Chapter Twenty - Come in From the Cold
Darlings,
I know, I know. It's been a while. Thank you, dear readers for being so patient and a big huge thank you to Fragile Human, my comrade in all things wicked, for rec'ing this story in her A/N. You're fucking awesome bb!
A couple things…
I wrote a one shot for the WA Rehab Whodunit Murder Mystery Contest. If you're feeling brave and want to read some truly creepy shit, mosey on over to their profile and check out the stories. Don't forget to vote for your favs.
And while you're exploring fanfictionland venture on over to The Fandom Gives Back and check out some of the nifty shiz you can bid on. Links are on my profile sweeties!
Big fucking thank yous to beta-extraordinaire, n7of9, for your swift betaing skills. And you're so totally right, bb. She should have beard rash.
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
...
BPOV
"What? You're pregnant? You don't…you don't have an eating disorder?" I stuttered, confused.
"No, I don't have a fucking eating disorder. And I have to say, thanks for the dramatic confession but I've known for a while now, ever since the first day you ate lunch with us. I mean, it really was quite obvious." And so the belittling continues. I let it slide, she was obviously feeling vulnerable, her sarcasm and biting comments proof of her hidden insecurity.
"Holy shit, are you sure?" I asked about the more pressing issue at hand. Rosalie was fucking pregnant? Holy fucking shit!
"Pretty fucking sure. I took, like, eight pregnancy tests after I missed my period, and I've never missed a period, ever." Rose stood up, pacing in the small space as she listed her evidence. "My periods are like fucking clockwork. Now with the constant puking…I haven't been to a doctor or anything but I think it's pretty clear."
"Oh my God…" I shook my head, dumbfounded. "What…what are you going to do? I mean, how…" I responded, trying to control the thoughts spewing from my mouth. Rosalie had just started college with a whole wealth of opportunities in front of her, opportunities that would be severely diminished when you factored in a baby.
"I don't know," she whispered, stopping to sit on the toilet seat again. She twisted her fingers, shaking her hands and clenching them into fists.
"Fuck! Bella, what am I going to do?" Rosalie's head dropped to her shaking hands, her fingers clutching at the blond strands. "Obviously, this wasn't planned…and my parents! Fuck! My parents would shit if they found out."
She looked up at me, her striking features strained and a fierce determination in her voice. "I'm serious, Bella, they would disown me. They'd quit paying for school, for the apartment, my car…it'd be over." She stood up again, pacing the length of the tiny room like a tiger in a cage. "You know what they're doing to Jasper. I'd have nothing if they found out about this. Nothing!"
Rosalie stopped in front of me suddenly and grabbed my arm, her face close to mine, panic electrifying her violet eyes as she pleaded. "I know I haven't been very…accepting of you, and I know you probably think I'm a heartless bitch, but please, you can't tell anyone." Her fingers tightened around my arm, desperation pinching into my flesh. "Not even Edward, not until I figure out what I'm going to do. I haven't even told Emmett yet. Please, Bella." Tears welled in her eyes as they darted back and forth across my face, searching and waiting for my answer.
I nodded my head and saw her relax, her relief causing her to drop her grip on my arm. She moved back to the toilet and collapsed on the seat. She leaned back, staring at her hands folded on her belly.
"Um, you have options Rose, I mean…you don't have to…have it or keep it, or whatever," I said to her, feeling like a moron. I had no idea what the proper etiquette was for shit like this.
"You know, I've always wanted to be a mom, ever since I was little, and when I started dating Emmett, when we realized we loved each other, I knew I wanted to spend my life with him, that I wanted a family with him." Rosalie's fingers spread out to slowly spread across her stomach as she spoke. "Even in planning my future, college, a career, none of it really mattered to me as much as having a family. I know it's not the right time, that people will think we're too young, too stupid, and I know all about my 'options', but all I can see is a chubby blue eyed baby with dark curls twisted around his dimpled face. I want him Bella. Or her. It, I guess." Rosalie smiled, a softness in her face as she spoke of the mass of cells dividing within her body, beneath her hands which were cradling her smooth stomach, her every dream nine months from realization. "I know it's stupid, I mean, it's only been like six weeks or something but I think…I think I already love it. Do you think that's even possible?"
I knew what this felt like, to want something so bad, to want it enough to give up everything in the hopes of getting it, to love something so much you would completely accept it, fully aware of the struggle ahead, fully aware that there would possibly be backlash because of your decision. I understood. It was how I felt about going to New York and Italy, about being with Edward. It was the only choice I could live with.
"I know what you mean, but you don't have to do it alone. You have a lot of people who care about you, who can help." Her panic and the frantic worry in her voice had frightened me, her fingers still burned into my skin. I'd never seen her so defenseless, so exposed.
Rose snorted, her vulnerability calloused over with cynicism. "A lot of people? That's a stretch. I don't have any friends and my family is a load of fuckwits. No, Bella, I have Emmett and I can't even find the guts to tell him."
"That's bullshit. You have the Cullens and, I mean, I was willing to help out with the bulimia stuff, so I guess I could be there for pregnancy stuff too." I smiled, trying to imitate her perfected nonchalance.
Rosalie looked at me with sadness in her eyes as she considered my comment. I faltered in my bravado, feeling like an idiot and wishing I could retract my statement.
"Yeah, I guess I have you guys too," Rosalie said quietly.
I didn't know what else to say. I didn't want to pry, mainly because I didn't want to piss her off, not when she was actually treating me like an almost friend, but I felt uneasy with the hint of desperation in her words. I felt like I needed to say something but, shit, what could I say to make her feel better? I had zero experience when it came to pregnancy or babies, I mean, I had gone over a year without even having a period. The whole thing was fucking foreign to me.
"I don't know, maybe they won't disown me. Maybe they'll be excited that their only daughter is going to give them a grandchild. Maybe they'll see it for what it is, not a mistake, but an opportunity," Rosalie continued, but I could see the doubt in her eyes and in the purse of her lips. She knew her shithead parents would overreact something fierce. From their perspective their perfect little plan, their ticket to retirement had just thrown an enormous wrench in their wheel of corporate conglomeration. Rose was to be their legacy, they had placed all their hopes and dreams in this young woman, and now she was going to fuck it all up for them. There was no maybe about it, they were going to freak. "Child with a child pretending..."
I couldn't bring myself to tell her this. I just nodded as Rose stared at the wall in thoughtful contemplation and I could only imagine the scenarios that must be playing out in her head.
Just then there was a knock at the door and Rosalie looked at me in panic. I opened the door a crack to find Edward standing in the hall, concern upon his brow.
"Um, Alice wants to do the piñata, she sent me to find you," he mumbled, making sure I knew he had an excuse to come bother me in the bathroom. Fuck, shit was going to be all weird now until we had a chance to discuss what had happened earlier, and me sitting in the bathroom for the last ten minutes had definitely arisen suspicion. I stepped out of the bathroom and carefully closed the door behind me, following Edward out onto the back porch and leaving Rose alone with her thoughts.
