A Constant in The Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Nine - I'm Gonna Blow this Damn Candle Out

Darlings,

Thank you for notes and conversation. It's so very interesting to see the conflicting emotions Bella's behavior evokes. Thank you so much for sharing.

Me and these other swell Beatles-loving chicks are hosting a one-shot contest. Check out info on my profile. All You Need is Love bbs!

Beta n7of9 makes things pretty. Thank you for loaning me logic when my neurotic brain starts spinning.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

...

BPOV

He wanted this.

The look plastered all over his face was unlike anything I'd ever seen. I had seen so many shades of happy on his face, but I had never seen a look of pure, unconditional love alight his features like it had just moments ago. He looked up at me and I forced contentment into my features in the form of a serene smile.

He was uncomfortable and insecure, his hands visibly shaking as he nervously held the blanketed baby, Charlie, named for my father because I will never be able to do the honor.

I don't necessarily think Rose thought of this as she was planning the name of her baby, but it was true nonetheless. I'd never need to decide on baby names or bedding or register for gifts or feel that flutter of life moving inside me, things I didn't give a shit about a month ago. But now that they weren't even possible, I found myself drowning in a pool of festering shame. I tried to disguise it, to keep it contained, hoping they would all believe my tears to be tears of joy and relief; I tried to celebrate, even allowing that little body to warm my arms, his hand reaching to grasp my finger. I remember Rosalie mentioning this reflex stemming from evolutionary origins, this instinctual need to clutch and grab onto something for safety, and all I could think was, "No, no sweet boy! Not me, I'm not safe, I'm not stable."

But Edward was. Edward thought he would one day lose himself to mental illness. He really believed that he would destroy those around him and he thought he had no control over it. He still mentioned the risk sometimes, and he accepted my raisin ovaries and infertile future because he thought himself a toxin as well, but he was wrong. Whispers of the research I had read came drifting back to me, a positive, low-stress family environment was beneficial in preventing psychosis and schizophrenia, and family dysfunction may increase the risk of symptoms. Dysfunction increases the risk. And I was the very embodiment of dysfunction. Edward could have it all, a phenomenal career, a caring and accepting family, a long life filled with love and joy and happiness.

He'd never have this as long as he was with me.

I watched as Alice took the baby from Edward's arms, disappointment and unease glancing across his face before he recovered, his eyes passionate and intense as he got up and walked towards me, his hand slipping into mine and bringing it to his lips, delicate kisses pressed to my skin. He knew that he could never have this with me. He knew it, and now he had two choices for his life; he could stay with me, allowing me to orbit in his radiance and feed off his energy until I eventually destroyed him, or he could leave me. I knew which one he'd choose, but either way, it was safe to say that I had ruined this boy. Maybe he didn't realize this yet, but I knew eventually the truth would sink in. He would feel tricked and betrayed, but he would forgive me. He always did.

We left the hospital soon after, a fine mist appearing on the windshield as we drove home. Edward was very agitated on the ride home, his hands repetitively drumming on the steering wheel as he kept looking in his rearview mirror and glancing over his shoulder. Paranoia began to seep in. "Were you wondering was the gamble worth the price…"

Oh my God, what if he was deciding to leave me? What if I he realized I wasn't worth all this heartache and pain, realized I could never give him anything and that I was completely draining him, gripping to the comfort he provided with parasitic franticness? Doubt weighed heavily on my shoulders as I began to panic, a slow steady rise in my blood pressure, my heart beating in my throat, and I struggled to calm myself down, longing for the relief of the little chalky tablet. I couldn't even take them if I had the chance because Edward had eradicated my supply by searching the bathroom, my makeup bag, my drawers, and my tote. There weren't many places I had hidden the pills, mostly in my top drawer and in my purse, and upon finding them he crushed every last tablet and dumped them in the trash. I would have been so pissed if I wasn't so busy feeling guilty for taking them in the first place.

The house was quiet and empty with the absence of the extra housemates, and Edward was hungry. We hadn't had a chance to eat dinner with all the excitement and he set to work making a spaghettini with chopped zucchini, his knife swiftly running through the soft green squash before setting it to sauté in a pan of hot olive oil. He crushed two cloves of garlic with the flat side of his knife, running the blade through them before tossing them into the pan, the scent filling the house with its familiar earthy aroma. Lastly, he tore a few basil leaves into small pieces and tossed them into the pan to let the sweet flavor permeate the oil before adding the tiny thin strands of cooked pasta to the mix. He sautéed for a minute longer and pulled the pan from the heat, separating the noodles onto two white ceramic dishes and adding a sprinkle of parmesan before placing them at the kitchen table.

