Four Family Flat by VampireGirl93

by Words of Love for Meli

An Italian family moves into a four family flat where they find themselves fighting with an angry tenant who complains they're noisy and disrespectful.

Four Family Flat

Summary: An Italian family moves into a four family flat where they find themselves fighting with an angry tenant who complains they're noisy and disrespectful.

A/N: A four family flat (AKA a multi-family residential) is a housing unit for several inhabitants, contained within one building or several within one complex. In this case, there are four.

Dear Mr. Swan,

While I understand you are not from this country and sometimes have trouble understanding these things, I find that it is important to inform you of something in the United States. This will bring you a long way, so I suggest you use it often. This term is known as respect—where, given that you understand the term correctly, you'll find yourself becoming mindful of your actions as a courtesy to other people. Respect is not a one-sided action, it is a give and take, and if you feel as though my family and I are undeserving of yours, please inform me immediately.

Please, please keep in mind that I am not sending this as a means to quarrel with you. Like you, I am a working man, and I enjoy peace and quiet while I am trying to sleep. You have been living in my building for nearly three weeks, and I have not had a peaceful night's sleep since. Your children are loud. Your mother is rude. Your wife screams often. You blare your music and stomp your feet when you move around. It can be quite disruptive, especially when I have children of my own who are trying to sleep at night.

Keep in mind you are not the only ones in the building.

Yours truly,

Carlisle Cullen (Apartment A)

Blood rushes to my grandmother's cheeks. She is nearly bright purple, a disarming crazed look in her eyes. Her expression is terrifying but has nothing on my father's darkening glare. He has an unfathomable look in his eyes as if Mr. Cullen has insulted his entire family.

I guess he has.

In all fairness, Mr. Cullen is not wrong. We are loud. However, my dad wouldn't call it 'loud.' He would say we're passionate. We're Italian, it's in our blood!

Unfortunately, this is not a matter of opinion, this is fact, and we could very well be kicked out of our home if we don't respect our neighbor's wishes.

"What-a does-a he mean?" Nonna asks, waving the note in front of my father's face. She has been trying to get his attention for the past few minutes, but no one is moving from the living room. My mother and I are frozen in fear, anticipating Dad's reaction. I'm sitting on the couch gnawing on a straw as my mom bites her thumbnail and stares worriedly at him.

Maybe Mr. Cullen misunderstood us in a few aspects.

For one, we are from America. When we moved in, Nonna claimed that we were Italian, not that we were from Italy. Even my father was born in America. It was Nonna and Nonno who came here over forty years ago. My father can read, write, and understand English very well. As can Nonna, when she isn't playing dumb.

"Mr. Cullen is saying we need to be considerate. Quieter," I explain, although it feels like I'm adding fuel to the invisible fire Mr. Cullen started when he left this note on our doorstep this evening.

Nonna shakes her head. "Those-a Irish!" She shuffles across the room as fast as a woman her age can, which is just slow enough for my mother to jump up and stop her from reaching the doorknob.

"Nonna, no!" my mom exclaims. Nonna is like a child who has been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She snatches it back and spins around, pointing to my mother.

"Go-a to bed-a, Renee!" Nonna shouts, moving over to the coat rack to find a jacket to put over her nightgown. Where the hell does she think she's going?

"You're staying right here, you old kook," Mom hollers. I would be surprised if Mr. Cullen didn't already anticipate our arrival, with the way we're screaming. "You have no business going down there. They think you're insane as it is."

Nonna gasps, throwing her hand over her chest, all innocent and shocked and overly dramatic. "Me-a?"

"Yes, you!" Mom shouts. "You act nuttier than a damn Payday."

I turn to check on my father. His eyes have grown distant and contemplative, his fingers tapping away rapidly against the armrest of his favorite recliner. He, predictably, is unaffected by the screaming match.

"Dad?" I ask, reaching over to touch his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He leans forward to stand up. "Yep. I'll be right back, hon."

Mom spins around, widening her arms at my father. "No, you won't! You're staying right here, Charlie. There is no way I'm letting you go down there and start a fi—"

"I just want to talk," Dad says innocently, reaching across the couch to grab his gun holster.

Oh no.

Nonna has a wicked grin plastered on her face. My mother looks horrified when Dad secures it to his waist.

"Oh, hell no! Take that gun out, right now!" My father simply removes his gun from the holster and saunters over to the door. My mom stands gaping momentarily until she blinks out of her stupor and stomps her foot down. "God dammit, Charlie!"

"You-a going straight-a to hell, Renee-a!" Nonna chimes over her shoulder on the way to the kitchen. "No-a one goes-a to heaven with-a a mouth-a like-a that!"

This has been mom's and Nonna's relationship for as long as I can remember. Back and forth, bickering and random hell banishments are regular occurrences at the Swan residence. I would call it dysfunctional, but I'm afraid I don't even have a volume control myself.

It all started sometime after I was born when Nonna encouraged my mother to have another baby and she refused. Nonna could never forgive my mother for not providing her with more grandchildren. Once I overheard them fighting because Nonna was poking holes in condoms or something like that.

"Leave the Cullens alone, both of you!" Mom's yelling has now reached eardrum-piercing octaves.

I've never seen her so panicked before. It's kind of ridiculous. I mean, does she really think my dad will hurt Mr. Cullen? I doubt it.

"Renee, I'm just going to talk," Dad says, all of a sudden seeming sincere and calm.

Mom is unconvinced.

"Put the gun away. You're scaring Bella," Mom lies. I'm not scared at all, and she damn well knows that.

Dad sighs. "That girl is fearless." He looks back at me and winks. "She can come with me if you don't believe me. Everything will be fine."

Mom purses her lips as if she's considering it. "Well …"

"No," I say, at the same time Nonna dances in, smelling of marinara and oregano.

"Yes!" she yells over me.

She rushes to my side and pulls me from the couch. "Bella will-a be-a your a-a-a-a—"

"Mediator," Mom finishes, looking annoyed with Nonna's English.

I frown. "Why do I have to play peacemaker?"

Dad grins. Mom shrugs. Nonna turns and struts out of the room as quickly as she entered.

"You don't have to," Mom whispers, still seeming reluctant.

Dammit!

"Ugh, fine." I stand to wait for further instructions while my mother and father share a look. They have some strange silent conversation with their eyes before turning to me.

"Okay. Go on. Talk." She sends Dad a warning glare.

My father's mustache twitches with his attempt not to smirk. He leans forward to kiss her cheek before turning to me. "All right, Bambina. You're going to mediate."

