Chapter 10.

"Hey, Luce." Even though Claire's car is parked in front of the house, I'm surprised to find my niece sitting at our breakfast table at five o'clock on a Saturday afternoon.

She looks up from the iPhone that might as well be implanted into her palm and gives me a small smile. "Hey."

"What's happening?" Hands on my hips, I stretch to the right, feeling the pull in the muscles in my lower back. I thought hitting the gym after work this afternoon would loosen up my muscles, but if anything, I'm feeling stiffer and sorer. Maybe a hot bath later will help.

Lucy puts the small device on the table and props her head on her fist. "Bella wanted to chat to Mom about baby stuff."

"And you got dragged along?"

She shrugs. "Mom said she'd drop me off at the mall after." Pink colors her cheeks. "I'm meeting some friends."

"Gotchya." I open the fridge and grab a beer and a can of soda, holding up the latter. "You want?"

"Sure."

Moving back to the table, I hook a chair with my ankle, scraping it against the wood floor. Collapsing into it with a heavy sigh, I pass her the soda.

One side of her mouth lifts in a smile as she pops the can open and bumps it against the bottle I've extended toward her. "Cheers."

For a while, we sit silently in the golden afternoon glow, listening to the low hum of conversation in the living room. Bella and Claire's voices are audible but indistinct. I trace a fingertip through the ring of condensation the beer bottle has left on the table, the water bleaching the wood.

I watch Lucy do the same, flicking the liquid outward until she's formed a small, watery sun.

"So … you get bored with the conversation?" I jerk my head toward the living room.

Lucy mock-shudders. "So, like, we get here and Bella's like, 'Hi. Please tell me all the things about having a baby that no one ever talks about or admits to.'"

"Uh … wow." I wonder for a moment why Bella chose to broach this subject with my sister and not me. I spent enough time in Labor and Delivery during my training that I'd like to think I could answer most of her questions.

"Right? And, man … I lasted through the pooping while pushing the baby out stuff, but I bolted as soon as Mom started talking about how they sometimes have to use like … scissors on you, uh, down there, to get the baby out … Just, no. Things I don't ever need to hear about."

I have to laugh at that. "Maybe that's your mom's plan. Scare you off, uh, boys and stuff."

Lucy rolls her eyes. "Wouldn't put it past her. Childbirth is fu–" Her eyes widen and she clears her throat. "It's freakin' weird."

"I'm inclined to agree. The most naturally unnatural thing ever."

Lucy's phone chimes then, and I don't miss the way the corner of her mouth turns up and her cheeks flush.

My mind drifts as she taps away at her phone, her teeth digging into her lip as she fights a smile. Why wouldn't Bella come to me? With my training, I could've explained to her not just what happens, but why.

"Seriously. I can't believe Mom went through that sh– crap four times."

Lucy's belated response chases the small prickle of hurt away.

Bella knows I know all about this stuff. That I can give her the reasons, distill it all down to the bare facts of science and biology. But Claire's lived it—four times. She can tell Bella what I definitely can't—what it feels like. How it will make her feel.

I nudge Lucy's elbow with my own. "You know that means you were worth it, right? She liked you so much, she went back and did it again."

The bemused look she gives me reminds me so much of my sister at her age. I keep that to myself, though—no teenager wants to hear how much she looks like her mother.

Lucy's attention is diverted back to her phone as it vibrates on the table. I leave her to it, heading for the pantry and extracting a bag of chips. After dumping them into a bowl, I grab another beer and sit back down with my niece.

"So, are you excited? About having a kid?"

I hold up a finger as I chew and swallow. "Yeah. Definitely."

"How long to go? Like, three months, right?"

"Twelve weeks, yeah."

"Doesn't it freak you – Oh, maybe that's a dumb question. You've probably had a lot to do with babies and kids at work."

I shrug. "Yes and no. Babies and children generally don't stress me out. Yes, I've dealt with them at work, but you've also gotta remember, I was only in the ninth grade when you were born. I've watched both your mom and Katie have families and survive, so in that sense it doesn't freak me out at all."

I peel the label from my beer bottle, choosing not to elaborate on the things that do freak me out. Placental detachment, labor complications, SIDS or a million potential childhood illnesses, congenital defects … My fourteen year-old niece isn't the person who should hear about the worries and fears that still occasionally creep into my mind in those dark and quiet moments before I fall asleep.

Lucy shrugs. "I guess. I've babysat El and Kenny a couple of times, like, just for the afternoon or whatever, and they scare the hell out of me."

That makes me smile. Kenny reminds me often of Lucy at the same age. "They've got a lot of energy."

"Yeah." She takes a sip of her soda. "I don't know. Maybe I'll be like Aunt Rose and just enjoy everyone else's kids, then hand them back and go home to my nice, quiet house with my thirty-seven cats."

She grins as I laugh.