I picked out all the vegetables and ate those first, knowing I wouldn't be able to eat much. Edward seemed preoccupied and hardly watched me eat, nor did he comment on my obviously decrepit mood. The silence in the room as we ate was mortifying, causing unease to fester in the unfiltered air. I needed to know what the fuck was going on with him, good or bad, or I was going to go insane. I dropped my fork, a startling clatter in the quiet room, and Edward's eyes shot up questioningly.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Are you?" I asked back, pushing away my plate and folding my hands on the table, the spot still warm from the hot dish.

"Of course, I'm great. Today was a great day," Edward smiled and I couldn't help but smile back because it was like an impulse now, like when the doctor knocks your knee and you're supposed to kick. That's how I was with Edward's smiles.

"It was pretty spectacular," I said in agreement. I still didn't know why he was acting so distant and my mind was busy playing out worst case scenarios. I didn't know what else to say so I just watched him eat. He twirled the thin noodles onto his fork before sliding it gracefully into his mouth, slowly chewing and swallowing, his eyes fixated on the meal in front of him. This wasn't good.

It was fairly late when we finished dinner and we were both pretty exhausted, mainly due to hurricane Rosalie, queen of clean, that had kept us awake last night. Sleeping had become somewhat of a cherished event now that I didn't have the assistance of the pills. I couldn't just lie down and go to sleep, my brain stewing over every detail of the day's events: the laundry list of bodily defects caused by my eating disorder, my father's face, my mother's words, all swirling over and over behind my closed lids. I would wait until Edward had fallen asleep and then I would go have a smoke on the porch. It helped me to relax, my father's scent swirling around my face as I froze my ass off in harsh elements. Then I would silently slip back into bed, listening to Joni or reading until I could no longer hold my eyes open and the words blurred on the page. I usually didn't even remember falling asleep, just waking up with my face pressed to paper.

Edward fell asleep quickly and I quietly slipped out of bed, pulling a sweatshirt over my head and slipping my feet into my sneakers. I grabbed Charlie's pipe from my dresser and a thick wool blanket from the hall closet and tiptoed down the stairs and to the front porch. I quickly packed the pipe and within seconds it was like my father was sifting through the air, every moment I could remember with him flashing through my mind.

I don't know why this particular memory decided to stay with me tonight, maybe it was the cold wet weather or the smell of dew on the spruce, but my mind was quickly preoccupied with the recollection. It was summer and it was warm, and the soft lap of the gently lulling waves sounded against the side of the small boat Charlie had owned. He later invested in a more sophisticated and complex watercraft, but back when I was eight it was just a dingy with a two-stroke outboard engine. We sat in that fucking boat all damn day, Charlie smoking his pipe and me reading my books and drifting off to sleep a few times, the scent of oil from the engine seeping into the fresh, crisp aroma of the brilliant blue bobbing beneath us.

His line started to jerk and pull and he scrambled to handle the pole, reeling in the line and yanking in his catch, a delicate battle as the taut line buzzed and hummed. When he pulled the large fish from the water with his net, the iridescent scales shimmered in silvery rainbow splashes, the gills flapping as it struggled and wriggled frantically in an effort to survive. Charlie fought to control the large catch, curses sent out into the quiet of the forest and echoing off the tree covered mountains surrounding the large lake as the boat shifted and jerked, and I clutched the side to maintain my balance.

I couldn't stand it, the poor creature flailing in the net. It was still suffering as Charlie used his pliers to remove the hook from its lip, the fish gulping at the useless air. I had seen Charlie bring home fish all the time. I had seen him gut and scale them, pulling their flesh from their bones in thick fillets. I had seen him wrap them in foil and grill them whole, their heads and tails still attached. But for some reason, I couldn't stand this. My eight year old mind panicked at the thought of this living thing being forced to suffer, knowing it was going to die. I kept thinking it was probably frightened and we were causing it pain.

"Let it go, Dad! Please! Please, it's going to die!" I blubbered at him, wiping at the tears streaming down my face.

"That's the whole point, Bella," my father had said as he measured and inspected the fish.

"Daddy, please!" I begged, my tear-stained face stricken with grief. My father looked at me through squinted eyes with little creases forming in the corners as he considered my plea. He sighed, leaned over the side of the boat, and gently glided the fish back into the water, letting the prize that he had waited for all day slip from his fingers.

He didn't bother recasting, he just steered the boat back to the dock. He cooked marinara that night for dinner, and I never went fishing with him again.

"Can't sleep?" Edward's voice caused me to jump, my hand flying to my chest.