My mom kisses my cheek on the way out the door and sends my father a final warning glare. I trail after him; downstairs and out the door until we're face to face with apartment A. Dad briefly looks at me before he raises his fist and gives it three hard knocks. We wait patiently for Mr. Cullen to answer.

"He's probably rich," I say once the thought enters my head.

Dad frowns. "I can't see why he's living in a four family flat if he's rich."

"True. But have you checked out his ride?"

Dad grins at my choice of words. "Oh, yes. I have."

The door flies open and I step back when Mr. Cullen appears, dressed in pinstriped pajamas. Go figure. He's definitely rich. "You must be Mr. Swan," Mr. Cullen says, holding out his hand. "My wife met your family when you moved in. I'm Carlisle."

Dad ignores the hand in front of him. "Mr. Cullen, I think you owe my daughter an apology." Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. Please, God, no. "I don't have children, I have one child, and this girl is in bed by nine p.m. each night, on the dot."

That isn't true, at all. But I don't stop him. Charlie is on a roll. "We are Americans, born and bred. I am a cop, my wife is a school teacher, and my mother stays with us full time." He looks so vicious. Where did all this anger come from? "Whatever noises you claim to be hearing in this colorful letter you've written me, I'm afraid, are not coming from us, Mr. Cullen."

I wipe away the sweat beading on my forehead. Ooh boy.

Mr. Cullen is momentarily speechless. He takes one glance at me before cutting his eyes back to my father, straightening his shoulders. "Mr. … ?"

"Swan," Dad replied through clenched teeth.

Damn. He's pissed.

"Swan," he finishes in a low sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to step on your toes. My name is Carlisle, and me, just like you, am a very busy man. But since you've moved into the apartment upstairs, my family has been in a constant state of distress." A bullet through the heart would have hurt Charlie Swan less. "You are loud and disruptive, and I'm sure anyone else in this building could vouch for that."

Dad's eyes have gone wider than quarters. "Me?" Oh, shit! I scan around rapidly, searching for something to distract him. Maybe I could trip and fall? No, I always trip. He wouldn't even notice. "No, the only disruptive person here is you. And while we're on the topic of respect, I should make something else clear. I have been living here for weeks, this"—he points behind us, to the lot across the street—"is my parking spot. Not yours. Yours has been here"—he points to the empty spot in front of us—"since I've been here."

Mr. Cullen crosses his arms. "I see we're at an impasse."

Dad growls. "You mean to tell me you've been parking in my spot on purpose this whole time?"

Mr. Cullen doesn't answer. "You should take a look around. You realize you're not the only one in this building, don't you?"

As they're arguing, my eyes slide over Mr. Cullen's shoulders.

I notice that a boy is standing only a few feet behind him. Unlike Mr. Cullen, he is tall, his silhouette towering over him. It's strange I haven't noticed him sooner. His reddish brown hair glows in the soft lamplight, casting a shadow on the side of his face. My eyes scan his face and find that he's free of impurities, unlike most boys my age.

My eyes skirt down his form and back up, pausing on his face. I realize that his eyes are focused on mine and I turn to stone, feeling embarrassed at being caught gawking.

I'm so weird.

"I told you I have one child, my mother is not …" I can faintly hear my father cursing Mr. Cullen, but I do not dare remove my eyes from those gazing back at me. It seems like a sin to look away. His eyes move away from mine for only a fraction of a second to my father, and back to mine.

Mr. Cullen's voice rises. "And why would I move my car for someone who refuses to acknowledge his family is rowdy and disruptive? Come on now, Mr. Swan."

"Do I look like a dog to you?" Dad asks.

Mr. Cullen frowns. "No."

"Then don't tell me to come on," he sneers back.

The boy struggles not to laugh, visibly fighting a smile at my father's comment. I can feel my own smile growing at the sight of his, regardless of whatever is making him do it. There is something so infectious about watching other people smile, especially when it's slow and honest like this.

His eyes drop to the ground as if he's grown sheepish. His hair covers his eyes with this movement and my smile falters.

"My son is an honor student. He needs his rest." At this, the boy's head snaps up, his eyes going right to his father. His face turns beet red and his eyes incredulous. His eyes flit to me.

Dad groans. "I'm not stopping your son from sleep—"

"I'm afraid you are, Mr. Swan. Perhaps you are going deaf."

I widen my eyes. That's it. This is where Charlie is going to draw the line and pull out his fist.

"Dad," I whisper, tugging on the sleeve of his tee to get his attention. His face cuts in my direction, and I can tell by the dark look in his eyes that he's going to lose it any minute.

"Can we go home now?" At my whisper, his expression softens. He nods slowly, as if a switch flipped, and turns to Mr. Cullen.

"Fuck off, Cullen." He spins around and starts walking back to the apartment. I give the boy a fleeting glance as I turn to trail after him.

Dad stops as we reach our door, pointing his finger over my shoulder. "Don't ever talk to that man, you understand me? Never, Bella. Ever. Don't talk to his wife, or his kids. Don't even look at them. Are we clear?"

I do understand him, loud and clear, but that doesn't do much for the unavoidable sinking sensation in my stomach. "Uh…"

"Bella," Dad repeats, waving his hand in front of my face. "Understand? Promise me you won't ever talk to the Cullens. If they're gonna act like snobs, I don't want you hanging around them."

I look back at my father and nod slowly, surely. "Okay … I won't talk to them. I promise."

.

.

.

Monday morning I sit alone on the bus, clutching my book bag to my chest as I wait for it to pull away. I usually share a seat with Alice, the girl who lives in apartment C, but she is out sick. She asked me to collect her homework for her in case she isn't feeling better by tomorrow.

I tap my fingers along my chair, growing impatient with the bus driver. I've been here for two minutes and we're usually gone, pulled off by now.

I feel the hairs on my nape rise as I peer out the window and see a boy running toward us, the same one who was watching me the other night. He hops onto the bus, winded and breathless, his hair wild. I tense as he scans all the open seats available for his taking. There must be at lease twenty of them until he reaches mine. An irritatingly beautiful smile spreads across his face when he looks at me.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asks, and I wish he didn't speak to me. It's not fair.

I can't answer, so I simply nod and glance out the window.

Damn you, Alice.

The boy sits next to me, and every part of me becomes aware of his presence. It's irritating how much I notice his every move as the bus finally pulls away from the curb.

"Hi." I hear, but I don't turn. I squeeze my eyes closed. "I'm Edward. You just moved here, right?"

I can't answer, so I nod again and press my lips together to prevent further temptation from rising. I can't resist the powerful urge to slide my eyes over to his, feeling sick when I see his in the daylight for the first time. His sparkling emeralds really are as brilliant and green in the sunlight as they are at night.