As I watched the others participating in the festivities, blindly swinging a baseball bat at the tissue papered star hanging from a beam on the patio as Carlisle pulled the fixture to change position, and my own father giving tips on the proper swing, all I could think of was Rose and her predicament. I'd never really wanted to be a parent, I mean, fuck, in my experience the influence of parents was detrimental. My parents had never really expressed much joy for the occasion and before Edward the thought of children hardly crossed my mind. But now, now that I had this future assembling itself, before I could really even stop it from happening, I saw them. Two little bronze haired beauties traipsing through the woods, camping in the clearing, searching the tide pools on the shores of La Push. I saw them riding bikes and reading books, at piano lessons and at birthday parties not too different from this one, blindfolded and swinging a stick at a candy filled character. The images were so vivid they startled me, a flood of panic and awkwardness and longing all infiltrating and invading, and I pushed them from my mind, mentally berating myself for being so typical, but I couldn't deny them. The hint of their existence, a ghost of what could be, was burned behind my eyelids so much so that even as I closed my eyes I could make out every feature of their fine, angular faces.
It totally freaked me the fuck out. I couldn't be a mother, not yet. How could I be an example for a child? I was a complete mess.
I didn't get home until early in the morning. Charlie left shortly after the piñata but Emmett had wanted to watch some horror flick and since it was my eighteenth birthday and I was technically an adult now, I took advantage of my emancipation by lounging in the family room and hiding under the blanket that Edward and I shared. The room was filled with cringing gasps and corny jokes and the feeling of belonging, of unity, and of being part of a group left me overfilled with warmth as I left that home, my arms brimming with gifts.
When I woke up the next day I listened to a message on the house phone from my mom wishing me a happy birthday and asking for me to call. I couldn't muster the energy to deal with her antics so I postponed the conversation for another day. I thought about that bracelet she left behind, now placed at the bottom of my drawer right next to Charlie's old flannel, manifestations of my past that I found myself tucking away for safekeeping. When she left Forks she started over, removing herself from anything associated with her life here, including me. Not physically removed, like Charlie, but emotionally and mentally, treating me like a good friend rather than gracing me with the unconditional love of a parent. I knew that Renee loved me, she just didn't love me as much as she loved her newfound emotional freedom. I knew this, it had always been something I used to excuse her behavior, but now I didn't know if her behavior should be excused, now that I had been exposed to a family that gave selflessly, who behaved as a family should.
Esme had given up her career and opened her home, widening her heart to encompass two children that weren't even hers, two traumatized and frightened teenagers that could have very well been caustic to her nice cushy life. She welcomed them and absorbed them into her caring and gentile nature, and I'm very sure that if it weren't for her, Edward and Alice may not have faired so well.
And then there was Rose, a mother already in love with her unborn child. I could see it in her posture, the way she held onto her belly, her perfectly flat stomach that would soon swell with life, admiration already in her tone of voice. Rose didn't need any options, she already knew what she was going to do, she just didn't know how she was going to do it.
Charlie had already left for work even though it was a Sunday, so I curled up on the couch with one of my new books, the cooler weather of autumn prompting me to wrap myself in the afghan thrown over the back of the couch. I instantly lost myself in the pristine prose of misunderstandings and romantic entanglements, the characters victims of social status and circumstance. They always got their happily ever after though, despite the shit they always started out in. I could only hope for so much for the characters in my life as well, and even though this particular novel was written practically two hundred years ago, the theme was universal. Eventually, in the end, when all the kicking and screaming is done with, circumstance doesn't have shit on true love.
…
"It's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees, they're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace," Joni's mournful musings rang with clarity as I hung glistening bulbs on the short, fat Noble fir now invading the living room. Fragrant sap was fresh on my hands from adjusting the tree and making sure that it sat perfectly straight, situated directly in front of the window so that passersby could see the colorful splay of lights refracting in the glass and dancing off the rain slicked pavement.
It was barely two days after Thanksgiving, not even December yet, and already Charlie had insisted on putting up a Christmas tree. He had gone out shortly after noon claiming he had some shopping to do and graciously leaving Edward and I to a very empty house. He came back with a fucking tree tied to the roof of his car and a shitload of Christmas decorations - shiny tinsel, metallic bulbs, twinkling lights, strings of crystals and beads, candy canes and red velvet bows - just bags and bags of embellishments, and Edward and I quickly found ourselves in the middle of a huge mess of cardboard and plastic packaging, pricking our fingers on the sharp hooks used to hang the ornaments from the boughs.
Surprisingly, Charlie was in the kitchen, something I hadn't seen since I was a child. I could smell the familiar marinara bubbling on the stove, tomato, basil and olive oil hanging in the air, combining with the undeniable striking essence of evergreen wafting through the living room.
Things had been pretty complacent since my birthday party, the last two months an emphatic blur of classes spent doodling or scrawling notes back and forth between Edward and I, sometimes drawing illustrations for his creations in his recipe book while he perfectly sketched small letters onto my palm or the white rubber sides of my shoes, my legs stretched out to rest on his chair as he occupied the seat next to me for nearly every class. Lunch was spent in the cafeteria with Alice, half the crowd we were before, the three of us occupying the same table, Alice using the time to finish her homework so that when she got home she was free to spend time with Jasper.
Jasper had been working pretty stable hours at the store, especially now that the holiday season was approaching. Living with the Cullens had greatly enhanced his ability to save money and since he didn't have any bills, aside from the cash he gave Carlisle for food and various utilities, he was able to put money aside every month for his music school. I was pretty impressed with his unwavering devotion to his plan. I didn't know if it was his desire to prove his parents wrong, or because Alice had so much conviction in him and such certainty that he could achieve this goal, but they were making it work, and this furthered my confidence that Edward and I could make our situation work too.
I hadn't spoken with Rosalie since my birthday and, as far as I knew, she still hadn't told anybody about her pregnancy, thinking that Alice would have spilled if Rose had told her. I thought about her, though, wondering if she had told Emmett and whether or not she was ever going to tell her parents, or if she just intended on coming back home having traded her designer tote for a diaper bag and infant in tow. I was dying to ask somebody if she had mentioned anything, but holding to my promise I kept silent, not wanting my inquisitiveness to spark their questioning. Emmett called frequently yet his conversations were limited to discussing his classes, complaining about an infestation of ants, and then again when he couldn't figure out how to get his Xbox to connect to the internet. No shocking announcements just yet and I began to wonder if Rose was still pregnant at all, or if she ever had been.
