A/N: Thank you for your lovely responses to Chapter 2. Thanks also to TruceOver for her formidable beta magic.
This chapter picks up right where Chapters 1 and 2 left off, moving forward from there. Beginning with this chapter, most of the rest of the story will be from Jasper's POV.
Rated M for M/M slash.
December 23
Someone rattles the locked bathroom door, then pounds on it. "Just a fucking minute!" I yell, angry to have such an intense moment interrupted.
Edward pulls away from me, then runs his fingers through his hair before turning back to the sink to splash more water on his reddened eyes.
I put one hand on his back, but he turns away from the mirror and steps out of reach. "I'll just open this, shall I?" he says as he moves toward the door.
I feel like my head will explode from the volley of contradictory responses that I have to his statement. In the end, I go with a simple "No," as I push him against the door and kiss him again. Hard. He doesn't protest.
Our arms tangle together as we reach around each other's body to reignite the delirious intensity that we were feeling a moment ago. This time it's his hips that are pushing into mine, his whimpers that are challenging my resolve to respect him – and myself. I kiss and lick along his chin, smiling as I recall my initial reaction to seeing him at the mall, then pausing at his ear to tell him in a low voice, "Edward, I want you so much," before adding more kisses to his neck.
But then something changes. The whimpers begin to sound like sobs. I feel my lust drain away as I look at his face. "Edward," I say, slowly and carefully, delivering words that are difficult for me to say, and maybe even harder for him to hear, "I know you miss him, but do you really think he would have wanted you to bury yourself when you buried him? To never be with someone again?"
I almost say, "To never know love again," but it's not love we're talking about here. It's heat and desire, and he's entitled to it just as much as I am.
He puts his hands on my chest but doesn't push me away. It's more like a surrender, his long, beautiful fingers brushing against my chest, telling me that yes, he knows, but his palms press gently, telling me that he's not quite there yet. I cover his hands with mine, then reach up to caress his face. "It's okay, Edward. Maybe we should go, huh?"
He nods.
"We can go out through the kitchen if you want."
He nods again, looking relieved. I call Alice and ask her to bring our coats.
We unlock the door and step out into the short hallway that leads back to the kitchen, sidestepping waiters with trays of food and disgruntled guys waiting for access to the rest room. I can hear music coming from the tiny stage that we had occupied only a few short minutes ago.
"It's about fucking time," mutters someone under his breath, but still loud enough for me to hear. I feel like slapping him, but I don't want to cause any more trouble for Edward than I already have. I see Alice coming toward us carrying our coats, with a bewildered look on her face.
"Thanks, Alice," I say. "You're a lifesaver."
"I thought we were gonna hang out tonight," she begins as I help Edward into his coat. Then she takes a closer look at him. "Oh."
I lean down and kiss her cheek. "Would you tell James and Riley that I had to go? And tell the elf freak that I'm glad you guys came tonight. I'll call you soon."
"You'd better call! Bye, Edward. It was nice meeting you," she says. "Oh, by the way, I put your phone in your coat pocket."
"Thanks, Alice. Merry Christmas."
Edward calls his driver as we walk through the busy kitchen. I don't know if Kate would approve, but I don't care; I just want to get Edward out of there. I don't want him to suffer any longer just because he did something nice by coming here.
As we wait for the car, I find myself wondering if this is something he has to deal with all the time. But then, I reflect, he's never been the kind of guy to go out partying very much. In fact, for all his celebrity, he's not that visible of a public figure, except during his performances. Which may be one reason why I didn't recognize him at the mall. Once I understood who Seth was, though, I recalled seeing more photos of him than I ever saw of Edward. Seth was always very much in the public eye, doing what he did so well, which was promoting Edward Cullen. And promoting himself too, I think, remembering some of his more flamboyant escapades...
We step outside, and find ourselves in a winter wonderland. Huge snowflakes are drifting down and there's already an accumulation of several inches on the sidewalk. The surface of the street is invisible, completely covered with snow. Only a few cars have passed this way, the tire tracks rapidly filling with new snow. The sounds of the city seem distant as we watch the blanket of white fall around us.
"The car's here," Edward says, interrupting my thoughts. "Can we drop you somewhere?" he asks politely, pausing to give me room to make a run for it, I guess. "Or would you care to join me for a drink back at the guest house?"
"I'd like that very much," I reply with a big grin on my face. I'm pleased to see him smile in return.
This time I get to sit in the back seat with Edward. I hold out my hand and I'm happy when he takes it, loving the way he strokes my palm, making soft circles with his thumb. We're quiet on the short ride back to the guest house where he's staying. As we pull up to the entrance, Edward gives instructions to the driver and says good night.