"Shit! You scared me!" I gasped, my heart pounding in my throat. Edward sat beside me on the wooden bench and I extended the blanket to wrap around him. His body warmed mine, his clean honey scent blending into the sweet musk of the tobacco.

"Forgive me?" Edward said as he pressed his lips to just below my jaw, his fingers slipping beneath my shirt to glide across the skin of my stomach and wrap around my waist. I closed my eyes, memorizing the way his hands felt on my body. Every time he touched me I felt it like that first spark, warm impulses spreading out from his fingertips and seeping into every pore. It was comfort and ease. It was love and acceptance and care. I didn't deserve any of it, but I clutched onto it greedily, as if at a moment's notice the gods would realize their mistake and steal it away.

"Unquestionably," I responded, my mind still focused on the vanishing memory of my father at the lake, the boat and the trees dwindling from existence. "I didn't want to wake you."

"I know. I missed you." Edward nuzzled his nose into my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin.

"I know," I said quietly. I knew this was hard on him, that he was suffering right along with me, but I didn't know how to make things easier for him. I didn't know what to do to settle his soul, allow him some peace, but like that poor fish gasping frantically to breathe, I knew that I couldn't allow him to suffer anymore.

Edward took the pipe from my hand and placed the stem between his own lips, drawing in and letting the smoke fill his mouth, and then exhaling, wisps of smoke drifting from his lips as he suppressed a stutter of coughs before handing the pipe back to me. I watched incredulously. I'd never seen Edward smoke anything before and I was shocked to see him make this gesture. It must have been certain on my face because he shrugged, his lips stretched into a small smile.

"You're not supposed to inhale," I said, smiling back.

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that," he coughed again and chuckled to himself. "I just wanted to see what the big deal was."

"It's not a big deal. It's just relaxing, like being with Charlie for a second," I said, tamping out the smoldering tobacco and placing the pipe on the armrest of the bench.

"It is kinda cool. I don't know anyone else whose girlfriend smokes a pipe." Edward smiled at me teasingly and I smiled back. It really was a ridiculous habit I was forming. I mean, honestly, how many eighteen-year-olds smoke a pipe, and one that's not packed with weed?

"Yep, I'm one of a kind," I snorted.

"And you're all mine," Edward said, his grip around my waist tightening, his fingers tickling my side as I giggled and squirmed.

"Stop! Cease tickling immediately!" I laughed, trying to break free from his hold. It was futile though, Edward's grip on me was by far greater than my desire to leave his side.

"Mine, mine, mine!" he growled into my neck, followed by a ridiculous peel of maniacal laughter, and I laughed along with him, trying to catch my breath.

"Stop it, you sound like a creep. It's freaking me out, man," I gasped out, and thankfully, Edward stopped the tickling. Instead, his hands pulled me closer to him and he readjusted the thick blanket to wrap it tightly around us.

"Well, we can't have you marrying some creep now, can we?" he said nonchalantly, his words taking a moment to register. Marry? As in marriage? As in wedding? As in, holy hell, did he just say what I think he just said? I didn't even know if he had registered what he had said but I was silent for a whole minute, unable to look at him while I sorted out his statement.

"Marry?" I said quietly, apprehensive to address this topic. I loved Edward and I wanted to be with him forever, but I hadn't ever seen myself as the marrying type, the whole institution receiving quite a bit of slander from mommy dearest. I always pictured us like that Joni song, "We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall, keeping us tied and true…" Edward could be my old man and I would be his lady all my life.

"Yeah, you're going to marry me someday, you know," Edward responded, his voice completely confident despite the slip.

"Oh really? How do you know this? Wait! Is this one of Alice's predictions?" I asked, a little amused at his assumption.

"Don't you want to get married someday? You know, first comes love, then comes marriage…" Edward said. I sighed. I felt a stir of panic begin to bubble in my gut, a twinge of guilt in knowing that I had fucked up any chance of a normal life, and I had fucked up Edward's chance to have everything he deserved.

"But there will never be a baby in the baby carriage, Edward. Do you understand? We'll never have that, I can never give that to you," I mumbled, the mournful ache in my heart still sore. "You don't want to marry me, Edward."

"Like hell I don't." He pulled away, turning me to face him, forcing me to stare into his green eyes and see every hope and desire swirling in the thick color. I knew this was coming. When I saw him holding that baby, I saw the seedling begin to sprout. And now here it was, a fully bloomed idea, beautiful and fragrant.

"And we can adopt, if we decide we want kids," Edward added. He paused, and then he asked, "Do you want kids?"