Autumn in Forks had been rich in color and I was enthralled with the change of season. In Phoenix the temperature hardly changed, but I loved this new feel of impending change in the air, transforming the landscape and darkening the sky and bringing with it the chilling rains I had encountered when I had first moved here. "And the seasons, they go round and round…"
I used to hate this time of the year, the holidays. Beginning with Halloween and stretching until Easter, these events all centered around food: candy, sugary cookies, breads, roasted meats and rich, succulent gravies. It was a nightmare for someone with an eating disorder because not only was I constantly surrounded by especially tempting foods, but I was also constantly surrounded by people, people who now knew of my propensity to purge and skimp and who watched me like a fucking hawk whenever we ate a meal. There was no escaping them, Edward, Alice, Carlisle, Esme, even Jasper now. They never said a word but I could see them calculating, their critical eyes searching my plate to make sure I was eating enough, and even though I knew they were just doing it because they cared, it fucking drove me insane. I felt like I had proven to them that I could be trusted, that I was acting responsibly with my health and yet, their eyes continued to peer.
On Halloween, while watching reruns of the Twilight Zone and waiting for trick-or-treaters, Edward watched me while we ate caramel apples, the sticky confection hurting my teeth, and I received disapproving glances when I abandoned the candy coated fruit.
On Thanksgiving, Esme's face creased in fretful contemplation as I picked at my meager meal of salad, asparagus and pasta, the other items on the table not pleasing to my easily-affected digestive system. Yeah, so I wasn't eating as much as they were, I didn't gorge myself on holiday fixings, but I was eating and wasn't that the whole point? I felt like such a child, being forced to sit at the dinner table until my plate was clean. I hadn't gained any more weight and my once loose clothing now fit snug, but I hadn't lost any either, my body adjusting and stabilizing the longer I continued this new pattern of eating behavior.
Rationally, I knew they wouldn't ever force me to eat, just like I knew they would never leave me to deal with it on my own. It was just what I had to accept because I had put myself in this position and because they loved me and wanted to see me well, and this was just the way it had to be. I had accepted it, but that didn't mean that it didn't get on my nerves once in a while, perhaps even more so now that every month was characterized by a spectacular family feast.
The only thing that still troubled me was that I hadn't had another period, just more spotting, but nothing like the one in July. All the websites I searched just said it took time, but, fuck, how much time? And when has it been too much time, like, when should I see a doctor about it? Honestly, I was a bit apprehensive about seeing a doctor because I knew the nosy nature of Forks and I didn't want Charlie finding out about this.
Charlie was the only one who acted normally around me during mealtimes. He never asked questions when I didn't want breakfast and he didn't stare when I chose a banana over a burger, he just let me be, leaving me to take care of myself like a normal eighteen year old should be. It was one time his indifference worked in his favor and I found myself wanting to spend more mealtimes with him because of it.
Currently, Charlie was making lasagna and I could hear the hand mixer hitting the side of the plastic bowl, combining the ricotta, egg and parsley as the boiling water splashed onto the burner below, a sizzling sound emanating from the kitchen. Edward eyed me frantically and I almost laughed out loud at his worry. Edward was very particular about the way a kitchen should be treated, caring for his appliances the way some people cared for small animals, talking baby talk to them and putting them on his Christmas cards, and I swear, if he could carry his food processor in a purse without being committed, he would.
"Go ahead, go save him," I laughed, rolling my eyes as Edward dropped the ornaments carefully into a box and moved into the kitchen.
"How you doing in here," I heard him subtly ask Charlie, my father's low grumbling voice murmuring about the noodles sticking together or something.
I continued to place the ornaments on the tree, the spaciously sprawling branches perfect for hanging the delicate trinkets. I finished with the multicolored bulbs before moving on to the glass icicles, the prisms shining in rainbow beams and reflecting the twinkling multicolored lights. I wove a ribbon between the boughs, wrapping the tree in glistening and meandering strips of silver before I realized I needed Edward to place the angel Charlie had bought on top of the tree. I pulled the figure from the box, the innocent, porcelain face of the guardian smiling in quiet serenity as I smoothed the folds of stiff silk, the gold-leafed wings spreading out from its back in celestial adornment. Angels had always been my favorite Christmas decoration, a body of spirituality with their peaceful faces so gracious, not omniscient in their being but not plagued by human faults or fears either, and I liked to see them as messengers of peace and hope.
I walked into the kitchen still holding the figure to find the pair assembling the lasagna, the counter a mess of cheese and sauce, the sink overflowing with dishes, and my father grinned sheepishly as I entered the room.
"It's been a while since I made lasagna. Seems you forget things like that when you don't use them, I guess," my father said, his large hands splattered in sauce and ricotta. Edward's face was a portrait of restraint, like a parent trying to let their child tie their own shoes. He looked like he just wanted to take over the task but he waited patiently, allowing Charlie's fumbling hands to do most of the work.
"Edward's services are required for a very important decorating task, Dad," I smiled, holding up the angel. "Think you can handle the rest on your own?"
"Yeah, yeah, get outta here," Charlie grumbled, a faint of a smile unwillingly showing itself as Edward washed his hands and followed me into the living room.
"You should have seen what he was doing to that ricotta," Edward said quietly as we walked to the tree.
"Thanks for helping him. This is huge, you know. He hasn't cooked in, like, years I think. He must be planning something petrifying. You're staying for dinner, right?" I asked, only half joking. I really was apprehensively interested in Charlie's motivation for assuming the meal making duties for this evening.
"Yeah, I'll stay, but only because you're so cute when you're nervous." Edward wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back against his chest, burrowing his face into my neck with small tickles of lips and tongue against my skin as he kissed the sensitive area, sending shivers of pleasure dancing down my spine as his hands roamed to my stomach and hips. "Now, about these services that I'm needed for..."
"Edward, not in front of the angel, it's indecent," I whispered, holding up the figure so that it was looking at him behind me. "See, it's shocked at your behavior."
Edward snorted and brought up his hand to cover the angel's delicate face. "There, problem solved."
I giggled and allowed him to place a few more kisses along my neck and shoulder before turning around and handing him the ornament.
He took the figure from my hand and easily placed it on top of the tree. I moved back, observing from multiple angles to make sure the angel sat even and straight.
"Perfect," I said, admiring our decorating job. I mean, we were no Alice, but it looked pretty good with all the ornaments evenly spaced and the multitude of colored lights dispersed through the depth of the wide tree.
"Not bad," Charlie commented, coming into the living room from the kitchen, a dish towel in his hands. "Lasagna will be done in about an hour. Hope you're hungry."
Edward and I cleaned up the discarded packaging overwhelming the small room as Charlie cleaned up the disaster that was the kitchen. Soon the room was back to normal, aside from the glistening tree taking up a large amount of space in front of the window. We relaxed into the two large chairs next to the couch, the television tuned to some sports documentary as we admired our flashing tree, the angel looking down from its sentinel seat.