"So, you wanna do me a favor?"

I look at her suspiciously. "You're not gonna ask me to buy you booze are you?"

At that, she giggles. "Dude, I've heard your hectic nurse-stories. I'd probably have more luck asking Mom."

"Yeah, probably. So what's up?"

"Can you go like, kiss your girl and stuff so Mom gets the hint that it's time to go?"

With pleasure. "I think I can do that."

Twenty minutes later, Bella stands by my side on the porch, waving goodbye to Claire and Lucy as their car pulls out from the kerb. Evening has well and truly taken hold, lavender and gold fading on the horizon, the lengthening shadows merging into darkness.

Bella's palms land on my shoulders and she looks up at me, a frisson of light outlining her in the open doorway.

"How was your day?"

"Long. I'm beat."

She pulls her hands away and gestures for me to follow her inside. "What do you need? A bath? A beer? A night in front of the television?"

"I've already had two beers."

She shrugs. "And? You're not planning on driving anywhere tonight are you? Go for it."

"Nah. I think I might take a bath, though. My back's killing me."

Bella frowns. "Do you want me to rub it?"

"Um." I want to say yes, but it feels selfish. I'm not the one carrying a basketball around under my shirt.

"Don't."

I look at her in surprise.

"It's not selfish. I'm feeling fine. Come on." She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the bedroom.

Pushing me toward the bed, she tells me to lie down, and I protest—weakly, I'll admit—before complying.

Bella straddles my thighs. "Am I too heavy?"

"No."

"Well, tell me if your legs start going numb, okay?" And then her strong thumbs start moving across the muscles in my lower back, the pressure she's using just the right side of painful, and I'd happily let my legs go numb if it means she'll never stop.

"You're really tight."

I hum in affirmation as she presses down on a knot, working it carefully until I feel the tension start to dissolve.

"Maybe you should look into some new shoes or something, seeing as you spend so much time on your feet. Those ones with whatever they're called in the heels."

"Orthotics?"

She snickers. "Why are you asking me? That sounds right, but it also sounds too similar to orthodontics."

"Mmm. Maybe I'll have a look."

"Up to you."

I'm almost asleep when her hands leave my back. I start to complain—until I realize she's leaning across me to reach the nightstand. Or trying to, anyway.

She grunts in frustration. "Can you reach the Icy Hot for me?"

I pull open the drawer and fumble around. The first thing I grab is lubricant, which makes Bella giggle. "Not sure that'll help, baby."

Finding the tube of heat rub, I quickly scan the label before passing it to her. "Make sure you wash your hands thoroughly, after."

I can hear her eye-roll as she speaks. "I know. I learned that lesson the hard way."

"Really?"

"Mmm." She squeezes some of the balm onto my skin and starts spreading it across my back. "I think I must've been about nineteen."

"Tennis injury?" I know she played a lot through high school and college. Before she was pregnant the first time, she and Vicky would still occasionally play "friendly" matches.

"No. Vic made me take some stupid step-class thing with her." She laughs. "I sucked so bad. Still ended up with really tight calf muscles afterwards, though, and I had a tournament the next day. I was so mad at her … You know how competitive I can be."

I chuckle at that. "So you rubbed this stuff all over your calves … and then forgot to wash your hands."

"I did wash them … Just not thoroughly enough, apparently."

"Then rubbed your eyes?"

Bella takes a while to answer, her fingers working out another knot. "Not my eyes, no," she says, her voice cautious.

Where else … "You used the bathroom?" Fuck, that would hurt.

"Close, but no."

Huh? Oh. "You, uh …" I clear my throat, shifting against the mattress.

"Yeah. I, uh …" I can imagine the pink of her blush staining her cheeks and sweeping down her throat. "So, yeah. Anyway. Hand-washing. Very important."

I'm cringing at the imagined pain, but also strangely turned on. "That must've sucked."

"It was excruciating. You cannot even begin to imagine."

"I really don't want to."

She giggles again, pulling a groan from me as her thumbs move over either side of my spine, pushing all the way from my tailbone to my neck. She repeats the movement a few times. "Okay. How's that feel?"

Between the strange cooling burn of the cream, and the renewed muscle looseness from the massage, I'm feeling a lot better. "So good."

"Okay." She wriggles around and the mattress bounces as she climbs off the bed. "I'm going to wash my hands and then I'll start dinner."

I'm still lying on the bed, too relaxed to move, when I hear the tap turn on in the bathroom. Bella is singing softly, her voice off-tune but cheerful, as she moves from the bathroom to the kitchen.

"Don't fall asleep."

"I'm not asleep," I mutter, the words muffled by the pillow. I'm pretty close though, so I force myself off the bed.

Bella gives me a smile as I shuffle into the kitchen.

"Can I do anything?"

She shakes her head as she fills up a large saucepan with water. "Nope. I'm just making pasta. Not much to do."