"What is it?" he asks, seeming insecure while reaching around his head to fix his hair. "Do I have something on me?"

I can't…

I shake my head.

Edward drops his arm and nods. His eyes grow small. "I didn't catch your name?"

Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Don't talk to him, Bella. You promised.

I promised I wouldn't talk to the Cullens.

An idea suddenly occurs to me, one that wouldn't exactly entail breaking my father's promise. I told Dad I wouldn't speak to them. Not that I would avoid communicating altogether.

Bringing my lower lip into my mouth, I take a deep breath and search around until my eyes fall on my bag. This is such a bad idea, but I can't ignore him any longer. I quickly unzip it and produce my notebook, flipping it around and use my pen to point to the name scribbled on the back.

"Isabella?" Edward murmurs, lifting his eyes to mine. I nod and he smiles.

I shrug. I give him a tight-lipped smile. Can't help it. I want to smile but I don't. I don't want him to think it is okay for us to be friends because it's not.

It's so not okay.

"Why won't you talk to me?" His eyebrows are pulled together. He looks so confused and hurt. I hate the feeling it creates in my gut because it almost pushes me into breaking my promise.

Almost.

I quickly form an idea in my head, one I'm stupidly comfortable with.

I open my notebook and rip out a sheet of paper to scribble something down. I pass it to him, allowing him a few minutes to read.

I'm sorry I'm being so rude, but I promised my dad I wouldn't talk to the Cullens. I know, it's stupid, but I promised. I'm not saying this to be rude, but you should probably sit somewhere else so we don't cause any trouble.

Edward stays expressionless for the longest time before turning to me, flashing me a small, sad smile.

"You know, it stills counts as talking to me when you write out a note. So, technically, you've already broken your dad's promise. Semantics."

I roll my eyes and take the paper from his hands and scribble down something else.

Semantics, shmantics. If you want to communicate with me, this is it. Understood?

I sound just like my dad and I hate it, but I know this is the only way I can keep a clear conscience. For now.

Edward doesn't consider my words for long before he's shaking his head vehemently in agreement. "Okay. This works too."

Oh God. What have I done?

Tuesday morning is just the same as Monday: Alice is gone, so Edward sits beside me on the bus. At one point, he leans in to whisper one of the worst pickup lines I've ever heard.

"Can I follow you home today?"

I furrow my brows, thinking he's gone insane. Because, uh, we live in the same apartment complex.

Edward sits back and sighs out, "Because my parents always told me to follow my dreams."

I cover my face with my hands and roll my eyes, giggling. Can't help it. I can't even feel bad about it because I love the expression he makes when I'm recovering from my laughter.

"You laugh like a hyena," he remarks. I hit him with the notebook. He laughs as I write out my response.

You look like a hyena, I lie.

He grins. "Thanks. That's pretty awesome. Hyenas are badass."

I roll my eyes.

Wednesday morning, I put headphones in my ears so I can pretend Edward Cullen doesn't exist. I figure if I can't hear him, I don't have to talk to him. It doesn't help that I totally want him to talk to me, but I'm making an effort at least.

Don't catch the feels, Bella.

Don't. Do. It.

I hold my notebook tight to me, ready to swat them off if they come my way. Fuck feelings.

Edward hops on the bus and walks to the back where I sit, plopping down next to me without even asking. He looks at me and reaches over to remove my left earbud. I open my mouth to protest, but then slam it closed once I realize he's almost made me speak.

He grins and slips it into his right ear. We listen to The Raveonettes and don't speak a word to one another. We make eye contact five times before I force myself to look away before we reach school.

Damn it.

Friday, Alice is back, but she insists that she doesn't have to sit by me when Edward starts chattering at me from the seat behind us. I don't want to be rude and make her move. I like Alice and consider her to be one of my best friends here, but she doesn't seem to mind and neither does Edward.

I glower at him as he sits and Alice moves next to Jasper, the boy in apartment D, who she's considered annoying since they were kids. When they start talking, I turn to Edward and open my book bag.

We can't be friends, I write in the notebook.

He pretends he didn't read it.

"What are you doing for break this year?" he asks as we're nearing the school. "Summer is right around the corner."

I sigh. I open my mouth. Edward's eyes widen, eager to hear me talk. And then I remember the pen in my hand.

Probably looking for work, I write with a shrug. Not much else to do.

He slinks back in his seat, his lips falling in disappointment. "You know, one of these days, I'm going to make you talk to me."

I roll my eyes.

What are your plans? I ask instead.

Edward sighs and puffs his cheeks out as he thinks. "Hmm … well, we Cullens have very busy schedules. My brother will be spending most of the summer at med camp. Thank God I'm not doing that, right?" I nod, agreeing. I might miss him. I did not just think that. "Well, I'll be volunteering. And working. Have you been swimming around here?"

I shake my head no.

"There are some great spots. I'll have to show you sometime." My heart quickens. "Other than that, I can't think of much else. Besides trying to get you to talk, of course." He grins.

If only he knew how easy it might be. We've been talking less than a week and my resolve is slowly crumbling. I try to push him away and where does that get me? He only pushes harder, tries more, and in the end, I'm closer to him than ever. What will it take for him to stop?

.

.

.

I'm wide-awake and gazing up at the ceiling as my grandmother and mother argue over the music my mom is listening to. Nonna gets really passionate about her music. She listens to these soft Italian songs that most people can't understand the lyrics to. I know Italian from Nonna, but I never speak it unless it's absolutely necessary. My mom hates it, but she tolerates it for Nonna. However, Nonna refuses to tolerate my mother's 'devil music.'

"You-a the reason we-a in trouble!" Nonna shouts. "No one-a likes-a this-a music!"

The Rolling Stones is playing. Yeah, Nonna. No one likes this music.

I roll my eyes.

"Can it!" she shrieks in a shrill voice. Apparently, Nonna's words cut deep. My mom is pissed. "You're always yapping, that's why we're going to get kicked out!" The music gets louder and I widen my eyes. The whole building must hear it at this point. The sad thing is, my mom is only blaring it this loud to prove a point. Whatever that point is, I don't know, but I'm pretty sure she's just trying to piss off Nonna.

"Renee!" Dad screams. "Where are my jeans?"

My family is insane.

"Oh, cazzo!" I hold my face as I listen to Nonna go on a crazy Italian rant. It's something like: "Incompetent woman! She comes home and forgets about the most important thing. Bitch can't even do my son's laundry."

"Bella is trying to sleep, Helena!" I hear Mom yell.

I roll my eyes so hard at her comment.

There is no way I'm falling asleep.