Charlie appeared a short time later to call us in for dinner and we followed him into the kitchen. The small table and chairs had been cleared of the myriad of shit that had been collecting there for what looked like the past decade or so. Instead, it was dressed with a red tablecloth and three plates. The forks were still in a pile on the edge of the table, along with three cups of iced water positioned at the head of each plate. The lasagna, thick and bubbling, a light burned crisp around the edge where the cheese had melted into the dish, sat in the center of the table, a spatula settled next to it.
We sat down at the table as Charlie cut the casserole into messy squares, the noodles sliding around as he heaped the steaming portions onto our plates. I could smell the distinct herbal smell of the sweet basil and inhaled deeply, memories plundering my brain in bittersweet nostalgia.
I noticed that Charlie gave me a corner piece, the edge tinged with blackened cheese, noodle and sauce. When I was younger this had been my favorite part, the burned edges of the pasta offering a delicious crunch. I cut a forkful of cheesy sauce covered noodle and, after allowing it to cool, placed the fork in my mouth. The flavors now abundant, I suddenly remembered the exact last time I had tasted my father's marinara. I was ten years old and my mother had taken off on an all day shopping excursion. They had fought while I played upstairs, my mother screaming how she had no life, no friends, no hobbies, and frustrated that my father spent so much time at work. She called herself a single parent, saying she might as well just leave him then at least she wouldn't have to clean his piss off the toilet. Then she left, peeling out the driveway, and I remember wondering for a moment as I watched her from my room if she was really leaving, like, leaving for good. I wasn't worried, I wasn't scared, I was just wondering. My dad took me to the grocery store filling the basket with tomatoes, garlic and onions, fresh sweet basil and bags of pasta. After stewing the tomatoes, he crushed the pulp extra fine because I told him I didn't want any chucks in my sauce, turning the ingredients into an apology, an apology that my mother ate alone when she returned later after I had already gone to sleep.
Charlie cleared his throat and pulled me from the memory. Edward stared at me pensively as he chewed, probably wondering where my mind had wandered. I smiled at him in quiet reassurance and he smiled back, still chewing in surprised satisfaction.
"This is great, Charlie," Edward remarked, placing another forkful between his lips. I took another small bite, still lingering in the memory, searching it for clues, indicators of what was to happen only months later.
"Thanks. I don't cook much anymore but the occasion called for it so I thought, what the hell," Charlie replied, his fork scraping against his plate as he spoke. This sparked my awareness and I looked at him sharply.
"Occasion? What occasion?" I asked now, curious as to what would bring him out of his food preparation embargo.
"Well, I wanted to talk to you," Charlie began. "About the future."
"Oh, that," I said quietly, forcing myself to take another bite of the pasta, the cheese now thick in my throat, and I drank from my glass of water in an attempt to force myself to swallow.
"What are your plans after graduation?" Charlie boldly asked. I hesitated in my response, not because I was worried about what Charlie might say when I told him I would be moving to New York two weeks before my nineteenth birthday with my boyfriend, but because I was worried about what he might not say. What if he didn't care? What if he just shrugged it off and moved on to the next topic, bringing up the abnormal amount of rain we had apparently been experiencing this time of year? I mean, I didn't want to fight him for permission or anything, but I wanted to know that my time here had meant something to him, that I had somehow accomplished what I had set out to do in coming to Forks.
"Well, um, you know Edward's going to New York after graduation. He's applied to the Italian Culinary Academy," I began, looking at Edward for encouragement, his eyes pleasant and warm and reminding me that this was truly what I wanted, no matter what Charlie's reaction was.
I took a deep breath, looking back at Charlie as I said the words, "I'm going to go with him. To New York. I'm moving to New York in September." There was a conviction in my voice that startled even me as I observed Charlie's reaction.
"New York?" Charlie frowned slightly, pursing his lips as he slowly nodded his head. "Are you going to go to school there too?"
"Yes, sir," Edward responded for me. "It's part of the plan, for Bella to enroll in college for a semester while I'm at the academy. It's why we have to go in September. The program at the Academy doesn't start until the middle of October but Bella's going to start class in September so we'll be leaving before that."
Charlie was quiet, his fork abandoned by his plate. He looked so forlorn, so…sad, a melancholy melody starting to worm its way into my awareness. I suddenly felt uneasy, worried that I had upset him, and while I had wanted him to care, I didn't think the news would make him sad. I had foreseen excited, worried, irate, and, of course, indifferent, but sadness was the last emotion I had expected to see worn upon my father's face.
"You didn't consider anywhere else? Anywhere closer?" Charlie mumbled, and I shook my head, the thought incomprehensible. We either both went to New York, or we both stayed. There wasn't anything to consider.
Charlie nodded, clearing his throat again. He sighed. "Well, that's a damn shame," Charlie said after a while. "I'll probably starve to death you know. Who's going to save me next time I try to operate the stove?" Charlie's mustache twitched into a hint of a smile and I eased slightly at the brightening in his eyes. He picked up his fork, dipping into the pasta once again.
"You'll be fine, Dad," I said quietly. "You're a great cook. You really should do it more often."
"Yeah, I guess it's been long enough." Charlie continued to eat quietly, the mood of the meal more melancholy now. I was glad that I had told Charlie, glad that he knew of the plan now and that he had accepted it. But there was something bothering me about the way his eyebrows were creased now, how the brown of his wide, familiar eyes seemed to liquefy at my mention of moving. I had to admit, in making my decision I hadn't thought to include Charlie's feelings. I hadn't thought it necessary, especially considering the fact that he hadn't thought it necessary to consider mine when he chose to remain vacant from my life all those years. I didn't owe him anything, especially my consideration. Now, in this moment, I found myself thinking about what he must be feeling, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. At this point it didn't matter what we had done in the past, the shit he had put me through or the reasons behind it, nor the shit I had put myself through because of it and the fact that I would never let him know the damage he had done. None of it mattered, because, right now, I was a child telling my parent that I was going to leave him and he was a father letting his grown-up daughter go.
…
EPOV
"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas," Emmett was singing again, an obnoxious Dean Martin impersonation, lowering his voice and causing it to reverberate in a false vibrato. He had put that fucking CD on repeat when he got here, claiming nobody does Christmas like Dino, and while I had to agree, I was so fucking sick of him singing.
"Fucking can it, Emmett, I swear to God. I will seriously shove that CD down your throat if you don't stop singing." Rosalie, surprisingly, came to my rescue, shouting at him from her seat at the kitchen table. Esme had put her to work, placing stacks of cookies in Christmas tins for the neighbors. Pizzelles, flat and delicate doily-patterned anise cookies, almond biscotti dipped in chocolate, butter cookies with walnuts rolled in powdered sugar, a vanilla glazed butter cookie with sprinkles, and a double chocolate espresso brownie, thick and gooey and wrapped in plastic for freshness.
