A/N: Thanks to Betamama and Caren. You ladies rock my knee high argyle socks off, especially when you talk me through two epic days of brainstorming. Mineral Ice, either of you?

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer created the characters, the story is mine. Copyright 2010: BellaMarie117

Happy Reading!

x-x-x

Spring in Minnesota is not a pretty time. It seemed like Mother Nature just couldn't make up her damn mind, wavering back and forth between the biting cold of winter and the thawing days of spring, sometimes shifting within the span of twenty-four hours. Outside, the streets were dirty and everything was brown, the patches of snow that still lingered here and there were covered in a dingy film. Despite the drab surroundings, I always seemed to be in a cheerful mood.

Three weeks had passed since my "first date" with Edward. Two since I got up the guts to kiss him again. The days since seemed like a dreamy haze, full of chaste 'good morning' pecks in the gym before we hopped on our respective treadmills, playful kisses when we were just hanging out at my apartment, or passionate embraces before we said goodnight. We didn't progress beyond that, his hands never wandering from my waist or tangled in my hair, but he didn't seem to be complaining, and I certainly wasn't. I took him at his word that he wasn't in a hurry and just let myself enjoy the initial phase of our relationship, especially liking the fact that we could steal kisses from each other whenever the mood struck, something Edward took advantage of very often.

Still, there was so much more to it than just kissing. That friendship we'd been building from the start didn't disappear or even alter that much at all. I always thought that people said dating changes things, but with us it didn't seem to. Edward said it was because essentially we'd been dating from the start and I was just finally catching up to the program. I suppose in a way, we had been. When you think about it, dating is all about getting to know another person and expressing a mutual interest in spending time together. So yes, you could argue that we had been "dating" since mid-January, but no matter when it all started, I was happy with where we were for now.

Earlier this morning, Edward had walked me up to my door after our usual workout, leaving me weak in the knees from a searing kiss before he ran home to get ready. Apparently the Cullens, and by extension the Hales, always had big plans for this day.

St. Patrick's Day.

It was only nine a.m., but I could already see the occasional festive person milling around on the streets below, all decked out in green. Alice had left me a shopping bag the night before with "my uniform" for the day. I knew you were supposed to wear something green, but what I didn't realize is just how far these people went with the holiday. One that had never even been a blip on my radar in the past.

Well it's sure ingrained there now, I thought as I laid out the clothes on my bed, it's all any of them could talk about for the last week. I took one look at the green tartan mini-skirt before grabbing it up and storming across the hall.

"Alice Cullen!" I shouted as I pounded on their door. She appeared just seconds later, an innocent smile on her face as she said good morning. Too innocent.

"What were you thinking giving me this?" I inquired furiously, shaking the offending fabric in her face. "Take this back, I'm not wearing it."

"C'mon Bella, you'll look adorable!"

"I'll look like a street walker. Or a slutty Catholic school girl."

"You know, we went to Catholic school. Our uniforms were never nearly as cute as that skirt is."

"That's not the point," I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"Bella, you're not going to look like a slut," she insisted. "The skirt isn't as short as it looks when it's on, and besides, you have an awesome pair of legs, you should show them off. It's going to be warm out today for once, I thought you might want to take advantage of the nice weather." I gave her a look of disbelief. "Will you please just try it on? If you hate it, that's fine, I'm not going to make you walk around uncomfortable all day. Just try it, please?"

"Fine," I gave in with an epic roll of my eyes as I stomped back to my apartment, indulging in a huffy slam of my door before I headed to the bathroom to wash off the morning workout.

Thirty-five minutes later, after a truly indulgent shower, I was gritting my teeth and dreading the fact that I'd have to tell Alice that she was right. Again. The outfit was cute, sexy without being overt, and I really liked it. The green plaid skirt was paired with a fitted black v-neck sweater and a pair of knee high black socks with green and orange argyle. At the bottom of the shopping bag had been a shoe box with a pair of brand new kelly green low top converse sneakers. The girl knew my weak spot.

Looking in the mirror, I still thought the outfit could have been an homage to the Catholic School girl, but at least it wasn't a slutty costume. Once my hair was dry, I decided to just go with it and embrace the look, tying my hair in low hanging curly pigtails, sort of a Dorothy of Kansas look. I threw on a light jacket and grabbed my purse to head over to Alice and Rose's, knowing they'd try to fix me up with make-up even if I attempted it on my own.

Rose and Alice could be pushy at times, especially Alice, but for all my groaning and complaining, I didn't mind it so much. Neither of them ever tried to fashion me into someone I wasn't. I was used to being dolled up all the time. I used to hate it because I always came away feeling like some unrecognizable 'Bella Barbie,' but with the girls, every time I came away from one of their little makeovers I still felt like me, just a cuter, slightly more confident me.

"Holy moly, Bells, you're hot," Rose commented when I opened their door, knocking on my way in to alert them to my entrance. I still wasn't 100% comfortable just barging into their place like Alice was with mine, but I was getting better.

"Thanks, Rose, didn't know you swung that way," I joked, setting my bag by the door.

"I don't. But if I did, you'd definitely be my type, baby," she winked at me and grabbed her leather motorcycle jacket from the closet and called out to Alice, "Come on, Pipsqueak, let's go!"

"I'm coming. I'm coming," Alice said as she practically sprinted out of her room and began frantically digging through her purse, making sure she had all the essentials no doubt. "Bella, you look great! See, didn't I tell you?" she said when she saw me.

"Oh, and I have just the thing!" she said, snapping her fingers and dashing back to her room, only to emerge seconds later with a couple of small green hair ribbons to tie in tiny bows just below my ears. "There. Perfect."

"Edward's gonna flip his shit when he sees you," Rose chuckled.

"I know, right? I want front row seats for that," Alice giggled, going back to grab her purse off the couch. "Let's do this, ladies."

The two of them were quite the pair. Rose wore a bright green tank top with "Ireland" spelled out across the bust, strategically torn skinny jeans and peep-toe heels that matched the hue of her shirt. Around her neck she had strings of mardi gras beads in green, orange, and white. Alice took her devotion to the holiday far more seriously. She too sported the multi-colored beads, but paired with a lime green graphic t-shirt that said "Kiss me, I'm Irish," a black pleated mini skirt that was shorter than my own, and a pair of black tights with brightly colored shamrocks. The kicker was the streaks of lime green extensions she'd added to her hair, not hanging past her own short length. Alice didn't do anything half-way.

We were meeting the guys uptown at eleven, so we stopped at a Starbucks on the way for coffee and berry coffee cake. We took advantage of the rare warm spring morning by sitting outside on a cement ledge to enjoy our makeshift breakfast while we awaited their arrival.

"What's the agenda for the day, Alice?" I asked, taking a bite of coffee cake that I knew I shouldn't be indulging in.

"Well, the parade starts at noon just over that way," she gestured to the side, "and ends up over by the Landmark where they have music and dance groups performing. We usually stop in and check it out for a little bit, it's pretty cool. Then of course once the guys start complaining, we head to the bar, where we will likely live for the remainder of the day."

"So basically we walk around for a couple hours and then go get drunk?"

"Yeah, sounds about right," Rose agreed.

"What exactly is so special about this day?"

"It's just a chance to have fun, Bella," Alice said, "celebrate our heritage, drink good beer, listen to awesome music, loosen up for a day."

"It's not my heritage though," I pointed out.

"Everyone's Irish on St. Paddy's day, lassie," Rose argued in her terrible accent. "Plus, it's a great day to people watch. There are some major crazies out there."

Minutes later, Rose was leaning out on the ledge, keeping a look out for the rest of our group when she let out a low whistle. "Take a look at that."

Alice and I leaned out with her to look up the sidewalk where Rose was focused and spotted the guys up the street. I was eternally grateful I was wearing sunglasses so it wasn't completely obvious to the world just how overtly I was staring. Edward looked like pure, undiluted, walking sex. I mean, he looked great all the time, but the man looked good enough at that moment to make me want to spread my virginal legs to him right then and there. His jeans were perfectly fit, his deep green graphic t-shirt alternately clingy and loose in just the right places. He had a black, leather jacket on over it, left casually open; army green converse on his feet, bed-head in full effect, and aviators covering his beautiful green eyes. I'm pretty sure I licked my lips, but I couldn't be certain; my brain had suddenly gone on strike. He hadn't noticed us yet, none of the guys had as they talked amongst themselves.

"Man, we are the three luckiest bitches on the face of this planet," Rose sighed. I barely spared a glance at Jasper and Emmett, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on Edward, but I could easily agree with that statement.