I reach over to my nightstand to pick up my phone and log into Facebook. There I discover a friend request from none other than Edward Cullen, and I don't even think before my fingers flick over that little 'accept' button. Thankfully, no one in my family is computer savvy so they won't be seeing this anytime soon.

He messages me less than a minute later.

I like your crazy Italian family. Just so you know.

I smirk. Can't help it. Writing out my reply, I try to be quick so my dad doesn't see a light on in my room. I mean, I doubt he'd really care that I'm up, but he would definitely have a problem with me talking to boys at one in the morning.

We can't be friends, I reply.

He starts typing and stops abruptly. I wonder if this is it. This is what it took to make him leave. It makes sense ya know, since I've done nothing but push him away since the moment we met. Maybe he finally took the hint and moved on. A girl can dream.

A message appears one minute later.

I don't care. You're going to be my friend.

You're going to like me, whether you like it or not.

Oh, wow. Oookay. I can see he won't be making this any easier for me.

What if I don't want to be your friend, I reply.

He answers immediately.

Too bad. We're already besties and you don't even know it yet.

I roll my eyes as another message appears on the screen.

I'm going to make you talk to me, Bella Swan.

Taking a deep breath, I shut off my phone and set it on the dresser. I can't think of what I'm supposed to say to him. What would it be the point? He said it himself. We're going to be friends whether I like it or not.

No.

I flip on my stomach and groan into my pillow.

"Why?" I whisper.

Tucking the cover around me, I roll onto my side and wait for sleep to claim me. I'm seconds away from falling asleep when I hear my mother's scream echo through the house.

"Yes! Charlie, I found them. Told you I washed them!"

I make a last minute decision, grab my phone, and quickly compose a reply.

We'll see about that, Cullen.

I stop falling asleep during normal hours after that.

.

.

.

During our final weeks of the sophomore year, Edward does everything he can to try and get me to talk. He even resorts to name calling in an attempt to trick me into going off on him, which does nothing but make me laugh.

"Your shoes are hideous, butt munch," he tells me when he's walking by during lunch with a tray of food in his hands. His open flannel fans over my face as he intentionally brushes into me, pushing my chair and myself into the table. I can't tell if he's trying to make me laugh or insult me, but the latter is working out pretty well.

I sort of, accidentally, on purpose stick my hideous Nike out to make Edward trip and fall on his ass. Luckily for him, he has quick reflexes and catches himself and his food. He turns to glower in my direction and I bite back a giggle, trying so hard not to laugh at his darkening glare.

You don't scare me, my eyes say.

"Oh, it's on now." His playful grin makes it impossible for me to feel threatened. I hide my smile and turn away from him, wishing I could say something clever back.

"That was … interesting," Alice mutters when he's out of earshot. "I didn't know you guys were that close. I've never even seen you talk to him before."

Shrugging, I pick apart at the pizza on my tray. "I don't," I answer, and it's the truth.

I'm not lying.

I'm not.

I decide to walk home from school since I promised Nonna I would stop by the grocery store to pick up a few items. When I reach the house, I stop just outside of the Cullen's place. There I find an older girl from apartment D, Jasper's sister, I think. She's making out with another boy I haven't seen, and they're putting on quite a show for passing traffic.

I don't mean to linger for long, but the boy pulls away from the girl and stops me just as I'm about to head inside.

"You're Bella, right?" he asks, seeming genuinely curious. He holds his hand out to me. "Emmett, I'm Edward's brother."

I take a look at his hand, not reaching for it.

Emmett drops it and nods. "I know, you promised you wouldn't talk to us. Edward told me about that."

The girl whips her head around to me. "What the fuck?" She shakes her head. "That's stupid. What about me? Can you talk to me?" she asks.

I nod. Dropping my eyes to the ground, I tighten my arm around the grocery bag and sigh. "I'm trying to respect my father's wishes. I want to keep things on an even keel. I don't want our families to argue, so I figure I should stay out of the way and keep my mouth closed. Please don't think I'm trying to be rude. I just think it would be better if we weren't friends."

I glance back up to see Emmett is watching me thoughtfully, and his girlfriend is frowning. "Even Edward?" he asks. I nod slowly, grimacing to myself. "You know, you can't just ignore us. Our parents can fight all they want, but we aren't going to be able to just ignore each other."

The girl snorts. "Ya think? Ugh. This is so dumb; I think my brain is melting. You know, your father isn't the only one telling you to stay away."

"Rose," Emmett groans out.

My head shoots up and I cut my eyes to the girl, Rose. "What?" I demand, taking a step toward her. I've just gone into full threat mode in a split second.

Rose ignores Emmett's disapproving glare and nods. "Carlisle told Emmett and Edward not to talk to you guys either. But you don't see Edward going mute, do you?" Her words come out spiteful, like she's trying to take a jab at me, and it works. I feel fucking terrible.

I open my mouth to speak, but I couldn't come up with an appropriate response to that if I wanted to. I just don't get it … Edward was told to stay away from me? He intentionally went against his father's wishes and sought me out, spoke to, and befriended me. What the hell was he thinking?

I don't know what to say, but Rose doesn't give me any response time. She grabs Emmett's hand and pulls him to her apartment door without sparing me a second look, which is fine with me. I can't really move my feet anyway.

.

.

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Summer

.

.

.

It's two a.m., and I'm the world's best rule bender.

I promised my dad I wouldn't be up late, but I went to bed at ten and woke up at one a.m., so technically, I'm up early. My heart is pounding in my chest and Edward is holding my sweaty hand tightly so I don't accidentally trip on something and cause a ruckus. It's too dark to really see anything in his house so I'm placing all my trust in Edward as he leads the way, guiding me through his small but clean home. We pass a few doors, one of which I know is his parents and my heartbeat speeds.

"You act as if you've never snuck into someone's room before. You can hold your breath if it'll help you concentrate better, mouth breather," he whispers quietly. His laugh is shaky, so I know he's just as nervous as me. I scowl at him and he continues to laugh. "I'm kidding. My dad is a heavy sleeper."

That piece of information doesn't help the slightest to ease my anxiety. How are we going to watch a movie if I can't even walk into his room without quivering in fear? I take his advice and hold my breath until we come to a stop.

"We're here," he whispers, his warm breath fans over my neck unexpectedly. I blink as a light flicks on and Edward's face comes into view. Peering around, I see I'm in a closed off room, safe from disapproving parents. I scan my eyes until I spot a window directly across from me. My only exit. Edward chuckles, as if he can sense my thoughts. "Planning your escape route already? We won't get caught, Bella."

I glower at him. That's what he wants me to think.

He laughs. "What?"