It was Christmas Day and I was busy preparing dinner. Emmett and Rosalie had arrived last night and we had all gone over to Bella's for a Christmas Eve fish dinner. I had made a roasted baccala with bell peppers to contribute to the meal while Charlie bombarded us with spaghetti alle vongole, fried calamari, and giant king salmon steaks grilled to perfection and served with an antipasto salad and, of course, penne with marinara for Bella. It was a pretty impressive spread and we had all crammed into Charlie's kitchen and living room, eating off of paper plates and just fucking enjoying the good food and good friends. The holidays were always my favorite time of the year. There were so many opportunities to try out new recipes and expand on holiday favorites, and now that I felt I could possibly make a difference with my cooking, I was fucking excited to try out some of my health conscious recipes for the traditional Christmas dinner.
This morning had been our typical Christmas morning. Esme always made sweet yeast bread that she stuffed with candied cherries and pineapples and coated with a frosting glaze. She called it candy cane because she twisted the bread to look like the peppermint treat, and this was our breakfast along with homemade eggnog with whipped cream. Esme still insisted on filling our stockings with goodies, usually toiletries and small gifts. This year my stocking consisted of the usual chocolate Santa, a toothbrush, and a pair of Rudolph boxers, but it also contained a new set of measuring cups and spoons and a new apron, my old black one tattered and horribly faded from innumerable washes. I also received the typical winter clothes: jeans, sweaters, gloves and thick socks. This year, Carlisle and Esme had gotten me a new knife set for the Academy. They were so fucking beautiful, their shiny black handles and silver blades glistening, and I just wanted to spend the day cutting shit up, hacking my way though endless amounts of vegetables and fruits and whatever else I could get my hands on. Instead, I folded them up and stored them away for October.
Carlisle and Esme always forbade us from buying them presents and, well, since money had suddenly become an issue with the whole moving to New York thing happening in September, I didn't protest this year. In fact, Alice decided to have a make-it-yourself Christmas. She defined the competition, the rules simply stating that any and all presents had to be homemade. You could buy supplies, but the challenge was to create a personalized gift spending the least amount of money. Surprisingly, Emmett and Rosalie didn't argue. I thought maybe Emmett would pitch a fit, he still thinks he's fucking eight years old at Christmas and that he should have a huge stack of presents beside his stocking when he wakes up. If I didn't know better I would have thought he still fucking believed in Santa and shit.
Neither one of them had said a word, agreeing without much persuasion, but then again, Emmett was never one to turn down a challenge.
Bella had made everyone t-shirts, buying the iron-on transfers from the craft store and then using Carlisle's computer and printer to create the images. She worked on it this past week in secrecy, just her and Esme. She wouldn't even let me see what she was putting on the damn shirts and they were already wrapped and placed underneath our tree.
I didn't know what the others had decided to do, but I was playing to my strengths. I made them food. I made each of them a dish that I knew was their favorite and wrapped it up real tight and froze it. Yeah, I had been cooking for a fucking month, since Thanksgiving really but, shit, I didn't know how to do anything else. I had made Emmett a meatloaf, Alice, minestrone, Jasper, tex mex chili complete with a bag of Fritos, and chicken salad for Rosalie. Of course, I had to do something special for Bella. Bella got a breakfast of her choice on the first morning we awoke together in our apartment in New York. Yeah, I had found us an apartment close to the student housing unit they used for the Academy. It was only about thirty-five minutes by subway and we could make the trip together if she scheduled her classes right. I hadn't placed a deposit or anything because it was still, like, nine months away and I hadn't actually been accepted into the school yet, but I put my name on a waiting list and the lady I talked to on the phone said that apartments opened up all the time because a lot of students lived in the complex. The rent was decent, not great but manageable, and they'd let us do a short-term lease and, yeah, we'd only have a studio but, shit, it was something we could make work.
I checked the potatoes boiling on the stove top, piercing one with a fork to see if it was soft. I had already steamed the cauliflower and pureed the vegetable in the food processor. I was going to mix the two for an altered mashed potato, adding garlic and parmesan cheese to the mixture for a richer flavor. Cauliflower was a great alternative to potato, resembling the starch in texture, but with a higher nutritional value.
I had prepared Cornish game hens instead of the traditional fatty ham or boring turkey, roasting the birds in a mixture of olive oil and onion, infused with sage and thyme and salt and pepper to taste. I steamed all the vegetables, brussel sprouts and chestnuts, then lightly sautéed them with the hens to coat in the oil and herb mixture. I used the rest of the oil from the hens to make a cider gravy, blending the oil with Dijon mustard, sparkling apple cider and nonfat sour cream.
I had even made stuffing, cubing an entire loaf of whole wheat French bread mixed with pecans and raisins. I then softened some diced apples, celery and parsley in a small amount of olive oil, and in continuing with the harvest flavors, used sage and thyme again to season, moistening the stuffing with a low sodium vegetable broth. I had prepared a simple Waldorf salad, the chopped apples and grapes flowing with the rest of the menu and there you had it, one hell of a fucking Christmas dinner.
Every element of the meal was saturated with nutrition and no one would ever even know it.
…
When Bella and Charlie arrived that evening, I had already set everything on the table in the dining room and managed to shower and change into my Christmas attire of black slacks and a green sweater. Alice had spread out a gold tablecloth and had set each seat with a complete place setting using Esme's gold rimmed china and silverware set upon red silk napkins. Goblets of water and wine glasses were set at each place, a few bottles of wine mixed in with the sparkling apple cider. In the center of the table she had placed an arrangement of pine cones and branches cut from the bottom of our Christmas tree, and when combined with the half a dozen cinnamon sticks, the smell filling the room was palpable. It was divine, the aroma of the hens and stuffing mixed with the woodsy evergreen fragrance of the centerpiece, and I could actually feel that these scents represented family and friends, but more importantly, closure. Christmas brought forth a new year, a winter solstice, the end of a period in time, but it also paved the way for another. That's what I felt when I inhaled these aromas: change.
When I opened the front door to greet Bella, she was beaming, her deep brown eyes peering into mine, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold and enhanced by her dark hair damp around her face. She was wearing a new coat, a red, knee length wool pea coat that flared slightly at the waist, skirting out around dark gray wool slacks, the cuffs folded over black boots.
Charlie was behind her dressed in one of his suits, his broad face creased and weathered as he walked through the door, a light sheen upon his forehead. He shook my hand before moving into the family room where Carlisle and Esme were already enjoying a glass of wine. Rosalie and Emmett had brought down the chess set and had set it up at the kitchen table, an epic game in progress, while Jasper and Alice watched that movie with the kid and the BB gun that had been on continually since last week.
"Hey," Bella said, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing tightly, her cold fingers on the back of my neck.
