Infinite Visibility
Rating: M.
Acknowledgement: All the thanks in the world to HollettLA, whose margin notes belong on Comedy Central. No joke. ILY, lady. xo
A/N: So...I'm sorry for the delay. There was Christmas. And then I had a baby. And...well, that's really it. But I have three more chapters in the vault, so...forgive me?
Thank you, as always, for reading, and for the love this story has received. xo
Chapter Nine
"He's sleeping in the guest room," Charlie grumbles in reminder, and Bella laughs as she pushes her spaghetti around her plate with a crust of French bread.
"I know."
Her father grunts as he takes a sip of his beer, and Bella smiles down at her plate, the heady anticipation of Tyler's looming arrival making her heart hum. The past month has been oddly relaxed, the ghosts she had feared making only the most infrequent of appearances and the friendships she had tried to selfishly leave behind growing stronger in their place. She has a small stack of books on her nightstand, all with Strand Books price stickers that she can't quite bring herself to peel off, and there are a few postcards of New York sights taped to the wall above her headboard. Her cell phone still grows warm against her ear every night, and she has only barely stopped herself from crossing off the days on the kitchen calendar with big red X's.
"Jake going with you?" Charlie's question pulls her focus back to the table, and she nods.
"Yeah."
"Good of him."
Bella smiles, the amusement at her father's barely-disguised fishing now comfortably familiar. "Very good of him."
Charlie sighs, finishing his last forkful before wiping his mouth and dropping his napkin beside his plate. "Great dinner, Bells."
"Thanks."
"I'll get dishes; you get to bed. Gonna have to leave early to meet his plane."
"Okay," she agrees, not about to argue being excused from dish duty. "And Dad?"
"Hm?"
"Thanks. For letting Tyler come. It means a lot."
He grumbles something that could be acquiescence before pinning her with what she had years ago dubbed his "cop-eye." "He makes you happy."
It isn't a question, but Bella identifies it as such anyway. "He really does."
Charlie nods, still considering her. "Yeah. Haven't seen you this happy since…" He waves his hand in the space above his empty plate, and Bella takes it to mean, "since that Cullen kid skipped town and broke your heart and essentially made you a shell of your former self."
Respecting his courage for sort-of bringing it up, Bella pauses. "Happier, actually."
"Oh yeah?" She can see the surprise in Charlie's eyes, remembers how enthralled she had been by Edward, how utterly lovestruck she must have seemed even from the outside.
"Yeah," she assures him, only mildly surprised to realize the truth of her own words. "Dad, he makes me even happier than I was then."
"Good," Charlie replies, lifting his beer can once again, clearly finished with the heart-to-heart. "Well, that's real good."
"Thanks," Bella says when nothing else is forthcoming – a thank-you for the dishes and the concern and for the fact that she has a father who gives a shit enough about her to have conversations that make him uncomfortable.
"Goodnight, Bells."
"Night, Dad."
The following morning, bumping along in her truck, Bella is entirely unable to tamp down on her anticipation at seeing Tyler again, and can't even find it in her to be irritated at Jacob's ruthless teasing.
"Want me to just drop you at the curb and go park?" he taunts as they approach the airport, and Bella shoots him a look.
"If we were even a little bit late, the answer to that would be yes," she replies, cranking her window down as she pulls up to the ticket machine just outside the short-term parking deck.
"Damn," he says, but he's smiling a familiar, teasing smile, and Bella grins. She pulls the truck into one of the first spaces she finds and leads the way across the walkway connecting the parking lot to the airport. Once inside, she scans the arrivals board and spies Tyler's flight, which is "in range."
"Come on," she says, grabbing Jake's arm and dragging him toward the gate.
Once they're there, Bella watches through the window, waiting for a jet to pull up to the jet bridge; when it does, she very nearly trips over one of the passengers waiting to board, mumbling an apology as Jake watches, still endlessly amused. "Shut up," she mutters, turning her focus to the door through which the passengers will emerge.
With each traveler that steps through the door, Bella can feel her anticipation mounting, the soda bubbles of excitement intensifying in her stomach until she feels like she might burst. Just as she's about to explode with some variation of "Where is he?!" she spies a familiar mop of hair half-hidden by a Yankees cap, a beloved pair of blue-green eyes scanning the crowd, the adored smile breaking across his face when he spots her standing, waiting. He hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder as he walks toward her, and when he's two steps away, Bella loses the battle with her composure, launching herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her mouth to his.