I shake my head and sigh. Reaching into my back pocket, I retrieve a yellow notepad that I stole from Nonna earlier in the week. She has a million of these things floating around the house. I doubt she'll be missing this one, and I know I'll find it more useful than her. I'm not going to lie, a part of me is enjoying this no-talking thing entirely too much.

I pull out a pen.

You've done this before.

He reads it and pulls back, looking confused. "No. Never." I watch him for a minute, trying to detect whether or not he's telling me the truth. He seems sincere, but it's hard to say sometimes.

I bring the pen back down.

There is no way I am talking tonight, Cullen. Don't even try.

His grin is both devious and knowing. "I know. Tonight, we're letting the cinema speak, Swan."

I nod and pocket my notebook as he moves over to the flat screen positioned in the corner. I scan my eyes around his room, taking in how neat and orderly everything is. It isn't perfect. As a matter of fact, it seems like most of his things are shoved into places. For instance, there's a sock sticking out from under his bed, and a crinkled note peeking from a drawer in his desk.

I smile to myself. He even freaking cleaned for me. Well, he tried, anyway. It's a nice thought. It counts.

"Sit down. You're making me nervous. And I don't like being the weird one," Edward says. I roll my eyes and laugh quietly. I scan my eyes around the room once more before sauntering over to his bed. I remove my shoes and jacket, placing the jacket over his bed before positioning myself crisscross on the sinkable mattress.

If Nonna saw me right now, she would smack me with one of her overused spatulas. Please don't let Nonna see me, I think with crossed fingers.

Once Edward finally has the movie set up, he stands and straightens, stretching his arms and looking over his shoulder to check on me. I'm not sure what he sees when he peers back at me, but whatever it is makes his eyes momentarily widen. He turns back to the TV and shrugs. What a weirdo.

"I hope you like guns and violence," he mutters to the screen. I pull out my notepad and scribble my answer as he turns back around. "Because we're watching Pulp Fiction and it's this or Bambi. Unfortunately, my dad cuts off the internet at ten."

I rip the sheet of paper off and hand it to him.

I love PF. Now, where's your food?

P.S. Your dad is an Internet Nazi.

His answering grin is wide and dimply. I wiggle up the bed to get comfortable as he walks over to his dresser, pulls out a grocery store bag, and tosses it my way. Walking back over, he plops down beside me, and I can almost ignore the way he has to move a little closer to me before getting settled.

Almost.

Halfway through Pulp Fiction, a bag of Cheetos, and a can of Dr. Pepper, I don't even realize that we're laying parallel to one another. It just happened, but now that I realize it, it can't be unrealized. Our arms are touching and his fingers are inching toward mine. My skin is sizzling in places I'm not used to and the bed is moving with every breath he takes—or is it mine?—And I can't even focus on the movie anymore and I don't know why. We like each other, it isn't a big deal.

Panic shoots through me.

I'm on my feet the moment after the thought enters my brain, and I hate myself for being so weird and thinking he would … no. He doesn't like me like that. No. There's no way. The only reason he's even interested is because I refuse to talk to him, right?

Well, I'm going to solve this right now.

Spinning around, I jolt as my front brushes along a warm body. A strangled noise wells in my throat and escapes, and I throw my hand over my mouth to muffle it. Edward looks slighted by my reaction. His eyelids lower when I drop my hands to my side and finally open my mouth to speak.

"Edw—" I'm not exactly sure how these things go in real life. I've read about moments like these in books and movies, but I can't imagine a first kiss is supposed to go this way. I've never even heard of something like this.

Edward throws a hand over my mouth, and I think it's to shut me up, but his next move leads me to believe otherwise. His free hand moves to the back of my neck and keeps me trapped and still. His lips move to the fingers covering my mouth, not quite kissing me, but the backs of his fingers instead.

What. The. Hell.

A beat later, I decide the gesture is oddly intimate. I can feel his breath against my lips, seeping between fingertips. I'm looking at his hand, and he's looking at my face.

Then again, this is incomparable to anything I've felt before. The closest I've ever come to a kiss was in sixth grade, and I turned my head before Mike Newton could mouth-smooch me during Spin the Bottle.

Edward moves his lips away just before ours can touch, leaving me breathless and blinking as I try to process what he just did. I mean, really … What the hell was that?

His shuddering breath fades to a soft chuckle. He knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"I know that was … different." I nod. It was weird. "But were you really going to talk to me? Or were you going to make up some lame excuse about your dad finding out that you're gone?"

My eyes narrow to slits and the words come tumbling out before I can stop them. "Were you really going to kiss me?"

I have no regrets.

His jaw slacks, and I don't know why. I know he must've heard me speak before, so I can't fathom why he's so surprised. "Maybe." He drops his hands and shrugs, stepping back. "If I thought you were ready for it, yeah. I would've."

My eyes grow smaller. "What? And how would you know?"

The right corner of his lips lift in a sad half-smile. "Exactly." He touches his lips unthinkingly. Dropping his hands, he steps away from me with a shrug.

I'm not sure what to say. I know? I'm sorry? No, I can't just make excuses.

His eyes narrow. "Really?" His tone is dry.

My stomach sours. I take a step away from him, swallowing at the bitterness lingering in my throat.

"You're doing this again," he says flatly. I slowly pull my eyes from the carpet and risk looking up. As soon as I do, I drop my eyes back. He looks livid. Incredulous.

I'm an asshole.

"We can't—"

"Don't say we can't be friends." His voice turns sharp, cutting right through me. "That's bullshit and you know it." His jaw moves. I've never seen him so angry before. "You never kept a secret?"

"I'm not going to be a secret, Edward. I'm not lying."

His smile is emotionless. "You're already lying, Bella. Sorry to burst your bubble, but you already broke your stupid promise the minute you showed me your name."

I know he's right, but I don't give him the satisfaction of letting him know that. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he really got to me, in every sense of the word.

I don't know what to do. I want to leave. I want to bury my face in one of his stupid pillows and scream until I lose my voice. My face is turning red-hot and my eyes are stinging. I can feel his gaze on me, watching me. Waiting on me.

Muffling a shuddery breath in my hand, I blink away the tears and straighten my shoulders. I can feel Edward's eyes on me as I brush past him and lower myself down onto the bed. I cross my arms, because I'm stubborn, young, and stupid.

The longest five minutes of my life happen as Edward stands there, rubbing the blood from his cheeks and fisting his hair.

"You're going to drive me crazy, Bella." My look tells him what my mouth won't.

I know.

.

.

.

Nonna is standing over the stove holding a ladle in one hand and an old stained cookbook in the other. "Aye-i-i-a! Bella Bambina," she speaks to me in Italian. "You're making me so sad with those little-fallen eyes. Sit, sit and eat. I'll feed you."

