This was my entry for the P.S. I Love You Contest. My beta, pixiekat7, performs miracles with my jumbled writing—any mistakes are mine and mine alone. And my pre-readers, Billi Cullen and athome Jo, are saints for putting up with my insecure, whiny ass – thank you for your feedback and support, ladies. DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Falling Fast is copyright to Avril Lavigne. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
"See ya, Ma. Bye, Aunt Rose, Aunt Alice!" Riley called, waving at us as he climbed into the back seat of his father's car. We all waved back, and I blew him a kiss. I could see him roll his eyes even at this distance. Ouch. Thirteen-year old boys could be so heartless.
I watched until the car rounded the corner, then turned around to go back into inside. Rose and Alice were already in the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine and pulling snacks from the refrigerator. We loaded a tray and brought our bounty with us to the living room and cued up a favorite movie. Remember the one everyone was talking about a couple of years back, with those hot vampires? Because seriously, who doesn't enjoy a little eye candy and swapping favorite lines while hanging out?
Rosalie poured three glasses of our favorite wine and handed one to each of us. She settled back and took a long sip. "God, I love coming over here on Mike's weekends. It's so freaking peaceful without kids and husbands underfoot."
Alice side-eyed me, and I could see the worry in her gaze, so I gave her a reassuring smile. Not too long ago, such a statement would have had me grinding my teeth – the demise of my marriage had been a long, painful process, and learning to share custody of my son with his father and the new wife had been difficult at times. I guess after three years, we were getting pretty good at it.
I met Mike my sophomore year of college. It took some convincing on his part, but he was persistent, and we started dating after a few months. Our relationship followed a predictable path for college sweethearts; we were married after graduation, and Riley was born 11 months later. Overall, Riley was a good baby, but man, that boy never stopped moving. He rolled over from his back to his front just before he turned three months old, and from his front to his back three days later. He started crawling at five months, cruising at seven months, walking at nine, and I swear to Chuck he was running by the time he was a year old. Nothing slowed that kid down—he didn't merely bounce off the walls, he ricocheted like a racquetball.
Working all day and then chasing after an overly active toddler all evening was exhausting for us, taking both a physical and mental toll. There were nights after wrestling Riley into bed that I just dropped into my own, numb with exhaustion, only to start all over again the next day. But I wouldn't have traded sleep or relaxation for anything. I love being Riley's mom.
And Mike loves being Riley's dad. He's always been a great father, and he and Riley have this amazing relationship of which I'm often envious. While I have to remind (cough-nag-cough) Riley to do the simplest of things over and over, he pretty much does whatever Mike wants the first time he asks. One of those familiarity-breeds-contempt kinda things—with a more flexible work schedule, I've always been the parent in charge of all the fun stuff: shots at the doctor, fillings at the dentist, homework supervisor, and punishment giver. And I'll admit, being the one to dole out all the tough stuff while his father got to be the buddy turned me into a bitch more often than not with Mike.
When Riley was nine, Mike and I had an argument about something stupid, but that seemed terribly important at the time. It was another fight in a long line of fights, the two of us sniping at each other until we erupted; just another evening in the life of Mike and Bella. Finally, Mike yelled, "Do you even want to be married to me anymore?" And I yelled back, "No, I don't!" After a moment, Mike replied, "Good, because I don't want to be married to you either," in what was probably the most reasonable tone we'd used with one another in a good, long time.
It's painful to admit, but it was such a huge relief to both of us. Not that the divorce is easy. It's not the miracle cure-all that some people think. You don't get to keep the same life you had before, just without the person that annoys you. You have to divide everything—that house you chose together, all those furnishings, the bank accounts and retirement accounts, even your Christmas ornaments and your kitchen utensils. And you've still got all your same bills and expenses, although now you need to learn to live on just your salary, not that combined number that somehow made things just a little easier.
And then there was Riley. While I'm sure he was relieved that mom and dad weren't constantly at each other's throats any more, his life changed in even more ways than the grown-ups did. Custody was never a question—Riley stayed with me and spent every other weekend and one evening a week with his father. But it was still hard for me, even now, sending him off to his dad's. I know it was hard on Mike, not being there for the everyday stuff. And Riley had his troubles with it as well, although Mike and I did try to make those transitions as smooth as possible.
Again, easier said than done. Especially when Mike started dating before he moved out. And proposed to his girlfriend before our divorce was final. I'm sure that Jessica, the new wife, is a nice person. I know Riley loves her. But she annoys me—her voice, her hair, her general demeanor. Not because I'm jealous, or for any real, valid reason, but just because I don't want to like her. And I'm really good at not liking her. As are Rose and Alice. Those bitches really are my besties.
I finished my first glass of wine and started on my second, topping off the girls' glasses as well. We watched the movie for a couple of minutes, and I sighed over the dreamy good looks of the male lead. "Yeah, totally wouldn't kick him out of bed for drinking a bag of blood," I murmured, stroking the soft fur of the kitten Riley and I had adopted a couple of weeks ago. She was a cute little thing, all white except for four patches of black on her back arranged like a smiley face. Riley put his junior high Spanish knowledge to use and named her Sonrisa, Spanish for smile. I called her Risa for short.
"You need to get laid, Swan," Rosalie muttered.
I snorted in response. "By him? Yes, please. As for real life, I'm not going to disagree, but I kinda need a guy for that."
"So go find yourself a guy," Alice replied.
"Easy for you to say, you've been with Jasper since elementary school," I snarked. "I spend all day on the computer – not too many men there."
"Actually, there are a ton of guys there," Rose countered, raising an eyebrow at me. "Online, isn't that the new way to meet?"
"Online dating? Aren't those websites meant for hookups?" I asked.
"Some are, and are geared just for that. Why, would you rather hookup than date?" She actually looked excited by this prospect.