"What, like now? No! I'm a mess, how could I be a mom? No, I don't want kids." I answered. Besides, I would probably just end up fucking them up too. "What about you?"

"Not now, but I don't know what I'll want in, like, ten years," he paused, probably debating whether or not he should tell me. "I mean, if all the circumstances were right, I might want a family someday. An adopted family," he interjected before I could respond. "Family isn't about genetics, Bella. My genes are fucked. I wouldn't want to pass them on to anyone. But, I don't know, maybe I could help out some kid somewhere, some kid who's hiding under his bed right now. Maybe we could be for that kid what Carlisle and Esme were for me."

My heart clenched as it beat erratically in my chest. Edward would be an exceptional father, he was nurturing and compassionate and selfless. And I was not.

Realization smacked me in the face. I was holding him back. I could not be with him like this, the unhealthy and distorted crust of a creature I had become. That fucking statistic kept ringing through my mind, fifty percent. There was a fifty percent chance I could get over myself and Edward and I could have a normal and healthy relationship, a fifty percent chance that we could maybe possibly adopt a child in the far future and provide it with a loving, nurturing home, a fifty percent chance that I would succeed at something other than my uncanny ability to find myself in fucked up situations. The odds weren't that bad, but they weren't great either.

But there was still that ten percent chance that I could die and destroy every person that I loved. I couldn't let that happen. As long as I was like this the ten percent continued to grow and pretty soon, just like Charlie, death would be a certainty, the probability inching its way towards singularity as I let myself succumb to the disease. I would continue down this path of least resistance, allowing it to lead me to destruction. Something had to change, a catalyst, a sacrifice, something had to be done if any of us were going to come out of this unscathed.

But how was I going to do this? How was I going to let go of the only comfort I had ever known, the only thing that had filled my once empty life, the constant I had held onto for so long? And what if I couldn't do it? What if I eventually gave in to my every desire and let that constant rule? My heart ached at the thought of it and tears welled in my eyes as I blinked furiously, trying to keep them from spilling over.

I looked at the beautiful boy in front of me, this incredible person so willing to be abused by me over and over again, and it sickened me that I was so willing to let him. Acceptance. He accepted every fate I had tormented him with: malnourishment, infertility, pills, death. He accepted them all, with every ounce of his being he beckoned me back to him, and I would forever oblige. It would be so easy to just let it be, to just stay right here in this moment, frozen in his embrace.

But that was impossible. In a moment, he will shift, he will pull my body to his, he will kiss me and make love to me, and in the morning I will skip breakfast and his heart will crumble a tiny bit more. I will break him, over and over again. And he will let me. "I made my baby cry…"

Rosalie was so right, I had to do this. I had to do this for him. I could not fail. There was no other choice. I was killing myself and in the process I was going to hurt everyone around me. I had to make a sacrifice, a sharp knife swiped right through my existence, obliterating that tether of toxins. I would suffer if it meant that Edward could be happy, if it meant that he would be safe from the vile destruction I had caused and would cause again, and I would have to let this comfort go. Like the fish gasping to breathe and frantically struggling on the line, I needed to release it, remove my grappled hook and set my past life free. All the pain I had caused and the many ways I had hurt those I love, this was my chance to make things right. This was my chance to do something exceptional, to be exceptional for one goddamn moment of my shattered existence.

"Look, I'm not saying now, I'm just saying, someday," Edward said, his eyes shimmering in the dull of the hazy night sky. I let him pull my face to his, his lips sweet upon my own, and I inhaled selfishly, soaking in his scent and reveling in the tenderness I had come to expect. God, how I've taken him for granted!

I nodded in agreement, the tears burning as I let them spill onto my cheeks. With a mournful sigh I whispered my release against his soft lips.

"Someday."

Someday he will have this. Someday he will have that peace and comfort, that sweet, sweet stillness of mind and spirit that he so desperately deserved. I will give him this, at least.

Someday.

…

EPOV

Someday.

I almost wanted to go get that ring and make it hers immediately but quickly decided on saving it. I wanted to give it to her our first morning in New York, the culmination of all our dreams coming true.

Jesus, I was turning into such a fucking sap.

Eventually, Bella's body began to shiver and we moved back inside. She pulled the bulky sweatshirt over her head, flashes of downy white and pink before she kicked her shoes off and flopped down on her back on the couch, her arm flung over her head as she stared at the ceiling. Her stretchy shirt shifted to expose an enticing strip of luminous skin, her midriff exposed as I envisioned my hand sweeping across the delicate flesh.