I pull out a kitchen chair and tuck one leg under myself as she serves me a plateful of pasta. I stare at the plate as she piles on as many meatballs as it can handle. When she's done, she hands me a fork, but I'm not feeling it.

"Eat-a!" she yells as if screaming would encourage me further. I sigh and stab my fork through a meatball, popping it in my mouth to appease her.

Unsurprisingly, it's fucking amazing, so I pop another one in my mouth and chew. She grins. "You-a see? Nonna knows-a best!"

I manage a smile. "Thanks."

My mom comes into the kitchen, throwing a stack of papers down to grade and ignores my grandmother's disapproving look. "Helena, why do you cook like this every night?" Mom throws her thumb back to the pot of boiling sauce large enough to feed an army. "We have containers full of this stuff in the freezer."

If looks could kill, Nonna's eyes would be shooting daggers through Mom's skull as she turns around. "I-a cook-a for my-a Bella, Renee!"

"Oh no. No, don't throw me into this!" I shout, but it's too late. My mom is already pointing at me, comebacks shooting out of her mouth at a hundred miles per hour.

I roll my eyes so hard I think they're going to fall out of my skull and trail onto the floor. Now that would really give them something to fight about.

I pick up my plate of spaghetti and walk out of the kitchen with it. My dad is snoozing away on the recliner, not at all disturbed by the continued feud between his mother and mine. I slip out the front door quietly, plate in hand, and head down the stairs leading outside.

I freeze once there. The night air is still, but a breeze seems to pick up once I slide my eyes over and spot a guy who makes my heart stop, sitting on his stoop. He's gazing upward, looking serene as he watches the stars, his long lashes pointing toward the sky.

I inch my foot toward him before pulling it back.

"There's a meteor shower tonight," he tells me as an explanation, never removing his eyes from the sky. My chest tightens, and I remind myself to breathe.

I walk over to his side and plop down on the steps wordlessly. He doesn't move his eyes once, even as I cross my legs to get comfortable. I set my plate there and pick my fork up and spin it around, watching the pasta collect and wondering how so many are able to stick to one piece of cutlery. It's incredible.

"I'm sorry I'm such a shitty person," I whisper, and I know he's finally looking at me because I can feel the heat from his gaze flooding through my cheeks. "You were right. I was stupid, and I don't know why I thought I could go on not talking to you for so long."

A minute passes.

And another.

And another, until my anxiety has had about enough of this shit.

I slide my eyes over to him and see he's deep in thought, a V-shape forming on his forehead. "So, does this mean you're going to talk to me now?"

I breathe in the cool nighttime air and sigh to myself, relaxing my shoulders. "I don't like lying to my dad." He rolls his eyes. "It would be better if we weren't friends."

Edward nods and the hurt crossing his face causes my chest to tighten. "So it's going to be like that," he says flatly, bitterly.

I shake my head. "I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be." He looks at me, but he sounds like he's already given up hope. That thought makes me sad. "But I can't stay away from you. It's impossible."

In a split second, he's back to grinning. "I knew you couldn't resist me."

"Yeah." I roll my eyes. "That's it."

He takes my hand and it feels right, I feel at home. "I know. We're neighbors. We can't just pretend we don't exist."

I nod slowly, gazing down at our entwined hands. "Exactly. So, it's like that." I hold my plate to his nose. "You want some meatballs?"

We share my food and watch the meteor shower together. Our fingers are intertwined the whole time and conversation is flowing freely between us, but I don't let myself feel sorry for it. I missed him too much. As Edward says, that's just how it's gonna be.

.

.

.

Autumn

.

.

.

One day, after my seventeenth birthday, Mr. Cullen opens the floodgates to hell.

Alice and I are sitting on the stoop in front of my house drawing Sharpie tattoos on each other's arms out of boredom. Jasper and Edward are also outside, tossing a whiffle ball back and forth. I'm blowing on my tatts and gawking at Edward's ever-growing arm muscles. It isn't fair that a boy can gain so much muscle weight and look so damn hot at the same time. Ugh. I did not just think that.

"Jasper doesn't have glasses anymore," Alice murmurs. I notice for the first time that she's staring at them, or more importantly, Jasper.

"Contacts," I murmur as an explanation. What were we talking about?

"Oh," Alice whispers. We stare shamelessly.

Apartment B's door opens and out steps Mr. Cullen. He scans the yard for his son and nods, then flits his eyes to the parking lot. I do too.

Oh no.

I notice my dad has parked in Mr. Cullen's—well, his—spot. I don't know why that spot is so important to Mr. Cullen, but I can tell he's going to blow up any minute. I squint my eyes toward the car, Mr. Cullen's, and see that it's covered in eggshells.

Mr. Cullen breathes slowly. "I would like to speak with your father, Bella," he says calmly.

Fuckkk.

Edward stops throwing the ball and looks my way, confusion etched on his face. "What's going on?" he mouths. I nod my head toward the parking lot.

I quickly turn around and dart up the stairs, ready to get the keys and move the car before my father can notice. Unfortunately, he's already waiting by the door, keys in hand.

I frown. "Did you know he wanted to talk to you?"

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows. "What?"

It is so hard not rolling my eyes sometimes. "You know that's not true, Dad."

"What-a?" Nonna asks, appearing in the doorway. "What-a now?!"

I shake my head and follow Dad downstairs, only for Nonna to follow, too. We stop once we're outside, and I freeze when I see Mr. Cullen inspecting his car, his face the same shade as my grandmother's famous marinara sauce.

His head snaps up, his eyes going right to my fathers. "Swan!" he shouts, pointing to his car. "Did you do this?"

"Jesus," Nonna whispers, doing the sign of the cross. "This-a man. Now, he-a about-a nuttier than a Payroll-a."

I hide my grin in my shirt. Sometimes Nonna just gets it.

"What the hell is going on?" My mom comes out just as Dad starts storming in Mr. Cullen's direction. "Why is he—oh, no."

"You did this!" Mr. Cullen shouts in Dad's face, beet red and angry as all hell.

I freeze in fear as Dad stops, watching him with incredulity etched across his face. He looks at Mr. Cullen like he's lost his damn mind, and maybe he has. For someone who's all about respect, Mr. Cullen sure seems to be lacking it when it comes to my father.

I flit my eyes across the street, wondering if Edward is watching this too. I see him and Jasper are still standing across the street, the bat and ball laying in the grass between them, watching the scene with a similar expression to what I have.

I turn back to my father, my breathing quickening when I find my dad shouting in his face. "You have the nerve to accuse me of this shit?" Dad switches to Italian. "Childish! I'm so done with your childish bullshit, Cullen!"