We slip and slide our way through the gate and up the unshoveled sidewalk and steps, still holding hands and helping each other maintain balance. I wonder if this is the beginning of the blizzard that has been forecast.
Even though it's not even midnight yet, no one is awake to greet us, for which I am very grateful. He leads me upstairs and into the sitting room of a huge suite. No sooner has he closed the door behind us when he turns and pushes me against it, and leans in to kiss me hungrily.
Oh my. His kisses are not only sudden, but fierce. Determined. As if he'd made a decision and jumped off a cliff. I have no idea why; maybe he took my earlier words to heart. In any case, I'm ready – so much more than ready – to catch him.
I take everything he gives me – his lips, his tongue, his gasps – until I am lightheaded and my knees feel weak.
When we come up for air, he pulls me into the bedroom and sheds his overcoat, then turns and unzips my jacket as he begins to kiss me again. I feel like I'm in a fever dream as I pull off his suit coat and unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, letting it land on the floor, forgotten. His upper body is beautifully outlined through his white t-shirt and I quickly get rid of that too, then push him backward until he bumps into the bed, sitting down abruptly.
I kneel on the floor and pull off his shoes and socks, then frantically yank off my own boots and socks as well. He sits on the bed watching me, leaning on his hands, a glazed look in his eyes, his lips swollen from our kisses.
He's so beautiful, and I want him. Now. I kneel between his legs, planting kisses on his pecs as I rub my hands up and down his arms. His eyes close and his head falls back as he sighs deeply, his sighs gradually turning into moans as I kiss his nipples and then push him so that he's lying flat on the bed, giving me access to his belt and the zipper of his pants.
I keep thinking that he's going to come to his senses any minute now and make me stop, but he doesn't. He lets me unzip his pants, lets me rub his cock through the cotton of his briefs, then lets me put my mouth over it and breathe on it through the fabric. He moans as I signal to him to lift his hips so that I can pull down his pants and briefs, at least enough to give me greater access.
I can't stop touching him, kissing his cock, hefting his balls in my hand, every move that I make met with his whimpers and moans. By the time I take the head of his cock into my mouth, I'm moaning too. I can't get enough of him, tasting his pre-cum, taking more and more of him into my mouth.
I love how Edward can't seem to get enough either. His hips rise off the bed, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth until he can't go any further.
My own cock suffers in silence until I finally unzip my jeans and start stroking myself while I continue sucking him. When I look up at him, his mouth is open and the sweetest sounds continue to come out of it, but his eyes are closed and I can see the wet trail of tears on his face.
Before I can ask him what's wrong, there are three sharp raps on the door to the suite. I freeze, feeling Edward's cock throbbing with need.
"Bloody hell," he groans, and his hands caress my hair for a moment before he gently lifts me away from his beautiful cock. He touches my face tenderly, his own showing regret as he climbs off the bed and pulls up his slacks. I want nothing more than the pleasure of taking them off again. He looks around for his shirt and finally finds it on floor. I watch him walk out into the sitting room as he buttons his shirt – mismatching the buttons to the wrong buttonholes, I notice – feeling as though I'm back in the gingerbread house, watching him leave all over again.
Dejectedly, I get up off the floor and arrange my clothing as I listen to the voices coming from the sitting room. My erection has greatly diminished, but I fear that blue balls are here to stay.
"I'm very sorry, Edward," I hear a woman say apologetically. "She had a bad dream. Then she woke up crying and she's been inconsolable ever since. She's been asking for you."
She is interrupted by Isa's tearful "Daddy?" and I hear the low, soothing rumble of Edward's voice as he comforts her.
"Thank you, Angela," he says. "Could you bring us some cocoa and cookies please? For three?"
I hear her murmur of assent and then the door is closed. I wonder what I should do now. Who is the third cup of cocoa for – Angela or me? Does Angela know? Does Edward?
"Now, what's all this about a bad dream?" His voice sounds like he's walking toward the bedroom. I move quickly to sit in one of the two overstuffed chairs near the windows of a small alcove next to the fireplace, picking up the rest of our scattered clothing as I go.
"I was at Mama's and Uncle Jacob's house, Daddy," she says between the hiccups and deep sighs of someone who has been crying for quite a while. "Carlie and Leah ran into the forest and I tried to follow them, but I got lost. I called for you and Papa but nobody came to find me. And there was a big wolf, Daddy." She begins to cry again.
"Aw, sweetie, were you dreaming about Wolf Brother again? Remember when Papa told you he was a friendly wolf that helps people?" He comes through the doorway carrying her, then sits down in the chair next to mine. "Now dry your tears, Isa, and look who's here to see you," he says softly.
