Disclaimer- all characters sadly belongs to the one and only Stephanie Meyer!

Hello everyone! Again, a late update, I can only really apologise. I am really bad at this whole updating thing, but here is my gift to you – an outrageously long chapter and a special surprise that you will find midway through…

This may not be the chapter you are expecting. I think that the chapter you guys will be looking forward to is likely to be the next, but please be patient with me!

Thank you for all your amazing reviews, follows and favourites. It was really interesting reading them! Some totally got where Bella was coming from, whilst others thought she was totally unreasonable. Hopefully this chapter will show you where our girl's head is at!

I hope you enjoy this next chapter of my story, and pleeeeeeease tell me what you think!

The playlist for this chapter was 'The Scientist' by Coldplay, 'Helium' by Sia and 'Iris' by the Goo Goo Dolls.

Lots of love xo

10.

BPOV

Baby, please come back; I can explain xx-E

Bella – seriously. I'm sorry, I'll tell you everything xx –E

I'm so sorry Baby, I know this is my fault but... please come back to me. I can't be without you Bella xx –E

Bella where the hell have you put my keys? Call me, text me, anything. –E

I'm getting worried Bella – can you at least tell me that you've gotten home safely? -E

Fuck's sake Isabella, I'm going to walk to your apartment. You can't ignore me forever! We need to sort this out once and for all. –E

This isn't over Bella. Once I tell you everything, you can ignore me, you can give me the silent treatment, you can fucking hate me… But until then, please don't give up on me. –E

I hold my phone to my chest, tears welling up in my eyes. I quickly blink them away. No, I will not cry again tonight. Too many tears have been shed – now I have to be strong. Not just for myself, but for Alice and the baby.

After calming Alice down, I had managed to convince her to go to bed. All the stress and anxiety couldn't be good for the baby. However, with both of us not wanting to spend the night alone she ended up sleeping in my bed – in the space that Edward usually occupies. She is curled up like a cat facing me with her elfin face blotchy from crying and raven spikes in disarray.

The room is pitch black, the furniture shapeless and the street unusually silent. I typically found the dark somewhat comforting; kind of like a warm blanket, secure and familiar. I never really understood people who were scared of the dark. To me, it offered a sense of clarity – no longer distracted by random objects in the room or the buildings visible through the window or the people who hurried along the street below. It's just my thoughts and me.

But tonight, I find no solace in the darkness. I miss the weight of Edward's arm over my waist, pinning me to the bed. I crave the warmth that emits from him as the lines of his body meet mine. I need to feel his breath tickling my face as he nuzzles into the crook of my neck unconsciously.

I just – I love him.

An errant tear runs down my cheek, and I scrub it away. I look back at my phone – ten messages, twenty-seven missed calls and I am pretty sure my entire voicemail box is full.

The texts are increasingly desperate and apologetic. Some have an angry edge but most sound… devastated. His emotion and pain makes my cheeks flush and eyes prickle.

I put the phone back down and close my eyes, trying to sleep in vain. But as soon as I close them, visions of the night flash behind my eyes.

Edward playing the piano, his hands moving up and down the keys; a beautiful melody surrounding us; a cute v between his brows as he concentrates on the song; a song that paints our history in vivid and vibrant strokes.

His head thrown back, carefree in his laughter as his fingers tickle me relentlessly, feeling his body against my squirming one, the heat of his touch clear despite the playful energy.

Him hovering above me as we come down from our high – delicious warmth spreading through me like wildfire, his emerald eyes intense as he watched me, he calls out my name like a sweet prayer – Bella, Bella, Bella.

The strange look on his face when he finally confessed that he is adopted; flashes of pain and defiance and sadness evident in those expressive eyes of his.

The plea in his voice as he asks me to stay before turning to answer the phone, his whole body hunched over – so different to his naturally confident stance. It's almost abnormal, and my entire being itched to go over to comfort him. But no… Instead I left him.

There are two conflicting feelings when I process this train of thought.

A major part of me is regretful. In hindsight, I should have stayed to hear what he had to stay. He has kept me in the dark for so long, and I deserved to at least know why. However, when he had finally decided to shed some light on the situation I left… I ran away like a coward.

Yet, taking that into account – I am relieved that I left. I was – and still am – completely pent up. One minute I am experiencing utter elation through our lovemaking, then consuming rejection as he says no to my invitation and the next moment, I find out that he has a whole family that I never even knew about. Edward always held me under the impression that he was alone, with the exception of Emmett and I. But that was a lie. What else has he lied to me about?