"Nope, not my thing," I stated emphatically. I had nothing against people that were in it for the hookup—in fact, sometimes I envied them—but it wasn't me. I'd fooled around a little bit in college, and twice since my divorce, only to discover that wasn't the way I was wired. I needed an emotional connection. And time. I've always been an abundantly cautious person, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. In my (very limited) experience, single guys wanted to go from meet to mattress over the course of an evening, whereas I'm more of a let's-get-to-know-each-other-and-see-how-it-goes kinda girl. I didn't think that attitude would serve me well on a dating website.
Alice grabbed my laptop and opened Google, typing furiously—I was going to have to wipe that search history before Riley got home. "Oh, there are so many different sites! How do you even choose?"
Rose scooted closer to me, squishing me between her and Alice as she peered at the screen. Sonrisa meowed indignantly in protest, jumping up on the back of the couch. "Hey, didn't Angela meet Ben on here?" she asked, pointing to one.
"Yes she did!" Alice said, clicking on the link. A screen popped up filled with pictures of couples – laughing, kissing, hugging. It looked a little staged to cynical-old-me, but I still felt envious. I couldn't even remember what couple life was like.
Rosalie read my mind again. "C'mon, Bella. You know you want to. Do you even remember what conversation with a living, breathing adult male is like? Just talk to someone, go out to dinner, a movie. Something. Anything." She wiggled her eyebrows and smiled suggestively.
She made it sound so reasonable. Talk to a few people, go out on a date or two. Enjoy normal, adult things. With a man.
I gnawed my lower lip indecisively. Alice rolled her eyes and clicked on the link that said register, and then passed the computer to me.
Ever filled out a dating profile? It's kind of weird. Basically, you're creating an advertisement for yourself. Some things were easy, although there were tons of choices. Female. Single/ Divorced. Straight. Thirty-four years old. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Average height, average weight. Seeking single males for friendship, dating.
Others were a little more difficult, especially where it asked me to describe myself. Alice took over, and I watched with apprehension as she typed.
She as described by her best friends: Shy, self-deprecating, doesn't see herself very clearly. Has a lovely hourglass figure, beautiful hair and eyes, and a smile that makes everyone's day brighter. Prefers a casual wardrobe and date as opposed to a night on the town. Sharp sense of humor, sarcastic and witty, and loves to laugh. Intelligent, articulate, affectionate, and passionate, devoted to her family and her friends.
I felt a blush heat my cheeks. "Is that really how you guys see me?"
Rose bumped my shoulder. "Silly girl, that's how everyone sees you. You're the only one that doesn't get it." I waved off her offer of more wine—I'm pretty sure that's how they'd managed to convince me to do this in the first place.
"Now for pictures!" Alice commanded.
Ugh, I hadn't thought about that. Both Rosalie and Alice searched their phones, but most of their pictures of me had Riley in them, and I wasn't interested in putting his picture out there. We settled on a picture Riley had had taken after I'd had my hair cut. Not exactly a glamour shot, but it was a pretty good representation of how I looked every day.
Next came the questions. This particular website offered to "scientifically match" you with potential suitors based on answers to various sets of questions. You could answer as many or as few as you liked, and the questions ranged from hobbies, to politics, to sex. Lots and lots of questions about sex. Some made me laugh. Some made me blush. And once or twice, I had to ask what certain terms meant, enduring the embarrassment of my limited knowledge. For instance, Rosalie laughed hysterically when I asked if "watersports" meant swimming.
With trepidation, I hit the submit button, and watched the profile load. I cringed when I saw my face smiling back at me, but it was too late to change my mind.
"Can we please get back to the movie? I don't want to look at this or think about it anymore right now." I was not above begging. I logged out of the website and snapped the cover of my laptop shut.
"Fine, but you have to promise us that we can vet the candidates with you," Alice said.
"Absolutely! And if you peek, no erasing any messages before we have a chance to look at them, too," Rosalie warned, holding out her pinky to me for a pinky swear.
"Agreed," I promised, hooking my finger with hers, Alice jumping in and doing the same. Looks like I'm officially "out there" in the online dating world. Ugh.
I woke late the next morning and had to rush around the house, getting ready for Riley's game. Did I mention that I'm a sports mama? Yeah, my Riley is a hockey wunderkind. When he was five, he was invited to a birthday party at the local ice skating rink. Even though it was his first time on the ice, by the end of the party, he was skating on his own without having to hold on to the walls or a walker. The boy definitely didn't get his grace from his mother, because only ten minutes into the outing, I was back in the warming room, icing my sore ass from repeated falls. The father of the birthday boy pulled me aside and asked if Riley would be interested in learning to play hockey.
What happened next was our insane plunge head-first into the world of ice hockey. Turned out I wasn't just imagining things; Riley was a natural. Learn-to-play was quickly followed by cross-ice, and within a year he was suited up and playing full-ice games. He was one of the fastest kids on the ice and one hell of a sniper (don't worry, I had to ask what that was, too). This year he's playing travel hockey, which means it's more expensive, with more practices, and farther to go for games. My calendar looks like someone barfed on it.
I was glad this morning's game was at our home rink. Even though it was Mike's weekend, I attended all of Riley's games, just as Mike attended the games on my weekends. I pulled into the rink with a few minutes to spare, only to find Rose and Alice waiting for me. "What are you two doing here?" I asked, setting my bag down and grabbing my blanket. Damn hockey rinks never turn the heat on.
"Like we're going to miss one of Riley's local games?" Alice scoffed, shaking her head. "Boy's traveling all over the state, and we need to catch a game when we can."
"Right Alice, sure we're here for hockey. Tell her the real reason – we want to see how many emails you got on the dating site!" Rose said excitedly
"Shhhhh! What the hell, Rose?" I hissed, looking around to see if anyone else had heard her. Luckily, the other parents were preoccupied with our team taking the ice.
"C'mon, Bella, I'm dying here. Open the app and let's see what you've got."