"Papa?" she says as she turns around to look. She sits shyly on her father's lap, her head tucked under his chin, still clinging to him.
"No, sweetheart, it's not your papa," he says sadly.
"Oh! It's Santa!"
I thought we had worked all that out at the mall. But I guess as much as Miss Know-It-All thinks she understands about Santa, she still wants to believe.
"Hello, Isabella," I say.
"Where's Papa?" she asks drowsily as the nightmare loosens its hold on her and she begins to drift back to sleep.
I think I know the answer to that question already. He's like the Matrix: He's everywhere, all around us, even in this room. He's there when I kiss his boyfriend, he's there when I hold his hand... He didn't really die, because he's just as present in this room as I am.
Edward stands up and carries Isa through a door that I hadn't noticed earlier. For a very good reason, of course. I follow, curious to see where he's going with her.
It's a small bedroom with two twin beds, a low dresser between them, and a wall-mounted flat-screen TV. He tucks Isa into one of the beds and gives her a kiss. He starts to get up, but she rouses again.
"Where's Sonic?" she asks. Sonic? Is this yet another member of Edward's entourage?
"I don't know, Isa," he replies. "Jasper, would you bring me my phone please?" he asks apologetically.
"Sure, no problem." I'm not sure where it ended up in our mad rush to the bed but I finally find it on the bedroom floor. I bring it to Edward and he calls Angela, asking her to cancel the cocoa and fetch Sonic instead.
I can't hear what she says in reply, but Edward says, "Oh. Well, bring it along then," and ends the call, turning back to his daughter. "Angela's bringing Sonic. She'll be here in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Daddy," she murmurs.
"You're welcome, sweetheart." He looks up at me and I see in his eyes the love he has for his daughter. I don't know whether I could ever be that unselfish. I probably wouldn't have even answered the door in the first place.
"Thank you Jasper," he says softly.
"For what?"
"For understanding. I know this isn't exactly the way you saw this evening ending." That smoldering look is back in his eyes. No longer the love for his daughter, but something else, something dark and hungry. It's gone in an instant, and an apologetic smile takes its place.
"Is it ending? Does it have to end?" I ask.
That's it? If that's the price you have to pay for being a parent, then count me out. I'm angry now and it has nothing to do with not getting off – well, not much anyway. I'm angry because I have the feeling that Edward is relieved, that this fortuitous interruption is an excuse that pulls him back from the brink of what he thinks of as betrayal and allows him to preserve a semblance of loyalty to his deceased partner.
Deceased – as in dead and gone. And now it's my turn to be gone.
I walk out of Isa's bedroom to find the rest of my clothes. Someone – Angela, I guess – knocks again and I open the door for her. She comes into the sitting room carrying a small silver tray with a pot of hot chocolate, a plate of cookies, and three porcelain cups and saucers. The cups contain fluffy white miniature marshmallows. A stuffed animal is tucked under her arm. She sets the tray down on the small table in the alcove of Edward's bedroom and looks around for him.
He comes out of Isa's room and she hands him the stuffed animal. "Sonic," he says, by way of introduction, and I see that it's Sonic the Hedgehog. "It was mine when I was little, and now it's Isa's."
I try to muster a less disgruntled reaction to this tenderhearted family tradition, but I manage only a rather acerbic "Awww," and leave it at that. If Edward notices my sarcasm, he chooses to ignore it as he takes the toy to his daughter. Angela hovers, having not been dismissed. Or maybe she's hoping for an invitation. I grab my socks and boots and pull them on.
"She's sleeping now," Edward says quietly when he finally emerges from the little bedroom. I pick up my jacket, preparing to put it on. Edward gives me a quizzical look.
Angela clears her throat, drawing his attention away from me for a moment.
"Will that be all, sir?" she inquires.
"Oh, yes, Angela. Thank you."
"Good night, sir." She turns to go and Edward escorts her back to the door of the suite.
"Good night, Angela." He returns to the bedroom just as his phone starts ringing. I can't help but roll my eyes. Doesn't anybody ever sleep around here?
Edward picks up the phone and I hear a lot of noncommittal comments at his end, things like "Oh, I see," and "Well, that's unexpected," until he finally ends the call. He puts the phone down on the desk and turns to me with a strange look in his eyes. "That was Felix. O'Hare Airport is closed. For at least twenty-four hours."
"Felix?" I ask. "Isn't he upstairs? Why didn't he just come down and tell you this?"
Edward looks down for a moment and then looks back up shyly. "He didn't want to disturb me."