I slowly moved to the couch, my hand lightly trailing up her calf and thigh, feeling every indentation, every tendon and bone through the thin layer of thermal pajama pants. Her warm eyes glanced up into mine, the chocolate irises widening as I moved closer, my hand running over her hip and across her behind. Her lips parted and she exhaled as I slid my hand up her spine and over her shoulder, bowing my head and touching the tip of my nose to hers, her breathing heavy as I lightly grazed my fingers down her arm to her elbow and then to her wrist, taking her small hand in mine. I brought her hand to my lips, adorning the skin with a flushed kiss.

I wanted to kiss her everywhere, feel her everywhere, but I wanted something else first. I wanted dessert.

"I was thinking we need dessert," I said softly, her face a mere shift from mine.

"Oh really? Something sweet?" she breathed as her hands ran across my chest, and I closed my eyes to give the sensation my full attention.

"Yes," I murmured.

"And sticky?" Her hands moved to the waistband of my pants, her fingers slipping beneath the elastic and pulling me closer to her.

"Oh yes," I parted from her touch to gaze into her fluid eyes. "Will you share a dessert with me? If I make it?" I wouldn't bother if she wouldn't eat it too. It would defeat the purpose, the decadence of the dish I had planned perfect for ulterior motives.

She stared into my eyes, contemplating before she nodded.

I placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose and pulled her into the kitchen with me. I wanted her to help me, for this to be our creation that we could then mutually enjoy and maybe mutually enjoy the process a little as well.

"Okay, we're going to make a chocolate ricotta mousse with a strawberry sauce. Have you ever made mousse?" I asked her, pulling the strawberries from the refrigerator. I knew we had all the necessary ingredients, I had gone shopping just yesterday.

"Nope," Bella replied as she leant against the counter, her bare feet crossed in front of her. Her shirt was stretched across her breasts, her nipples perked and visible through the thin fabric, and the waistband of her pajamas hung low on her hips, and I paused, wondering for a moment what the hell we were doing wasting time in the kitchen. Focus, Edward!

"We'll start with the strawberry sauce so it can refrigerate while we make the mousse. You can remove the stems and cut the bigger berries. Then we'll puree them in the food processor." I placed the container of berries on the counter and drew a paring knife from the block. I pulled out the cutting board and offered Bella the handle of the sharp blade. She quickly accepted the task, her hand wrapped around the handle as she set to work, her fingers nimbly handling the fruit as she swiftly removed the stems and set about running the knife through the red flesh.

I pulled the semi-sweet squares of chocolate from the cabinet, as well as the sugar and cream of tartar, the acid needed to add a bit of volume to the egg whites, and began unwrapping the chocolate and placing it in a glass bowl. I filled a small saucepan about a quarter of the way with water and placed the pan on the burner, turning on the flame. Positioning the bowl over the heated water, I whisked the chocolate until melted, the smooth confection filling the kitchen with a rich, bittersweet smell, enticing the pleasure and anticipatory neurons now firing in my brain, and I snuck a taste of the smooth decadent cocoa. I removed the melted chocolate from the pan and set it aside.

"All done," Bella chimed, cleaning up the stems and throwing them into the trash. I looked over her shoulder to inspect her work, not that it mattered really, but I just wanted to stand close to her. I pressed my lips to her cheek before I ducked below the counter to get the food processor and plugged it into the wall.

"Okay, scoop up all those berries and put them in the processor with, like, a quarter cup of sugar," I instructed, and Bella complied, the processor whirring about and turning the fruit to mush.

"How's that?" Bella asked, showing me the puree.

"Looks good. Now we need to strain all the pulpy shit out." I dug through the cabinets and pulled a strainer from the back. I placed the mesh over a large measuring cup as Bella poured the mixture through, stopping to squish the juice through the mesh and making sure the sauce was clear of pulp. She looked around for a towel, her fingers sticky with strawberry juice, and I grabbed her wrist, placing my lips around her fingers and trying as seductively as I could to lick them clean of the sticky liquid, hoping I didn't look like a fucking idiot standing here sucking her fingers.

She gasped a little, her lips parting as she inched closer, her other hand slipping beneath my waistband again. Definitely a good sign.

"That is just…um…very, very…," she grinned,

"You're quite delicious, you know," I responded, giving her fingers a small peck before letting her hand go.

"I have a feeling I'm going to be covered in spit by the time we're finished," Bella giggled, her hands tugging at my waistband still.

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

"Of course not. I'll try to return the favor. What's next?" she asked, bringing me back to the task at hand.