I glanced around surreptitiously, making sure that no one was looking our way. None of the other parents were near, and Mike and Jessica were sitting several rows away, even though I could hear her irritating voice shouting Riley's name like she was sitting next to me. I clicked on the icon and watched as the app loaded.
The home screen greeted me, and announced that I had five messages waiting. My jaw dropped slightly. I had expected one, maybe two. Five messages?
"Holy shit, Swan, you go, girl!" Rose whisper-yelled in my ear. "Open them, open them!"
Just then, the buzzer sounded and reminded me why we were here in the first place. "After the game," I said firmly, laughing when Rose stuck her lip out in a pout. "After the game, we can grab a cup of coffee, and you guys can look at the messages with me. Fair?" Rose shrugged her shoulders, clearly not wanting to give in, but I put my phone away and turned my attention to the game.
A little over an hour later and a hash mark in the win column for Riley's team (with a goal and an assist to my guy), Rose, Alice and I settled into a quiet corner of a nearby coffee shop. Alice declared my phone screen too small to properly review the men and their messages and booted up her computer, I logged in as I had last night, and the screen that greeted me told me I now had six new messages.
I clicked on the first message in the queue. "Hey sexy lady, I wanna jump your bones, wanna get naked?" the message read. I just kind of stared at it, wondering if this guy actually had luck with that kind of opener. He was wearing sunglasses and a hoodie in his profile picture, which made him look disturbingly like the Unabomber.
"Uh, next?" Alice said, her brow furrowed.
"Delete and next," Rosalie agreed.
The second message wasn't much better. "Love me some cougar – hit me up and we'll get busy." Cougar? Me? Was I old enough for that? I clicked on his profile picture and shook my head. Although he listed his age as 18, he didn't even look old enough to shave. Ewww, delete.
The third message seemed normal. He said he liked what I posted, thought I was pretty, and suggested I take a look at his profile and reply if I was interested. I was relieved to see that not all the guys on here were weirdos. I saved his message to reply to later, and clicked on my fourth message.
"Holy crap!" I exclaimed, causing both Rose and Alice to focus intently on the screen. Alice started giggling first, and Rosalie's grin got wider and wider as my blush deepened. "What the hell?" I whisper-yelled.
"Aww, c'mon, Mistress. He's been denying himself orgasms so that they can be yours to control, and he wants to show you his stainless-steel butt plug collection. Think about all the benefits of having a sex slave, Bells!" Even Rose had trouble keeping a straight face at the profile picture that featured a leather mask that was some sort of cross between Hannibal Lecter and Mad Max Fury Road.
"Delete! Delete!" I groaned. This online dating thing was going about as well as I had thought it would.
The fifth message was polite and well written, although at 63 he was a little beyond my age range. I saved the message to compose a polite thanks-but-no-thanks.
The sixth and final message simply said "U R Hot. Text me a pic of ur tits" and left a phone number. Yep, another one to delete.
"Well that's not too bad," Alice commented, and I looked at her incredulously.
"Not too bad? Are you drunk, Alice? That's one out of six."
"Two," Rose corrected me, and I raised my bitch brow at her. "That older gentleman seemed very nice and was very well spoken."
"Older gentleman? Rose, he's a decade older than Charlie, it's too big an age difference." She didn't look convinced. "Let me put it this way, Rose—imagine your dad having sex with Alice."
"Ewww, what the frick, Bella?" Alice demanded, her face screwed up in disgust. The look on Rose's face was similar, and we all cracked up
"I'll break his heart gently," I promised.
They helped me compose a response to the only serious one, after we dissected his profile. He was a couple of years older than me, a single father of a teenage boy. He listed his hobbies as baseball and video games, and was up-front about his vegan lifestyle. Alice liked his long hair. Rosalie liked that he said he enjoyed cooking. We went our separate ways a short while later, with them making me promise to continue to keep them in the loop.
And so it went. Each day, I'd take a few minutes to review the messages I received, forwarding the more amusing ones to Rose and Alice. On average, I had one or two serious messages each week, which we scrutinized in detail. It took several weeks of back-and-forth messages, but I finally progressed so far as to meet my vegan friend for coffee. Alec was a great guy, but there were no sparks. He was disappointed. I was relieved.
It seemed like everything online happened at warp speed. These guys wanted a response within minutes, a date within hours, and sex before that first date was through. One guy, upon hearing I wasn't willing to meet immediately, told me at my age I should be grateful for any attention I got and willing to do whatever it took to keep him interested, including leaving my brat at home for a quickie in his car. Deleted and blocked.
It took me several weeks before I was willing to meet with someone again. Although he seemed like a nice guy, he became very persistent, messaging me multiple times a day after our initial coffee meet-up. He reminded me that neither one of us was getting any younger, and we really needed to move forward before we were beyond child-bearing years. I had tried telling him I just didn't think we were compatible, but he kept deflecting. He got pretty rude and insulting when I told him I didn't want to go out again. Another delete and block.
Rose told me I was being too picky. While Alice didn't disagree with Rose's blunt assessment, she was a little more circumspect about it. Alice told me she had a feeling the right guy was out there, but I needed to put in more effort to find him myself instead of these creeps finding me. I started doing some of my own looking, but hated the thought of making the first contact.
I found what I thought was a happy compromise—the website had a "thumb's up" option where you could let someone know that you liked their profile, without sending an actual message. I could put myself out there, without really putting myself out there, right? So I tried it out. Sometimes, men responded in a favorable manner. And sometimes ... well, sometimes it was easy to understand why they were single in the first place.
Which brings me to the whole "dick pic" thing. This particular website allowed its users to attach additional pictures to messages once mutual contact had been established. That seemed to be the favored response of so many of these men – a girl gives you a thumb's up, she must want to see your dick. Imagine this exchange, if you will:
*Bella sends thumb's up, probably because you put something nice or thoughtful on your profile ... or maybe because you're kinda hot (being totally honest here, so sue me).