I can't contain the bubble of laughter that spills out. "Why not?" I ask. "No one else seems to have a problem with it."
Edward's crooked smile turns into a laugh, but it doesn't last long. "Shh," he whispers. "I don't want to wake up Isa."
"Heaven forbid," I say, rolling my eyes again as I walk toward him. "Does that mean we can pick up where we left off when we were so rudely interrupted? As long as we don't make any noise?" I look intently into Edward's eyes, watched them grow wider as he finally understands my meaning. He starts backing away from me until his legs bump into the desk.
"Um... Jasper..." His voice comes out like a croak. "I don't think..." He doesn't finish the sentence. But his eyes have a wild look as I step into his personal space and reach up with both hands to hold his head steady as I lean forward to kiss him. "Jasper! I – "
I silence him with a kiss. It isn't hot and heavy like the ones at the restaurant, or ravenous like the hungry ones right here in this bedroom. It's just a quick reminder that there are more where those came from, if he wants them. I caress his cheeks and run one thumb across his lower lip and then step back.
He follows me.
I didn't expect that. Nor do I expect him to do what he does next.
He wraps his arms around me and kisses me again. Hard. With tongue. Of course, I have no problem obliging him by returning the favor until we both hear a sound come out of the smaller bedroom. It snaps us right out of whatever spell we've been caught up in, and we both step back. Edward practically runs to see if she is awake. I wonder if that's difficult to do, given the boner he's sporting.
This time I don't follow him. He comes back out a minute later. "She's sound asleep," he reports. "I guess she was dreaming or something."
I feel like I am dreaming too. This night has gone just about as well as a guy like me could hope for with someone like Edward Cullen, and I think it's time to leave.
"Where are you going?" he asks, a look of incredulity on his face as I zip up my jacket.
"Home," I reply.
"You can't be serious about going out in this weather. There must be a foot of snow on the ground by now."
"At least," I agree.
"But why are you leaving?"
"Edward, you have been a most congenial host and I'd hate to think I've overstayed my welcome..."
"Wait, Jasper." He sounds a little frantic. "Listen, the airport is closed. No flights in or out for at least twenty-four hours. We're stuck here until at least Christmas Day. I don't know what to do," he confesses. "All of the arrangements were made for us to spend Christmas in London with my parents." He looks at me pleadingly. I'm not sure what he's pleading for, but it's a pleasant surprise to discover that he doesn't look like he's any more ready for me to be out of his sight than I am to lose sight of him.
I walk into the sitting room and sink down onto the sofa. In the bedroom it's just a little too tempting to do something other than talk. "What are you gonna do?" I ask him.
"I don't know," he says, sitting down on the sofa across from me. "Nothing like this has ever happened to us before."
"You've never been snowed in before?" I find that hard to believe.
"No, I mean we've never had a delay like this before a holiday and – " He stops abruptly, remembering. "Except for last year, of course, when everything went to hell and hasn't come back yet." He puts his head in his hands.
I sit quietly for a moment, watching Edward as he struggles to master the emotions that sweep over him. It's as if all those feelings he's closed off since his outburst in the restroom at Katerina's have managed to escape again, like little devils with their pitchforks, stabbing him everywhere, especially in his heart.
I stand up and walk quietly around the large coffee table that separates the two sofas, then sit down next to him, wrapping one arm around him and bending close to his ear. "Edward," I say in a low voice. "It's okay to feel this stuff. Seems to me like you'd have to be a machine, or a robot or something, not to be feeling all this, especially tonight."
He doesn't say anything, but I like the way he leans against me.
"I have an idea," I tell him. "Come spend Christmas Eve with my mom and me."
"What?" He looks at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have.
"Or better yet, let us bring Christmas Eve to you, right here."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Well," I say slowly, making this up as I go along. "My mom and I will be hanging out over at her place. And you will be hanging out here with Isa and Angela and Felix, right?"
"And his brother Demetri, yes. And?"
"My mom always makes a fifteen-pound turkey for Christmas, even though it's just the two of us. If I can borrow Felix and the Escalade, we'll just move everything over here and give you a good old-fashioned Christmas Eve, Chicago style."
"But Jasper," he splutters. "We couldn't possibly put you out like this."
"You're not putting us out. Let me tell you something about my mother. She has the biggest heart of anyone I know. At Thanksgiving, in addition to the two of us, there was James and Riley and their girlfriends, Riley's mom, three women from work, and our neighbor, Mrs. Cope, from down the hall. So in case you're wondering if she can cook for a large group, I just want to let you know that she would be more than delighted."
