Although, I am a little excited, I love party games. It's just perfect," Bella said as her eyes met mine, and I smiled at her excitement, even though I knew her shining eyes meant I'd be fucking playing musical chairs later.

"Alright!" I said, clapping my hands. "Bella and I have shit to do so kindly clear our workspace, which means get the fuck out of the kitchen while we take care of business."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Alice said, rolling her eyes as she began to make her way towards the stairs. Jasper followed her, saluting as they made their way to the second floor.

"Okay, what can I do?" Bella asked as she leaned against the counter, and my eyes lingered on her swelling chest, the low v-neck sweater cruelly testing my self control. Her figure was still slight and very thin but, shit, I couldn't believe how much the added fullness affected me. Then, she fucking shows up in a goddamn skirt knowing damn well what that shit does to me. The sight of her bare legs had me imagining them wrapped around my waist and then I was lost in pornville; Bella bent over the counter, Bella on the cool wood floor, Bella covered in peach juice... Fuck! I had to shake the images from my head, we really did have business to attend to.

"Um, well, I was thinking you could slice up the peaches for the glaze. They need to be pared, pitted and sliced," I said, pointing to where I had set up the cutting board. "Then dump them in this saucepan," I said, crouching down to pull a saucepan from the cabinet, the creamy and smooth skin of her legs right next to my fucking face so I couldn't help but kiss her calf, the skin cool and emanating her floral sweetness.

When I stood up Bella's eyes were flooded with pupil, her teeth gently pressing into the fullness of her bottom lip, and I had no choice but to bring my mouth to hers, pressing her against the counter and clutching at the skirt around her hips.

She licked at my tongue, her hands tangling in the fabric of my shirt. Her mouth was delicious and I kissed her fiercely, our tongues moving in pulsing undulations, my hands exploring the ripples of her body before dragging my lips away, still concerned with the task at hand.

"You want me to do what to the peaches?" Bella asked, licking her lips. Fuck, this girl was too much.

"I need you to carefully peel the skin, retaining as much of the fruit as you can. It might be easier to slice them first and then peel, the skin will provide some traction on the cutting board and protect the flesh. They tend to get a little slippery after you've peeled away the skin," I said softly, my hands still gripping at her hips.

"Hmm, thanks for the hint. Don't worry, I'll be gentle with your peaches," Bella's lips curled into a cruel grin and I matched her amusement, her double meaning obvious as she trailed her hands down my torso to grip the waistband of my pants, her fingers dangerously close to my swelling erection.

"Fuck, Bella, are you trying to kill me?" I growled, pinning her against the counter again, my hips pressed against her small frame. She just laughed, kissing my nose as she pulled a little on my waistband.

"If you can't stand the heat..." she grinned and escaped my grasp, moving to the cutting board to begin slicing the peaches.

I shook my head, trying to abate my desire to touch her some more, and began cracking the eggs into the bowl. I whisked the eggs with the sugar substitute until they resembled a soft foam. Putting them in the upper pan of the double boiler with the water below hot and bubbling, I whisked constantly, stopping only to add the Marsala to the mixture and being careful not to let the eggs boil. I continued to whisk until the custard was thick and doubled in volume, the muscles of my arms just beginning to strain after about five minutes of the repetitive motion. Bella was quietly carving the peaches, her eyes fixated on the fruit and knife in her hands, her saucepan practically filled beside her.

"That's enough peaches, we need to save room for the water," I said to her as I removed the custard from the pan, spooning it into a large bowl.

She nodded and finished up the peach she was slicing, dumping the pieces into the saucepan and placing the cutting board and knife into the sink. She gave it a quick rinse, before cleaning the counter of peach debris.

"Perfect timing," I said, smiling at her as she dried her hands on a hand towel. I brought the saucepan to the sink, filling it with water and placing it on the burner of the stove. I turned on the heat, the flames dancing against the dark graphite pan as I stirred in a dollop of honey, allowing the sticky syrup to dissolve into the boiling fruit. I mixed a small amount of cornstarch with some water in a separate bowl, dissolving the white powder and whisking the creamy blend in with the peaches. Instantly, the combination began to thicken and bubble into a syrupy glaze, and I continued to let it boil until the mixture simmered clear.

Bella watched over my shoulder, her lavender scent wafting around me and mixing with the sweet nectar of the softened peaches as I pulled them off the heat.