"Um, we have to combine the chocolate with the ricotta," I said, pulling the ricotta and eggs from the fridge. I separated the yolks from the whites and blended them in a large bowl with the cheese and some sugar, adding a dash of cinnamon and a capful of almond extract. Grabbing an orange from the crisper, I grated the peel and added it to the mixture, as well as a pinch of salt, running the spatula along the sides of the glass bowl to thoroughly combine the flavors before spooning the chocolate into the large bowl.

"Can you mix this while I whisk the egg whites?" I asked Bella, and she took the spatula from my hand.

Her eyes glanced at my arm and noticed a small smear of chocolate on the inside of my forearm. She grinned devilishly before slowly running her tongue along my arm, sucking where the chocolate was smeared. I watched her mouth move over my arm in full, sucking kisses up to my shoulder, and my swelling cock strained against the constricting fabric. I inhaled sharply, the lush mixture of lavender and chocolate fucking captivating. I wanted to pull her to me, press her into the counter and slip my hands beneath that tiny t-shirt of hers. But there was a plan.

"Shall we finish dessert?" Bella murmured into my ear, her body pressing into my erection, the last of my resolve wavering as her hot whispered breath caused my skin to crawl with hunger. Fuck, what was my plan again?

"Right, dessert. Okay, um, mix the two together thoroughly and I'm going to whip up these egg whites." I poured the gelatinous goop into the mixer and added a small amount of the cream of tartar, and turned the mixer on low at first, increasing the speed as the egg whites stabilized and began to foam. All I could think about was Bella's hands on my dick and her mouth against mine, and I looked over my shoulder to see her whipping the spatula through the chocolate, her eyes hiding a dark sadness as she reached up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. Shit, she must still be upset about the baby. I knew she was having a difficult time with this, the constant reminder of her many losses coming home to live with her soon.

Even now, three years later, I still suffered through my reminders. I wondered for a minute how different my life would be if my father hadn't killed my mother. I wondered if I would even still be alive; my mother's fate easily could have been my own, or even Alice's. I would have never came to Forks, would have never discovered my love for cooking, and I would have never been assaulted by a small girl with long mahogany hair and wide, soulful eyes in a grocery store. I wouldn't be going to New York or Italy, and I certainly wouldn't have a future. All it cost me was my parents, their lives traded for this one.

"It's all mixed," Bella said quietly. "Um, I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." I watched her leave, her hair swaying across her back as she darted up the stairs. Shit, I hoped she was okay.

I turned off the mixer and scraped the thick glossy meringue from the sides of the steel bowl and gently folded it into the chocolate ricotta until the two blended together to form the fluffy mousse. I spooned the airy blend into some small glass cups I pulled from the cabinet and placed them in the fridge to chill while I waited for Bella to return. I washed the dishes in the sink, and cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. I walked into the living room, pacing between the two rooms and debating whether or not I should go see if she needed anything. I stood at the base of the stairs, ready to rush the bathroom door before it opened, and I quickly trotted to the kitchen, getting the mousse from the fridge and spooning a bit of the strawberry sauce over the top just as Bella walked into the kitchen.

Her face was sallow, her eyes red and weary and a deep pain etched across her features, and I rushed to her side.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, and she nodded.

"I'm just sad," she said.

"Look, if you don't want to eat the mousse, you don't have to. I know this has been hard for you and-"

"I'm going to eat the damn dessert, Edward," she interrupted. She snatched the cup from the table and a spoon from the drawer and I followed her into the living room.

She sat on the couch and I sat beside her, shifting her body so that her legs dangled across my lap. Quickly, she dipped her spoon into the cup, the mousse slipping between her lips as she turned the spoon to lick the back.

"That is really, really fucking good, Edward," she mumbled, another spoonful between her lips before offering one to me. I let Bella feed me the mousse, the strawberry sauce offering a tarty balance to the richness of the chocolate. And yes, it was really, really fucking good.

Bella took another bite, her eyes closing as more tears slipped from her eyelids, and I leaned in to kiss the tears from her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and suddenly her mouth was on mine and her hands weaved into my hair as her tongue pulled mine into her mouth with gentle slow pulses.

"I…I just…" She tried to speak but I licked at her bottom lip, the chocolate resonating on her mouth. "I'm just so…" She kissed me again, slow and sensual. "Edward, I love…" Lips flushed against mine. "Edward…I…"

"Bella, I know." She couldn't get the words out but I knew what she was trying to say: I love you, I'm sorry, I miss my dad, I'm afraid. There was a torrent of emotions burning through her right now and she couldn't put it into words.