"English, motherfu—"

I cut my eyes to Edward, silently pleading with him.

Do something, I beg quietly. Stop them.

I look back and gasp as Mr. Cullen pins Dad against his car. I can't hear anything they're saying, but it doesn't matter. All hell has officially broken loose. I can see it before it happens: he's going to snap and punch Mr. Cullen into the ground unless something stops him.

"Charlie!" Renee shouts, and Nonna has her cane ready in the air like she's going to kick some ass with that thing.

I flit my eyes back to Edward, now in full panic mode. He's still and statuesque, watching our parents fight. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes are drawn to mine immediately, giving me the same pleading look I was giving him a second ago.

"Distract them," I mouth to him. He looks back to them, panic written across his face, but does nothing to stop the fight from happening. In a way, I understand. I mean, it's not as if he could take my dad. They're about the same height, but my dad has another hundred pounds on him. At least.

My dad now has Mr. Cullen on the ground. They're rolling around, fists flying. Nonna is waddling over to them, waving her cane and spewing Italian. My mom is already standing beside them, screaming for them to stop fighting, and Alice is giving me a look that says they're all fucking crazy.

When Dad clashes his knuckles into Mr. Cullen's cheek, my limbs finally break free, and I step off the porch and scan my eyes around, desperately looking for something that would get their attention. A line of cars is heading down the street, and if I run now, I can make it just in time…

No, Bella, that's insane.

I stop listening to my head and dodge right into oncoming traffic. There are four lanes of cars, all of them blaring their horns as I walk into the middle. The last lane is an eighteen-wheeler, and I'm really pushing it on this one. "Bella!" I hear my mother's terrified cry.

I'm sorry, Mom, I think to myself.

I cross the eighteen-wheeler in what feels like a split second. My feet fly over the street and my heart hammers and bursts in my chest. I keep running until I'm to the grass, and I collide into Edward. His eyes are wide and horrified, disbelieving, as if he can't believe I'm alive.

"What—" he begins, but I don't allow him enough time to finish what he's saying.

I clasp my hands around the collar of his baseball tee and drag him down to my level, pushing myself onto my tippy toes to crash my lips against his.

What I'm doing, I do not know. But it's working. For me, anyway.

Edward muffles a sound against my lips, but doesn't dare break the kiss. I've made it impossible with my tight grip on his shirt. I unlock my fingers from the material and lower my feet back to the ground, waiting for him to pull away. Since, ya know, that's the sane thing to do. The thing he should do if he wants to live.

However, Edward has other ideas, and those include wrapping one hand around the back of my neck and holding me there as his lips do their own thing against mine. It's exactly what a first kiss should be like. Minus the risking your life part.

"Dude," I hear Jasper mutter. "You can stop kissing now. They stopped fighting and Mr. Swan is looking. I would like to see my friend alive."

Edward finally pulls back, panting. I pant too. My heart is racing uncontrollably. His breath is washing over my face, but it's all good. It smells all orangey and citrusy and tastes delicious. Did he have an orange today? Ugh, not what I need to be thinking.

Edward doesn't seem at all fazed by my parents watching. He's gazing down at me, a smile curving the corners of his lips. "What the hell was that about, Bella?"

I clear my throat. "I—uh—I was trying to distract them."

His eyebrows rise into his hairline. "So, you stopped traffic and fucking kiss me?"

I think for a minute, but I can't think when I'm all flustered like this, so I nod. "Uh, yeah. I did. Yep."

His eyes move over my shoulder and he swallows thickly. "I hope it was worth it, then." I turn my head, following my eyes across the street, to where our parents, and Nonna and Alice, stand watching us with gaping mouths. My mom seems confused, my dad blinks several times as if he can't believe it, and Mr. Cullen looks baffled.

"It was," I whisper as he pushes his fingers through mine.

"So, you'd want to do it again?" I suppress a grin. Typical boy.

"Maybe when our parents aren't around," I whisper. I see him nod in my periphery. "Do you want to …?"

"Kiss you again, or walk over there where our parents are looking at us like we're aliens?"

I grin. "The last one."

He sighs. "Not really, but whatever. What do we tell them?"

I shrug. "The truth?"

He seems reluctant. "Fine, but only because you're such a goody-goody and your parents probably wouldn't believe you even if you did lie to them." I narrow my eyes. He grins, nudging me with his shoulder. "But you're so cute, you know?"

We cross the street hand-in-hand to where our parents stand waiting with crossed arms and disapproving looks. And I don't care, not really. Nothing is keeping me from him anymore.

.

.

.

Sometime Later…

.

.

.

"She-a looks-a so cute-a!" Nonna croons, clutching her chest as she stares. My mom is, surprisingly, hugging onto Nonna's shoulders with a grin on her face. Nonna kisses her cheek, and I smile at the sight. I haven't seen them get along this well in … well, ever. I've never seen them get along. We all stop smiling when Nonna picks up Aubree. "Now-a, to-a the bap-a-tismal!"

Nonna really wanted that other damn grandbaby.

And she got it. Just a little later than she wanted, but she got it.

The sight of my mom holding my little sister is one for sore eyes. At forty, she's glowing, smiling down at the little bundle of crying, pterodactyl-like baby I know she was born for this. It's sweet, but much sweeter when earplugs are involved.

Aubree wasn't planned, but it wasn't planned by Nonna either if you know what I mean. My mother thought she was going through menopause when—wah-bam! This thing showed up and changed everything.

"Nonna, no," I whisper softly. "They just had the baby. We just got home like, two seconds ago. She can't go get baptized yet."

Nonna waves me off and passes the baby to my mother. "You-a have-a a baby?" she asks me. I frown and shake my head no. "Then we can-a talk."

Mom smiles. "Bella wants to finish college first, right, Aubree?" she asks in a ridiculous voice.

I swallow thickly and nod when really I want to go hide out with Dad in the living room and watch football, because that's how terrible this conversation sounds to me. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against babies, but Edward and I just started having sex, like, a year ago. We are not ready to have a kid yet. I mean, isn't that what people do when they're ready to stop having sex altogether?

"Yeah," I whisper faintly. "Totally," I lie.

There's a soft knock on the door and we look up simultaneously. My dad stands by the door, looking considerably energized for a parent of an infant. His hair is all combed and he's in fresh, unstained clothes. Either he's putting up this mask to fool me, or he's got this baby thing down pat, because he looks great.

"The Cullens are here," he informs us.

I jump up, eager to see them, or maybe just one of them in particular. Even if I live with him; I sleep, eat, and basically breathe with him, it's hard going a few hours without him. He's my best friend, and my fucking soul mate, whether I like it or not.