*Guy sees thumb's up, checks to make sure I'm indeed a chick ... insta-boner, take a pic, send it off with generic "wanna jump on this?" note.
*Bella opens message, sees dick pic, blocks sender.
And so on, and so forth. Rose started keeping count. Of the thumb's ups I sent, I had an 85% return rate on dick pics. My favorite one was the guy that took a picture of a girl giving him a blow job and sent it to me—classy. I really wanted to tell the guy that he needed to have an actual mouthful before sending those kind of pics, but at least I didn't have to worry about the poor girl choking on his tiny member.
One afternoon, fielding two dick pics and an introductory message that suggested I'd have better luck if I didn't advertise having a kid, I deleted the previous "about me" paragraph and started typing.
Let me clarify a few points. I am a mom, hence my username. I am not interested in your games. If you don't like kids, or have a problem with the fact that my kid is my first priority, move on. I am here looking for friendship first, so if all you are looking for is to score, keep your dick pic to yourself and move on. If you are looking for nudes, phone sex, or dirty chat, move on. If you want spank material, you guessed it – move on. If, after all that, you are still reading this and think that we might be able to have an actual, genuine conversation, feel free to reach out to me via messenger.
I looked it over once, ran spell check, and hit 'post' before I could change my mind. Then I closed out of the program and deleted the app from my phone, honestly not sure if I was going to log back in or not.
A couple of weeks later, I was huddled under my blanket with a book, waiting for Riley's practice to be done, when my phone buzzed with a new email message. It was the dating website. "See your new matches!" I hadn't checked it since I changed my description. My finger hovered indecisively over the link. What the hell, I thought, and I clicked on it.
I scrolled down, seeing some of the same faces I had seen before. Then I saw him. A handsome face, though slightly out of focus, eyes looking away from the camera. Tousled brown hair with a hint of red. Matching stubble – enough to appeal, not so much as to scream "mountain man." A slightly crooked smile. I clicked on the picture to open his profile.
He was new to the site and only had his profile up for a couple of hours. He was my age, a divorced father of two daughters. His paragraph was short and to the point. He apologized for his profile picture – his younger daughter had been playing with his phone and took it. His family was his number one priority. He worked and was on the road a lot. He was lonely sometimes, and wanted to find someone special to spend time with.
I made my decision and sent him a thumb's up – I would leave it up to him whether or not to contact me once he'd looked at my profile. I figured a guy like him would have his pick of the online litter. I'd probably get no response, or maybe another dick pic, but my expectations were pretty much nil anyway.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the screen – it was the dating website with a new direct message.
Puck_Mama:
It sounds like you've had a rough time on the website. I've only been on here for a short while, but I want you to know I'm not like the other men who have messaged you. I don't play games. I'm an honest guy who is looking for friendship and maybe something more in time. I'm on the road a lot and am looking for someone to spend time with when I'm home, and to communicate with while I'm away. I understand that being a parent is your priority – I wouldn't have it any other way. My daughters come first in my life, even though they live out of state with their mother.
I looked at your profile, your picture (you are a beautiful woman), and your questions. Not sure how "scientific" those are, but we appear to be a 96% match. I would love to exchange some messages and get to know you better, have you get to know me so that I can prove to you that I'm not like those other guys. Thank you for reaching out to me – I hope to hear from you.
Edward
I read it over again, then brought up his profile. It was the same as before, but I read it a little more carefully, somewhat frustrated at the lack of information there. Most of the guys on here went overboard, answering hundreds of questions, listing every achievement they'd had since kindergarten, and showcasing their photos as though they were professional models. Gee, cynical much, Swan?
Edward's profile wasn't a carbon copy of the others I'd seen. He even went as far as to suggest that he was different from the other guys on here. But wasn't that what I was looking for? Fewer answers online meant that I actually needed to talk to the man to get the information I wanted. I hit the 'reply' button.
Edward:
I was pleasantly surprised to receive your message. Yes, I've had some bad experiences with online dating. I'm not sure why I'm still even on here, honestly. Your message gives me hope that there are indeed nice guys out there in the online-dating world.
I looked at your profile again, and I really like the picture that your daughter took of you – you've got a great smile. I am a little frustrated that you don't have more details or information about yourself on there, but one can never be too careful in this information age.
I would enjoy exchanging some messages as well. I look forward to hearing back from you.
I hesitated, then typed "Bella," figuring if he'd been brave enough to share his name, I could do the same.
His reply arrived as I was making dinner, and I hesitated before opening it. Was it going to be another dick pic, another disappointment? I clicked on the message and sighed in relief – no unsolicited pictures, just an offer to play 20 questions to get to know one another better. Maybe this guy really was different? Time would tell.
Edward started by telling me about his daughters, McKenna and Elise, ages 11 and 8. They live with their mother, but he travels to see them as often as he can. McKenna is into music and has been taking piano lessons for years. Elise started soccer last year, which he said was really good for her energy level, which he described as over the top. McKenna is his serious one, while Elise is his firecracker. I responded in kind, sharing a little about Riley and my crazy hockey mom life, how we spend a lot of time on the road or in the rinks, but that he loves it and so do I.
We talked about our jobs. I found out he works in commercial construction, and is out of town during the week and home most weekends. He likes his job, but would love to eventually find something where he's home more than he's away. I told him about my boring but reliable job at a local doctor's office, where I spent the majority of my time on the computer. I've always been happy there, and the flexibility they offered me as a parent and now as a single mom was the best benefit I could ask for.
His ex-wife had been his high school sweetheart. Over the past two years, she spent a lot time complaining about his job and being home alone with the girls, and when she got tired of complaining about it, she found herself a boyfriend. Although it broke his heart to move away from his daughters, he knew he couldn't live in the same town as his ex and her new boyfriend. I gave him an abbreviated version of my history with Mike, joking there were times I wished that I lived a greater distance from him and Jessica as well.