Without warning she crawled onto my lap, the chocolate dessert abandoned as her hands quickly pulled my undershirt over my head. Her hands grazed over every part of my stomach and her lips immediately adorned my chest. She continued to roam and massage, her fingers rubbing into the muscles of my back and shoulders and tracing the lines of my stomach as her lips moved to kiss my belly button and the light trail of hair below. It was slow and gentle, so different from the fast and frenzied fuck we had been getting here and there over the last couple of months. This was love, giving and receiving, the natural balance of things undisturbed as she continued to cherish me intensely.

I gripped her thighs, desperate to show her that I felt the same, that I cherished her in the same way and that we were truly equal in our adoration. My hands slid along her legs and she quickly pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her alabaster skin as she discarded the fabric and let it pile on the floor. I ran my hands across her tiny stomach, my fingers rippling over the small stretch of tight skin as I cupped her breast, softly taking her nipple between my lips and letting my tongue roll over her flesh. I moved my hands over her shoulders, and my mouth found her sweet lips, her full pout upon mine, and I drank her in heavily, touching and really feeling every inch of her as she panted into my mouth.

"You feel so good, Edward, I want to feel you forever," she whispered, her eyes closed as I gazed upon her splendid heart-shaped face, her dark hair curling and disrupted. It was so completely amazing what this beautiful girl straddling my hips made me feel, and the painful swelling in my chest expanded to draw her in, a great gasp as my lungs constricted with the possibility that I could feel this forever.

"You can feel me forever," I managed to mumble as her body ground down onto my lap, her hips oscillating and twisting and swerving as she pushed herself onto my erection. "You could feel me every damn hour if you wanted to," I stuttered, my eyes rolling back as her hands tugged at my waistband. Sliding off my lap, she pulled at the material and I lifted my hips in an attempt to help her. She tossed them aside and quickly removed my boxers. Her hands wrapped around my dick, massaging and stroking tenderly and languidly, her hair falling over her shoulders and across her chest. She bowed to slide her mouth over the tip and then slowly but fully engulfed me with warmth as her tongue bathed and swirled, her mouth moving over the hardness, and dizziness swarmed around me.

"Bella," I gasped, my hands twisting into her hair as she moved along the length, her hand slipping across the skin and adding monumentally to the pleasure now constricting in my back and stomach. Fuck, I loved her mouth on me, and I watched as her pretty pink lips tightened and released, her tongue leisurely swirling around the tip, and I craved the friction, relishing in each push and pull of her mouth. I wanted to taste her mouth, press her skin to mine, her soft satin warmth sliding across my chest and my hips.

I pulled her to me and I licked at her moist mouth and lips, running my hands down her back and over her lovely behind, kissing her neck, her ear lobe, her collar bone and shoulder.

She moaned into my ear, her hands in my hair pulling me closer to her, and I slipped my hands into her waistband, the thin thermal rolling over her ass, and she stood up as I stripped them down her legs. She stood before me now, completely exposed, so fragile and slight, and I marveled at the amount of immense happiness this one person could bring me, my love, my future, my life, it was all tethered to this one being standing before me, offering herself to me, stripped of any barriers. Call me fucking nuts, but in this moment I could see the love glowing from her and lighting her radiant skin, smoldering in her liquid eyes as she impatiently licked at her lips.

"Beautiful, just beautiful…" I whispered, and I pulled her wrist to smell her lavender and cream, a hint of chocolate and strawberry still on her skin. I let her fall back into the couch, her lips pulling into a grin, and I poised myself between her legs and let desire engulf us as we joined together. I pushed into her, filling her, consuming her and being consumed by her as her hands clutched at the tattered afghan on the back of the couch and her head lulled back, her eyes closed, dark lashes on pale cheeks. I lowered my body to lightly rest against her chest, her breasts pressed against me as her legs wrapped around my calves. Entangled and locked together, I continued to drive her into the cushion of the couch, slow and deep, her hips grinding as I pushed back. She trailed her fingers down my spine, she craned occasionally to kiss my skin, she used her hands to push against the arm of the couch, forcing me deeper, deeper inside of her, and she cried out.

She.

She was all I could focus on.

My pleasure derived from hers.

My desire stemmed from hers.

My life enveloped with hers.

I fell against her as her arms tightened around my neck, holding me to her, and I inhaled. Lavender and sweat and chocolate and tobacco…fuck, I love the way she smells.

"Edward, I love you. God, I want to live in this moment forever. This moment, right now, everything I feel right now, I want to feel it always."