"Well, hi," he laughs against her lips, kissing her softly, gently, before pulling back to look at her, an amused, flattered, joyous smile on his face. "What, did you miss me or something?"
"Shut up, you missed me too."
"Believe it," he agrees, leaning in to kiss her for real this time, and just as she's about to open her mouth and slide her tongue against his lips, she hears Jacob cough slightly behind her. She pulls away, missing him almost immediately.
"Oh. Jake, this is Tyler. Tyler, Jake."
Tyler nods, extending one hand toward him. "Hey, man. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," Jacob says, his voice friendly but a small frown pulling his dark brows together. "Heard a lot about you."
"Oh, boy," Tyler says, but he's back to smiling at Bella, who's grinning right back at him in return.
Before they can get too caught up in each other again, Jacob breaks in. "Baggage claim?"
Tyler nods, grabbing Bella's hand. "Lead the way."
Surprisingly, as they walk through the airport and Bella thrills in the simple feel of Tyler's hand in hers, she finds herself vaguely disappointed that she agreed to let Jacob come. Were it not for his presence, they could likely lose an hour or so making out in the airport parking lot. As it is, Jake is shooting Tyler furtive glances, the furrow between his brows deepening, and Bella is feeling a familiar wave of defensiveness, indignation beginning to grow within her. It isn't until they're at the baggage claim area and Tyler releases her hand to weave his way closer to the carousel that she turns on him.
"Okay, what the hell? What's with the glaring?"
His forehead smoothes out immediately, surprise evident in his dark eyes. "What? Glaring? I wasn't—I'm sorry, I really wasn't glaring. I just…" He frowns again, glancing toward Tyler's back before lowering his voice. "Bells, does he…remind you of anyone?"
Bella glances in Tyler's direction before she half-laughs. "Oh. Right. That."
"'Oh, right, that?!'" Jake echoes, incredulous. "Bells, he looks just like that good-for-nothing bloodsucker!"
"Keep your voice down," she hisses, relieved when Tyler is too focused on the looping circle of bags to be paying any attention. "Okay, when I first met him, it took me by surprise. But honestly, I've sort of…forgotten."
"Forgotten?"
"Jacob, he's Tyler. He's not Edward. Yes, they share some physical traits. But trust me when I tell you that there is nothing – nothing – about Tyler as a person that will remind you of Edward. Nothing."
Jake looks doubtful, but after a beat of consideration, he sighs. "Well, he certainly smells better," he says, as if this is a blessing of some sort, and Bella grins.
"See? I think so, too." And she does. She wouldn't have thought, once upon a time, that any scent could rival Edward's sweet, otherworldly aroma. As it is now, she can't imagine anything making her heart pound, her blood sing, her skin warm the way Tyler's simple smell does, the combination of his citrusy soap and his men's deodorant and his skin that, to her, just smells like love.
When she thinks about it, the truth of the matter is that Edward's ethereal scent is just one more way in which his beauty, his perfection, surpassed her own. What she never thought to consider, back then, was that there was no way she and Edward could ever have been true equals. Had she stayed human, she would always have been less: less strong, less beautiful, less fearless. Had she changed, he would have felt forever indebted to her, forever thinking about what it had cost her to choose him; had she become a vampire, they still wouldn't have been equals. Now, she realizes the beauty in equivalence: all she has to be for Tyler is this version of Bella, and she'd never want him to be anything other than this version of Tyler.
"Got it," Tyler says, interrupting Bella's silent rumination, and Jake nods.
"Okay. All set?"
Tyler smiles, snagging Bella's hand once again in the hand that isn't holding his suitcase. "All set."
By the time Bella drops Jacob at the reservation and pulls back on to the stretch of road between La Push and Forks, she thinks she might explode if she doesn't get to kiss Tyler soon. The familiar smell of him has infused the cab of her truck, and the heavy weight of his palm on her denim-clad knee is making her want to throw the truck into park along the side of the road and just drag him down on top of her.
As if he's read her mind, Tyler sighs, letting his head fall back against the bench seat as his grip tightens on her leg. "God, I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too. Thanks for all the packages."
"You're welcome." He pauses, moving his hand a matter of centimeters higher on her thigh – nowhere near high enough to be obscene, but the movement itself is suggestive enough to send her heart galloping. "I may or may not have another one for you."
"Is that a euphemism?" Bella asks, straining to keep her voice even.