I really was lucky. I had great friends. A great...boyfriend? A great apartment. A great job. My life may not have been perfect, but the pros were now far outweighing the cons.

When the trio of men was less than half a block away, Alice catcalled out to them, gaining their attention as she sprang away to greet Jasper with an enthusiastic hug. Emmett and Rose lapsed into their typical greeting of mutually eyeballing each other with looks that said they were well aware of just how good they both had it before Emmett scooped her up to hitch her legs around his waist. Edward had stopped dead in his tracks for a moment before one side of his mouth turned up into that signature crooked smile and he jogged over to where I stood, smoothing my skirt out self-consciously.

"Hey," he said as he came to a stop in front of me, sounding slightly out of breath, though I knew the minimal amount of physical exertion from the jog wouldn't have phased him at all.

"Hi," I answered back quietly, biting my lip in a shy smile.

I wondered if we'd ever get over this, the initial moments of shyness and uncertainty. There always seemed to be just a moment of hesitation on both our parts, though it often disappeared quickly. He leaned in, placing a soft, sweet kiss on my lips, and there… it was gone. I let out a happy hum as I pressed my lips more firmly against his, saying 'hi' again, this time without the traces of insecurity as he linked his hands with mine. He kissed me once more before pulling back, holding our joined hands out to the side so he could look me over.

"You look like a sin just waiting to happen," he groaned, making me wish I'd left my hair down so I could hide my blush.

"Did you really go to Catholic school?" I asked.

"Yup. None of us really practice, but we suffered through hitting the confessionals for a number of years."

"Something tells me Emmett had to do the most penance."

"Nope, Alice. She was a troublemaker," he whispered loudly and I laughed.

"Hells Bells," Emmett whooped out, swinging me up into a quick hug while I prayed that my skirt covered everything necessary. "If the chicks at CDH all looked like you, I would have been chasing a lot more skirt through those high school halls."

"More?" Alice scoffed as Emmett set me back down."You could barely fit in what you had! Emmett, if you'd spent any more time chasing skirts, you'd have missed out on half your games and you'd be flipping burgers instead of other players."

"Hey, I can't control my animal magnetism. The ladies just naturally flock to me."

"You're an animal all right, Emmett, a big, smelly one," Alice teased him.

"Rosie, are you gonna let her talk to me like that?" Emmett pouted.

"You're a big boy. You can handle the truth," she said, coming to stand next to him, then raising up on her toes to whisper something undoubtedly suggestive in his ear.

"Come on," Edward said, clasping my hand in his. "Let's go stake out a good spot."

The parade was loud and boisterous, full of people decked out in their finest "Irish Pride." One woman had gone so far as to dye her little West Highland terrier green. The streets were packed with people, all celebrating and enjoying the lovely spring morning as the bagpipes droned and the rat-a-tat of the drums resonated through the crowd. Edward held me snug against his chest the entire time, leaning down to speak in my ear over the noise of the crowd and pointing out objects of interest left and right.

I kept my sunglasses firmly in place as we stood in the crowd, shielding my eyes from the sun, but also effectively disguising myself. It wasn't often that I was recognized, but it did happen on occasion, and I didn't know if I was entirely ready to give up on my invisible status. Minnesota didn't have much in the way of paparazzi, but with how many cameras were flashing around, I wasn't eager to take my chances of being caught on film.

Soon enough, the parade had passed us by and we took our time walking over to Rice Park where we stopped inside to enjoy the local bands and dance troupes for a short time.

At a late lunch, over baskets of fish & chips and pints of Guinness in a nearby pub, Alice brandished a sheet of temporary tattoos, insisting that everyone needed more "Irish Pride." She passed it around the table with a pair of tiny scissors she always kept in her purse "for emergencies" and gave any hesitators the evil eye until one by one they gave in and grudgingly cut one out to mark themselves.

Edward grabbed the sheet from Rose and gave it a quick study before cutting one out. I reached to take the sheet from him, but instead he tossed it onto the table top before taking my hand in his, turning it over so my palm was facing up as he gently eased the sleeve of my sweater up to expose my wrist. He stripped the protective layer from the tattoo and placed it ever so gently on the skin of my inner wrist while my veins pulsed beneath his fingers. He dipped the corner of his napkin in a glass of ice water, continuing to cradle my wrist in his palm, and pressed the cool, wet cloth to my suddenly overheated skin. After a few light dabs against the paper, he lifted the corner, testing, before dropping the napkin back on the table, peeling off the rest of the tiny scrap and lifting my wrist closer to his face for inspection.

His eyes met mine as he parted his lips ever so slightly and blew on my skin to dry the pressed on ink. I didn't even see what he'd marked me with, I couldn't tear my own eyes away from the darkening green of his; my damp skin experiencing a delightful juxtaposition of his warm breath and the chill of the water evaporating at the same time. After one final drying exhale, he eased my wrist up to press a soft, lingering kiss to the spot he'd just given so much attention. I couldn't completely hold back on the breathless hum of pleasure his touch elicited in me, but I was able to smother most of the volume by pressing my own lips together. The look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and I decided I shouldn't be the only one to suffer.

Before he could see it coming, I yanked my wrist from the gentle hold he had on it, clamping it onto his neck as I practically jumped into his lap to fuse my lips to his, my fingers diving into his hair just as forcefully as my tongue dived between his parted lips to brush against his. He either wasn't able, or just didn't bother to disguise his own moan of pleasure as he eagerly responded to my touch, banding one arm around the small of my back to hold me to him while his other hand cupped my head at the exposed nape of my neck before stroking down the length of my arm to land on the naked skin of my thigh, not trespassing beyond the hemline of my skirt, but still effectively driving me insane. After a few moments the desperate meetings of our mouths, Edward regained his senses and pulled back, slightly panting as he rested his forehead against mine.

"God, Bella," he said on a breathless laugh, "you get inked and instantly turn into a wild woman."

"Only when you're the one doing the marking," I giggled, leaning forward to lightly peck his lips once more before pulling away and sitting back in my chair, which he instantly pulled just a little closer to his own. I finally looked down at my wrist to see what he'd chosen and burst into giggles. It was a graphic depiction of a four-leaf clover with the words 'Get Lucky' curving around it. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Not at all," he said innocently.

"Do I get to do you now?" I asked, picking up the abandoned tattoo sheet and perusing my options.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" he turned to whisper in my ear, as he traced the tip of his nose along the curve of my jaw and kissed the soft hollow just where it transitioned to my neck.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I agreed, tossing the paper back down and nudging his head up so I could lay mine on his shoulder.

"Besides, I don't need a temp when I've got the real thing," he said.

That caught my attention.

"What do you mean the real thing? Do you have a tattoo?" I asked with a surprised smile, pulling back and darting my eyes over his form as if I could determine it's location even through the layers of his clothing. His pleased smirk at my reaction was just slightly arrogant, but I was too curious to bother slapping him down for it. "Where is it?"

"A gentleman doesn't reveal his secrets," he said.

"Bull, then you shouldn't have said anything! How come I haven't seen it? Do you have a Tweety Bird tattooed on your ass, Cullen?" I teased, trying to think of the most embarrassing option. "Oh no, I know, it's a Batman symbol on the back of your shoulder, isn't it?"

He laughed heartily and tugged me back down to his side. "Neither. And if you're good, someday I might just let you see what it really is."

"Such a tease," I muttered, flicking my fingers against his chest in mock frustration.

"Do you have one?"

"What, a tattoo?" I asked, not looking up into his eyes. He could read me entirely too easily.

"Yeah."

"What do you think?" I asked sarcastically and raised my eyebrow at him, giving him a look that hopefully said "are you crazy?" because I didn't want to open my mouth and lie to him.

"That's too bad, Swan, tats can be really sexy."

"I hate needles," I said, because it was the truth, and an expected response that would hopefully be convincing enough to have him drop the subject.

"You're pretty tough, you could handle it," he argued, to which I gave a non-committal hum.

"You definitely don't need one to be sexy though," he said, placing a tender kiss on my collarbone and stroking his thumb along the length of it until the edge of my sweater blocked him. "Your skin is perfection just the way it is."

"How do you always know exactly the right thing to say?" I sighed.

"I merely speak the truth."

"Edward, hey!" a voice called out behind us, drawing Edward's attention to the source, a tall, fairly thin man with jet black hair and dark brown eyes.