He's an only child, with his parents still living in the same small town in which he grew up. He feels bad that he doesn't get to see them as often, but time with his girls comes first. I tell him I'm an only child, too, and that my parents divorced when I was young. I only live a couple of hours away from my dad and we visit him often, but probably only see my mother once every couple of years since she lives over 2,000 miles away,.
He likes animals —his daughters have a dog and two cats—but with him being on the road all the time, he doesn't think it's right to leave a pet alone all the time. I told him that Riley and I had adopted Sonrisa from a friend who found an abandoned litter, and that Riley was always begging for a dog, but that we couldn't manage it with all the time we were away.
He doesn't read much, but enjoys a good action, suspense, or horror film. I confessed that my Kindle was my constant companion, vital to the survival of my sanity at endless hockey practices. I also admitted that horror movies scare the bejesus out of me, and he offered to protect me when we saw one together.
I was surprised to find that we liked a lot of the same music, and we spent some time swapping songs in all sorts of genres from metal to 80's rock to classic country. He didn't share my love of Broadway musicals, but he also admitted he hadn't really been exposed to them and maybe he would like them if he tried listening to them. I promised not to whip out Phantom of the Opera just yet.
In a reckless moment, late one night, I confessed that I wondered what his voice sounded like. Within moments, I received a message with a phone number. "You can block your number if you're not ready for me to have it, but I'd love to hear your voice."
I typed the number into my phone, staring at it indecisively. My brain told me one thing, my heart told me another, and before my brain could override, I pressed the send button.
He picked up immediately. "Bella?" His voice was deep, a little husky, and it gave me a chill.
"Hi, Edward," I replied softly, glad my voice didn't shake.
"It's so good to finally hear your voice," he said.
"Finally? We've only been messaging for a couple of days," I joked.
"And we've shared a lifetime in those days," he reminded me. "I'm glad you called me. You didn't block your number. May I save it to my phone, or should I delete it when we're done talking?"
"You can save it, if you'd like. I thought maybe we could start texting, instead of just emailing," I suggested shyly.
"Can we talk, too? Because I think I could get addicted to the sound of your voice very easily, Bella," he said in a tone that sent shivers down my spine.
"I'd like that," I admitted, grateful he couldn't see my blush.
"What are you doing up so late tonight?" he asked.
"Reading," I hedged.
"Good book?" he asked.
"No, not really."
"Then what are you reading?"
"Our messages," I admitted, wondering why in the world I was telling him this.
"Ah, so you re-read them as much as I do," he replied, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. "I've really enjoyed getting to know you like this, Bella. But you know what I'd like even better?"
"What, Edward?" I asked, enjoying speaking his name out loud.
"If you'd have dinner with me on Friday."
It was my weekend with Riley. I'd never made plans on my weekend. I'd never wanted to. Until now.
I'd been silent too long, and he started speaking, his voice apologetic. "I'm sorry, Bella, I promised myself I wouldn't push you."
"No, Edward, you're not pushing me. I want to have dinner with you, but I have Riley this weekend. I could ... I could see if I could make other plans for him?"
I could almost hear the relief in his voice, "Only if you're sure, Bella. I don't want to pressure you. I can wait. I don't particularly want to, but I can."
"I don't particularly want to wait either, Edward," I confessed, at the same time I wondering when I'd hit fast-forward on my dating life. It had taken me weeks of messages with Alec to agree to coffee, and here I was, already agreeing to meet Edward? What the hell was wrong with me?
We continued to send one another messages, adding texts and calls to the mix now that phone numbers had been exchanged. My heart did this weird flutter thing when his name would pop up on my screen, and I felt the anticipation and excitement outpace my trepidation as Friday night approached. This was so out of character. Me, sensible, slow-and-steady Isabella Swan, was turning my own rule book on its ear.
I had lucked out that Riley had been invited to the local high school football game and pizza afterwards with his best friend's family, so I didn't even have to make other arrangements. He was due home around eleven, which gave me several hours in Edward's company—a thought that both terrified and thrilled me.
He was prompt, parking a silver Volvo in my driveway at exactly 6:30 p.m. I watched as he got out of the car, taking in his appearance critically. He was tall, taller than I had expected, dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt. His hair was an unruly riot on top of his head, and I watched as he ran his fingers through it, understanding why some of it stood on end. He rubbed his hand over his face, and I noted that the stubble from the picture was gone, and that he had a strong, angular jaw. Mmmmm ...
I gathered my purse and jacket, and opened the door moments after he rang the bell. I felt a blush stain my cheeks as I looked up at him—he was even more handsome than his picture had portrayed.
"Bella?" he asked, a crooked smile on his lips that stole my breath.
"Hi, Edward," I said softly, not sure whether to invite him in or not.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked, and I nodded in relief. He waited while I locked the door, then led me to his car, opening the door for me. A gentleman, I could get used to that. "Does Italian sound okay for dinner?" he asked.
"Sounds delicious," I replied.
He chose one of my favorite restaurants, and we sat in the bar for a few minutes as we waited for our table to be ready. Our conversation flowed naturally over dinner from one topic to the next, and we never seemed to have a lack of things to discuss. He was just as funny and charming in person as he was in his messages and on the phone, in an honest, natural way that I had found lacking in others that I had communicated with. It seemed possible that Edward Masen was the real deal.
We had finished our entrees and I was trying to figure out how to stretch out our time together. I didn't think my full belly could manage dessert or after-dinner coffee, but I simply did not want our time together to end, which was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
Luckily, it appeared Edward was loathe for the evening to end as well. "Would you be interested in taking a walk downtown after dinner? There's a band playing in the park, I thought maybe we could go down there and listen to the music."
"I'd like that," I agreed. My phone buzzed as we were getting up from the table and I checked the display, frowning at the message I saw there.