"It's possible," Tyler replies, but his grin is wicked and his eyes are mischievous, and Bella is debating the merits of dragging him into her childhood bedroom versus tackling him on the living room couch when she pulls into her street and spies Charlie's cruiser parked at the curb.
"Damn it," she mutters, and Tyler gives her a confused look.
"What?"
"My dad's home."
A knowing smile pulls at his mouth. "And that derails some plan you had, does it?"
She doesn't answer, swinging the truck into the driveway and killing the engine. Tyler wrestles his bag out from the bed of the truck and follows her inside; as they step into the house, Bella calls out. "Dad?"
There's the sound of chair legs scraping against linoleum, and a beat later, Charlie appears in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer. "Hey, Bells. Thought I might catch you guys if I came home for lunch." His gaze shifts to Tyler, and Bella can immediately spot the same surprise that had been on Jake's face.
"Dad, this is Tyler. Tyler, this is my dad, Charlie Swan."
"Chief Swan," Tyler says, stepping forward with his hand extended. "It's nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me visit."
"Uh-huh," Charlie says, accepting the handshake, intimidating cop stare sliding into place and all but eradicating his surprise. "Good flight?"
"Yes, sir. Thanks."
Her dad nods again. "Just made myself a sandwich. You guys want anything?"
"No thanks, Dad," Bella replies, not giving Tyler a chance to step in. "I'm just going to show Tyler where he can drop his stuff."
"Uh-huh," he says again, this time giving Tyler a warning look, which, to his credit, Tyler accepts with a respectful half-nod before following Bella up the wooden stairs. She leads him to the guest room, where he dumps his backpack and suitcase, before pushing open the door of the bathroom and stepping inside to open the linen closet.
"Towels," she explains, waving a hand over the mismatched linens, and just as she's pulling the door closed, he reaches out a hand to stop it before plucking a half-empty box of tampons off one of the higher shelves.
"Does this mean no fun while I'm here?" he asks, cheeky grin making his eyes dance, and Bella snatches the box out of his hand, blushing as she stows it back in the linen closet.
"No," she hisses, closing the door and turning to lean against it. "Those are…old."
"Fantastic," he breathes, stepping into her space and pinning her against the closet door with his hips. Her mind whirls for a moment before it spins in a completely different direction, a small frown darkening her features. Tyler, registering the shift in her mood, steps back, ducking his head to look into her face. "You okay?"
"Today is the third. July third."
"It is."
Her frown deepens as a whole new type of panic she's never had reason to feel before starts to knock around in her chest. "I'm late."
"For what?"
Bella meets his eye for a moment before tilting her head backward, toward the closet behind her. "My…me. I'm late."
"Oh." Catching on, Tyler frowns. "Oh. Shit." He runs a hand through his hair and steps back again, propping himself against the small sink. "How late?"
Bella mentally flips through her internal calendar, remembering the last time her body put a damper on their "fun," and winces. "Like, three weeks?"
"Oh, shit," he says again, his eyes widening slightly, and Bella worries the hem of her t-shirt between her fingers.
"Is it…"
"What?"
"Is it possible that it did break? That night?"
Tyler's hand is tangled in his hair again, and Bella winces as he tugs on the strands. "Shit. I guess so. I didn't think it had, but…fuck. I should have checked it better. God, Bella, I'm sorry."
Her eyebrows leap. "What are you sorry for?"
He shakes his head, and his eyes dart down to her stomach as if by reflex before lifting to her face. "I should have…I don't know. Protected you better. Us better."
"Stop," she says, stepping forward. "This is…both of us. If it's…I mean, if I'm…well, we'll figure it out together. Right?"
"Jesus, Bella, of course we will." He wraps his arms around her, and she forces herself to find comfort in the tight ring of his arms despite the fear that is clawing at her stomach. They stand like that until Bella hears the distant sound of Charlie clearing his throat from the bottom of the stairs.
"Bells?" he calls, and she pulls away, running an absent hand over the front of her shirt.
"Coming!" she replies, glancing up into Tyler's eyes. She can't quite decipher the look in them – shock? Fear? Confusion? A little bit of all three, she suspects. – and tilts her head toward the hallway. He follows her downstairs, where they say goodbye to Charlie; after the sound of his cruiser disappears up the street, Bella retrieves her keys from the table inside the front door.