The sensation of anger and betrayal, sadness and confusion – that was the reason why everything escalated so damned quickly.

In the heat of the moment, under the haze of such emotion – there would have been no way of me being able to sit and listen to his story without saying something that I would immediately regret.

When Edward finally divulges to me I want to go in with an open heart and an open mind, because despite all of his bullshit, I truly love him and I can't picture a future without him in it.

Perhaps that made me stupid and naïve but wasn't love both of those things? I may have not been in love before but this feeling that courses through my body simply correspond with everything I learnt about love through my books and observations. Love is throwing caution to the wind, and trusting that person and forgiving that person. Love is being there for someone, through the thick of it all.

Beyond all of this, I am also thankful that I returned home when I did, just to be there for Alice. In all the years I have known her, I have never ever seen Alice break down and to be quite frank, it terrified me.

Alice is always so self-assured in her actions. Everything she does comes with absolute confidence, but no one, not even Alice can predict an unplanned pregnancy.

Whilst I cannot read her mind, I imagine that most of her distress is based upon her parents.

It is no secret that Alice is rich. Whether that was obvious through the amazing apartment in which we live in – an apartment that two students couldn't normally afford – or her designer clothes and Jimmy Choo collection. Alice's father Robert Brandon was part owner of a prestigious law firm in Mississippi, allowing Alice and her mother Cynthia to live comfortable lives without the necessity to work.

Looking past Alice's affinity for everything designer, Alice never exhibited her wealth. That was one of the things I adored about her. She didn't think she was better than anyone else; she saw herself as everybody's equal.

Alice had confided to me that with her being the only child in the Brandon line, it was expected of her to take over her father's firm – but instead she chose her love for fashion.

Her parents were extremely disapproving of the choice, but somehow she managed to convince them to let her follow her dream. Personally, having met Ali's parents, they probably thought that Alice's fashion ventures were some childish hobby that she would grow out of. But now in her third year, the Brandons were resigned to the fact that Alice would not become a lawyer.

Alice thinks that they are just waiting for her to slip up… an excuse for them to pull her out of NYU and thrust her into law. Due to this, over the last few years she has tried to be as independent from her family as possible and prove to them that fashion was the best path for her. She achieved this by – going from the name 'Mary' to 'Alice', picking up a job in a cute boutique downtown, selling some of her designs on Etsy and even creating her own blog in the attempt to establish a name for herself.

But this pregnancy… this would cancel all her hard work out. She would be forced back into her parents' shadows.

Using the light of my phone, I look over Alice. Even in sleep she looks uneasy. Her brow is furrowed, and her lip is caught between her teeth.

She needs me – now more than ever. I know Jasper loves her, and whenever she decides to tell him, he will be there for her. But right now she needs her best friend.

Then there is the whole speech thing. My education has always been extremely important to me, especially seeing that no Swan (or Higginbotham for that matter) has ever gone to Uni. I had done everything to get here – maintaining a solid 4.0 GPA, becoming president of the debate team and acting as Valedictorian. Now all that hard work was coming to fruition. This was my time to shine.

As the clogs turned in my mind, something dawned on me… lately school had really taken a back seat to Edward. While he didn't have a serious effect on my work ethic, it has changed my perspective. Changing me from a driven and focused young woman to a love struck girl – turning into those swooning damsels that I couldn't stand. I will never regret Edward neither do I resent him or would ever be willing to give him up, but with the speech looming, it was paramount for me to place my concentration on it before placing my attention back on to Edward.

With this at the forefront of my mind, I look back at my phone. The most recent text reads –

I understand that you need space Bella. Just please text me to let me know that you are safe. I have something to do, but I will call you soon… Words cannot express how much I regret not telling you everything Baby; I am a coward. I miss you sweetheart xx –E

I heave a sigh, tapping out a reply-

I am at the apartment. I want to listen Edward, but I need time… and Alice needs me, please respect that. I will call you.

My thumbs pause over the send button. I read over his text again, and my heart softens a little. I can almost see the expression that would have been on his face when typing this. One hand running through his wild hair in frustration and nerves as his other hand holds his phone, his thick brow scrunched up causing a thin line on his forehead to appear prominently, his green eyes alive with concern.

