Chapter 9: A Terrible Idea
"This is a terrible idea," I say as I pick up Edward in front of a bookstore in Port Angeles.
"This is a brilliant idea!" Edward corrects as he slides into the passenger seat, closing the car door behind him. He shakes the rainwater from his shaggy hair, misting my cheek. "This is quite the vehicle. What happened to your great lumbering beast?"
'The truck? Wouldn't start." I work my way through town and towards the highway. "And don't compliment this ridiculous car. It makes me sick."
After Charlie retired and had heart attack number one he spent an outrageous amount of money on this souped-up sports car. I didn't find out about it until I came home. But I gather he purchased it right around the time he was not visiting me in Chile.
"Charlie's?" Edward correctly guesses. He frowns and inspects the glove box.
"Yeah. I am getting pretty tired of his midlife crisis."
"But at least he gave it to you for the weekend,"
"True."
"You look beautiful, Bella," he says.
In my peripheral vision I see him turn towards me. The grin is so infectious I can't help but return it, even as I focus on navigating Charlie's ridiculous hotrod through this monsoon and towards Seattle.
"You look wet," I reply.
Edward laughs and shakes out his hair again, acting more canine than human. Little drops of water soil Charlie's pristine leather and I get some perverse satisfaction of Edward sullying Charlie's seats.
"If you didn't make me have the Stanley's drop me off an hour before you arrived then I would be a great deal drier."
"I'm not complaining," I reply. "You look wet. It's a fact."
I'm an idiot but Edward is my main source of joy these days and I need this weekend out of Forks for my mental health.
"Don't even say anything," I insist when he opens his mouth to respond to my ridiculous statement.
"It's going to be a good weekend," says Edward, grinning out the window.
"This is a terrible idea."
Cousin Alice is what I expected and not.
She is friendly and happy, like Edward, but also a little bit bitter and cynical. Her first words to me are, "My cousin is an idiot to think this whole thing was a good idea. It was not a good idea. But aren't you glad you're here because I'm sure glad you're here."
Before I can nod my agreement that yes, I am glad that I'm here and he's here even if I will probably end up fired, Alice hugs me. Over her head – she is shockingly short, even with the heels – I stare at Edward. He simply laughs and shakes his head.
"I feel like I know you already," she says.
"Me too," I reply as she releases me. It's not even a lie.
Alice is the closest thing Edward has to a sibling. The daughter of Edward's aunt Tanya and her wife, Heidi, she is my age, American, and works in PR for some senator. She loves cloudy days and will respond with physical violence if any dare comment on her height.
And, more importantly, she's the first person since Emmett and Rosalie that not only knows the details of our relationship, but accepts them.
For the next two nights and two days, I don't have to be a liar.
"So you can have the guest room," Alice says, gesturing down the hall. Her apartment is small, but beautifully decorated. "Edward, you get the couch."
He sighs heavily and does the morose Charlie Brown walk of sadness to said couch, dumping his bag on the floor as the accompanying music plays in my head.
He keeps his promise and he doesn't push me. I am glad and not glad because only the slightest bit of pressure would be required to crumble my resolve.
We eat seafood at my favorite restaurant. It is a special occasion place by necessity because it is so pricey and the last time I was here it was the night I graduated. I can't afford it but I suggest it anyway. The food is great. The conversation is better. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts and the wine makes my face flush.
Edward pays for the whole meal, sneaking his card to the waiter while Alice and I were in the bathroom. I scowl at him and he leans close, I feel his body heat as he whispers in my ear and I forget all my very reasonable arguments.
"Consider it petrol money," he says, lips so close to my head. "You drove us here."
"You filled up the tank on the way here!" I take the opportunity to reacquaint myself with his smell.
"I have no memory of this alleged fill up," he says.
I roll my eyes and shove his shoulder, putting some much needed distance between us.
It's getting harder and harder to do, putting that much needed distance between us.
"Carlisle is the worst." Alice can drink quite a bit, but at the third bar of the evening she finally appears to be feeling it. As I've been feeling it since bar number one.
"Oh, I know," I reply, glancing over at Edward where he appears to be hustling pool on the other side of the room. The only way I've discovered to really and truly ruin Edward's typically cheery demeanor is to mention his father and I have no desire to do this on my only weekend of not being a liar for the foreseeable future. "Oh Bessie, do I know."
"Who the fuck is Bessie?"
"A cow, maybe? Like, oh Bessie! Holy cow!"
Alice finds this hilarious. Her elbow that rests on the bar and props up her head slips and she nearly smacks her face into the countertop.