Forty-five minutes later, they're back in the bathroom, Bella reading the directions on the test while Tyler sits on the ledge of the bathtub, his knee bouncing. When she's sure she has it figured out, she turns to peer at him, a flush staining her cheeks. "I, um. Have to pee on it."
"Right," he says, nodding, and when she doesn't move, his eyes widen and he very nearly jumps up. "Oh! Right. Sorry. I'll, uh…wait outside. Okay?"
"Okay."
He slips through the door, pulling it closed gently behind him, and when the two pink stripes appear three minutes later, Bella finds that while she's terrified, she isn't really all that surprised. Tyler pulls her once again into the safety of his embrace, kissing the top of her head and running his hands up and down her back. She can hear his heart hammering behind his breastbone in a pretty accurate echo of what her own is doing, and she tries to swallow the ball of fear and disbelief in the back of her throat. "I'm sorry," she whispers, and he tightens his hold on her.
"Don't," he murmurs, kissing her temple. "It'll be okay." They stand like that for an unknowable amount of time before he clears his throat, the sound rumbling against the ear she has pressed to his chest. "Should we…I mean, should you…do we need to see a doctor?"
"I guess so," she says, and she doesn't even know the answer to this question; the realization of how much she doesn't know hits her, sending another spike of fear through her heart. "There's a, um, Planned Parenthood in Port Angeles."
"Okay," he says, and his arms tighten around her as they stand together in the calm before the storm, trying to find their footing.
That evening, following Fourth of July festivities at First Beach, Bella and Tyler return to her house, taking turns showering off the sand and smoke and sulfur before changing into pajamas and sliding between the lavender sheets of her bed. They lie in relative silence in the darkness, Bella's bare feet finding the warm space between his calves and her hands clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. She breathes in the soothing scent of him, the scent she'd spent time pondering earlier, and revels in his presence, despite the plot twist that has somewhat disrupted their reunion.
"What are you thinking?" she whispers finally into the darkness, when the silence grows too large with unasked questions.
"I'm…honestly, I'm not really sure," he admits, and the small chuckle that follows his words does more to lift the weight from her heart than any words themselves could have. "I sort of feel like my head is still spinning."
"Yeah," she agrees, winding his cotton hem around her index finger. "I know the feeling."
"How are you feeling, though? I mean, like, not emotionally, but physically?"
"Fine," she replies, almost apologetic at that fact. Where is the morning sickness, the moodiness, the other symptoms that are supposed to alert women to the fact that they're pregnant? "I guess that's why I didn't realize. I feel…fine. Normal."
"Huh." He says nothing more, and she doesn't know what else to say, and while she has always seen Tyler as older, more mature, more experienced, both by virtue of his age and his background, in this moment, she feels like they're both teenagers, equally clueless and dumbfounded.
"Do you…I mean…" She trails off, entirely lost as to what words to put to the haze of questions clogging up her mind. "Do you have any thoughts about…I mean, if the test is right? Like, what you would want to…happen?"
She can just make out the surprise that steals across his face as he peers at her through the darkness. "Isn't that…well…I thought that was sort of…the girl's prerogative?"
"I guess so," she murmurs. "But I…I want to hear what you think, first." Since the initial moment of realization struck her, she has known what she wants. In the twelve or so hours since, that feeling has grown, but it feels ephemeral, wispy, like it could be blown away on nothing more than the breath it would take him to confess his wish for the opposite.
"Are you sure?" he asks, and she swallows, trying to steel herself for either possibility.
"Yes."
"Okay." He takes a deep breath. "This is probably stupid. But I love you, and I want to be with you, and I think I want this. But only if you want it, too. If you don't, that's okay."
She peers into his blue-green eyes, everything he's offering her sitting between them like an unopened gift. Despite her initial inclination, she tries to imagine what she'd be giving up – school, friends, the tail end of her adolescence, most of her 20s. But then she imagines what she'd be getting in return: Tyler. Tyler's child. Tyler's family. With a concentration she hasn't permitted herself since the test turned up positive, she lets herself genuinely imagine being a mother, and the truth of how badly she wants something she never thought she would want surprises her. And, on the heels of that realization, another truth, another reality, another comparison she wasn't willing to make until now: Tyler's giving her something Edward never could have. Something she'd been willing to disregard without ever really thinking about it – a truth that could be held for so many things she'd have said goodbye to impulsively, without a second glance, for the chance to join Edward on the other side of mortality.