I heard the front door open and slam shut and the sound of heels in the hallway as Emmett's booming voice shot out through the house.

"What up, bitches!" Emmett walked into the kitchen with Rosalie right behind him carrying a colorful bag filled with tissue paper. He walked over to me and looked into the saucepan before smacking me on the back.

"Hi guys, gotta pee," Rosalie walked straight past us to the downstairs restroom.

"Hiya, Eddie. Dude, what is that? It smells fucking amazing." Emmett stuck his finger into the boiling hot peach glaze but retracted it quickly, frantically trying to wipe the hot liquid from his skin.

"Holy fucking shit goddamn motherfucker!" Emmett danced around the kitchen, putting his scalded finger into his mouth. "Shit! That's fucking hot!"

"Yeah, I just pulled it off the burner, dumbass. That'll teach you to stick your fingers in someone else's pan," I grinned. Man, I had missed this fucker. Yeah, he was obnoxious, and watching him destroy a meal was probably the most revolting thing on the planet, but I had to love the guy. Nobody made me laugh like Emmett. Sometimes, when I thought of Emmett and his carefree nature, always looking for the humor in things, I thought that maybe this is what I could have been if my father hadn't been so fucked up. I mean, Emmett and I were both Cullens, we shared DNA, the only difference was that his DNA wasn't completely tarnished. It was all a matter of chance that my father got this genetic anomaly and Carlisle didn't. It could have just as easily been Emmett in my position.

But it wasn't. Emmett was perfectly normal with nothing to worry about besides where the next kegger was at, and I was the one formulating a back-up plan so I wouldn't end up destroying my girlfriend in case schizophrenia decided to take over. It's just the way it was, fucking survival of the fittest and shit.

As if summoned by curse words all the upstairs occupants flooded into the large kitchen. Alice and Jasper followed by Esme and Carlisle filed down the stairs and assaulted Emmett with greetings, Esme pulling her son into a tight embrace, her small figure fiercely protective as she tried to wrap her arms around her massive little boy. Carlisle's eyes sparkled with delight as he shook Emmett's hand and patted his son on the back, greeting him like a man and no longer the young boy that had left for college barely a month ago. Emmett ruffled Alice's hair as she cringed and ducked away from his taunting, and smacked Jasper in the gut, playful violence being one of Emmett's favorite displays of affection. It was oddly comforting to have my family together again.

Emmett was still whimpering about his finger when Rose came back from the restroom.

"Let me see, you big baby." Rosalie took Emmett's hand, inspecting his finger for damage. "You're fine, it won't even blister." She rolled her eyes, carrying the present over to Bella.

"Happy birthday, Bella," Rose said politely, handing her the colorful bag.

"Um, thanks guys. You didn't need to get me anything. I mean, you guys drove all the way up here," Bella rattled.

"Nonsense! You're one of us now, and we wouldn't miss make your own freaky pizza night for anything. Not even five hours of listening to various angry chick bands could make me miss this," Emmett laughed, Rosalie smacking him on the arm.

"Hey, driver gets radio rights, right?" Rosalie responded, opening the cabinet and getting out a glass, filling it with water and drinking.

Alice moved to the fridge and pulled out the various toppings for the pizza and I retrieved the pizza dough resting in the lukewarm oven. I ducked underneath the cabinet to get the various baking sheets that we used for making pizza and coated them with a nonstick spray.

"Open your gift Bella, I want to see what it is," Emmett commented, grinning at his joke and shoving what seemed like an ungodly amount of potato chips in his mouth.

"Nope, not yet. Presents aren't until later." Alice took the gift and placed it on a small table in the family room which I noticed already contained a hefty stack of neatly wrapped packages.

"I shoulda know the pary naz woul show up t-nigh," Emmett remarked, his mouth full of chips.

"Yeah, English is hard, huh Emmett," Alice responded sarcastically.

"Ahhh, ha, ha, ha, fuck you," Emmett said, roughly messing with Alice's hair again and she squirmed, laughing as she tried to get away.

"Hey, language!" Esme scolded. She took the pans from my grip and spread them out along the counter as I flattened the balls of dough, stretching them with my hands and sprinkling them with flour when the dough became too sticky. I pressed the dough into each sheet, some round and some rectangular, and passed them to the others. Each of them took turns spooning the sauce on the flat dough, loading various toppings onto their creations in an unspoken competition to come up with the oddest and most delicious combination of ingredients.