I find this hilarious.
It takes us several minutes to cease our combined laughter.
"What was I saying? Oh, yes. Uncle Carlisle. He is just the worst. Like a living, breathing monument to a different time. He is the physical manifestation of everything people hate about the British. Like, to him the Empire was the glory days, despite the brutality and exploitation and racism. And he totally disowned my mom, his twin fucking sister, when she came out. I mean, they've reconciled now that blatant, vocal homophobia isn't as okay anymore with the public. Now that it's only okay to be sneaky about being a bigot. But anyway. Uncle Carlisle. He is the worst."
"I know. I know."
"Esme is the one redeeming thing about him. I wonder if she'll ever leave him for good. Barkeep! Another!"
I groan and finish the dregs of my drink in a series of gulps.
"So, Carlisle and your mom Tanya are the oldest," I say, struggling to make sense of Edward's family. Although Esme's side is bigger, I actually know all about them as Edward actually likes them and talks about them. The same cannot be said for the Cullen's. "Then Irina who cut all ties with the whole family when she was eighteen. Then Kate, the baby."
"Yup. We're a fucked up lot. I blame Lord Cullen."
"That seems fair. So how did you end up in America? Being so American?"
Alice Cullen is tragically without an English accent.
"My other mom, Heidi, she's from Seattle. She did study abroad in Rome where my other mom, Tanya, was also studying. They met, fell in love, Carlisle basically disowned his sister, and they moved stateside when they were done with school."
"Carlisle is the worst," I mutter.
Alice and I toast to this estimate.
"I'm hoping to corrupt Edward while he's here," says Alice, nodding her thanks at the bartender as he delivers our drinks.
"Didn't I already do that?" I ask. "What with all the illegal sex?"
This sends Alice into another laughing bout. I smile and suck down too much of my whiskey sour as I've accidently made myself sad. I glance over at Edward where he is leaning over the pool table, his corduroy pants stretched tight over his ass.
I snap my eyes forward as the other way leads to nothing good.
"I meant corrupting Edward by poisoning him against his father," says Alice when she regains a tentative hold on her composure.
"He is already pretty anti-Carlisle."
"Yeah, but he still lets the man control his life. Lord Cullen wants Edward to study international affairs or political science or something at uni. But that's not what Edward wants to do."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know everything. Do you know what Edward really loves? Study, school wise I mean."
"Language," I reply, not even having to think on the answer.
"Yup. He needs to do Linguistics. Or Chinese or something. Does he speak Chinese?"
"Not last I heard. Hey, stop with the Carlisle talk. Edward's coming back." Again, I practically salivate as Edward struts toward me, grinning his lopsided, cocky as all shit smile, brandishing a fan of money.
"Look!" he says, sliding up next to me, waving the money in my face. "I won back the cost of dinner. No need to feel needlessly guilty about that anymore. What were you two conspiring about?"
"Nothing," I say, smacking away his hand and the money.
He stuffs the cash in his pocket and rests his hand on my back, his thumb moving along the ridge of my shoulder blade. It is impossible to concentrate on anything else with him so close. I should pull away as I've been doing for months now, but this one weekend I am not a liar. A hand on a shoulder is innocent enough and I want it there.
"Do you speak Chinese?" asks Alice.
Edward grins. "Not yet."
We stumble back to Alice's apartment. Edward keeps an arm around me as we share an umbrella. I don't even bother justifying this with the need to stay out of the slight drizzle.
Upon our arrival back at the apartment, Alice doesn't even bother turning on the lights or wishing us goodnight. She walks in a zigzag down the hall to her room and slams the door behind her, leaving Edward and I alone in the dark.
We stand facing each other, staring at each other, in the little bit of moonlight that makes it in through Alice's living room windows despite the weather.
All I can think is why not? The words echo through my head on a loop as I remember what it's like. I remember dark nights; his hand over my mouth in a failed attempted to be sneaky. I remember lazy mornings, the sunlight making Edward glow, our movement languid as if we really did have forever. I remember a long bus ride over the Andes, the quiet conviction in his declaration of love that made me really think it would be that easy. That love is all you need.
The line has been crossed. If my administration were to find out about this whole weekend, I'd lose my job.
So why not?
There is very little space between us. He towers over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to keep looking at his face, made eerie and older by the shadow and moonlight. I can feel the heat of him and I breathe why not.
Inhale, why.
Exhale, not.
He leans down, gets even closer, but he doesn't touch me. The final distance must me closed by me. I'm the one who set the boundaries and even in his state of obvious intoxication, he won't push me. Tempt me and tease me and drive me crazy, but he leaves this final frontier to me.