"I want this," she says finally, and the admission, the acknowledgement, takes away a chunk of her fear like an outgoing tide clearing the beach of debris. "I know it won't be easy, but…" She catches his fingers in hers. "I want this."
He blows out a breath. "Okay." He leans forward, pressing his forehead to hers. "I want this, too." Then, his mouth is on hers, gentle and questioning and loving. She winds her hands in his hair and he sighs into her mouth, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her body flush against his. Bella relishes the soft slide of his tongue against hers, the familiar taste of him that she's been missing for a month, and when he dips his head to press his lips to the column of her throat, she whimpers.
"We can stop," he murmurs. "If you don't want to."
But she's never wanted anything more, doesn't think she's ever yearned to feel him connected with her, joined with her, nearly as badly as she does in this moment. "I want to," she whispers, and as his mouth finds hers again, he slides her out of her clothes with such tenderness that she feels more cherished, more beloved than she has at any other point in her life. And when he pushes into her, slowly, gently, lovingly, there's a look in his eyes that she's never seen before. "Okay?" he asks, his thrusts shallow, and she nods, tilting her hips and wrapping her legs around him to draw him deeper, relishing his soft grunt of pleasure.
"I love you," she whispers, grateful as he picks up his pace and her bed starts creaking that Charlie is still out on the holiday shift.
"God, Bella, I love you so much," he gasps, leaning forward to press every inch of them together: lips, chests, stomachs.
She has heard people describe an orgasm as feeling as though one is splintering, falling apart, shattering. She feels sorry for them, because in the moment that Tyler pushes her over the edge, she has never felt more whole.
"I should probably go back to my room," he murmurs some time later, dropping soft kisses along the bare skin of her shoulder. "Your dad will be home soon, right?"
"Probably," Bella agrees, hating the thought of letting him go, of him sleeping in another room, so close and yet still too far away to wrap himself around her as they sleep.
Heaving a sigh, he kisses her once more on the lips before sitting up. "Where are my pants?"
She giggles, wiggling her feet around the foot of her bed until her toes find a crumpled ball of cotton caught up where she sheet is wrapped around the mattress. "Got 'em." She watches, amused, as Tyler wriggles back into his pants before pressing his bare torso against hers, kissing her softly, loose-lipped and tender. "Good night," he murmurs.
"Good night," she whispers back.
He pulls his head back slightly, his expression suddenly serious. "I love you."
He's said it enough times that she's lost count, but it still makes her heart soar. "I love you, too."
"I'm going to take care of us," he promises, and she curls a small hand around the back of his neck.
"I'm going to take care of us, too," she vows, determined never again to be the lesser party.
He grins, kissing her once more, quick, before standing and making a move toward the door. Suddenly, he's gone, and it isn't until she hears him moaning from the floor that she realizes he's tripped. Trying unsuccessfully to hide her giggles, she peeks over the edge of the mattress. "Are you okay?"
"Owww," he mutters, rubbing his kneecap. "Shit."
"What happened?"
"I think I tripped over…something. My pants snagged." When he lifts his ankle, there's a small tear at the hem of his right pant leg, the plaid cotton gaping around his heel. He shifts his focus back to the floor, frown deepening as he pushes at a plank, which moves beneath his fingers. "You have a loose floorboard," he tells her, and she shrugs.
"Really?"
"In fact…" He trails off, one edge of the slat lifting as he presses on the opposite side. "It comes up."
Bella scrunches up her nose. "Yeah, I wouldn't go digging around in the floor," she advises him. "There are probably rats and bugs in there."
Tyler laughs. "The apartment Aidan and I lived in before the one now had cockroaches in the oven."
"Ew," she replies, shuddering at the thought as she tightens her hold on the sheet and Tyler's hand vanishes into the dark cavity.
"No rats or bugs," he announces after a moment. "But—" he stops as he withdraws his hand, which is holding what looks like a plastic disc case and a small stack of photos. It isn't until Bella realizes that the top one is creased down the middle that her throat closes and she goes stone still. "Ah," Tyler says as he glances at the top few photos, then gives her a knowing look. "The old boyfriend stash. I've gotta say, definite points for creativity – most girls use shoeboxes."
"I didn't—I mean, it wasn't—" She shakes her head, as if trying to clear it, before holding out her hand. "Can I see them?" Tyler hands the pictures and the disc over, and as she flips through them, Bella is lost in a torrent of memory.