"Hey, Ben, how's it going?" Edward called back a friendly greeting, slipping his arm from around my shoulders and standing up to shake the man's hand once he'd approached our table.

"Not bad, thought we might see you out and about today."

"Can't break tradition," Edward chuckled and reached his hand back to me, giving me a quick, reassuring smile as he pulled me to my feet and against his side. "Bella, this is Ben Cheney. He's a right wing on our team. Ben, this is Bella, my girlfriend."

It was the first time Edward had introduced me to anyone as his girlfriend, or even used the term in my presence, and I couldn't stop the elated glow that spread through me, coming out in the form of a giddy smile. I just barely managed to remember my manners and offer my hand to Ben to shake, saying a quiet, "Pleased to meet you."

"You too, Bella. Don't let this guy push you around too much, okay? He can be a bossy prick sometimes."

"Hey, now, I'm only bossy when you're lagging on the ice and not covering the puck. Is Angela here?"

"Nah, she had to work today, poor girl."

"Angela is Ben's girlfriend," Edward filled me in. "You'd probably like her; she's like a less insane version of my sister."

"Yeah, isn't that the truth?" Ben chuckled, glancing past Edward and spotting the others at the table, giving them a slight wave. "Looks like you've got the whole gang out."

"Who are you here with?" Edward asked, looking around.

"Oh, I left Crowley and Newton back at the bar," he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the crowd swarming around it. "They were attempting to put the moves on a couple very unfortunate girls. It was too painful to stay and witness."

"Did you want to join us?"

"No, that's cool. I should probably check in with them and see about heading out. You guys have fun."

"Alright, see you at the X tomorrow."

"See ya. Bella, very nice meeting you," he said with a friendly smile before turning to weave through the crowd of people on his way back to the bar.

"He was nice," I said as we sat back down, facing in toward each other this time, our knees bumping together in the gap between our seats.

"Yeah, he's a good guy. The two he's with, not so much, but Ben's solid."

"What's wrong with the other two?"

"They just fit the stereotype, that's all," Edward said, sliding his hands under mine, our palms flat against each others.

"What stereotype?" I asked.

"A lot of people think professional hockey players, well male pro athletes in general, I guess, are nothing but a bunch of womanizing jerks who sleep around with a ton of women simply because they can. Crowley and Newton play right into that, going out and picking up different women every opportunity they get, talking them into bed by throwing around their status as an NHL player and never calling them up again afterwards."

"That's-" I paused, searching for exactly how to respond.

"It's disgusting, that's what it is," Edward muttered, raising our hands up between us, spreading his fingers, and thus mine as a result. "It's disrespectful."

I had to smile at the tone of his voice, clearly displaying his distaste for his teammates' behavior. I remembered the girls from the bathroom at the winter carnival, the way they'd spoken so casually about propositioning. Even then I'd known Edward wasn't like that, but hearing him now, after having the opportunity to get to know him more, to get to know his family and the company he kept, I knew that not only was it behavior he wouldn't partake in himself, but something he wouldn't advocate in anyone. He was too much of a gentleman to find it acceptable.

"So, girlfriend, huh?" I asked, bringing up the subject that had lingered at the back of my mind since the word escaped his lips. I curled my fingers, slipping them into the open spaces between his and linking our hands, studying them rather than looking at his face.

"Well, yeah. What else would I call you?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, biting down on my lip. "I guess we never said anything formal."

"Bella?" he urged me to look up at him, gently easing my lip out from between my teeth and stroking it once with the pad of his thumb.

"Yeah?"

"I think of you as my girlfriend. That is, if you want to be," he smiled at me, just the slightest hint of uncertainty in his eyes as I searched his face.

A shy smile turned up the corners of my mouth. "Does that mean I get to call you my boyfriend?"

"Damn straight it does," he leaned in, every trace of uncertainty gone, and grinned against my lips.

x-x-x

Saturday morning, the girls and I pulled up in front of a beautiful Victorian on Summit Avenue, looking like it came straight from the pages of Dickens or the Bronte sisters. It was three stories, built completely of wood painted in mocha brown with ivory trim. A covered porch ran the length of the front of the house and a polygonal tower spanned the top two stories, jutting up into the sky with its pointy turret.

"This is your parents' house?" I gaped as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Yup, home, sweet home," Alice chirped, taking my hand and tugging me up the walkway behind her.

"Did you wear pinafores and button-down shoes as a kid?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing. It just looks like something out of a storybook, that's all."

"It does, doesn't it? Oh and lookie here, it comes complete with a gentleman waiting to court you," she giggled when the front door swung open and Edward stepped out onto the porch.

"Shut up," I nudged her in the side as we made our way up the steps and Edward pulled me away for a quick kiss. Rose and Alice slipped inside, calling out for Esme as they walked straight toward the back of the house.

"Welcome to the Casa de Cullen," Edward said as he took my hand and walked with me inside the door, my eyes darting everywhere all at once trying to soak in my surroundings.

"I can't believe you grew up here. I'm completely jealous right now."

"Not a mausoleum?"

"No way! It's gorgeous. I mean you can tell it's historic, but it still feels like a home, not like you'd be scared to sit on the furniture."

"It's all mom, she's dabbled in interior design and did a lot of it herself."

"Well she did an amazing job," I said, peeking around the corner into a sitting room that held a beautiful polished baby grand piano.

"Why thank you, Sweetheart," Esme's voice rang out pleasantly as she approached from down a long hallway, a half apron in a floral toile tied around her waist and a ruffled chiffon blouse on top. "I'm so glad you're here," she said as she greeted me with a quick hug and grabbed my hand.

"Edward, go find the boys and keep yourself occupied, I'm stealing Bella."

"Mo-om," he whined in protest, making me giggle, and he shot me a look, "What are you laughing at, Swan?"

"Nothing, I can just perfectly imagine you throwing a tantrum at age six in that exact same voice."

"Yeah, well I'd have risked getting grounded if it meant I got to play with you for five more minutes," he grinned, pecking me on the forehead. "Make sure Rose doesn't steal all the banana bread before I get a piece, she always tries to sneak it."

"So," Esme said as she linked her arm through mine and led me back toward the kitchen, "it looks like you two are getting along rather well."

"Oh, Esme," I sighed, holding her back from approaching the doorway where I could hear Rose and Alice, "he's just so wonderful. I'm so worried I'm going to mess it all up. I mean, it's been so great for the last couple weeks and everything just feels natural with him-"

"You know what, honey? You worry far too much. Just relax and let things happen. If you just be yourself, I don't think there's much you could do to screw things up. Now, let's go get to work on brunch. I'll share my secret recipe for banana nut bread with you. It's Edward's favorite and no one else knows just how to make it."

Brunch with the Cullens was effortless. There were so many of them, but there was such a casual acceptance of each person, and so many different dynamics going on that just seemed to flow in perfect sync with each other. Jasper and Rosalie were treated as parts of the family, and to my surprise, I realized that I was welcomed as one as well. The girls worked in the kitchen, cutting fruit, cooking up home fries and a French toast casserole that filled the house with the drool-worthy scent of cinnamon. The meal itself was a symphony of voices, all talking over each other, sometimes broken off into smaller groups, sometimes everyone focused in on the same topic. The highlight of the meal had to be when Carlisle regaled us all with a selection of Scandinavian jokes staring Sven, Ole, and Lena, most of them fairly raunchy in their punch lines. It was a whole new side of the good doctor that I'd never anticipated, and as I cracked up and blushed profusely at a particularly dirty one, I wondered how I'd ever take him seriously at my next appointment.

At the end of the meal, I stood and started stacking a few dishes, intending to take them back to the kitchen and help with clean up.

"Here, Beautiful, I've got that," Edward said, taking the plates from my hands and kissing my temple. "Go, relax. I'm sure mom would love to take you on a tour."

"I can help," I insisted.

"Nope. House rules, those who cook don't clean. You're not welcome in the kitchen again until every plate is sparkling."

"Sheesh, you people are strict," I giggled and leaned my face up for a quick kiss before leaving him to search out Esme and beg her to show me around.

Turns out begging was completely unnecessary. Esme was all too eager to show off her masterpiece with Rosalie and even Alice, who was obviously more than familiar with the layout, joining us as we strolled through the hallways. They highlighted special points of interest along the way, like the doorknob that Edward had broken off one afternoon when he was nine and ended up stuck in his room for three hours before his parents noticed because he'd been so quiet, or the dent in the hallway of the upper floor from the summer Emmett had decided he missed sledding and rode one of Esme's laundry baskets down the staircase, resulting in him crashing straight into the wall, or the window Alice had tried to climb through one night in high school when she broke curfew and ended up slipping and falling backwards to land in Esme's pristine flowerbeds. Once Esme had been assured that her daughter was not hurt, she was angrier about the death of her carefully tended plants than anything else.