"Hi. Merry Christmas," I whispered into her ear as I squeezed her back, the jacket bulky under my fingers and prohibiting me from feeling her properly. "Why aren't you wearing gloves?"
I pulled away, taking her hands between mine and rubbed furiously to warm them up.
"I forgot to buy some. Alice had told me to buy some and I totally forgot. It's my first official winter in Forks, you know," she responded. Charlie had given Bella money for Christmas to buy some desperately needed winter clothes and Alice had taken her to Port Angeles to shop last week. Bella had already modeled all her outfits for me, of course, and while I loved the way Bella's new clothes hugged her new shape, I liked the way they looked on my bedroom floor even more.
She took off her coat and I sighed in pleasure as I saw the tight black turtleneck sweater. Fuck, she knew I loved that one, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd worn it on purpose. In fact, the fucking shit eating grin plastered all over her face as she removed her coat proved exactly that. She looked hot and she knew it and she loved what it was doing to me.
Well, two could play at that game.
As she started to walk into the family room I grabbed her arm. Startled, she looked up at me, wondering what I could need, when very slowly I brought my hand to run through her hair, weaving it into the base of her neck, tilting her head and placing a small, delicate kiss right below her ear.
"You look absolutely delicious in that sweater, Bella," I whispered into her ear, allowing my lips to graze her flesh but not making full contact. I could see her chest heaving as her breathing increased, blood rushing to the surface of her skin, the blush creeping across her cheeks. I chuckled into her neck as I pulled away, taking her hand in mine and gently kissing her fingers before pulling her into the family room. I knew she would retaliate at some point and I couldn't fucking wait.
We filed into the dining room, sitting around the table and filling our plates, the conversation waning as silverware clinked against china. Bella chose her food carefully, still staying away from meat, eating the potato cauliflower mixture instead, as well as lots of salad and a small amount of stuffing. She left behind the brussel sprouts, curling her nose as I passed the dish to her, passing it straight on to Alice without even giving them a second glance.
"Aren't you going to try the brussel sprouts?" I asked her, a little curious as to her avoidance.
"No, brussel sprouts are yucky," she responded quietly, taking a small bite of her salad, spearing a bit of the yogurt covered apple and grape with the leaf of romaine.
"How do you know my brussel sprouts are yucky if you've never tried them?" I pressed. I'd never seen her turn down a vegetable, she ate them all. I was a little worried as to why she wasn't eating these fucking brussel sprouts.
"Edward, let it go," she said, pinching my leg with her left hand and sending me a very clear message. I stopped my protest but she didn't remove her hand, it still resting lightly on my thigh, and I feared that payback was going to be merciless tonight. I tried to focus on the conversation now rather than Bella's eating habits or her hand on my thigh, dangerously close to a particularly easily aroused erogenous zone.
"There's this vocational program at the school that actually lets you get some hands-on experience on the field, like with real trainers." Emmett was talking to Charlie about school and Charlie was, as usual, responding with silent nods and grunts.
"How are your classes, Rosalie?" Charlie asked.
"Huh?" Rosalie looked up from her plate, unusually quiet as she pushed her food around her plate.
"How are you liking the college experience?" Charlie asked again, taking a sip of water from his glass.
"Oh, it's really great. I have some really great professors. It's great," Rosalie smiled, turning her attention back to her plate. Well, that was fucking weird. Usually, Rosalie loves to talk about herself.
"She's doing really well in her classes," Emmett spoke up. "I'm really proud of her." Emmett looked at Rosalie, all fucking gooey gaga eyed and shit. What the fuck was going on here? Is this what happens in college? I don't think I've ever heard Emmett say he was proud of anything unless it was preceded by him talking about his dick or really impressive flatulence.
Something was going on here.
Suddenly, Bella spoke from her chair beside me, "So, um, did you guys see that movie with the kid with the BB gun was on, like, a hundred times this week? You know, I've never actually seen the whole movie. Just the part with the mashed potatoes and then that leg that's a lamp. Weird, huh?" She went back to eating, filling her mouth with potatoes, and I turned my head to look at her. She just smiled as she chewed, moving her hand the length of my thigh back and forth. What was with everybody today?
Bella's little synopsis prompted further conversation of Christmas movies, The Grinch my personal favorite, but I was unable to interject. I was still wondering why everyone was acting so fucking bizarrely.
After dinner we assembled in the formal sitting room, the large tree atop a mass of gifts, brightly colored lights glowing from each branch, ribbons and ornaments expertly placed and encompassing every empty space so that you could hardly tell that there was a tree underneath all that shit. Esme took great pride in decorating for Christmas, add to that Alice's propensity to follow a theme and well, this tree looked like it should be in one of those fucking magazines.
Charlie left before we opened presents, Bella asking if I could take her home later and, of course, I agreed. She walked him to the car before returning to hand out her wrapped packages to us all.
"I want to go first because it's been killing me keeping these a secret from you guys. They're all the same so you all have to open them together," Bella said, taking a seat by me on the chaise. Simultaneously, we all tore into our packages. Inside were white shirts with blue sleeves and a crest across the chest. I had seen it before: three clovers, a lion, and a hand. It was the crest hanging in the hallway upstairs. The Cullen crest.
I turned the shirt over and printed there in block lettering was the name CULLEN. They all said Cullen, even Jasper's and Rosalie's, because even though they didn't bear the name, they were part of our family, our team. Yeah, this shirt was fucking awesome.
"Esme helped," Bella said.
"It was her idea, I just helped get the image," Esme responded, looking pleased nonetheless.
"Oh, hell yeah! I am so wearing this, like, all next week." Emmett pulled his shirt over the collared shirt he was wearing, admiring the crest and the fit. "How does it look, babe?" he asked Rosalie, who had folded hers up in a neat little bundle, her fingers tracing the lettering on the back of the shirt.
She looked up at her dumbass boyfriend and fucking started crying. "Excuse me," she said, running from the room.
Bella got up, "I'll go see if she's okay," she said, walking quickly after her. Since when did Bella give a fuck about Rosalie? Weird shit was definitely going down and it was starting to get ridiculous.
"She'll be fine in a minute," Emmett said, digging under the tree for his gifts. He passed the little bags around to everyone, leaving Bella's on the seat next to me. "These are from me and Rose because I suck at making stuff and you wouldn't want that shit anyways, so here you go."
Inside the bag was a neatly knitted beanie. It was incredibly soft and I pulled it onto my head at once. I didn't even know Rose could fucking knit.
Alice had gotten a scarf, the bright colors striking against her pale skin. She wrapped it around her neck, reveling in the colors and softness of the yarn as Esme came over to inspect the pattern. Jasper also got a beanie, like mine only blue, and I assumed that Bella would have a scarf.
Bella and Rosalie returned and I got up to give Rose a hug and thank her for the gift. Bella opened her bag and, as I suspected, a striped scarf fell from the wrappings. She held it up to admire the colors and then wrapped the scarf around her neck, the earthy tones blending in nicely with her dark hair and eyes.