If someone had told her months ago that she'd unearth the few concrete mementos she had of the Cullens – of Edward – she'd have thought it would reduce her to the point of tears. But as she flips through the photos, gazing not only at Edward's face but at Alice's, Carlisle's, Esme's, she feels an odd sort of detached loss, as if she's looking at photos of grandparents who died when she was a child, or an old classmate with whom she's lost touch. There is nothing of the heartache, the pain she might have expected. "So," Tyler says carefully, breaking her silent reverie as he rises from the floor and perches himself on the edge of her mattress. "The infamous ex." His voice is wary, his eyes sharp, and a curl of guilt winds its way around her heart.
"Yeah. Edward."
"Edward?" he echoes. "Hm."
When he says nothing else, Bella sighs. "He actually hid all of these; I had no idea they were under there."
Tyler's eyebrows hitch. "Seriously? Why?"
Bella shrugs, uncertain of how to go into Edward's warped sense of protectiveness without creating more questions. "I guess he thought it would be better for me if I didn't have any reminders of him."
Those heavy brows she loves draw together. "Well, that's pretty dickish."
"Huh?"
"For him to decide what's best for you like that. You're a smart girl. He sounds like a controlling, egomaniacal asshole."
Bella giggles, even as she feels mildly guilty; the depth of Edward's self-loathing isn't something she'll ever be able to explain to Tyler, but what she hadn't realized until now was how much of that revulsion was something that she had inadvertently absorbed – the guilt she always felt at the temptation of her blood, the insecurity that was borne of his inability to read her mind, the remorse at the danger she caused, not only for herself and Charlie but for the Cullens, by falling in love with him. Their love, brief as it was, was one with a lot of collateral damage, both potential and realized. "Yeah," she says finally, thinking of how his hiding her things was the least damaging of the things he did for her own good.
"What?" Tyler asks, when her silence stretches on.
She shakes her head, but beneath this cover of darkness, with a new secret between them, she suddenly wishes she could tell him everything, every truth she has spent two years swallowing. Instead, she brings a hand to her stomach. "I'm so glad he left me," she whispers finally, and she hadn't realized the truth of the words until they spill from her lips. "I'm so glad I get to have you."
His eyes lighten, his hand covering hers momentarily before pulling it from her stomach to twine their fingers together. "I'm glad, too. I still think he sounds like a dick, and I wish you hadn't had to be hurt like that, but I'm glad that whatever happened brought you to me."
Feeling infinitely lighter than she has in years, Bella giggles. "Jake and Charlie think you look like him."
Tyler frowns, glancing down at the photo briefly before looking back up. "He dresses like a catalog model and looks like he's never seen the sun."
Bella bites the insides of her cheeks against another giggle. "It's, um, more in the features, I think."
"Hm." But Tyler doesn't seem pleased by this tidbit of information. "Do you think I look like him?"
"No," she says honestly. "The first time I saw you, I thought so. A little bit. But the second time I really looked at you, I saw all of the differences immediately. And I haven't thought about it since."
He seems mollified by this until suddenly he frowns again. "Is that why you bolted? That day in the bookstore?"
Heat rushes to her face. "Um. Maybe."
"Hm." He pauses, cataloging this new information. "But you don't…I mean, there isn't still any…" He trails off, uncharacteristic uncertainty and a vulnerability that makes her want to hug him swirling in his eyes.
Absently, she fingers the scar on her wrist before reaching out to clasp one of his hands between her two and bring his palm to rest flat against her lower belly. "He never could have given me this." She peers into his face, willing him to understand, even though he can't. Not really. "If I were still with him, this would never be a part of my future. And I'm so glad that it is. Tyler, I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone in my life. My heart is completely full of you."
The skin around his eyes relaxes and he leans forward, pressing his forehead to hers. "My heart's full of you, too," he almost-whispers, his breath dancing over her mouth.
"How am I going to tell Charlie?" Bella murmurs on the way home from the Port Angeles Planned Parenthood clinic two days later, watching damp scenery pass the window in a blur.
"We'll tell him together." Tyler flicks the windshield wipers.
"When?" she asks, watching his profile, the slight twitch at the hinge of his jaw, the tense set of his shoulders that could be a result of the weather or the conversation.
Blue-green eyes slide toward her, and a ghost of a reassuring smile drifts over his features. "I'll come back." He returns his focus to the road. "I'll come back next month, when you're ready to head back to the city, and we'll tell him then. I can fly back with you."