In the room that had once been Edward's, a small stack of newspaper clippings sat out on the bureau, the top one looking very familiar. It was a clipping that had shown up in the Pioneer Press the morning after St. Patrick's Day featuring a photo of Edward and I at the pub. I could recall the exact moment that was captured. It was right after I'd called Edward my boyfriend and he leaned in to kiss me. My initial reaction had been to be upset at such a personal and intimate moment being splashed all over the news, but the picture was so precious that I couldn't feel bitter about it. Our lips, just barely touching and curled up in matching smiles. When I picked it up to look it over for what must have been the thirtieth time in four days, Esme crossed to stand next to me, fanning through the papers with her thumb.

"I really need to get caught up on these. The stack just keeps getting bigger."

"What are they all?"

"They're clippings of the kids-the boys from hockey mostly; there are a few from bridal magazines that mention Alice."

"What do you do with all of them?"

"I have an album, sort of a scrapbook, to keep them all in. I don't leave it out anywhere, it could probably come off as boastful to cut them all out and show them off. But I just have to keep them. I'm so proud of each and every one of them."

"So, what about this one? You're proud of your son being featured in the paper for a PDA in a bar?"

"There's nothing wrong with showing affection, Bella. But no, I kept that one because I can't remember the last time I saw my son so happy."

"He does look happy here, doesn't he?" I asked, stroking my thumb over the image of his face.

"Yes, he does. You make him very happy, Sweetheart," she said, kissing my cheek and leaving me alone in the room.

I sat on the bed, the same one that Edward had slept in as a child, as I read the blurb underneath the photo.

"Out and about celebrating the luck of the Irish in St. Paul was Wild Hockey Center and Captain, Edward Cullen, pictured here looking very affectionate with Olympic Figure Skater Isabella Swan, whose mysterious absence from the competitive scene has been the talk of the skating community for the last several weeks. Swan has apparently relocated to Minnesota and sources say the local hockey stud and dazzling ice princess recently started dating. Attempts to contact Swan's representation for information on the National Champion's future in skating, as well as the nature of the budding relationship, were unsuccessful."

Being recognized had been exactly what I'd been afraid of. While I wasn't hounded, I had been stopped a time or two on the streets since it came out. Renee hadn't mentioned anything when I'd spoken with her briefly the day before, and she hadn't called up screaming my ear off, so I could only hope that she hadn't seen the local paper.

She would find out about Edward and I sooner or later. It was nothing I was ashamed of, not in any way, shape or form. I just wasn't eager to bring it to her attention. Things were running so smoothly between Edward and I. I didn't want anything to spoil that.

"Hey," Edward alerted me to his presence with a knock on the door jamb. "Can I come in?"

"It's your room."

"It used to be," he said as he sat next to me, scooting back on the bed and propping his knees up so he could pull me back between them to rest against his chest. "Doesn't look quite the same as it did when I was younger. Smells a lot better now, too."

"Oh really?" I laughed.

"Yeah. Teenage boy and sweaty hockey equipment is never a good mix."

"I can imagine."

"I like this picture," he commented, resting his chin on my shoulder and holding up my hands that held the newspaper clipping.

"You would."

"What's not to like? It's a good picture. Me kissing my beautiful girlfriend."

"You don't mind having your name splashed around the headlines?"

"I'm not a fan of that part of it so much, but it's never been a major issue. I don't go out and get into trouble so the press doesn't bother with me much."

"No skeletons in your closets, huh?" I teased.

"Nope. My closets are pathetically spic and span," he said, extracting the clipping from my grasp and laying it on the side table before wrapping his arms around me, content to just sit quietly.

"So, how many girls have you kissed on this bed?" I razzed him after a minute.

"Zero."

"Oh, come on. You never once snuck a girl into your room?" I inquired with disbelief.

"Nope, I snuck into theirs," he returned with a wink. "I was too scared of my mom catching me."

I shifted around, sitting cross-legged between his knees and walking my fingers up his arms playfully as I looked up at him. "So, does this mean I get to be your first for something?"

"Hmm," he hummed, rubbing his hands over my back and dipping his head. "Just promise to be gentle with me," he murmured right before pressing his lips to mine.

x-x-x

As it got later on in the day, I decided to pull Carlisle aside and check in with him to get it over with. He'd stepped into the kitchen for a moment to fill his coffee mug, and I jumped at the opportunity to get his attention without anyone else around.

"Carlisle, may I speak to you for a minute?" I requested quietly from the doorway.

"Yah, sure. Would you like to go to my office?"

"Um, that's probably not necessary," I fumbled, "It shouldn't take long."

"It's no trouble. Less chance of interruptions," he said, gesturing to the other room as a loud burst of laughter rang out.

"Yeah, okay."

"Right this way," he offered, escorting me up the stairs into the room Esme had pointed out earlier as his home office, shutting the door quietly behind us and gesturing for me to have a seat as he perched on the edge of his desk. "What can I help you with, Bella?"

"I know I shouldn't be bothering you with this stuff in your home, I should just make an appointment or call you when you're working," I stammered, reluctant to discuss with him something that I didn't even feel the need to discuss.

"Please, Bella, I'm here whenever you need me, as your doctor or a friend. Just know that the doctor-patient confidentiality transcends the walls of the hospital. Anything you speak to me about stays between us. Now, what's on your mind?"

"Well, I know you said to come in for my next appointment in April, and I'm still planning on it. I'm doing the physical therapy and Seth's been great. I've been skating almost every day and my knee is feeling good, but I know you said that when it's feeling better is one of the riskiest times to reinjure..." I trailed off, and he was observant enough to take over when I didn't continue.

"That's correct. While your ligament has healed to the point where it's no longer causing you physical discomfort, it still needs time to regain the strength required for the intensity of the pressure your level of activity demands of that joint."

"See! Exactly," I exclaimed, unable to keep my seat as the frustration simmered. I crossed the room to stare out the window, overlooking their sprawling backyard, still mostly in hibernation. "That's exactly what I thought, and just what I told her, but will she listen to me? No."

"Who are you referring to?"

"My mom. She called me and wanted me to move my appointment up. She thinks you'll change your mind and say it's okay to just jump back in right now, or two weeks ago when she originally wanted me to talk to you. I haven't done anything you or Seth said I shouldn't," I assured him turning back around to face him but still staying by the window, "I don't want to risk hurting myself further. She's just so...difficult. She's never really understood the nature of my injury or just how serious it is. In her mind I took a little fall and have just been exaggerating the severity of it for all these months."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you haven't listened to her. I assure you that this type of injury can be extremely serious if not dealt with properly, resulting in permanent damage that would affect your everyday life, not to mention end your skating career. I know April is only a couple weeks away and it seems like such a short time that it shouldn't make any difference, but it does. You're still healing, and the more time you're able to keep the strain off it, the stronger it'll become."

"So, do you think I'll need to wait even longer? Would it be better to not start training again yet, even after the appointment in three weeks?"

"Four months is a perfectly satisfactory recovery period, Bella. You should be fine as long as you're cautious at first and pay attention to how you're feeling. If you notice your knee swelling or giving you trouble, you'll want to make sure you're icing and resting it. And you'll want to keep using the brace for a bit. You probably won't need it past the first few weeks, but when you start jumping again, you should have it on until you feel confident to go without."

"Okay. That's good. Nothing different than I was expecting, or from what you initially told me."

"Did you have any other questions?"

"No. They weren't even really my questions. You wanna call my mom and tell her all that? Maybe she's actually listen to you," I said, only half joking.

"Unfortunately, our confidentiality prevents me from sharing any information regarding your health."

"Even with my mom?"

"Yes, once you're over eighteen, your health is completely your business. You'd need to sign off on a waiver for me to share anything, though-" he paused for a moment, looking unsure of how to progress. "Bella, may I speak freely for a moment?"

"Of course," I said, curious as to what he wished to talk about.

"Esme has shared with me a little about your mother. Please don't be upset at her for telling me, my wife and I have a very open relationship, we don't like to keep secrets from each other."

"No, it's fine."

"My family's all quite enamored with you, and though I have had less opportunity to get to know you than the others, I care about you and your well being. I'd have to strongly discourage you from granting your mother any further access into your affairs, in regards to your health and otherwise. It just seems like an invitation for trouble."