The image is clear and with that, I type three simple words and shoot off the message without a second glance. I place my phone on the bedside table, my body suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day. My thoughts linger on those three words as I drift off into a restless sleep…

Miss you too xx –B

…

I wake up to two things the next morning.

Firstly – I am alone in my bed and the sheets cold, indicating that Alice had vacated it a long time ago.

And secondly – 'Feel it Still' is blaring loudly from the kitchen, practically making my room vibrate.

Disorientated, I rub my eyes. The room is extremely bright as the cold winter light filters through my blinds.

I roll languidly out of bed, following the loud beat of the music. I don't know what I expected to find. Perhaps Alice lying on the couch, head beneath a pillow as she attempts to drown out the world around her (she can be a drama queen at times). Or maybe Jasper is here and trying to cheer her up – although this is the most unlikely. I have always pinned him as an Indies / Country kind of guy.

Instead I find my best friend in the living room, freshly showered and dressed in her yoga gear, complete with lilac sports bra and black Nike leggings. She is in the plank position, copying a perky blonde on the screen.

I watch her for a moment, completely confused. This is the Alice I know, an Alice I recognise. What had happened between now and last night?

Alice must have felt my gaze, because her head snaps in my direction. She grins, her face flushed from exertion "Sorry to wake you, but its nearly midday."

My eyes widen at the revelation, I must have been more tired than I anticipated.

"Did you hear about Carlisle Cullen?"

I plopped down on the sofa, as she casually resumes her pose, "no?"

"According to E! He suffered from a mini heart attack last night."

"Isn't he a heart surgeon?"

"Ironic, right?"

I pause for a moment, wondering why the hell we were chatting about some random rich guy rather than the revelations of last night.

"Al, about last night,"

"But apparently he is still going to make an appearance at the Charity Gala next Saturday," she interjects quickly "and it was confirmed by Esme Cullen that their son Anthony will be coming to show his support! How exciting is that? I mean, the last anyone really saw him was when he was twelve, and with a gene pool like his I bet he is a real hottie – "

"Alice!" I say impatiently "I don't care about some fancy socialite family. I care that my best friend is preg-"

"Stop Bella," Alice pleads, her face filling with panic. She kneels in front of me placing her hands on my knees "I don't want to talk about it."

I gaze at her softly, "I get it Al, but this is something you can't really avoid."

"I know. But please humour me. Can we just have a few hours of normality?"

I look at her, searching her face. Her grey eyes are filled with unmistakable tears, and worry. I know in that moment that while there was no way she could continue alluding me, it was best to leave the subject at hand alone… for now.

"Gossip Girl or Pretty Little Liars?"

…

Five hours later…

"Y'know, watching this really does put your life into perspective."

I turn my gaze from the screen where the four Liars were seen to be panicking over a large box of scary looking dolls – a present from their stalker 'A'.

"I mean, at least I am not getting stalked my a psycho or getting blackmailed by dead friend or banging my teacher."

I giggle at her reasoning, "Glad to see that your optimism isn't totally lost."

She exhales loudly and turns so that she is fully facing me "okay, I'll tell you everything."

Thankful that I no longer had to keep the façade up, I pause the TV, and sit down cross-legged inn front of her.

"Jasper is the father. I got pregnant from the first night we slept together… the night we met. We were both so drunk and giddy that we must've forgotten to use a condom. I did have the morning pill," she laughs humourlessly "obviously not as effective as I had hoped."

She looks down at her hands but I don't say a word – she needs to get this all off her chest without any interruptions.

"I always knew that I would want kids – Jasper's kids," She gives me a small smile, "little raven haired, blue eyes girls and blonde haired, grey eyed boys. But that was meant to be years from now. When I had established my career, and when Jasper had finished his Masters degree. Fuck Bells, he has barely begun his second year of Uni, and now he's stuck with a kid? And he is from a traditional Southern family – I was supposed to get them to like me before I fucking got knocked up!"

At this point her voice was going up in hysteria, and tears are rushing down her face in cascades. I shuffle down the sofa, and put a comforting arm around her.

"He's the best thing that has happened to me B, and now he is going to leave me. And I'm going to have to move back home and – and…"

She sobs into my shoulder and her tiny body is shaking from the force of her cries. I can't help but tear up. What do you say to someone in this situation? Nothing I can say could possibly make her feel better. Fuck. What do I do?

"Ali, Jasper loves you. He's not going to leave you. He is a kind and generous man, who will support you and the baby – I have no doubt in it."