She shakes her head. "I can't ask you to do that."
"You aren't. And I am doing it; you can protest all you want."
But she doesn't want to – the idea of having him beside her makes her feel like she can do anything – even admit the truth to her father. "Okay," she says softly, sliding across the bench seat to press her hip, her thigh, her arm to his and dropping her head to his shoulder. "Thank you." She feels the press of his lips to her damp hair, and despite the fact that she's an unwed pregnant teenager with no game plan and that she's had vampires and werewolves and an entire police force protecting her in the past, she has never felt so protected, so cared for, so utterly safe as she does in this moment.
Two days later, the momentary bliss she'd felt is a memory as they stand on the curb at Sea-Tac, a sea of travelers swirling around them.
"August 20th?" Tyler says, his backpack looped around one shoulder. "I'll come back then, and we can tell your dad."
"Okay."
He ducks his head slightly to peer directly into her eyes. "But hey. If you need me here before then, just say the word. Okay?"
A watery smile finds its way to her face. "Okay." She blinks, glancing past him to the sliding glass doors that lead into the airport. "Please let me come in."
He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm going to eat a burger or something and maybe nap until we board." His face softens. "Besides, if you were standing there in the gate, I don't know that I'd be able to bring myself to get on the plane."
At that, she loses her battle with her composure, and a tear slips silently down her cheek. When his brow creases in concern, she offers a half-hearted shrug. "Hormones? Aren't they a thing?"
He chuckles, banding his arms around her waist and pulling her gently into him. "I love you."
"I love you, too." She takes a deep breath, inhaling the warm, clean, comforting scent of him.
"A month," he says when he pulls back. "That's it."
"Okay."
He leans in, kissing her soft and sweet and slow, and she misses him even before he's left. "And you know…if you're having trouble sleeping and you want to recreate that birthday phone call…" He trails off, waggling his eyebrows, and Bella giggles through her tears.
"You bet."
"Terrific." He kisses her once more. "Love you."
"Love you, too." She forces herself to step back. "Go. Give my regards to Broadway."
A wide, beatific grin splits his face. "Oh, Bella Swan. We'll make a New Yorker out of you, yet."
Returning the smile, she takes another step back, and Tyler leans forward and raps on the passenger window of her truck, raising one hand in salute to Jake, who sits behind the wheel, granting them their private goodbye. He nods and returns the wave as Bella pulls the door open.
"See you in August," Tyler says, shrugging into the other strap of his backpack.
"August," Bella replies, slipping into the truck's cab.
As Jake pulls away from the curb, she stares at the side mirror, watching as Tyler watches her truck go, and it isn't until he turns and walks through the sliding doors of the airport and disappears from her view that she tears her gaze from the mirror and lets her head fall back against the seat. They drive in silence for a few minutes until Jake clears his throat.
"You okay?"
She half-turns, her head still resting against the back of the seat, and considers him. "Sort of?"
He nods, checking his blind spot before merging into the left-hand lane. "He seems like a nice guy," he says, eyes trained on the road before them.
"He is."
After a few more moments, Jake meets her gaze, his dark eyes earnest. "I like him."
She feels something in her relax. "Really?"
He chuckles. "Really. Surprising, I know."
She shifts awkwardly on the cracked leather seat. "Not…surprising. Just…" She scrunches up her nose. "Okay, yeah, maybe surprising."
"Bella, can I say something?"
"Of course."
"I know that you think a lot of my problem with Edward had to do with jealousy, and I can admit that it was a part of it. I think you know how I felt about you back then." He pauses, glancing at her quickly, and she finds that she doesn't know what to say. Jacob never made much of a secret of his feelings, but he was never quite so earnestly straightforward, either. Until now, she hadn't really realized that in her absence, Jake had become a man. Apparently realizing that she isn't going to respond, he continues. "But most of my problem with Edward was a genuine concern for your safety and a genuine hatred of what he was. Not who." She's watching him intently, so she doesn't miss the small, amused smile that twitches at the corner of his mouth. "I know it's hard for you palefaces to understand the concept of mortal enemies, but that's what it was. It had very little to do with you, or with what I felt for you. That just…brought it more into my daily life. But the way I hated Edward – there was a lot more to it than just male rivalry or envy."
"Okay," she says after a moment of silence, her voice halting as she attempts to assimilate the new information.