I follow Dad into the living room and smile at Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.

Mr. Cullen, or Carlisle, as he insists I call him—whatever, he's Mr. Cullen to me, always—still complains about the noise. But usually, he does it face to face and brings a pack of beer with him for him and my dad to share. It doesn't always turn out so great, but they get along somewhat-ish. They have their moments.

Carlisle greets me with an awkward one-armed shoulder squeeze and asks me how I'm doing before Edward's mother steals me away, kissing my cheeks and pulling back to look at me in her usual fashion. "We miss you," Esme says. "How is Arizona treating you? College? My son? Have you seen all the freckles on my boy?" she points over her shoulder, at my boy.

Edward is standing behind his mother with his hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

"Arizona is good," I answer Esme. "College is … meh." College is what keeps my anxiety alive, but that's another discussion for never.

"You're looking good, considering," Carlisle tells my father, who stares Carlisle down in response.

"I'm looking better than you on your good days, old man," he mutters. I roll my eyes at their banter as my mom enters the room to steal Esme away before she can hound me with more questions. I don't mind, because as soon as they're out of the room I can weasel my way into Edward's arms. He hugs me tightly and presses a tender kiss against my neck.

"Dude," he breathes. "You smell like puke. Gross."

"You … look like puke," I say lamely. I still haven't gotten any better at this comeback thing.

He grins. "Yeah, well, you like making out with someone who looks like puke, so looks like we have similar tastes." I crinkle my nose in disgust. He hasn't changed at all since high school. At all. I mean, he's definitely gained some weight and has more facial hair, but that's about it.

I go into the kitchen to help Nonna set the table, which proves to be a bad idea when she starts spouting nonsense about great grandbabies that just aren't going to happen anytime soon.

"Soon-a, though-a, right?" Nonna asks lover boy, who smiles tightly.

"Right." Edward chuckles, but then he looks to me, terrified.

We are made for each other.

Fifteen minutes later, Nonna not-so-discreetly seats Edward and me right by Aubree, as if we're going to be lured into parenthood by her magical cuteness. It's easy to get sucked it, I get it, my ovaries get it, but as soon as Aubree unleashes her pterodactyl cry on us, I jump back to square one and shake my head.

No. Just no.

"Mom," Dad says, shaking his head. "Bella doesn't need a baby right now. Maybe in ten years."

"Ten?" Edward and his father say at the same time. Our heads all turn in different directions at the same time. I turn to Edward, wondering when the hell he thinks it's gonna happen. Carlisle looks at Charlie like he's gone mad, but not in the way I'm looking at Edward at all.

"She's twenty-two," Dad says. "She's got some time to have children."

"I agree," Carlisle bites out. "Maybe not ten years, but sure. I agree with you there."

I palm my cheek. "Are they seriously fighting over our potential nonexistent child?"

Edward takes a drink of beer and nods. "Yep."

My mom smiles. "Welcome home, kids."

"I'm not fighting," Carlisle disagrees. "I just think ten years …"

"What?" Charlie asks, widening his arms. "You think they should have a baby now? Let them live their lives. They're not even married, for cripes sake!"

"About that—" Edward begins, but Carlisle talks over them.

"Oh, and you were?" He points to me. "Doesn't look like it to me."

Nonna nods vehemently in agreement. She's definitely taking Carlisle's side on this one. I steal a drink of Edward's beer, watching them go back and forth as if it's a tennis match. It's just like old times, only there's a baby here with a prehistoric animal cry to give the argument more thunder.

"Stop!" Edward cuts everyone off, standing abruptly. Even Aubree stops crying to hear what he has to say.

"Baby, what's wrong?" I ask, reaching out to rub his shoulder. I know he doesn't like them fighting, but most of the time it's entertaining to him, not so much that he has to pause his meal to put an end to it.

Edward's face softens when he looks down at me. "Nothing, babe. I just wanted to say something before people start throwing fists." He clears his throat and turns around, only for a second, before sitting back down. "Emmett told me to record this."

Huh?

He sets his phone down so it's facing us before turning to me. He looks so fucking nervous and excited, I don't know whether to shudder with fear or check him into the nearest hospital. My family really must be rubbing off on him.

"Uh, what?" I ask.

He smiles widely before taking my hand. "Bella Swan—"

"He's proposing," Nonna whisper-screams to my mother, who looks like she clearly already knows what's going on. She's grinning widely and—wait … what!

"You're proposing?!" I shout, turning back to Edward, who has gone back into sheepish mode. "I mean … go on," I encourage in a whisper, but inside my heart feels like its exploding emotions in my chest.

Edward smiles softly, even if Nonna and I ruined his little proposal. He expected this.

"Go on," I whisper once more.

He chuckles. "Fine. I wrote a damn speech for this, so you'd better listen up. All of you, shut your mouths." He shoots the table a glare, especially Nonna, who simply pretends he isn't there. He turns back to me and picks up my hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. "Bella, for a long time I couldn't get you to speak to me. I spent day in and day out wondering what I had to do to get you on my side."

I smile sadly at him, my heart aching as I remember the days I refused to talk to him. I still beat myself up over it. When I told my dad that I didn't talk to the Cullens, he'd already gotten past the shock of our kiss and moved on to wondering when we started becoming friends.

"Why didn't you tell me, Bambina? I'm no fool. I know you can't spend forever avoiding your neighbors—look at me. I nearly choked Mr. Cullen today!"

"I didn't want you to fight …" I trailed off in a whisper. "Especially because of Edward and me."

Dad shook his head. "You can't try to fix something that isn't yours to fix, Bella. What happened between Mr. Cullen and me was our business; you shouldn't have been with me in the first place."

"Maybe you didn't see it then, but I did, when you were standing in my doorway," Edward continues speaking to me like we're the only two people in the room, and it feels that way. "Even then, I knew you were all I needed, and you still are. Bella Swan, I love you. Will you marry me?"

I smile until my cheeks burn. "Yes."

"Yes?" he asks as if he thought I would really say no. Seriously? Come on. "Yes!" He pumps his fist in the air. He walks around Aubree and sweeps me into his arms, grinning so wide that our teeth nearly clash when he kisses me.

"Where's the ring?" my father asks.

"Will you shut your damn mouth and let them have this moment," Carlisle retorts.

"Ridiculous!" Nonna shouts. "The both of you-a, shush!"

We are not a perfect family, far, far from perfect in fact. So imperfect that I believed Edward and I had a doomed relationship that would sure result in tragedy, and I did everything I could to prevent that from happening. One day, I took a risk in hopes that our fathers would stop fighting, and it didn't exactly work, but I didn't stop trying.

Love makes it impossible like that.