Jasper then passed his gifts around, a square envelope holding a CD. He fucking made mixed tapes, but, you know, on a CD. I read the insert he had put with mine: Stones, Doors, Hendrix, Zeppelin, all my favorites, and then some others I didn't recognize, probably bands he thought I might like. It was a pretty wicked mix, perfect for running.
"Who's Joan Baez?" Bella asked, reading the insert in her envelope.
"She's another folk singer. Since you already have all the Joni albums I had to stretch to find music for you. So I compiled a bunch of artists that I think are comparable to her. Carly Simon, James Taylor, Janis Joplin, they're all pretty essential," Jasper responded, shrugging his shoulders.
I brought out my gifts from the freezer, plastic containers and bundles wrapped in foil and labeled with a black sharpie. I handed them out to my family and I noticed Bella's questioning face when I didn't hand her one. Instead I just whispered one word into her ear, "Later." She nodded, giving me a small smile as she watched the others read the labels.
"Meatloaf! Sweet! I was seriously getting sick of macaroni and cheese and hot dogs," Emmett said, and Rosalie gave him the look of death.
Alice's gifts were next and she handed out a little black book to each of us. Inside were pictures, black and white stills, frames from the past: Alice and I when we first moved here, Emmett and I playing Xbox, Bella and I at prom, Bella bowling, everyone camping, various pictures from my time in Forks, and I realized that in my life I had never been as happy as I was in these photographs, as I am here in Forks, in this house, with this family. I spent a shitload of my time worrying about the future or shaken and tortured by the fucking past. I don't think I ever just sat and enjoyed the present.
…
"I think Charlie might pay for my school." Bella was laying on her side on my bed, her striped socks rubbing against my own under the comforter, the warm flannel sheets pulled up around us. I mirrored her position, our hands meeting between our bodies as I traced patterns onto her soft hand. I traced each crease in her knuckles, every line of her palm, twining and twisting our fingers together in a gentle touch.
"Why do you say that?" I asked sleepily, yawning through my words. It was past midnight and everyone had retreated to their rooms for rest, Emmett and Rosalie staying in the guest bedroom downstairs. I was going to have to take Bella home, but I didn't want her to leave me just yet, and fuck it was cold. We kept finding excuses to stall and I was thinking that she should have told Charlie she was staying over.
"He said he had some money saved and that I could use it for school if I wanted," she responded, her large eyes fixated on our hands.
I sat up, perplexed by her casual attitude.
"What do you mean might? That sounds an awful lot like will pay for your school," I said, wondering where the confusion was coming from.
She sat up too, crossing her legs and pulling the comforter up around her lap. "I know, but I feel weird taking Charlie's money." She shrugged her shoulders and it totally made fucking sense because this was exactly the way I felt about Carlisle's money, though probably not for the same reasons. Carlisle had already given me so much, there was no way I could ask him for any more help.
But it sure would make shit a lot easier. If Charlie hadn't offered I would have said forget it but, fuck, he offered.
"Do you realize how much this would help us, though? If Charlie were to pay for your school, that's money we wouldn't have to spend, a loan we don't have to get," I said quietly. Bella was a very independent person and I knew how she hated to accept help but, fuck, this move was going to be hard enough as it was.
"I just don't want Charlie to think that's why I came to Forks, or that he needs to repay me for taking care of him. I just wanted to do what a decent daughter would do," Bella tried to explain.
"Charlie knows you're not here for his money, he wants to help. It's what good parents do. Let him be your father for once, Bella," I told her, but I could still see the apprehension in her face, stress in her chocolate colored eyes. "Bella, whatever you decide, we'll make it work. If I have to work nights, if you have to get a student loan, whatever we have to do, it will be fine, because it's what we want, right?"
She nodded, a small smile on her lips as she closed her eyes, pulling her hair away from her face.
I got up off the bed and got a piece of paper from my dresser. It was time to give Bella her Christmas present. I casually handed her the paper and she took it from my hand, looking at me in confusion before turning her attention to it.
Her eyes scanned the sheet and at first I didn't think she understood, but then I saw her eyes flicker and her lip twitch and I knew she was putting it together, but she was taking too long and the information had been trying to burst from my lips ever since I found the apartment.
"Your Christmas present is breakfast, whatever you'd like. In our apartment. In that apartment," I said, pointing to the picture on the paper.
She looked up at me with tears in her brown pools and suddenly I was surrounded by warm, soft, brown, lavender. Bella had crashed into me, throwing her arms around my neck and melding her body to mine. She was straddling my lap, her floral smell mixed with the spiced smells of Christmas swirling around me and blurring my mind. She pressed her lips to mine, her hands frantically twisting into my hair, and I ran my hands up her back, pulling at her tight sweater clinging to her frame because I had to get closer. I wrapped my arms around her waist pulling her closer to me, feeling her breasts pressed against my chest and her twisting hips as she writhed against me, pressing into my now swelling dick as she moved her hands to the hem of my sweater. My breath trapped in my throat and I was just fucking dying for her to touch me some more. She lifted the heavy cotton sweater and thin undershirt together over my head, removing her lips from mine for just an instant as the fabric passed between us.
She connected her lips instead to my jaw, furiously kissing down my neck, little licks across the skin as she ran her hands down my chest and over my abdomen, her fingers pressing and clutching at the flesh, but I wanted more. I wanted our skin pressed together, warm and sliding, and I quickly stripped her of her sweater, exposing her breasts confined in a small black satin bra and the fine lines of her tiny belly and the top curve of her hips, and I absorbed her with my eyes, licking my lips before pressing the side of my face against the round fullness of her chest. Reaching behind her and unlatching her bra to let it fall off her shoulders, I brought my lips to adorn the creamy softness of her breasts. I kissed and licked at her nipples, the rosy flesh hardening beneath my touch, and I looked up to see Bella's face as her hair fell around my fingers on her bare back, her head tilted and eyes closed, her dark lashes spread out about her cheeks. Her lips were swelled and plump and slightly parted as her breaths escaped in quick gasps around her white teeth. God, she was so fucking beautiful, and I took a moment to bathe in her quiet radiance.
Noticing the pause while I was adoring, she opened her eyes to find me staring at her, and I was going to tell her how beautiful she looked but she quickly brought her mouth to mine, pushing her tongue into my mouth and rolling around my mouth as she slid her hands to the waistband of my slacks. With a few quick movements she pulled my pants and boxers down over my hips as I lifted myself off the bed to aide in the task. I returned the favor, pushing the thick material of her pants down her legs and soon we were both naked, her body grinding against mine as I pressed into her, her warm wetness surrounding me, engulfing me as she rocked her hips back and forth across my lap.