Why not, I breathe.
And I make a decision, biting my lip and smirking up at him. I revel in the anticipation, enjoying the tension of the moment now that I know there will be indulgence and pleasure soon to follow.
I kiss his jaw and Edward shivers with his whole body. I take my time, relearning his face, hands slipping under his flannel shirt to capture his shivering.
"Bella, I—"
He is rudely interrupted by my phone ringing in my pocket.
"Fuck!" he mutters, hands flying up to fist in his hair.
"It's okay." And it is because I will not change my mind.
I strongly consider ignoring it before I remember the absurdly late hour and my alcoholic father and the fact that something is probably wrong.
Even if my world isn't about to fall apart again – as indicated by the ringing phone and the late hour – I will not spend the whole night thinking about the possible reasons for my ringing phone when Edward is right here in front of me and I've made the decision.
Ignoring the damn thing is not an option.
I keep one hand under Edward's shirt, trying to tell him that nothing is going to change my mind, as I pray for a wrong number.
My stomach drops when I recognize the number of the Forks police station.
With shaking hands, I answer.
"No!" I squeak as he attempts to pull me into his chest. "It's too hot to cuddle."
"Truly?" he asks, frowning at me.
"Yeah. I'm sticky and hot and gross." The main house – the mansion – here on Isle Esme is fully air-conditioned and beyond comfortable. It is decadent with its giant windows and gauzy curtains. Kate described its decoration as island elegant and I suppose I would have to agree.
If you are going to own a private island off the coast of Brazil you might ask or craft an equally beautiful giant and fancy house to put on it.
The pool house is equally beautiful, it's walls opening all the way on all four sides, but it's not nearly as cool. The breeze coming off the ocean is nice, but not nearly enough to dry the sweat from my skin, sweat put there by Edward and I and hours of thoroughly vigorous sexing.
We snuck around a bit during our week in Belize, but that was one house and it was full of people, including Edward's mother and aunt. When he pulled me from my bed in the big house tonight, covering my mouth and marching me out like I was a prisoner, I went willingly.
It was such a relief, to shout his name and moan.
I got lost in it, the weight of him above me, the smoothness of his skin below me, his eyes glinting in the dark and his laugh. Three days could have easily passed without me realizing it.
And now I am a hot mess, but it was well worth it.
"I made you hot, huh?" he asks, grinning. His teeth shine bright.
I laugh and nod.
"Good. That means we're doing it right," he replies, waggling his eyebrow and resting a hand on my stomach.
"Obviously," I say, removing said hot hand. "But I'm still too hot to cuddle."
"This will not do."
"Too bad, bucko. I need to cool off. Have some patience."
"The sun will be up in a matter of hours and we'll have to sneak back into our separate bedrooms before my mum wakes up," he mutters, pouting at me. "There is no time for patience."
I just shrug and kick away the sheet. It is also too hot for sheets.
Abruptly Edward scrambles out of bed. "The solution to this is obvious. Get up. Get up."
I regard him dubiously for a moment, but I learned months ago that trusting Edward in these little adventures is always the wisest course of action.
I roll out of bed and reach for my clothes.
"That will not be necessary," he says, taking my hand. It is too hot for hand holding, but I let him do it anyway.
He pulls me out of the pool house and I get a look at the illuminated numbers of the digital clock as we go.
"Hey," I say, tugging him to a stop, nodding towards the time. "It's after midnight."
"Yes, we were at it for a good long while. This might be a record."
I laugh and shake my head. "No, I mean it is after midnight. It is officially June 20th."
"Oh. My birthday"
"You're eighteen!" I shriek, jumping at his side and grinning widely. "This isn't creepy anymore!"
Edward rolls his eyes. "It was never creepy. Don't call us creepy."
"You're fucking eighteen!" I throw my head back and yell to the moon. "Huzzah!"
"I think you are more excited about this arbitrary landmark than I am."
"Damn right. Happy birthday, Edward."
His smile goes soft as he leans down to kiss me. It starts off chaste but soon enough he gets greedy, opening his mouth. I let it go on because it's his birthday.
"It's too hot for kissing." I am eventually forced to remind him.
"Right. I have a solution to this conundrum. This way."
I am naked outside on a beach and I am uncomfortable for a few seconds as I check to make sure that we are alone. The main house is far enough back from the shore and surrounded by jungle so that even looking out the window, Edward and I would be nothing but shadows, nothing but silhouettes against the sand.