The doorbell rang again and Bella went to get the door this time. Charlie must have finished work early. I turned on the double oven, it was already warm so it wouldn't take long to preheat.

Bella returned a minute later, Charlie lumbering behind her.

"Hi all," Charlie greeted the group. Carlisle abandoned his pizza to greet him and shake his hand and Esme followed, giving him a hug and thrusting a round pizza pan already covered in dough into his hands.

I pressed some dough into a rectangle pan for Bella who was now at my side, and she grinned at me, kissing my cheek before taking the sheet.

"What would you like on it?" Bella asked me.

"Whatever you want. Everyone makes their own. I'll make mine later, just put what you want on it, although the most creative gets an honorable mention," I told her, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

"Just tell me what you want, I'll make it. You're here taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once," Bella's little lip jutted out stubbornly and I knew better than to argue with her over something so trivial, so I conceded. "Okay, um, just put olive oil, tomato, basil, and gargonzola."

"That's it? Not even sauce?" Bella asked me, perplexed.

"Nope. Trust me, it will change your life. You've never had pizza like this before," I smirked.

"That's for damn sure. The last time I had pizza I puked in the school day-smoking bathroom occupied by a snarky little know-it-all who puffed like a chain smoker and called me immature," Bella mumbled, her eyes veiled in pensive thought.

"You never had a chance, you know. Any way you look at it, this is where you are supposed to be," I responded, bringing my hand to cradle her cheek and placing a light kiss on her full mouth. She smiled, kissing me back more earnestly, and I noticed a small amount of flour smudged on her cheek. I brushed the excess away, softly caressing her face, drinking in her grin, before turning back to my task. Bella moved to the counter and began to top the dough.

One by one they brought me their pans and I placed them in the oven to cook, four at a time. It would take a while for them all to cook, ten pizzas altogether because Emmett had to make two, but the benefit would be that when the first batch was done everyone would share by taking slices from each other's creations for exposure to flavor combinations that they may not have otherwise tried. So far, the most unique combination of ingredients were Rose's; she had lathered her dough with a white balsamic vinaigrette instead of sauce, topping it with spinach, carmelized walnuts, cranberries, bacon pieces and feta cheese. It was like a spinach salad pizza. Fucking genius.

While we waited for the pizza to cook Alice made us play party games and, surprisingly, it was fucking hilarious. These games took on a whole new meaning as an adult. Musical chairs was really just a wrestling match, Emmett using any means necessary to win. He ended up trying to sit on Jasper's lap at one point and the game halted for an entire ten minutes while they traded headlocks, rolling around on the floor and knocking shit over. Esme finally had to pull Emmett up by the hair in order to get him to relent.

After Bella practically broke her ankle when Alice blindfolded her and spun her around during pin the tail on the donkey, the game forever tainted now by lewd and obscene remarks, the games where abandoned as the timer dinged. I pulled four perfectly browned pizzas from the oven, melted cheese sizzling on the side of the pan, the different ingredients filling the room with a variant of smells; onions, bacon, tomatoes, basil, sausage, all of them gently enhanced by the honey sweet smell of the crust. I replaced them with four more pizzas waiting to be cooked and then used the pizza cutter to slice up the ones that were done.

I made the slices small, like testers or a pizza shot, so that they wouldn't get full from one slice and would be able to enjoy multiple pieces. Everyone grabbed a piece, testing the different toppings and remarking on the different flavor combinations, and we all agreed that this round went to Rosalie.

I watched Bella as she ate her pizza, one tiny slice of my tomato basil. She chewed slowly and I knew she was paying attention to her body's cues, trying to prohibit the feeling of fullness that often prompted the puking. Bella always looked like eating was torturous, always having to pay attention, focusing on her body, and it fucking destroyed me every time. Fuck, eating should be easy, something enjoyable, especially today, surrounded by good food and good friends, this should be fucking fun. I found myself wondering if it would ever be easy for her, if she would ever be able to enjoy food without the stress and pressure of suppressing her compulsion.