Being inside of Bella like this was the most amazing experience and I didn't want it to end, even though I soon felt the pressure building and throbbing within me, pulsating in my back and stomach and legs, and my hands clutched at her hips, forcing her to rock faster as she ground down hard against me. I couldn't close my eyes, the image in front of me too amazing to pass up. I slid my hands up her belly, feeling every muscle contracting beneath my fingers, to the base of her breasts, massaging the full flesh gently as she adjusted her angle so that her clit was rubbing against the base of my shaft with increased pressure.
She moaned quietly, little slips of pleasure from her lips, and I saw her slide her hand down between her legs to feel our union, to feel herself, her fingers rubbing against her flesh. Fuck, when she does that, I swear, it sends me fucking spinning, the sight of her touching herself, knowing that she felt the desire, the need prompting her touch, it was so fucking sexy and I felt my orgasm close now. Luckily, I was still coherent enough to remember she wasn't on the pill anymore and we needed to be careful.
"Bella," I panted, "Bella, I'm close." Bella slipped off my lap, moving down to place her full mouth around my dick saturated with her fluid and tasting herself on me. Holy fucking shit! I groaned loudly and it just urged her to move her mouth quicker, her tongue gliding along every ridge and bend of flesh and it just felt amazing being enveloped by Bella like this, so intimate, and I couldn't peel my eyes away from her. And then her eyes met mine, brown melting into green, her lashes fluttering, and I could feel the unraveling begin to shake my frame and quiver in my thighs.
I tried to pull her off, grabbing her arm, but she shrugged me off, wrapping her hand more firmly around me now, her fingers massaging my cock. I knew what she was trying to do and I didn't know if I should let her. I fucking wanted it, to spill inside her mouth, my fluid invading as she took it into her body, allowing me to become a part of her, literally. Fuck, just the thought had brought on another trembling wave through my entire body and a growling deep in my groin. But she can't, she won't be able to. I mean, that shit would make anyone want to puke, there's no telling what would happen to Bella. She needed to stop, this needed to stop now. I gently reached down to touch her face.
"Bella…no, you...do…n't have to." I could hardly get the words out, her mouth on my skin so intoxicating. She shook her head no and continued to push and pull her mouth along my length, her hands working together with her mouth. No, I couldn't, I couldn't let her do this. I reached down and more firmly now, grabbed her arm, trying to pull her up.
Instead, she slid her mouth off me and looked up at me with fierce eyes and said in a low but exasperated voice, "Will you just let me fucking do this?"
So I did. I watched as she poised her lips around me again, pulling with her hands, and I reached down to brush her hair away from her porcelain face and across her naked back and the curve of her breast as it flowed into her ribbed side to her fleshy hip. Fuck, her body was so exquisite in the gentle orange glow of the room and I ached to run my hands all over it, invade every inch of her flesh.
Her mouth moved up and down, a lulling motion of pure gratification as the tremble growled again in the back of my stomach, and I felt the spiraling pleasure begin, panting and gasping now, a euphoric pain as I tried to suppress the impending orgasmic bliss.
Bella took her cue from me and moved with more fervor now and, unable to resist any longer, I cried a warning, uttering her name before allowing the orgasm to engulf me. I came with such sweet relief that I felt in my entire body, my stiff and reluctant muscles now flooded with ecstasy, and my entire body tingled at the feel of Bella's mouth around me, but then it was gone, her hand there instead, closed over the tip and moving along the shaft, the fluid spilling onto my stomach. Instantly, I looked down at her face, her other hand wiping her mouth and tears filling her eyes. She must have gagged or felt sick or something because the moment a bit of my fluid had entered her mouth, she had pulled away. She shook her head and I felt like a fucking asshole, like a total fucking prick for letting her try to do this knowing full well she wouldn't be able to. What the fuck was I thinking? She still hadn't said anything, just sat there, her hand on my dick and covered in the sticky mess now sprawled across my stomach, shaking her head.
I didn't know what she was feeling: embarrassed, like a failure, horrified, disgusted, but I knew I couldn't continue to let her feel that way. I wanted to kiss her, pull her into my arms, pull her away from those feelings. I looked at her tearful eyes, the glistening drops trailing down her cheeks. I had caused this, the tears on her cheeks, the fucking disappointment in her eyes, it was all because of me. Bella needed me to let her know that this was okay, that she was amazing, to ease her embarrassment. Without another thought I reached down, pulling her face to mine and enveloped her mouth, tasting myself on her tongue, tasting her on her tongue, the fluids mixing with our saliva and her tears, tugging at her lips with my own as I felt her body soften and ease against mine.
"I couldn't do it. I wanted to so bad and I just…I'm so sorry, Edward. I'm so, so sorry," she cried into my neck as I pulled her into my arms awkwardly because of the mess, but she didn't hesitate. Bella pressed her naked body against me fully, kissing my neck and chest as I held her in my lap, pulling the comforter up around our bodies for warmth.
"There's nothing to apologize for, you hear me? Nothing," I kissed her head and she turned her gaze to me, placing her soft lips to mine. "You are amazing, Bella. So brave, so giving. I can't stand to see you beat yourself up like this." I lightly touched her face, softly dragging my fingers across her lips and her cheeks.
She sighed and wiped her cheeks with her clean hand, brushed the hair from her face and brought her head to rest on my shoulder.
"I love you," she said, snuggling into my chest again.
"And I love you," I murmured into her hair, inhaling her in.
We cleaned up as best we could without getting in the shower; this house was fucking full of people, people who would know exactly what the fuck had transpired between us if they heard my shower running at two in the morning.
When I finally took Bella home before dawn, the rain had stopped but an ominous fog was rolling through the town. Electricity was in the air, the weather people talk about before a great storm or a tornado, the sky not even visible through the thick haze. I drove slowly, carefully looking for patches of ice as Bella sat tense beside me. When we arrived at her house I walked her up to the door, her hot breath fogging around her face as we whispered I love you's before she disappeared behind her door.
As I drove home I felt the chill in the air biting straight to my bones. It was fucking freezing and I was actually quite surprised it hadn't snowed. We didn't get much snow in Forks, its elevation is too low and there's too much moisture in the air from its proximity to the ocean. But once in a while we get a good blizzard, bringing a couple of feet of snow that melts quickly into a mixture of slush and ice. The wind howled in the trees, the fog creeping into every crevice of the sleeping town, and I drove quickly in my exhausted state, not wanting to get stuck in the roaring rain. Living in Forks you learned to pay attention to the weather because if you didn't you could find yourself stranded in a freezing sheet of sleet and hail. This morning, all the signs were there, a blaring indication of what was on the horizon. A storm. A storm was coming.
…
Joni Songs Referenced:
Come in From the Cold
Little Green
River
The Circle Game and…
Dean Martin…le sigh…White Christmas
What's going on in your brain today? Share, lovelies!
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