"Sounds good."

"Oh. I did tell you we're going to Vic and Jamie's for lunch tomorrow, didn't I?"

As I open my mouth to answer, a yawn overtakes me. I cover my mouth with the inside of my elbow. "Yeah, you did. It'll be good to see them."

Although we've been visiting Jamie and Victoria's place for years, it's impossible to anticipate what's going to greet us when the front door opens. Vic likes to redecorate, and she's got what Bella calls "eclectic" tastes. That's a polite way of saying she's got a strange fondness for filling their foyer with the weirdest objects, artworks, artifacts and knick-knacks known to humankind.

Today, as she pulls the door open, her orange-red curls clashing brilliantly with her oversized fuchsia sweater, I have to close my eyes for a second to regain my balance.

The walls seem to have disappeared. They haven't, of course … but they're obscured by long lengths of shimmery satin-looking fabric in every color of the rainbow. Green, blue, yellow, more magenta—there must be dozens of yards of fabric cocooning the small area, covering the walls, criss-crossing the ceiling. It leaves me feeling like I've stepped into … well, I wouldn't have a clue. Some kind of Arabian tent? I think that's what she's aiming for, there's a hookah in the corner, though I didn't see it at first.

It's overwhelming, but it is, however, an improvement on the collection of painted animal skulls she was displaying on an Ikea-issue shelving unit a few months ago. In my opinion, at least. Those things creeped me out.

Vic greets Bella with a hug, before she presses a kiss to my cheek. "So good to see you two," she says. Her smile is almost as bright as the walls.

She pushes aside a length of purple fabric, and we step into the hallway. It seems almost hospital-sterile in comparison.

"That's different," Bella says, her thumb pointing over her shoulder.

"Cool, huh? Mom's dance troupe did some kind of routine with them around Christmas time, but then they had all this gorgeous fabric and nothing to do with it."

Jamie appears behind her, shaking his head. He's smiling though, the affection clear in his eyes as he puts an arm around her shoulder. "That," he says, tipping his head toward the purple curtain, "is only about half of it. I had to convince her not to use all of it out there."

Vic shrugs. "I'm going to make some quilts and pillows," she says. "Oh, hey. What colors are you going to use for the baby's room?"

"Red and white," Bella tells her.

"Oh, good. That's much more interesting than pale yellow or that minty color people are so fond of these days."

My smile might be a bit smug. Bella pokes me in the waist and rolls her eyes.

"Do you even know how to quilt?" Jamie frowns as he looks at his wife.

"Well, no. Not yet. But how hard can it be? You cut out squares and stitch them together."

"You do, do you?"

Vic laughs at that. "No, probably not. I'll cut them out and then get you to stitch them together."

At that, Bella looks surprised. "I didn't know you sewed, Jay."

"Who do you think hemmed all of that?" He gestures back the way we came. "It's not so hard."

Vicky and Jamie are an interesting match.

Bella and Vicky went to high school together, played tennis together, and have been close friends for over half their lives. After our first few dates, when Bella decided she could see herself getting serious with me quickly, the first thing she did was introduce me to Vic. And I guess, given the fact I'm standing here now, with my hand in Bella's, my ring on her finger and our baby in her womb, I measured up all right.

Vic … is not what she seems. Her general aesthetic—the bright colors and flowing clothing, the noisy, jangly jewelry, the weird taste in interior decoration—it could easily make you anticipate a woman who's a little ditzy, a bit of a hippie perhaps. And maybe she is … in a way. But Victoria is also incredibly intelligent, driven, and she's brilliant at … whatever it is she does. Something in HR, which she's explained to me at least three times over the last few years. After being made redundant last year, she scored some sweet job, and threw herself head-first into it—apparently to the delight of her new bosses.

Jamie, is the yin to her yang, I believe she says. He's easy-going, almost to the point of laziness, and nothing seems to faze the guy. He's quick to laugh, slow to get pissed off. We hit it off as soon as Vic introduced us—the same can't be said for that asshole, Paul, she was dating when I first met her.

"Edward, beer or wine?"

"Uh, whatever."

Victoria pulls a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and hands that to Jamie. "Okay with you?"

"Sure."

We catch up, small talk and laughter filling the kitchen as Victoria throws together a brightly-colored salad and Jamie grills some chicken. It must be marinated in something delicious because the air is suddenly redolent with the vibrant aromas of lemongrass, chilli, and cilantro. It strikes me that the smells in the kitchen aren't so different from the overwhelming colors in their foyer—everything is bigger and bolder here. And it just works.

"I bought you some fancy sodas," Victoria tells Bella as we sit down to eat. She passes her a frosty bottle. "This one's a–" she peers at the label "–virgin mojito."

Bella grins. "Aww, Vic." She leans over and kisses her friend on the cheek. "Thanks for thinking of me."