"You're not mistaken," I sighed. "That's something I'm working on. It's complicated."

"If you need any assistance; advice, recommendations? I hope you know you can come to us."

"Thank you, Carlisle."

"You betcha. Shall we go see if Emmett left any of those cookies untouched?"

"I wouldn't count on it," I giggled. "You go on ahead; I'm just going to stop in the restroom quick if that's okay."

He walked back down the stairs and I slipped into the bathroom, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet while I pulled out my phone and typed out a quick message.

April 7th and not a day sooner. Doctor's orders. Just drop it.

x-x-x

The remaining days of March began to fly past, and not just for me. With the busy wedding season at it's beginning stages and the approach of her own wedding to Jasper creeping steadily closer, Alice was in and out more often than normal. She seemed to be an amazingly calm bride from, I could only imagine, her occupation and how many other weddings she'd had to deal with for other people. She and Jasper had decided on a June date where they would be wed at the family lake cabin in Northern Minnesota. She'd said it would be a small, relatively private affair, which may have surprised me if I hadn't gotten to know her so well. While Alice looked stylish and enjoyed her time as a social butterfly, I'd learned that at the core, she was a woman who cherished her family above all. I had no doubt that she'd still turn it into an elegant affair, completely suited to both her and Jasper. Her latest 'wedding chore' was to assemble and address her invitations. She'd already drafted Rose and me for a girls night slash invitation assembly line for when they would arrive in early April.

The guys were equally busy as the regular season was coming to a close and the race for a spot in the playoffs kicked into high gear. Their standings left them a good chance to make it, but they weren't guaranteed a slot. Their practice times were expanded and when they weren't at the arena or on the road, they were all fairly exhausted and usually just wanted to crash and hang out around one of our apartments.

For my part, I remained focused on my goal to be ready for April and my appointment with Carlisle. I didn't want to get my hopes up entirely, but if he gave the okay, I would be ready to jump back in. I was getting antsy to train again. The World Figure Skating Championships were just gearing up to take place in Los Angeles over the upcoming weekend and unlike the depression I'd felt over Nationals, this time I was filled with a restless longing to be there, to be finalizing my routines and anxiously awaiting my section assignment. Worlds would essentially set the number of slots appointed to each country for Vancouver. Prep for the Olympics was already getting underway and I was eager to get back in on the action.

Edward and I tried to spend any spare time together that we could manage, either alone or with our friends. One afternoon he talked me into playing hooky and catching a matinee at the movie theater where we kicked our feet up on the empty seats in front of us, propped up the movable armrest and snuggled, our fingers caressing in the shared tub of popcorn and drinking from the same straw in the massive cup of soda.

Our physical relationship remained steady with innocent kisses and lingering embraces. There were times I longed for more than that, for him not to break away any time he felt a kiss getting just a little too deep, for him to loosen the tight control he seemed to have on himself that wouldn't allow his hands to wander. I didn't know how to communicate that to him, so for the time being, I enjoyed the point we were at, allowing myself to get steadily more comfortable and confident in what we had together. When we couldn't see each other, we still talked on the phone or texted. He knew my appointment was coming up, but I didn't share exactly when it was to take place, not wanting to distract him when his own career was so busy.

I went to every home game I could manage, cheering wildly from the stands. I was stopped a time or two by fans in the crowd who recognized me, knowing from the article that I'd be there to support Edward. Alice and Rose giggled every time I was approached, telling me it was odd for them to see me as Isabella Swan, Ice Princess, rather than just Bella, their buddy. Knowing that my location was now public knowledge should have prepared me a little for the phone call I received one Thursday afternoon, and what led to it. As it was, when I picked up my phone I almost dropped it right back down again in shock, managing to press the talk button and lift the phone to my ear.

"Dad?" I asked, confused and curious as to why he'd be calling.

He so rarely called me, especially out of the blue. He'd always make a point to contact me for my birthday and around the holidays, and we'd e-mail occasionally to keep each other appraised of any significant events going on in each other's lives, but I hadn't heard from him since I'd arrived in Minnesota.

I heard his throat clear through the line, slightly muffled as he must have held the phone away from his mouth before he spoke. "Hey, Bells, er Bella. How's it going, kid?"

"Good, great, um…okay, I guess," I stammered, always feeling slightly awkward with our conversations, the discomfort not aided by the fact that he always seemed to be just as uncomfortable. "How are you?"

"Oh fine, nothing much to report."

"Nothing exciting happening in Forks?"

"Not too much. Harry Clearwater hooked himself a big trout a few weeks back, and Billy Black's been over a lot lately to visit the flat screen with hockey season in full throttle."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. Billy's son plays, doesn't he?" I asked, vaguely recalling him mentioning it a time or two in the past.

"Yup, Jake's in Chicago with the Blackhawks."

"Huh. I forgot about that," I mumbled, faintly curious about whether or not Edward or the guys knew him. I'd never met Jake, but I knew Charlie and his dad were good buddies.

"That's err- actually what led me to call," he stammered, and I wondered if he still had his mustache and if he still twitched it when he was uncomfortable like he used to when I was a kid.

"What? Jake? I don't even know him," I said, feeling a bit baffled.

"No, no, not Jake. Uh, the hockey games. We were watching the Capitals play Minnesota last night and I saw you there in the stands."

"Huh?" I asked dumbly.

"On TV, Bells. They showed you in the stands during the game on ESPN, mentioned something about you and one of the players."

"Oh," I said quietly, unsure how to respond any further. Was he checking up on me? Was he upset that I was dating a hockey player? Why would he even care? I mean, I know he was my father, but he'd taken so little interest in my life that it just didn't register with me what the purpose of this call could have been.

"I just- I don't- Look, Bella, you've got your own life and I don't want to meddle with that. I just wanted to say you looked good. Happy. It was good to see you like that."

"Um, thanks, Dad," I murmured.

"Yeah, well, it's not my place, like I said. I just, I hadn't heard about you dating any other boys in the past. I just hope he's treating you well."

"He is, Dad. Edward's great. He's a good guy."

"Good, that's good. Okay, well, I just wanted to check in, say 'hey.' How's your mother doing?"

"I don't know, Dad. She and I aren't on the best terms right now."

"You okay, ba- Bella? I know she can be a difficult woman."

"Yeah, I'm starting to see just how difficult," I said on a long sigh.

"Anything I can help with?"

"I don't know, Dad. I don't know how much you know about my skating, what's going on right now. It's just all so complicated," I muttered, flopping back on my pillows.

"What seems to be the trouble, kid?"

"Maybe nothing. Mom's just hounding me a lot lately. I've been trying to break out on my own more since I've moved away from her, but she's still in charge of so much with my career, my finances, I'm just not sure how to change that, get her to give up some of her control on my life."

"Your finances?" he asked, a tinge of surprise in his tone. "Does your mother still handle your accounts, Bells?"

"Yeah, she always has. Why? Dad?" I prodded when he didn't answer.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm here," he grunted after a moment.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bugging you with all this. It's not your problem," I muttered, embarrassed that I'd opened myself up to him so much. Being around the Cullens had really started to mess with my ability to just keep things to myself and shut the hell up.

"Bella-" he started.

"No, really. It's fine. I'm handling it. Like you said, you don't want to meddle, and I don't want to drag you into my issues. I'm glad you called, Dad. It was good to hear from you," I said, effectively winding down the phone call.

"Yeah, right. Well, I hope things work out then. You take care of yourself, Bells."

"Yeah, you too."

"Always do," he muttered and there was an awkward pause before I disconnected.

I lay there staring at my ceiling, a frown creasing my forehead. What was that all about? From both of us. So often our calls were similar to those of casual acquaintances. We never really delved into each other's lives past the pleasantries. I never really knew what to say to him, and I never really thought he cared that much about what was going on in my life. He'd never taken an interest in my skating, and for so long that's all I felt I had to talk about. When I was a kid, he'd rarely come to the rink, his work schedule at the time had made if difficult for him to ever come to my practices and he'd only come to a couple of my performances. My mom had always been there, so maybe he thought I hadn't needed him there too. I'm sure figure skating and sequins weren't really his scene, it shouldn't bother me so much that he couldn't seem to just suck it up and find an interest in it for me.