Again, the timer dinged and I removed the pans, placing the last two into the oven and resetting the timer. I cut the pizzas into small slices and then moved to take a slice of my tomato basil perfection. The smell emanating from my pizza was fucking heavenly, the basil and olive oil mellow and subdued when mixed with the more distinct aroma of the gorgonzola. Fucking surreal, the way the flavors arrived in waves, first the cheese, then the basil, followed by the yeast of the bread, all of them assaulting my senses.

I looked around searching for Bella, scanning the room but unable to locate her. Fuck! My mind automatically engaged the worst case scenario - Bella curled around a toilet, dwelling in self loathing, crying and broken from her failure. I had to go to her. I carefully slipped away from the group and rushed to the guest bathroom, noticing the door was closed. I paced outside the door, debating whether or not I should knock or if I should just wait for her to finish or if I should just go in. The anticipation of not knowing was suffocating and I pressed my ear to the door, trying to get a clue as to what the fuck was happening inside. I heard Bella cough and that was my sign, she was fucking purging and I wouldn't let her do this, not now, not after doing so well for so long. Without even knocking I kicked in the door, the pathetic excuse for a lock bending to my will.

Bella was sitting on the toilet, her skirt wrapped around her waist and her undies pushed down around her ankles, a look of sheer confusion and horror upon her face. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit! This was not what I expected.

"Edward! What the fuck? Get out!" she squealed. I left the room quickly, shutting the door behind me. Shit! What the fuck is wrong with me? I am a total fucking asshole. The fact that I automatically thought she'd be puking, that I didn't even think she'd be using the bathroom for what every normal person uses the bathroom for, was horrifying to me. What kind of message did this send to Bella? What did it say about my own thoughts about her progress?

Whatever the answer may be, Bella was pissed and she had every right to be. I could only imagine what she must be thinking. She was going to be irate, and all I could do was wait outside that door until she decided to come out and tell me about it.

…

BPOV

Okay, let's see, I got my period in July, nothing in August, and now it was September with nothing but a small staining of blood, not even worth counting. I sighed in frustration at my lame-ass body and a reproductive cycle that didn't know how to cycle. A normal girl would have been freaking out, thinking the extreme - unplanned pregnancy. Not me. I wasn't pregnant. I was defective.

This was all I could think about as I sat on the toilet in the Cullens' downstairs bathroom, all I could think about was how that one time must have been a fluke. I kicked myself for getting my hopes up, for thinking everything would be normal. I even had told Edward we needed to start using protection that first time after the period. At first he was confused and I remembered his words, "You're not on the pill anymore?" I answered, "No, I'm not on the pill," which was the utter truth but the fucking last thing I wanted to do was discuss my period with my boyfriend, so I left it at that. Of course, because I'm an idiot and didn't think about it until we were in the throes of thrusting, we had to make do, the pull out method a favorite amongst teenagers everywhere. Since then, we had used a variant of creative contraceptives, but I didn't want to go on the pill. Not yet. I had read somewhere that sometimes they put girls like me on the pill so they would start to have a regular period, but I didn't want some artificial hormone making my body do what it was supposed to do naturally. I wanted it to do it by itself, kind of as a marker that I was successful in taking care of my body, that what I was doing was working.

I know that article said that this would take time but, shit, I had already had a period, meaning that my body could ovulate, so I started to worry that what I was doing wasn't enough. I tried to think about what I had done before, maybe there had been something that specifically spurred the menstrual triumph, but I couldn't think of anything that I was doing differently. I have been doing exactly the same thing, every fucking day, since before prom. I coughed, a tickle in my throat. I just didn't understand.

Suddenly, I heard a loud crack and the bathroom door flew open. Edward was standing in the doorway looking horrified beyond belief.

"Edward! What the fuck? Get out!" I yelled the first thing that came to mind. I love Edward and everything, but I didn't want him to see me on the toilet! That's a whole new level of closeness that we had yet to explore and this, this was just fucking shocking as all hell. What would possess that boy to bust through a locked door to get to me?

Then it hit me. He thought I was purging. He thought I was in here puking and he decided to fucking bust through the door, without asking, without knocking, without even making sure if his assumptions were correct. It was probably the most patronizing thing anyone has ever done to me. Quickly, he shut the door, leaving me in the bathroom to make sense of all this, which I assumed was what he'd be doing right outside.