Jamie and Victoria bicker as we eat, good-naturedly teasing each other about who is the more competent chef, or the most efficient washer of dishes.

"Anyway. Enough about how unhygienic my cleaning habits are," Vic says. "Or Edward will freak out and they'll never come visit us again."

I shrug, chuckling. "Frankly, Vic, I'm just glad all the skulls in the foyer are gone. I can deal with streaky water glasses."

Jamie laughs at that, before turning his attention to Bella. "So, how are you doing?" He gestures toward her stomach. "Peanut all good?"

She nods, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. "All good."

"He freaking out still?" He jerks his head in my direction and I flip him off.

"Always." Bella smiles. "No, he's been amazing."

I feel my cheeks heat, and I grab my wineglass to give me something to do, rather than sitting there blushing like a schoolgirl as my fiancée tells our friends how wonderful and supportive I've been over the last twenty-eight weeks. I don't really see it her way. If anything, she's the amazing one.

Bella frowns at her plate. "And … how are things, um … I mean, you guys're still trying to have a baby, right?"

I set my glass down, swallowing hard.

Vicky smiles, but I can see the sadness there. "Nothing yet." She sighs, tucking a curl behind her ear. "The doctor says we need to keep trying for another few months, and if nothing happens then, we'll both have to have a bunch of tests."

She seems to know the questions Bella can't make herself ask. "Even if it doesn't happen on its own, we still have options. We can look into IVF. Embryo adoption. Surrogacy. Fostering. Adopting. We haven't discounted anything yet."

Bella nods and her hand moves toward her stomach, but she snatches it away. I don't miss the flash of guilt in her eyes. And as much as it makes my stomach twist, I understand it, too.

Victoria reaches for the bottle on the table and tops up my glass, Jamie's, and her own. "I can't remember the last time I had a glass of wine," she says. "I've been on this ridiculously strict health kick while we try to conceive."

She steers the conversation away from touchier subjects then, filling Bella in on some gossip about one of their former classmates.

Jamie and I clear the table while the girls giggle and chat, and I follow him into the kitchen with a stack of dirty plates. I start filling the sink, but he punches me in the arm. "Stop that. I'll do it later."

"But–"

He punches me again and I surrender, lifting my hands with a grimace. He wasn't being gentle.

"All right. Wash your own damn dishes."

"That's more like it," he says with a nod. He pulls a couple of beers out of the fridge and pops the tops off them. "Let's go sit outside."

I follow him out onto the patio he built last summer. He's an electrician by trade, but he's one of those dudes who has those mad naturally-occurring DIY skills—unlike me.

We drink beer and talk shit as the afternoon fades away, shooing away the flies, and then the mosquitoes, until Bella pops her head out their back door. "You ready to go, Edward?"

"Sure." It's only once I'm on my feet that I realize the ground isn't flat … and I'm drunk. "Whoa."

Bella smiles, shaking her head at me. "C'mon, baby."

"I am coming," I tell her. I look at Jamie. "Dude, I'm gonna buy you a spirit level. This deck is wonky as fuck."

"Edward–"

Oh. Swearing in public. Bella doesn't like it much. Only at home, she says. But sometimes we both do it anyway.

"Sorry." I say goodbye to Jamie and Victoria, thanking them for their hosti– hospitality, then hand Bella my keys. "You have to operate the vehicle."

She grins up at me, wrapping an arm around my waist as we walk, a little unsteadily, toward the car. "That's for sure."

I close my eyes as she drives, the scenery flickering by in the almost-dark makes me feel queasy. "I didn't realize how much I drank," I mumble.

Bella squeezes my knee. "It's fine. When was the last time you relaxed like that?"

I can't remember.

"It's been a while. So don't even worry about it."

"I guess." I tilt my head back against the headrest, cracking my heavy eyelids open a fraction to study the ceiling of the car. There's a small brown stain above my head from where I once took a shaken-up can of Coca-cola to the face. I spent hours cleaning that sticky mess up. Looks like I missed a spot.

I lean against Bella's back as she unlocks the front door, kissing her neck and making her giggle and squirm. I tell her I want her, and she says I can have her, but can I wait until we're inside, because our bed is much more comfortable than the porch?

I agree, and content myself with sniffing her hair and trailing my fingertips over every bit of her exposed skin I can find until she leads me into our bedroom and helps me undress.

Bella smiles down at me as we make love and tells me not to worry when I finish too fast and without her, assuring me that once I've slept the beer off I can make it up to her.

I fall asleep with the sound of her smiling voice ringing in my ears, and her big, round belly pressed against my side, convinced I'm the luckiest asshole on the planet.

A/N: Thank you so much for continuing to read and review! I love hearing your thoughts :)

Thank you, also, to BelieveItOrNot. No words, girl. You're the bestest.

Shell x