"Bella, is everything okay?" Edward asked, noticing my reaction. "Is Riley all right?"
"He's fine, but his friend isn't feeling well, so they are going to cut their evening short. They need to drop Riley off early."
"How early?"
"They said they'll be there in about an hour," I lamented, seeing our date extension go up in smoke.
Edward gave me a sad smile as we reached his car, opening the door for me again. "Guess I should get you home then."
"I'm sorry for the change in plans. Maybe you'd like to come in so we can visit a while longer?" I offered.
"I'd like that," he agreed. "And perhaps you can find some water for these?" he said, pulling a bouquet of colorful flowers from behind his seat and holding them out to me.
I was speechless—I was pretty sure the last time I'd received flowers was when I was in the hospital after Riley was born. "Thank you, Edward, they're beautiful," I breathed, burying my nose in the fragrant blossoms.
He blushed and mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like not nearly as beautiful as you.
It was a quick car ride to my house—yeah, I was watching the clock, wanting to maximize on as many minutes I could get with Edward. After I found a vase for the flowers, we settled onto the sofa, not quite a cushion's width between us. I hoped he couldn't tell that my hands were trembling.
The kitten chose that moment to make an appearance. "Hello there, little girl," Edward said when she jumped onto the cushion between us. As she head-butted me for a scratch, I explained that she was still a little skittish around people.
Edward held it his hand toward her, gaining her interest. She approached him cautiously, sniffing at his outstretched hand. Then, without warning, she climbed into his lap, rolling over onto her back and stretching out as if to say you may commence with the attention.
"Skittish?" he asked with a smile, rubbing her belly. I laughed, watching as his fingers stroked her soft fur. I had never wanted to be a cat so badly.
The flow of conversation from dinner continued. I don't think I'd ever had an easier time talking to someone in my life—it was like I'd known him forever. I nearly ached with the need to touch him, to see if the physical connection was as strong as I thought it could be. I wanted to inch closer, to lay my hand on his knee or touch his hand as he stroked Risa's soft fur. But I forced myself to stay put.
Edward glanced at the clock, frowning. "I guess I should be going," he said, sounding as reluctant as I felt.
"Riley will be home soon," I agreed, watching as he gave the kitten one last scratch and placed her on the cushion before standing up and stretching. She gazed up at him in undisguised adoration. My heart melted. I totally know how you feel, little kitten.
"Walk me to the door?" he asked, offering his hand to help me up from my seat. I placed my hand in his and felt an electric thrill at his touch. His fingers tightened around mine, my heart fluttering when his thumb stroked over my knuckles. He didn't let go of my hand, but instead kept his fingers wrapped around mine as we walked the few short steps to the door.
A tense silence settled over us for the very first time. I looked down at our joined hands, and then back up again at Edward, my stomach clenching when I recognized the same longing on his face that I'm sure was on mine. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them there was a fire and determination that thrilled me. "Bella," he whispered, raising his other hand to cup my cheek as he bent towards me, covering my lips with his.
I'd been kissed plenty of times in my life. Some were clumsy, some were smooth, some were friendly, and some were passionate. Edward's kiss was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Sensuous and gentle, his lips opened over mine and swallowed the sigh I couldn't contain. I slid my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer.
The kiss changed, grew in intensity and passion. I wanted him closer, and his arms slid around me, pressing me to him. A surge of excitement and lust went through me as I felt his body harden against mine. I wrapped my arms around him tightly and pressed back, sliding my hands down his back and briefly cupping his ass before sliding my hands up again to anchor him to me.
Edward pulled away with a groan, his harsh breathing countered by soft kisses on my nose, my cheeks, and the corner of my mouth. "What time will Riley be home?" he whispered.
"In about 10 minutes," I breathed, pulling back and looking up at him, my eyes settling on his kiss-swollen lips, then up to his eyes, hooded with desire that made me ache.
"That means I've still got five," he murmured, angling his lips over mine again and lifting me against him, our bodies pressed tight. His hands wandered up and down my back, squeezing my ass, then gliding up my sides to ghost against my breasts, before he buried his fingers in my hair again.
"God, Bella, we've got to stop," Edward groaned. "Riley's going to be home any minute."
"I know, I know," I sighed, stepping back and sliding my hands in my jean pockets to keep myself from reaching for him again. I couldn't help but grin a naughty smile when Edward reached down and adjusted himself.
He raised his eyebrow at me and smirked. "You'll be the death of me," he murmured, leaning down for a quick kiss, his lips and tongue getting bossy with mine. I loved it.
"But what a way to go," I laughed. "Thank you for dinner."
"And thank you for after dinner, beautiful," he said, cupping my cheek and pressing a brief, sweet kiss to my lips. I watched him walk to his car, smiling like a fool when he blew me a kiss as he drove away. I'm sure I had the same stupid grin on my face when Riley pulled in no more than three minutes later.
I had a pretty bad case of perma-grin over the next several days. To be honest, pretty much everything about Edward made me smile. His "good morning, beautiful" texts. The songs he sent. His dinner invitation for Friday, which I eagerly accepted. The increasingly affectionate terms he used when we talked.
Nothing made me smile more than talking to Edward. We talked on my way into work. Sometimes over the lunch hour. And every night, late into the night, stopping only when we were both exhausted and yawning as much as we were speaking. What we lacked in time we more than made up for in intensity. He already knew me better than Mike ever had, probably even better than I knew myself. I felt like I could ask him anything, tell him anything. As our conversations got longer, the topics got deeper. We hit on all the big stuff—dreams, hopes, disappointments, fears, and desires.