She grabbed my face, her eyes frantic as they melded into mine in a swirl of earthly tones, and she smoothed her hands over my cheeks, my lips, my eyelids. "Remember this, commit it to memory right now. Remember this right now, please…" She pulled me into her chest again. "Please," she uttered again, moving her hips with more fervor now, "Plea- oh God," she breathed as her head lulled from side to side and her hair fell across her face, and I pushed it away, letting my thumb slide against her lips as she arched her back, her thin nails digging into my skin.

The slow build in my being forced its way through my nerves and tingled in my spine as I began to shudder and unravel. I heard Bella cry out in ecstasy, crying for deities and profanities, and her hands gripped my ass and pulled me into her, and I obliged, leaning back as she ran her hands over her breasts, pulling and pushing at her flesh as I pushed into her steadily. Her fingers now rubbing at our junction and swirling around the swollen flesh, I bent to kiss her breasts, slow sucking kisses on the rosy skin, our bodies fused together, energy vibrating around us as we moved together, moaned together, breathed together. I felt our breath fill my body, circulating and heightening my awareness as Bella tightened around me and the energy between us changed. I sighed, exhaling into her neck, letting our breath go as Bella arched beneath me. I pressed my head to her chest and heard her heart pounding frantically as I surrendered to the tide of deep satisfaction, letting it pull me under as I tumbled into euphoric bliss, spilling and pulsing inside her, and all I heard was that splendid voice, a quiet whisper slipping from Bella's lips, but the sound resonating in her chest.

"Edward…"

Bella still clutched me, her fingernails pressed into my skin. I rested my head on her chest, her skin flushed and damp, and her hands pulled through my hair and sent shivers down my spine and over my body.

"Can we have dessert every night in New York?" I asked, my head moving with her as she breathed, the rise and fall making me sleepy.

"We can have whatever you want," Bella said, kissing the top of my head with a long press of her lips to my scalp. I shifted to lie next to her with my back against the velvet couch, pulling her into my chest and wrapping my arms around her. I pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and tucked it around us, the scratchy yarn harsh on our naked bodies.

"Can we get a hammock? I've always wanted a hammock," I asked, and Bella giggled, her body shaking in my arms.

"And one of those chairs that looks like a hand? Those are so cool," Bella added. The cold weather seeped in through the drafty windows, forcing us to the warmth provided by our pajamas but we resumed our curled up position on the couch. She eventually fell asleep, her back pressed into my chest as I drew patterns on her arm. I didn't want to wake her so I wound the afghan around our bodies, a holy and threadbare cocoon of comfort and peace.

…

Bright light streamed through the open drapes of the living room, the yarn of the afghan itchy on face. I stretched my arms, my body stiff from sleeping on the old couch, and I rolled over, noticing the absence of her warm body, and I groaned and clutched the crocheted blanket instead.

I sat up and looked around me. The house was completely silent, the eerie stillness vibrating in my ears. I checked the porch, expecting to find Bella with her pipe and smoke swirling around her face. It was empty. I stood on the porch for a long time, staring at the spot where Bella should be, my mind ranting at me, but I ignored it, the sun a yellow haze as I walked back into the house.

That's when I saw it.

An envelope lying on the coffee table, my name looped across the front in dark black ink.

Edward.

I ignored it.

My legs wobbled beneath my body slightly, that fucking envelope visible from every corner I paced.

But I refused to see it.

I walked into the kitchen and looked around the room Bella's tote was missing from its place on the back of the chair.

Maybe she went to the store. Maybe she's getting breakfast. Maybe she ran out of milk.

I checked the fridge to find a whole gallon sitting on the shelf and I stared into the cold box for a good while before I let the door shut and peeked out the window to find her truck still in the driveway.

I trudged up the stairs and stood in the doorway of Bella's room. The bed was made, the room pristine and vacant. It looked as if no one lived in this room. It looked as if no one had ever lived in this room. No stacks of books, no mp3 player on the nightstand, no cherrywood pipe on the dresser. Nothing.

I walked into the room and opened the top drawer of the dresser, my mind a vacant, gaping hole, my fingers shaking as the drawer easily slid out.

Empty.

And the next.

Empty.

And the next.

Empty.

I stared at the empty drawers, little pink rosettes dotting the yellowed liner, the edges curled with age, and I let the panic and fear seethe through my body, my blood pumping at a furious pace. I yanked the drawer from the dresser and flung it against the wall where it splintered into large pieces of cracked wood, the sound of my life crashing and clattering to the floor.

She left me nothing.

She left me.

She left.

She.

…

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A/N

Joni songs referenced:

The Last Time I saw Richard (God, I love this song)

River

My Old Man

The Midway

Thank you for reading, my lovelies.