"Are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious. You can stay and hang out with Isa and I'll take Angela with me. She and Felix can go shopping while I help my mother pack everything up. They can pick up a few little presents for Isa to tide her over until you get to London."
"Jasper, you're a genius!" Edward gives me a hug. Of course I can't help but hug him back, and not surprisingly, we are soon kissing again.
But not for long. After a few more minutes of learning Edward's kisses, I come to my senses long enough to remember that I still haven't called my mom. I grab my phone, ready to pull up my mom's number when I discover that the battery has died. No wonder Alice couldn't reach me earlier this evening.
Edward grabs my wrist. "Jasper!" he exclaims. "It's two in the morning! Isn't she asleep yet?"
"Nope," I grin. "It's Christmas Eve Eve. She's probably baking ten kinds of bread or five kinds of cookies. Or making her famous French onion soup. It's a Christmas Eve tradition at our house." I pause. "Um, Edward? Can I borrow your phone?"
Edward shakes his head in wonderment as he passes his phone to me. I suspect that he has no idea how much work goes into making those sugarplum fairies dance in his daughter's Christmas dreams. Maybe he should be the one to go help my mom in the morning, to see what it really takes to put together the kind of magical Christmas that she has always created for me.
"Mom?"
"Jasper! Are you all right?"
As laid back as my mom is, I forget sometimes that she's still a mother, wondering if her wayward son is calling from jail. Or in a hospital on the verge of death.
"I'm fine, Mom. What are you up to? " I can hardly contain my excitement.
"Jasper Lee Whitlock! Is that why you called me in the middle of the night?" she chastises me. "To give me a heart attack when the phone rings, and then ask me what I'm up to?"
"Sorry, Mom." I am duly chastened. "I have a very important favor to ask of you."
"What is it, dear?"
"I'm over on North Halsted at a guest house with a new friend, and his plane has been grounded and he's supposed to be in London tomorrow with his daughter and they can't leave and I was wondering if you would mind if they joined us for dinner," I run out of breath. "Oh, and the nanny and the driver and the driver's brother too." I add.
"A daughter? And a nanny and a driver? Goodness gracious, Jasper, are you hanging out with royalty or something?"
Leave it to my mother to go directly to the heart of the matter.
"No, Mom. He's a musician. A pianist. His name is Edward Cullen and – "
"Edward Cullen! That boy who played in Beijing? You're with him right now?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Oh my goodness! And you think our little Christmas dinner is good enough for the likes of him? Somebody who has a nanny and a driver?"
"Mom, stop." I can hear the note of panic in her voice. "You cooked for a dozen people at Thanksgiving. There's only five of them, plus us."
"Oh Jasper, don't be silly. Of course I can cook a dinner for seven people. You know that. I just wonder if it will be fancy enough for them."
"It will be wonderful," I reassure her. "Listen, here's what I have in mind. Once the streets get cleared a bit – "
"What's wrong with the streets?" she asks.
"Mom, have you looked outside during the past six hours? We're in the middle of a blizzard!"
"Oh! That's right. The Weather Channel said something about that yesterday."
"You haven't been watching the Weather Channel today? You usually watch it every day." I know we have gone wildly off the rails in terms of laying out a plan for the morning, but that's what usually happens when I talk with my mother.
"Not today. I've been playing all of my Christmas CDs and DVDs all day long while I baked."
"Okay, so this is what we're gonna do. We'll give the snowplows a few hours to get things cleared away, and then I'll come over with Edward's driver to pick everything up and bring it back here. You should see the kitchen, Mom. You're gonna love it."
"I don't know, Jasper." She sounds worried. "Why can't they just come here?"
"Wait 'til you see this place, Mom. It's perfect for one of your famous holiday meals. Could you make a list of anything you'll need here? We'll do the shopping before we pick you up. Then we'll come back here and you can finish cooking everything. It'll be great."
I can see Edward from the corner of my eye. He has a huge smile on his face, looking just as excited about Christmas as the kids waiting in line to see Santa at the gingerbread house. I can't help grinning at him, and at myself. When I was slinking through the shopping center on my way to my last day at work in the gingerbread house, never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I would be planning a Christmas Eve dinner for Edward Cullen, his daughter, and his entourage less than twenty-four hours later.
I'm not sure if this is some crazy Christmas miracle – or just plain crazy.
A/N: The last of the Christmas chapters will be posted tomorrow. After that, the story will move forward in real time over the next few months.
You can find a link to the Villa D'Citta on my profile page. I have taken some liberties with the layout (Edward's Grand Tuscan suite doesn't really have a sitting room), but otherwise, it is a perfect setting for Edward's home away from home.