What did he think he was going to do if I was puking, physically stop me? Did he think I wouldn't be able to deal with it on my own? I had been dealing with this shit for the last three years of my life, I think I had dealing with it down. It was dealing without it that was the real challenge.

That was another thing, did he think I could just slide right back into purging, did he not believe in my self control at all? I hadn't purged in months, since camping, and yet he still thought that every trip to the restroom meant I was going to puke. So many things were running through my head, so many implications that I couldn't even put some of them into words, so instead, I dwelled on the feeling of the ideas, and they all felt pretty shitty.

Then again, why should he trust that I was just using the restroom? I had created this expectation from my behavior, my previous pattern of puking discrediting all my attempts to persuade him otherwise. I had made him this way, why should I expect him to change after only a few months of success? Just like my body, maybe Edward too had to get used to my new healthy lifestyle. When I forgot about my own wounded pride, his actions were actually to be expected and they were exactly what I deserved. "I love you when I forget about me..."

On this conclusion I tidied myself, washed my hands and walked out of the restroom. As predicted, Edward was seated on the floor in the hallway, his elbow resting on his bent knees, his head resting in his hands. He was expecting the worst.

He looked up as I walked into the hall, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hey," I said, trying to ease his apprehensive stance.

"Bella, I'm so sorry," he apologized, bringing his hand to smooth his hair away from his face. "I just didn't want you to have to go through it alone, if it was what you were going through, which obviously it wasn't, so-"

"Edward, stop. I understand," I interrupted. "It doesn't make it right, but I understand. It makes sense that you would jump to that conclusion and that's my fault. I'm sorry that you can't trust me to be strong enough, not yet, and that's okay. I understand it's going to take time."

"That's not what I-" Edward tried to interject and I held up my finger, something he always did when he needed a moment, and he stopped, accepting the signal.

"But, like you said, what if you're not around to save me from myself every time? I need to be able to handle this on my own because you can't spend your life picking up the pieces." Edward was frowning at these words and I knew this was hard for him to hear, but it was the truth and even more than I wanted to be with Edward forever, I wanted to be someone worthy of being with Edward forever.

"Why aren't you fucking pissed at me? You should be. What I did was inexcusable," Edward said, a picture of dejection, his eyes fixated on the floor, his hands still in his pockets.

I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, attempting to catch his gaze and hold his eyes with mine. "Look, you made an assumption, it was a mistake. You were just trying to help, I get it. And it's okay. Can we just go back to the party?"

Edward sighed, still troubled, but we both knew now wasn't the time for this discussion. He nodded, finally returning the hug and kissing my forehead. He pulled away, slipped his hand in mine and led us back into the family room. Alice noticed us as we appeared, jumping up from the couch and walking over to us.

"Are you ready for presents?" she asked excitedly, and I internally sighed in relief, our absence apparently unnoticed.

"Yeah, okay. Let's do this," I said optimistically. I absolutely loathed opening gifts in front of others. I am always appreciative of the gifts but I sometimes have a difficult time conveying the proper amount of enthusiasm. I hated being the center of attention with everyone staring at me and waiting to see my reaction to their gift. I guess I just didn't want to disappoint.

I opened Emmett and Rosalie's gift first. Removing the tissue paper, I pulled out two books, one was The Awakening by Kate Chopin, the very book I had traded Rose for the clothes she bought in Port Angeles, and I shook my head at her trickery. The other was a compilation, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson.

"Thank you, so much. I love, love Dickinson, absolutely one of my favorite writers of all time," I said, truly excited with this gift. I couldn't wait to start reading it. "But Rose, this is your book. We made a trade, remember?

"You think I'd want to keep your old, tattered copy? I bought a new one," Rosalie rolled her eyes and I smiled, knowing full well she was completely full of shit.

"Yeah, I totally thought of you when I saw that, um, who is it again? Emma something or other?" Emmett added, throwing his heavy arm around my shoulder while I chuckled at his joke. He obviously had nothing to do with this purchase.

"Here, this is from me and Jasper." Alice handed me a rectangular package. I carefully slipped the paper off the items, reading the titles as they were disclosed. They were two DVD's, one a live Joni Mitchell concert and the other a documentary detailing her life. I ran my fingers across the face peering up at me from the cover, a cigarette between her fingers and a beret covering her long straight blond hair, her appearance almost childlike if not for the deep creases around her eyes and lips.