And boy howdy, did I have some desires when it came to Edward. I replayed our kisses over and over again in my head. We talked about our pasts, how long it had been since either of us had been with someone, and I was relieved that he wasn't in the habit of bed-hopping, either. We shared the same philosophy about sex, about needing a connection before jumping into bed. Edward always referred to sex as making love, a term I'd read in most romance novels but had never truly experienced myself. A term that made me ache and wish and want for more with Edward. Following that conversation, there was a subtle suggestiveness that imbued our messages, a playfulness, an awareness that blossomed and grew.
In all of my well-thought-out, according-to-plan life, I had never experienced anything like this. Such an immediate attraction. An instant connection. Not just physical, but on every level. We just clicked. It was intoxicating. It was terrifying. It was reckless and crazy, and I wanted more. I wanted everything. I wanted him.
Edward made me think, he made me laugh. Most important—and scary—he made me feel. All my careful rules and plans weren't enough to slow the roll my heart was on. With each and every word, spoken or written, I felt myself fall more. And unless I was the most clueless person on the planet, Edward seemed to feel the same way.
I had dinner with Rose and Alice on Wednesday. "So, how did the date go?" Rose asked as soon as the waitress dropped off our drinks.
I lifted the glass of ice water to my mouth to hide my smile as I pondered my response. Best first date of my life? No, best date of my life, period. And the first of many best dates, of that I was certain.
"I think I've gone on my last first date," I said, trying to play it casual, thinking of the look on Edward's face as he leaned down to kiss me. The feel of his lips on mine. The way it felt to be in his arms, pressed up against him. Our texts and conversations. Him.
"Oh Bella, I know you've had a string of duds, but you can't give up that easily," Rosalie scoffed, rolling her eyes as she studied the menu.
But Alice was watching me, her gaze thoughtful. "No, Rose, I don't think that's what she's saying at all."
Rose turned back to me and slowly raised an eyebrow. I raised my own eyebrow right back at her, and managed to hold the expression for all of about ten seconds before I started to giggle.
"Well, we had dinner, and then I got the message that Riley was coming home early, so we pretty much had to bail on the rest of the evening," I said evasively. Although I had shared the scary, gory details of my previous dates with them, I was reluctant to talk about my burgeoning relationship with Edward. It was so sweet and new that I wanted to keep it to myself.
"So I was right, it was a dud," Rose said, disappointed.
"No, not at all," I disagreed. "I had a lovely time, even though it was cut short. We've been exchanging messages and talking all week." I told them about the flowers he gave me. "He's coming over on Friday," I said quietly, feeling my face heat. After a conversation in which he'd confessed that he got a little tired of eating out all the time, I suggested we stay in and I prepare dinner on Friday night instead. He argued half-heartedly that he didn't want to put me to extra work, but quickly agreed when I told him I would enjoy the chance to cook for him. So, he'd be at my house. Friday night. Just the two of us. With a bed nearby. Holy crow.
Alice was staring at me again, this time with surprise. "What aren't you telling us, Bella? Why are you blushing? Did you kiss him? Oh my god, did you guys have sex?"
"Alice, no! I mean yes, I kissed him. But no, we didn't have sex." Yet, I thought, feeling my blush deepen, remembering how damn good it felt to be pressed up against him, and the way our conversations had turned suggestive and playful. How the sound of his voice alone could get me all hot and bothered. And that new lacy bra and panty set I had purchased at the mall on my way to dinner tonight.
"Oooh, I know that look, Bella's gonna get some," Rose said with a smirk. "I don't know if I should be worried or proud."
"Definitely proud," Alice laughed. "So when do we get to meet the guy? What's his name again?"
"Edward," I replied, hearing the dreamy sigh in my own voice.
"Well, invite Edward to our cookout next weekend," Rose said. "Alice and I can give him the third degree and decide if he's worth your time."
My protective instinct rose quickly. "That's for me to decide, and besides, he really is. I'll ask, but I'm not making any promises—I think that's a pretty intimidating invitation this early on. If he says yes, you guys need to promise to be nice. He's...important." I wasn't sure I could convey just how important he'd already become to me. I could hardly wrap my head around that myself.
Rose stared at me, her jaw actually dropping. "Holy shit, Bells, you sound like you're in lo..."
Alice cut her off. "We agree. Now tell us about your Edward."
A couple of hours later, just as I was saying goodnight to Riley, my text alert chimed. How was dinner with the girls?
I kissed Riley on the cheek and retreated to my bedroom. It went well. Rose didn't ask nearly as many questions as I thought she would.
Is that good? Or bad? Should I be worried?
No, it's good, I think. She said she's going to reserve her judgment for when she meets you.
I'm glad you have such loyal friends. I'm looking forward to meeting them.
I hesitated for a moment, then conveyed Rose's invitation. Well, how about next weekend? Rose and Emmett are having a cookout that Saturday. You could go with me, if you want, meet my friends?
I set my phone down for a minute, hearing my phone beep while I was struggling out of my work clothes and into my pjs. After tossing my clothes in the hamper, I checked the display.
I love you.
I stared at the text, my eyes widening as I read it over again and again. Did he? Did it really say? Oh. MY! I couldn't stop the smile I felt spread across my face, and a thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach. I looked at it again.
I love you.
Then I felt the doubt start to creep in, and what had been butterflies turned to lead.
It had to be a typo, one of those stupid auto-corrects. He was answering my question about meeting my friends, and he'd probably mean to type I'd love to.
It was too soon. We were too new. He hadn't met Riley; hell, I hadn't even told Riley I was dating. I hadn't met Edward's girls. We didn't know one another's families, or friends. We'd only been on one date, for heaven's sake. No one could fall in love that fast, right?
Even as those thoughts raced through my head, my heart spoke clearly. What Rose had almost said tonight was true—as impossible as my brain seemed to think it was, I already loved him.
I looked at the time stamp and realized it had been a full two minutes since he'd sent the words I couldn't stop staring at.
The message suddenly disappeared, replaced by the picture of the very man about whom I was thinking—Edward was calling. As the ringtone continued to play, I was faced with a choice. Decline, or accept?