But he hadn't, and I was doing just fine on my own. Sure, things with Renee were complicated, but I'd figure it out. I didn't need Charlie to fix it for me. Maybe I'd wished for my daddy to swoop in and save the day when I was a little girl, but that just wasn't how things were with me and Charlie. Not everyone was a Daddy's Girl.

x-x-x

The following Tuesday, I sat in the waiting room of St. Joseph's, alone this time around as I anxiously awaited my name to be called.

I hadn't told anyone about my appointment that day. Edward had a long afternoon practice, Rose was working, and Alice had a number of client meetings and errands to run. I didn't want to bother them, but even more than that, I didn't want to jinx anything. I already felt like I was starting to put all my eggs in the basket that would result in today being the day I'd get my green light. My skate bag was in the trunk of my car and I'd already called the rink to lengthen my afternoon ice time for the day, just in case. I didn't know what I'd do if Carlisle told me I wasn't ready yet. I had to be ready.

The nurse called my name, walked me through the preliminary steps and left me waiting for Carlisle, who didn't keep me waiting long.

"Big day, Bella," he said when he walked in the door, patting me affectionately on the back before he flipped open the chart.

"I hope so."

"Well, let's take a look and we'll find out," he said, launching into his examination.

Fifteen minutes later, I had my answer. He didn't even need to say the words, the encouraging smile on his face told me everything I needed to know.

"So?" I asked, trying not to get ahead of myself.

"Bella, I want you to remember what we talked about. Don't push it too much, listen to what your body's telling you, and wear the brace to start, but in my professional opinion, you're good to go."

"Really?"

"Really. You'll save me and Esme a seat in Vancouver, won't you?" he requested with a grin.

I couldn't hold back the squeal of excitement any longer as I leapt up and gave him a huge hug, pulling back after a moment, embarrassed at my forwardness. "Sorry! I'm sorry, I'm just so relieved. Thank you so much, Carlisle."

"Hey, I didn't do anything. You take the credit for this one."

"So, can I really jump again? Today?"

"Yes, but-" he held up a finger, "I have to qualify that. You cannot push yourself too much. You can jump. Start off with singles and ones that are a little lower on the difficulty scale at first. You're not going to be landing perfect triples right up front. If I can make the request, I'd like for you to either call or text me afterwards, just to let me know how your knee is feeling."

"Okay, I promise," I said, ready to bolt out the door, practically vibrating in excitement.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go find some ice, Bella."

I didn't need to be told twice. I grinned at him, saying a quick goodbye before I made a hasty exit, heading straight to the rink.

Within fifteen minutes I was standing at the entrance to the ice, an impressive feat due to the fact that it would typically take close to twenty minutes to make the drive from the downtown hospital to the arena. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, spurring me on. All I wanted to do was take one quick spin around the ice and launch right into a perfect triple axel. At the moment I felt like I could actually pull it off based on pure adrenaline alone. And wasn't that just asking for trouble?

I made myself take a step back, lifting my leg to rest my heel on the boards in a long stretch, consciously controlling my breathing in an effort to just calm down and not rush into anything that could result in me landing right back in Carlisle's exam room.

When I felt limber enough, I slipped off my guards , dropping them just outside the boards, and glided out onto the empty ice. I considered putting on some music, but opted against it. I didn't need anything more pumping me up right now or I'd be bouncing straight through the metal ceiling. I wondered if Alice felt like this all the time, she always seemed to have more energy than could be realistically contained within such a small person.

Okay, Bella. Start slowly. Let's not get too ahead of yourself.

I made myself work through my warm-up laps, letting the long, steady strides soothe me further. It worked. Sorta. Until I came to the end of my obligatory fifteen laps. Then I was right back to being a ball of pure nerves and energy.

Maybe I should wait for Marcus. No, that's stupid. You've been jumping for how many years? If you can't manage to pull off one teensy little single toe-loop on your own, you may as well just quit now.

I really hated when my inner voice was right.

Let's go, Swan. No time like the present.

I pushed off, steadily building my speed as I curved around the ice. I felt myself steadily approaching a speed that could launch me into a solid double if I so chose.

Not so fast, Swan. Baby steps.

Lightly kicking my foot out in front of me in preparation, I took a deep breath...and panicked.

Just as I was about to dig my toe pick in, a series of images flashed through my head, all involving pain and disaster.

"Shit," I muttered as I pulled my leg back, returning to a slow drifting pace. Was there such a thing as PTSD when it came to figure skating injuries?

I'd fallen a million times before. Every skater fell. There's a reason that falling properly was the first thing any good instructor taught you. And sure, it still hurt sometimes, but the reward of that feeling of elation the one time you didn't fall was worth every botched attempt.

With that in mind, I took off around the ice once more, the scraping sound seeming to whisper in my ear "Come on, Bella. Come on, Bella." Sort of like the little engine that could. Maybe that would help.

As I crossed my feet over I chanted softly, "I think I can. I think I can."

I hesitantly stuck my foot out once more, bracing myself as I dug in my pick, disconnected with the ice for one split second, and fell.

"Oof," I groaned as the air left me and I allowed myself to just flop back on the flat surface for a moment, the ice soothing against the spot where I'd landed heavily on my hip. "That's gonna leave a mark."

You see, Bella. That's why you don't hesitate. You hesitate, you fall.

As I laid there steeling myself for another attempt, I oddly recalled a scene from an old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie I'd watched as a kid. Ginger was trying to teach Fred to dance, with him comically falling all over himself, and her. How did that song go again?

Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off. Start all over again.

So, that's what I did. Again and again. And again. Falling every time, always for different reasons. Not enough speed, too much rotation, not enough rotation. The pain in my hip was throbbing, now in competition with what would likely be a colorful bruise on my shoulder. It did nothing to deter me, it merely egged me on, determined to just land once.

Then, on what must have been my twenty-fifth attempt, I felt it.

Gritting my teeth, I jutted out my foot in front of me. This had to be the one. Perfect speed, perfect timing, there was no way I was not landing it.

As I took off into the air, time seemed to slow for just one moment, all my focus narrowed in, visualizing a seamless return to the ice, and one second later it was a reality. I glided out of the landing, my back leg suspended behind me, arms extended for balance as I lowered to come to a stop, and burst out laughing triumphantly.

Finally.

I didn't stop there, the remainder of my afternoon at the ice filled with attempts at various jumps, but never testing beyond a single rotation. That would come in time. Some came easily, while others had me eating a lot more ice and adding to the collage of bruises forming just under my skin.

After three hours I was tired, I was sweaty, I could barely move. And I felt fantastic.

Edward, knowing the time I always wrapped up for the day, called just as I was wiping down my blades. After a quick chat, he'd asked me over to his place for dinner that night. I'd never been to his house before and I was excited to get that insight on him. Would it be modern or vintage, like his childhood home had been? Would it be clean or would he have stacks of randomness on every open surface? Would it be the typical 'bachelor pad' or something completely different? I wasn't sure what to expect, but I had fun guessing while I drove home and rinsed off, giving myself a few extra minutes under the hot water to ease the aches. I could already see purple.

Dressed casually in jeans, a tank top, and one of the button-ups that Alice had talked me into that first day at Target, I swiped on a quick layer of mascara and lip-gloss on the way out the door, remembering at the last second that I'd promised Carlisle an update.

"Bella, how'd it go?" he answered after two rings.

"Good. Well, okay. I survived and my knee is still in tact, so that's something right?" I chuckled with self-deprecation.

"It'll get easier, Bella," he affirmed, "You're going to have to be patient."

"I know you're right. It's just hard to accept that I can barely land a single when I know I'm capable of more."

"You're still capable; you just need to retrain your knee to support you. You'll get there."

"Yeah. I'm a little worse for wear, but my knee's not hurting."

"I'm glad to hear that. Listen, Bella, I want to give you a heads up," he said, his voice full of reassurance.

"What is it?"

"Your mother called here this afternoon, trying to get some information about your appointment. We didn't tell her anything, I told you about our confidentiality agreement, but I just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Carlisle. It's not really a surprise. I haven't been as open with her lately so it makes sense that she'd seek out the information elsewhere."

"Well, you tell her when you choose, it's completely up to you."

"Kay. Thank you again."

"Have a good evening, Bella."

"Yeah, you too. Tell Esme I said 'hello,' will you?"

"Of course, she'll be pleased to hear it."

Less than a minute after ending the call, I rolled my eyes and lifted the phone back to my ear after hitting the speed dial for Renee, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I locked up behind me. She wouldn't back off until I gave her something.

I was surprised when her voicemail kicked in. It was so rare that she didn't answer my calls. Maybe she'd gone out for the night. I shrugged, leaving a brief message saying that I called and would talk to her later before turning my phone to silent. I didn't need her interrupting my evening with Edward.