"Alice, I'm stunned. I can't wait to watch these. Thank you so much." I tried to convey my appreciation in my voice but feeling like I was failing miserably, I hugged her instead, and because I knew how money was kind of an issue now, I hugged Jasper too.

"Well, you already have every album on your mp3 player, so I figured if you ever got bored of listening, you could watch instead," Alice said, handing me another gift. "This is from Carlisle and Esme."

I opened the large, heavy box, finding a vintage looking set of hardcover books. I read the bindings; Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma. They were Austen novels and they were absolutely beautiful.

"Edward said you liked the classics. They're not really vintage, they just look like it," Esme said from her seat on the couch. I went over to hug her and Carlisle, Esme placing a small kiss upon my cheek.

Charlie cleared his throat and pulled a small weathered box from his pocket. "Well, this isn't much, but I figured you should have it. Happy Birthday, Bella." He handed me the box and I lifted the lid. Inside was a silver bracelet, and I gasped.

The bracelet itself was not the marvel. Affixed to each link were charms, some looked ancient, pewter and silver browned with tarnish, and some glowed with brilliance, shiny and bright . I touched each of the charms carefully; a curled up cat, a daisy, a pair of dice with a Las Vegas tag, a pair of Mickey Mouse ears from Disneyland, a Statue of Liberty, an Eiffel tower, the undeniable boot of Italy, a blue sapphire gem set in the middle of a heart. There must have been at least fifty charms on the heavy bracelet in my hands, all of them different and clinking together as I inspected the trinkets, creating a soft chiming in my hands.

"It was your mom's. I gave it to her when we were in high school. Each of those charms there were places she wanted to go, things she liked. She didn't want it anymore, afterward. So, there you go," Charlie mumbled to me, his creased eyes shining.

I couldn't speak, not at first. I wanted to ask him what had happened between them, why my mom left, why he didn't try to find me, to call me, to write even. I didn't know how to feel about this bracelet. It represented their dreams, things they had wanted to experience together, a glimpse of the life they thought they would have, their life before me. Looking at the charms, my chest swelled at the people my parents must have been, their desires not far from my own, those young lovers now so far removed for the people I called my parents. Lightly, I touched the Statue of Liberty, a symbol of opportunity, my own dream encapsulated and affixed to that fucking bracelet.

My mom had always been a dreamer, setting her goals high but whimsical in her ideals. I knew I hadn't fit in to her plan but I had no idea how much so until this moment. Looking at her dreams, I realized how much she had given up, how disappointed she must have been. It had always been evident, but now it was concrete, all her broken ideals represented in one piece of jewelry. "You could have been more..."

I realized then that Charlie was trying to explain, not for his own behavior, but for my mother's. It was his way of sharing with me one piece of my mother that I never knew, that I would never have known. Renee wasn't exactly keen on talking about her youth, she rarely mentioned her life with Charlie, and even though something had transpired between them, something hurtful and wrong, he was apologizing for her. I couldn't control my emotions any longer. I went to my father and wrapped my arms around him, not able to encompass his girth, but I could smell his soap and aftershave and the marinara from the pizza still on his mustache, and I swore I could smell the sweet tobacco from my youth. I knew I was imagining it though, and the tears that fell from my eyes were unstoppable as memories from my childhood swirled through my mind.

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling away and wiping my face. He placed his large hand on my back, patting warily, avoiding my eyes and clearing his throat.

Edward was standing by the empty gift table now, a manila envelope in his hands. He smiled at me as he held out the envelope and I took it from him silently, slightly confused as to what this might be. I opened the envelope and peeked inside first, pulling the orange and white papers out and reading the first page aloud.

"The Italian Culinary Academy, Application for Admission," I read softly, glancing down at the personal information and then to the other pages already filled out in Edward's script, the neat and concise penmanship flowing out across the sheet.

I looked at Edward's face, his mouth pursed, his green jeweled eyes brimming with uncertainty and again, emotion overwhelmed me. This was his gift to me, all of it, New York, the Academy, our future, it was our gift to each other. It was the only thing I had wanted, the only thing I had hoped for, and here it was, bundled in a manila envelope.

I clutched the envelope to my chest while everyone whispered around me, but I only saw Edward. "This is perfect," I whispered, tears again streaming down my cheeks.