Jake sighs, twisting his massive hands around her steering wheel until his brown knuckles are nearly white. "I guess I'm just trying to say that…I like Tyler. For you. He seems like a good guy, and you seem really happy." When he speaks again, his voice is slightly less certain. "Even happier than you were with Edward. Sort of…freer, I guess."
Surprised by his insight, Bella picks her head up, considering Jake's profile as she considers his words. Finally, she nods. "Yeah. I guess…I guess I am freer." And it's true: loving Tyler has made her feel free in a way she never has before.
"Good," Jake says softly. "That's good, Bella. You deserve that."
And as they bump along in her ancient truck, the prospect of a month without Tyler looms large, but then comprehension dawns: from now on, regardless of where Tyler is, where she is, she'll have a piece of him forever.
"Are you sitting down?"
"No. Should I be?"
"I don't know. Isn't that what people always ask, though, before they deliver earth-shattering news?"
"I guess so. Is this news good earth-shattering or bad earth-shattering?"
"I suppose…surprising earth-shattering."
"Okay. I opt to remain standing. But your warning is noted."
"Okay." She hears him take a breath. "Kelsey and Aidan are dating."
"What?!" She nearly shrieks, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth and listening for the sound of her father climbing the stairs. "What?" she hisses again, when she's certain she's in the clear. "Kelsey hates Aidan."
"I know. So either it's a case of hate being the flip side of love, or angry sex is worth putting up with someone you can't stand. And I've gotta say, judging from the sounds coming from Aidan's bed, I'd say option two is a very valid possibility."
"Ew," she replies immediately; as much as she adores her roommate, and even Tyler's goofy, tact-lacking roommate, the idea of them having sex isn't one she wants in her imagination. "How long has this been going on?"
"Apparently pretty much since the day I left for Forks," he answers. "I guess Aidan went out to that bar we went to on Valentine's Day, and Kelsey was there with a couple other girls, and they went home together."
"Wow." Bella makes a mental note to call her friend tomorrow. "And is it serious?"
"I don't know. Define serious."
She frowns. "I have no idea. What defines serious?"
"Once upon a time it was sex, but this is New York and it's 2001. Sex is one step up from a handshake for some people."
"Gross."
He chuckles, and she misses him. "Have I suitably rocked your world?" he asks after a moment, and she smiles into the darkness.
"In every possible way," she replies, and when he speaks again, all joking has been erased from his voice.
"I really miss you," he murmurs, and she reaches out a hand for the pillow that he'd laid on in the hours she had snuck him into her bed. She's washed her sheets but not "his" pillowcase, and she thinks she can still detect a faint trace of him in the worn cotton.
"I really miss you, too," she replies, breathing him in.
"How are you feeling?"
"Okay. I just…wish summer was over."
He chuckles. "You might be the only student on the planet saying that."
"Maybe. But a full course load is more than worth getting to see you every day." She hears him sigh across the phone line, and she closes her eyes, trying to envision him lying in his own bed, sheets low around his hips.
"Three more weeks," he murmurs, and while he's trying to reassure her, even he sounds disappointed by the prospect.
"Three more weeks," she echoes, then forces herself to move beyond the sadness of missing him. "So tell me what else has been going on."
"Not a lot," he replies. "Caroline says to tell you hi, and that she's working on a drawing for you."
"Is it another one of you?" she only half-teases, and she hears his ornery grumble.
"Let's hope not."
She laughs. "Well, tell her I said hello, and thanks in advance. Have you been hanging out with her much?"
"Sort of," he says, and there's something hesitant in his tone that piques her curiosity. She remains silent, and finally he sighs. "I'm sort of helping her with a project."
"An art project?"
"Kind of." She can sense from his vague answers that he doesn't really want to talk about it, so she doesn't push.
"Well, that's great. Tell her to keep you out of trouble for me until I get back."
He chuckles. "I think my troublemaking days are over." The truth behind the spoken words sits between them for a moment, and Bella runs her hand over her stomach. Then, he speaks again. "Anyway, I should probably get to sleep. I'm working the morning shift at the store."
"Oh, right," she says, glancing at her clock and realizing that it's pushing three in the morning on the East Coast. "Sorry."
"No, don't apologize. I'd talk to you all night if I could."
"Me too."
"Talk to you tomorrow?"
"Okay."
"Love you."
"I love you too."
"Love you both," he amends, and she feels joy, pure and complete, surround her.
"We love you too."
"Goodnight."