I eased into my car with some delicacy, already feeling the bruises emerging all over my body from the number of falls I'd taken that afternoon. It was not going to be a pretty sight. Following Edward's directions, it took me less than ten minutes to pull up in front of the address he'd given me. When I parked and stood at the top of the walkway, I had to smile. It looked like him. It wasn't pretentious or overbearing, but managed to be elegant and beautiful while still appearing warm and comfortable. It was a craftsman style bungalow in gray and white with a low-slung gabled roof and a wide front porch with tapered columns of stone bases and white wood. It was completely charming. Especially when the front door opened and Edward stepped out on the front porch, leaning on the railing as he waited for me to make my way up the sidewalk, giving me a light kiss in greeting before pulling me inside. He took my coat, hanging it in the front closet while I slipped out of my shoes, glancing around the front entryway.

"So?" he said, rocking back on his heels a bit, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"So?" I returned, not sure what he was searching for.

"What do you think?"

I chuckled a little. "I don't know, so far I've seen the coat closet. It's very organized."

He laughed in return, his shoulders relaxing as he removed his hands from his pockets, reaching for mine. "Yeah, I guess I should let you see the place before I ask you to form an opinion. And I get to take you on the tour this time, let's go!" he urged, eagerly tugging me further into his house, our socked feet padding across the light hardwood floors.

The more I saw of it, the move I loved his home. Every part of it fit him and he seemed completely comfortable in his surroundings. The dark wood beams across the ceiling, the built-in bookcases stuffed to the brim with books and framed photographs, the stone fireplace with wooden logs in place and ready to burn, the elegant piano in the sitting room, closed off by beautiful french doors, the newly remodeled kitchen with stainless steel appliances and dark wood cabinets. As much as I loved my apartment, it was nothing compared to this.

"I can officially say now," I said as we ended the tour in the kitchen, "that I'm in love with your house. Wanna trade?"

He laughed, wrapping his arms around me. "That depends, Swan. What are you willing to offer?"

"Maybe I'll just have to come over more often."

He hummed, rubbing his nose against mine. "Mm, I like the sound of that. You're always welcome."

"You probably don't want to extend such an open invitation. I might have my mail forwarded to the window seat in your living room."

"You won't hear any arguments from me," he said, pressing his lips to mine. "You know, you already have one of those in your apartment."

"I know. I love mine. I don't think I could ever live somewhere that doesn't have one."

"So what, you're a window seat addict?"

"You could say that. It's just the perfect spot to curl up and get lost in a book or dream the day away."

"Well, you're more than welcome to dream in my window seat."

The oven timer beeped, and he backed away from me to grab an oven mitt.

"You cooked?" I asked in genuine surprise.

"Uh, no. I don't cook. I wish I could take credit for this...but mom spoils me with frozen meals every once in awhile. This one's all her," he said as he pulled a pan of lasagna out of the oven, the smell of garlic and cheese and tomato sauce wafting through the kitchen. "I did unwrap the garlic bread and put it on the right pan, though."

"Wow, you're a real Mario Batali," I mocked, leaning against the island as he pulled plates and glasses from one of the cabinets. "Can I help?"

"I think we're all set. Best part about lasagna is it's low maintenance," he said as he cut into the pasta with a spatula, scooping portions out onto the stoneware plates. "That enough for you?"

"Yeah, looks great," I said. He tossed a couple pieces of garlic bread onto the plates before handing one to me.

"Wine's already on the coffee table," he told me as he swiped a couple cloth napkins from the counter as well as two forks. "I figured we'd eat in the living room. I don't use my kitchen table very much."

"Works for me."

We settled into the plush cushions of his suede couch, heartily digging into the delicious pasta.

"How long have you lived here?"

"A couple years now. I used to have an apartment near where you're at now, but I missed living in a house. I like having a space of my own, no one else around."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Apartment living isn't always the greatest. This place is beautiful. Not at all like a bachelor pad."

"Well, I'll admit to having a fairly extensive game room in the basement. I try not to let the neon signs and sports memorabilia spill over into the rest of the house."

"Did Esme decorate for you?"

"She helped. I can take credit for a lot of it though. I'm not completely without taste."

"Well, it's impressive either way," I said, tossing down my fork with a clang and setting my plate on the coffee table.

"You done?" he asked, reaching for my plate to take it back to the kitchen.

"Yeah, ugh. I couldn't eat another bite. Your mom's such a good cook."

We settled into the couch together when he returned, the fullness of my stomach making me drowsy as we curled up against each other and talked lazily. I almost caught myself dozing off when he shifted a little, bumping against a particularly tender spot on my shoulder in the process. I couldn't hold back on the sharp gasp at the twinge of pain.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked in concern at the look of discomfort on my face.

"Yeah, fine," I brushed it off, not wanting to make a big deal of it.

"What is it?" he asked

"Nothing, Edward. Just a bruise. Don't worry about it."

"It's gotta be pretty bad if you're making that face. Can I take a look?"

"Edward-" I protested.

"Please?" he pleaded, melting my resistance with the look in his eyes.

"Fine. You won't shut up until I let you anyways."

"Glad we understand each other," he smirked as I unbuttoned my over shirt so he could nudge the fabric aside and see my shoulder.

"Jesus, Bella," he winced, as the deep purple skin of my shoulder was revealed. "What the hell did you do? Take a dive bomb into the ice?"

"Uh, sort of."

"You shouldn't be doing anything that would lead to something like this. What were you doing?"

"Jumps."

"Bella-" he began to voice his objection but I shook my head, interrupting.

"Your dad said it was fine. I had an appointment with him this morning."

"You had your appointment? What did he say? Why didn't you tell me?" he fired off, one right after the other.

"Yes, I met with him. He said I could start back to my regular training again."

"Bella, that's great!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a hug and making an effort to avoid the bruise on my shoulder. "So, I take it you got started right away."

"Well, yeah. No time to waste and all that jazz. It wasn't a pretty sight, but I managed to land a few singles without falling. Though I fell a lot before I got to that point. Thus the bruises."

"You have more of these?"

"Probably. One for sure on my hip that I can feel." He studied me for a moment before standing, reaching for my hand.

"Come with me," he requested.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he led me toward the staircase.

"Upstairs. I have something that'll help."

"What's upstairs?"

"My room."

"Trying to get me into your bed, Cullen?" I asked with my brow raised as I followed him up the stairs.

"Not for the purpose you're thinking of," he said, glancing back at me over his shoulder. "I'd like to wait until you're not wincing in pain every time I touch you for that to happen. Stay here for a sec."

He left me standing by the top of the stairs as he stepped into a small room, probably a bathroom, just off the main space. The entire top floor was his bedroom; the ceiling sloped on the sides with a peak down the center, windows dotting the front and back walls and a skylight angled over the queen sized dark wood sleigh bed. The walls were painted a light, mossy green, chocolate brown curtains and throw pillows accenting the space, and an ivory comforter covering the bed.

"Do you have a tank top on under that?" Edward asked as he came back into the room, a small plastic jar in his hand.

"Yeah, why?"

"Take your shirt off."

"What?" I exclaimed, caught off guard at his demand.

"The over shirt, Bella," he rolled his eyes. "Keep the tank top on and lay down."

"You're awfully bossy in your bedroom," I muttered, unbuttoning my shirt the rest of the way and draping it over the foot of his bed.

"That's something we can explore further some other day. On your stomach, Swan."

I did as he said, sprawling out across the width of the mattress, my head resting on my folded arms. "Well, now that you've got me here, what do you plan to do with me?"

"This," he said, holding the jar in front of my face as he climbed up on the bed, crawling on his knees as he moved next to me.

"Mineral Ice? Edward, this really isn't necessary. I have some of my own at home, I can do this later."

"Or we can do it right now and you'll already be feeling better later."

I grumbled a bit, but didn't argue as he twisted open the lid, setting it down on the mattress as he climbed over me, one knee placed on either side of my back. He scooped out a glob of the blue gel, rubbing it between his hands before stroking the skin of my shoulder, rubbing in the therapeutic ointment. I moaned a little as the soothing warmth kicked in after the initial chill, aided by the comforting touch of his massaging hands. The scent of menthol warring against the fragrance that was exclusively Edward that permeated the blanket beneath me.

"Okay?"