"It really is," he replied, his hand moving to cradle my face and I sighed and closed my eyes as I absorbed the caress. I felt whole, relief coursing through my veins as I leaned into Edward's touch.

"Okay, enough of this mushy shit, where's this cake?" Leave it to Emmett to be an emotional buzzkill. I opened my eyes, smiling at Edward as he shared my amusement. He dropped his hand from my face and moved into the kitchen to get the cake while Esme set to work making coffee, the aroma filling the kitchen as it percolated.

Edward brought the cake out of the fridge, the spongy angel food not particularly pretty in appearance, but once he cut the circle into separate pieces, spooning a small amount of yellow custard onto each and then topping with the peaches and a few fresh raspberries for garnish, I was amazed at how utterly beautiful the dessert was. The colors were so complimentary and the way the dark fuchsia of the raspberry hinted at the pinkish orange center of the peaches and splashed against the white sponge of the cake, the dish was a work of art.

After everyone received their plate, the group sang the expected birthday song to me, the clashing of voices humorous as Emmett tried to entertain us with his operatic rendition. It was soon over, replaced with the scraping of forks against plates, everyone fully engulfed by the dessert in front of them.

Edward's creation, once again, knocked me on my ass. The light, squishy texture of the cake combined with the creamy sweet custard danced upon my tongue, the peaches adding a tart, refreshing flavor to the dish. The syrupy juice absorbed into the angel food, balancing out the sweetness and just pleasantly invigorating to the senses.

It was fucking brilliant and I don't even really like food. I finished the whole piece, eating the cake slowly with my stomach pleasantly at ease.

I got up to use the restroom, Edward staring at me as I moved. I mouthed the words "Gotta pee" to him so that he wouldn't come barging in again and he smiled a quiet smile, giving me a quick nod. I really just wanted to check my makeup, to make sure I didn't have streaks of black mascara running down my cheeks.

I opened the bathroom door to find Rosalie crouched over the toilet, heaving and spitting into it in a position I knew all too well. She paused her puking to look up at me, her eyes swelling with tears, and muttered an emphatic "Fuck!" before being consumed again with the purge.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "Are you sick? Should I get Emmett or somebody?"

"No! Fuck!" She spat into the toilet again, taking a piece of toilet paper and wiping her mouth. "Just…will you shut the door already, before someone hears or something?"

I wasn't sure if she meant for me to leave but I took the initiative, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind me and standing with my back against it in case anyone else tried to get through the busted lock. If she wasn't sick and she didn't want anyone to know she was puking, well, I could guess the reason behind the purge. If anyone knew how to deal with an eating disorder, it was me.

She wiped her eyes with some toilet paper and took a seat on the toilet, her sweater dress curving around her figure. She ran a hand through her voluminous hair, her manicured nails creating deep pleats in her thick locks.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, neither one of us sure what to say. I figured it was up to me to break the ice.

"Rosalie, um, I don't know if you know this about me or not, but, um, I understand what you're going through. Um, I mean, I can relate," I said, trying to force myself to say the words, knowing that Rosalie was going to need a support system in this. I could be that, if she wanted.

Rosalie snorted, "Can you?"

"Yeah," I said, indignantly. Fuck, did she think she was the only one affected by this disorder? "I know what it's like, okay. The pressure, it consumes me too, so much so that I can't function and when it gets to be too much, I let it out."

"Bella, you don't know shit about my pressures, okay. You can't even begin to understand the burdens I carry, the strain of my life. It's suffocating, having to always be perfect, to always do what they want. How could you possibly understand what it's like to be me?" Rosalie spat bitterly, her eyes narrowed in superiority and reeking of condescension.

Fucking bitch, like she knows shit about me, about my burdens.

"Look Rose," I said frankly, "I've been dealing with this shit since I was fifteen. I think I know a thing or two about bulimia. I'm not an idiot, you just ate cake and now you're in here puking it up, for what? Because of the pressure? To feel empty? To appease your parents? None of it is worth it. Edward helped me to see that. Don't do this to yourself, you're better than-"

"Bella," Rosalie cut me off, her face flushed with defeat. "I'm not bulimic. I'm fucking pregnant."

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A/N

Joni Songs Referenced

Roses Blue

All I Want

The Arrangement

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