The moon is big and the gentle breeze is already cooling my damp, heated skin. Warm water laps at our ankles and I breath deep, filling my lungs with the salt of the ocean. The night is peaceful and perfect.
Edward releases my hand, lets out a whoop, and flails around like a maniac, splashing in the waves until he dives under, headfirst. He's totally ruined the peace of the moment but he's also improved the night somehow.
A moment later his head pops up ten feet from where he disappeared.
"Get your hot ass in the water, woman!"
I run into the waves and dive under without hesitation.
"This is without a doubt, the best burger I've ever eaten," says Emmett. The groan he lets out is nothing short of orgasmic and Rosalie rolls her eyes.
"It's the meat," says Esme, nodding along with Emmett as if orgasmic noises are the only acceptable reaction to her culinary skills. "Right from the family farms. Only the best for my only child's eighteenth birthday."
She leans close to Edward and he dutifully allows her to fawn over him, kissing his cheek and murmuring in Spanish, as she's been doing every few minutes all day.
"I haven't found a good burger in Chile," says Emmett.
"Of course you haven't," Esme says, horrified. "Chileans do not like flavor. Black pepper they find too spicy. It's all bland fish and fruit. No thank you. I mastered burgers in the states, I admit. But it's all about the meat. It is Edward's favorite also. Only his favorite on my only son's eighteenth birthday."
There is the requisite cheek kissing and Spanish murmuring. I can see Edward's patience waning and I hide my giggles in my fruity cocktail. Kate is equally amused. It is a strange thing to bond over, but Kate seems to be warming to me after over a week together.
We've all done our best to ensure Edward's eighteenth birthday is a perfect one. It started it off with skinny-dipping and sex. In the morning Esme prepared a feast centered on an excess of bacon and then we all went on a hike to the top of a cliff. There was swimming and lounging and napping.
And now Edward's favorite meal.
After dinner and before desert we walk on the beach, splashing along the shore. I lace my fingers through Edward's and slow our pace until there is enough distance between us and everyone else that the moment feels private.
"Good birthday?" I ask, swinging our arms between us.
Edward grins. "Best yet on record. Thank you, Bella."
Despite not being totally positive what he's thanking me for – agreeing to this luxurious vacation, the books I gave him this morning, helping Esme with dinner, the glorious, sleepless hours of last night –I blush.
I think about telling him I love him as this would probably make it actually perfect for Edward, but I can't quite manage it. The unpleasant knowledge that we only have these blissful moments between long periods of separation that will eventually fade keeps me silent. There is no real future here, not with Edward off to England in a year for university and me probably returning to the states at some point.
I decide not to think about all that unpleasantness until I absolutely have to.
We walk to the western most point of the island, where the beach abruptly curves back towards jagged rocks before it rises up into the cliff we hiked to the top of this morning.
Everyone sits in the sand to watch the sunset. Rose and Emmett whisper to each other while the rest of us talk not at all. I lean against Edward, digging my feet in the sand and thinking about meeting him on a different beach on the other side of this continent.
And I'm so thankful that he found me.
He kisses my temple and I grin as the sun dips lower, taking the temperature lower with it.
Despite the descending darkness no one is in any rush to depart. We linger in this moment, agreeing that silence or movement would ruin the peace of the evening.
Eventually I shiver, Esme mentions dessert, and it is time to head back.
"What's that noise?" I say over Edward's laughter and Rosalie's rapid fire Spanish as we near the house.
My companions fall silent again to listen.
"Is that a boat?" I ask, struggling to hear the hum of a motor of the constantly breaking waves.
"Yes," whispers Esme.
I don't understand her horror, Edward's suddenly painful grip on my hand, or why the couple who maintains the house is arriving so late on Edward's birthday.
"Is that?" says Kate, turning to Esme.
"I don't see who else it could possibly be," replies Esme.
Kate winces.
"What's happening?" asks Rosalie. "Who's in the boat?"
The motor is loud now and two little headlights are bobbing their way across the water towards the dock.
I don't understand my own feeling of dread.
"I thought it odd he didn't even call you for your birthday, mi amorcito. He usually calls," says Esme, straightening her shoulders and glaring at the approaching lights.
"I'd much prefer a call only, thanks," mutters Edward. "Bella, I apologize in advance for this."
"For what?" I ask, even through I'm reasonably certain I know the answer.
Wow, you guys sure seem to be enjoying this story! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing and favoriting and whatever. Seriously, amazing.
Big thanks to Donna (who had to do way more editing than usual thanks to me finishing this chapter horribly hungover in an airport). She is so lovely.
See you soon!