Might as well get it over with, I thought fatalistically. "Hey, hi!" I said with false cheer, surprised when my voice sounded normal.
"Bella, I'm so sorry," he said immediately, and I felt nauseated. Told you so, sneered the doubting voice of my brain.
"It's okay, typos happen ..." I started, but interrupted me, his voice urgent.
"I wanted to tell you in person, not over a text."
"Tell me what?" I squeaked.
"That I love you. I've typed it a hundred times, I love you, but I wanted the first time I tell you to be in person, not like this," he was speaking so fast his words ran together, but those three little words stood out.
I love you.
"Bella?" he said, his voice sounding with worry, then recrimination. "I knew I was gonna screw this up. I am such an idiot, I can't believe..."
"I love you, too," I interrupted his self-flagellation. "Edward, I love you, too."
Silence. I didn't even think I could hear him breathing. Then, "Did you just say that you love me?" he asked.
"Yes, I love you," I told him.
"God, Bella, I love you too. But I should be there, telling you. I need to be looking in your eyes, holding you in my arms," his voice was warm and rough and deep.
"You will be, in just two days," I reminded him.
"Not soon enough," he sighed, and I laughed, even though I was just as anxious.
Time crawled for the next two days as we texted and talked and planned our weekend. No longer were we discussing only dinner on Friday, we were now making plans for Saturday and Sunday as well. I cleaned the house from top to bottom, enlisting Riley's reluctant help to make everything shine. On Friday, I made two pans of lasagna, and Riley ate almost half a pan himself before he left with his father. Less than five minutes after Mike's car pulled out of the driveway, Edward arrived.
I opened the door, my heart beating wildly at the sight of him on my doorstep. I could tell he was as nervous as I; it looked like he'd been running his fingers through his hair the entire way here. He stood with one hand in his pocket, the other clutching a bouquet of lavender roses, his crooked smile charming and uncertain.
I ushered him inside and closed the door, standing on the landing where a week ago we had shared our first kiss. Had it really only been a week? It felt like a lifetime ago. But no matter the length of time it had or hadn't been, it just felt right. And looking at him, looking back at me, I simply knew.
"Bella," he said simply, holding out the flowers.
"Hi, Edward," I answered, reaching out with trembling fingers. The moment my hand touched his, all traces of nervousness vanished, and I smiled up at him.
Edward's returning smile was devastatingly beautiful. "Ah, sweetheart," he sighed, cupping my cheek in his palm as he had the first time we'd kissed. "I love you, Bella."
I closed my eyes briefly, feeling tears prickle behind my eyelids. "I love you, too, Edward."
Our kiss was sweet and slow, and we stood there for unending minutes, lost in our embrace. A tiny meow sounded from our feet, and we both laughed when Sonrisa started to climb his jean-clad legs, impatient for his attention. He held her and scratched behind her ears as he followed me into the kitchen, where I put the roses in a vase and added water. I leaned back against the counter and watched him.
"So ..." Edward said, stepping closer, almost touching me. Close, but not quite close enough.
"So ..." I parroted, nibbling on my bottom lip.
"Mmmm, I love that," Edward said, dipping his head down and kissing me again. The kitten meowed indignantly at being squished between us and struggled to get free. Edward gave her one last scratch and set her on the floor, where she scampered over to her food dish. He turned back and pulled me into his arms. "I've been waiting for this all week," he sighed.
"Me, too," I admitted.
"Let's sit down, shall we?" Edward asked, nodding his head toward the couch. He sat in the same spot he had last week, patting the cushion right next to him. He looped his arm around me, and I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. I skimmed my nose along his neck, picking up a subtle hint of aftershave that made me want to nibble there. Why not? I thought to myself, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just below his ear.
I smiled against his neck when he groaned, licking the spot I'd just kissed for good measure. He shifted so he could lower his lips to mine, this kiss more passionate than the last. I twisted to wrap my arms around his neck, straddling his lap. This time I was the one that moaned when I felt his burgeoning hardness against my stomach, and I couldn't stop myself from circling my hips to press even tighter against him.
Edward swore under his breath, breaking our kiss to trail his lips to my ear. "Baby, please. Keep that up, and we'll be skipping dinner and going straight to dessert." His voice was a husky whisper, sending a shiver down my spine as he pressed a line of kisses down my neck.
"I am so totally okay with that," I giggled, tilting my head to the side to give him better access.
Edward pulled back and cupped my face, his eyes searching mine. "Are you sure, Bella?" he asked seriously. "I love you, and I want you, but I need you to be sure before we take that step."
I smiled, caressing his cheek. "I admit that I'm nervous about ... you know," I said with a blush, gesturing between the two of us.
"Me, too," Edward confessed, his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. "What if I do something you don't like? Or don't do something you do like? I'm trying really hard not to screw this up. If you aren't comfortable, or ready to make love, then we wait. I've waited my entire life to find you, Bella, and I'm not going to rush you."
Rambling Edward was adorable, and I couldn't stop myself from kissing him again. He was so damn sweet. We were both breathless by the time I pulled away. "I am absolutely certain, Edward. I love you, I want you, and I don't want to wait." I climbed off his lap and reached for his hand, lacing my fingers with his. "C'mon, my room is this way," I told him, nodding my head toward the hallway.
All nervousness vanished as we learned one another. His hands and lips traced my skin, as I explored the hard planes of his body with my own. Each kiss, each touch, each caress strengthened the impossible connection we had. We smiled, we laughed, we sighed and groaned. I had never felt so treasured before, and when he slid inside of me, I knew I would never be the same again.
Hours later we lay replete in one another's arms, my head on his chest as he traced his fingers down my spine. "You know you're stuck with me now, right? This is the first night of our forever," he murmured, pressing a drowsy kiss to my forehead.
"Forever with you? That sounds perfect," I agreed, slowly drifting to sleep in his arms.