"Good. Really good," I groaned, feeling the aches of my body fading as he continued to work his way over my shoulders, paying special attention to the area that was most colorful, working out knots of tension in my back that I hadn't even known were there. My skin was pliable under his firm fingers, my muscles practically liquefying as he lathered them with attention. Once he'd finished my arms and shoulders, he scooted down a bit until he was perched closer to my knees. I felt him edging up the hem of my shirt as he asked again, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," I said, the sound coming out as barely more than a croak as he folded the fabric up, working his hands over the skin of my lower back, rubbing in small circles along the waist of my jeans.

My breath became shallow as desire coursed through me. I wanted his hands on me and not for the purpose of healing. I wanted to feel the weight of his body pressing me into his mattress, not to know he was poised on top of me, but so carefully avoiding contact. Not for sex, I knew I wasn't ready for that, but to feel more of that passion that I knew he held back on. He was still rubbing against my back, though he'd stopped applying more gel. I hesitated a bit, not wanting to mess up his bed by smearing it with medical ointment, but then I heard him groan ever so quietly as his thumbs stroked across the two shallow dimples in the small of my back, and I prayed he wouldn't mind.

I rolled over easily between his legs, his hands retreating as access to my back was blocked. I stared up at him for a moment, steeling myself and dazzled by the darkening forest green of his eyes as he stared right back down at me intensely. I propped myself up on one arm, reaching my other hand up to curl around his neck and ensuring that he couldn't withdraw any further. I firmly urged his head down, raising myself up just a little more to meet him when he refused to cooperate completely. He didn't hesitate when my lips met his, but he didn't give in either, still obviously holding himself in check as I brushed tender caresses of my mouth over his. I knew he had me, so I lifted the hand that had been propping my body up to grasp the back of his shoulder, attempting to tug him down on top of me and slightly succeeding. He lowered me back until I was lying flat, but still hovered above me, dipping his head down to kiss me.

It wasn't enough.

I tugged insistently against him, raising one of my legs up in an attempt to lower his body as I distracted him by tracing the tip of my tongue over his mouth.

"Bella," he gasped, jerking his head back, "We can't-"

"We're not. We won't," I whispered assurances as I placed open mouthed kisses against the length of his neck. "Just kiss me. Please?"

He broke. His hand dove into the mass of my hair and he let out a low groan as he hungrily possessed my mouth, his tongue sweeping against my lower lip before slipping inside to probe against mine, finally lowering himself on top of me, our bodies in alignment. The room was filled with sighs and quiet moans, the sound of rustling fabric as we moved against each other. I delighted in the weight of his body against mine, the hard, muscular planes feeling so much better than I'd ever imagined. It was a completely new experience, so different even than all the times he'd held me close in a hug or snuggled me on the couch. I barely had time to register exactly what that difference was before it was gone.

He twisted his body off mine, not breaking our kiss and rolling me with him until we both laid on our sides. I let out a moan of protest and he eased back for a moment, his breath panting as he whispered, "I can't, Bella. I just- Not yet. I can't."

"What's wrong?" I asked, my chest heaving as I caught my breath.

"I only have so much self-control. I don't think either of us are ready for that yet."

"So, we can't-"

"No, no, no, we can do this," he rushed out, "It's just, if I have to pull back, you need to let me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," I agreed, my gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes and his lips, wishing he would just stop talking. He granted my unspoken request, stroking my hair back behind my ear and leaning in again. I pressed forward, resuming the passionate dance of our tongues threading my arms through his to curl over his back, my fingers kneading against the tense muscles as I lost myself in him and felt him loosen himself once more. We lay there for what could have been minutes or hours, only parting for moments to breathe before coming together again.

This time I was the one who reeled us in, gradually shortening the amount of time our lips met until they were no more than soft, brief pecks, placing a final kiss upon the tip of his nose before rubbing mine against his and smiling as he looked into my eyes.

He sighed, his hand easing its hold on my hair to brush lightly down the length of it. I hummed in contentment, enjoying the view of his face resting on the mattress right in front of mine.

"Bella?" he whispered in the silence of the room.

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you tell me? About your appointment?" he clarified at my raised eyebrow. "I know it was important to you, that you were nervous about it."

I shrugged the shoulder not pressed into the mattress and bit my lip. "I don't know. You've been so busy, with playoffs coming up and everything. I didn't want to bother you. You had enough on your mind."

"Bella," he rolled over me, pinning me against the bed and blocking out everything from my view but him. "I'm never too busy for you. Got it? I always want to hear about things that are important to you, or even if they're not important. If it matters to you, it matters to me, okay?"

"Kay," I whispered, releasing my lip just before his met mine in a lingering kiss of reassurance.

x-x-x

The following evening, the guys had a game in Detroit and the girls and I were settled into Alice and Rose's apartment for Girls' Night slash Invitation Assembly. Alice was kind enough to allow us to have alcohol near her pristinely stacked elements, though her "clear liquids only" rule left us with concoctions of Sprite and Vodka. I don't know why she had that rule. If something spilled they were going to get ruined anyway, clear liquid or not.

The game was on in the background as I stuffed, Rose sealed, and Alice stamped, precisely lining up the postage and address label perfectly on every envelope. I had to admit, they invitations were pretty. Simple white cards with a soft green ink embedded into the paper, a leafy design framing the scripted words. I was amazed to hear that Alice had hedged over whether or not to give me my own invitation, considering attaching my name to the one set aside for Edward. In the end, she'd given me my own, just in case I might like to have a copy, though she was not quiet about the fact that she fully expected us to attend together. The fact that she was looking ahead and picturing us together made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I hadn't thought much about my future here, but now that it was brought to my attention, I knew that I still wanted to be here, with these people, with Edward, and celebrating two of my dear friends.

"So, Bella," Alice began, clearly leading into something.

"What?" I asked, giving her a bit of a skeptical look as I stuffed the next envelope.

"I know it's somewhat short notice, but I was wondering if you might consider standing up with Rose at the wedding."

"What?" I sputtered with a mixture of confusion and surprise, "Like as a bridesmaid or something?"

"Yeah. It would just be the two of you. You wouldn't need to wear matching dresses or anything, but you'd have flowers, be in some pictures, hold my back-up tissues for when I completely lose it when Jasper says his vows."

"Alice, do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Bella, don't be ridiculous. You and Rose are my best friends; of course I'd want you there with me."

"Yeah, but I mean you haven't known me for very long, do you really want me in your wedding?"

"It doesn't matter how long we've known each other, Bella. We're like female soul mates. When it's right, you just know."

"Really? You really want me to be one of your bridesmaids?" I asked with a shy smile as I let myself see past all the logical reasons why she shouldn't ask me and accept the possibility that Alice could quite possibly be a life-long friend.

"Is that a 'yes'?" she squealed, launching across the table to hug me, only holding on for a moment before she flinched back. "Oh, shit, did any of them get crushed?"

"No, Alice," Rose reassured her with a roll of her eyes. "They're all in perfect condition." She turned toward me with an exaggerated whisper that Alice could still hear. "Thank God you said 'yes.' Now she has someone else to pester with all this crap."

"Hey!" Alice shouted indignantly, swatting at Rose with a book of stamps as I giggled. "I'm not that bad."

Once the invitations were finished, lined neatly in alphabetical order in one of Alice's many "wedding supplies" boxes, we sprawled out in front of the TV to watch the rest of the game. The final score came in with the Wild winning 4-2. If they won their next home game on Saturday against Edmonton, they'd clinch their spot in the playoffs. I lingered on their couch for a bit, knowing it would take Edward a few minutes to wrap things up and have the chance to call me and that I wouldn't go to bed until I'd talked to him. Alice was talking about going to look for dresses for her wedding when she stopped herself.

"Bella, is someone knocking on your door?" she asked, straining her head a bit to listen. We were all quiet for a moment when I heard the sound she'd been referring to.

"It can't be for my place. Who would it be?"

The knocking came again, louder this time, and unquestionably from across the hallway. I furrowed my brow and headed to their door, glancing out their peep hole and gasping before I threw open the door.

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

x-x-x

A/N: Dives for cover. I'm SO sorry to do that to you. Gigantor cliffy, I know. It's very likely the only cliffhanger that will happen in this story, does that make you feel even the slightest bit better?

I urge you to remember all the great things that happened in this chapter, like Mineral Ice make-outs and Cullen family brunches, and Bella getting back to kicking butt on the ice.

If you're kind enough to review, remember the 14,990 words of this epic chapter, not just the 6 pesky ones at the end, okay? Thanks.

Reviews will get teased, so leave me some love before we head into Reneeland.