She looks up at me heartbroken, "but what if I'm not enough Bella? What if I am just tying him down I need to let him go…"

I look at her in the eye "Alice you need to tell him before making any rash decisions," I hesitate on my next words "are you, um… going to keep it?"

Alice looks down "Before the test, I thought that if I did come out positive that maybe… I don't know… but when I found out I am pregnant, I just cannot imagine killing something that is apart of Jasper and me, a product of us. But Bell, I'm not ready to be a mom Bella. I am not you."

I furrow my eyebrows, "me?"

"You are so responsible and nurturing Bella, I mean you were practically your mother's mom. You were born to be a mom! Me? I can barely look after myself! I spend my money like water, how the fuck am I meant to look after a baby?"

She stares at me as if I have all the answers, and I wish I did. So I say the only thing that I can think of –

"Ali, you are the strongest woman I know. You fought your parents for your passion, you are ambitious, you love unconditionally, you are humble and kind – I don't think a child could ask for a better mother. And it's okay to be scared Al, but know this – if Jasper isn't the man I think he is and ends up leaving you – then I will be there every single step of the way. You aren't going through this alone. You're my best friend, and we are in this together."

A huge watery smile dominates her face, and I can feel her tears staining my shirt as she brings me into an embrace.

It's us against the world.

EPOV

I gazed at her text again, like the love struck fool I was, and a surge of hope ran through my body like a current as I read those three words.

Miss you too xx-B

My fingers are dying to click in her number, but if she wanted space then I would give her space.

I would wait a lifetime for her if that was what it took.

It was crazy how madly in love with her I was, in such a short period of time. I think I fell for her the moment I laid eyes on her…

The bar was bustling; music pounding; lights flashing. I wasn't meant to be in tonight, but Marcus had to pull out of his shift as his wife Dee-Dee was in labour with their second child. Of course I didn't resent him for not being able to work, but it was unusually busy for a Monday night and I had spent most of the day arguing with Esme over the phone. That woman was a fucking headache. After that, I was desperate to get home and release my frustrations on my guitar, or better yet – my piano. But instead, I was pouring out drinks to drunk and giggling girls who relentlessly throw themselves at me despite my polite rebukes.

Leaning up to grab a bottle from the top shelf, I suddenly feel a prickling sensation at the back of neck, causing me to freeze. Confused by the odd feeling I turn sharply to see a stunning brunette watching me closely. I am no stranger to beautiful girls, especially due to fact that I had grown up with Rosalie and all her model friends. But none hold a candle to the beauty of this girl.

She looks young, perhaps nineteen or twenty as there is little to none make up on her face – unlike most of the girls I had served tonight, who have their faces plastered in gunk. The only make up she seems to have is dark red lipstick that brings out the cupid bow of her lips.

Her delicate fingers twirled a long dark curl in a casually flirtatious gesture, but it was her eyes that captivated me. They were big and dark, and reminded me of that old film star from a movie Rosalie was obsessed with… something to do with Breakfast. They were twinkling in spite of the darkness, wandering up and down my body shamelessly – dark lashes casting shadows across her high cheekbones.

I could feel myself getting aroused from her gaze alone, and her perusal of my body caused a confident smirk to spread across my face.

"You finished?" I tease her, delighted as colour noticeably rises in her cheeks.

"Uh y-yes. Sorry, I must be drunker than I thought."

Jesus, her voice is incredible. It sounds like bells, and I am instantly bombarded of images of her beneath me – calling my name out breathily. I force a laugh in a half-assed attempt to distract myself from these images.

"No worries, like most men, I actually enjoy being ogled by a beautiful girl." The line is cheesy, and would have worked on every other girl that had come to my bar… but apparently not this one.

She rolls those gorgeous eyes at me, "wow, how many other girls have you said that to tonight?"

Caught off guard by her lack of reaction to my compliment I change my course of action; "Of course, you are the only girl I have said that to." Lie, lie, lie – but it was the first time where I genuinely meant it.

"Of course," she rolls her eyes again and I find myself amused by her irritation, "are you serving alone tonight?"

I shrug my shoulders, again surprised by her change of direction. Seems like this girl likes to keep me on my toes.

"Nah, Emmett is on a break, and Mike is out back" cleaning some puke in the men's bathroom… man, it was great to be the boss.

She nods at my answer, suddenly looking awkward "cool… uh could I get a Jack and Coke please?"

I grin at the order. It's my favourite drink. Most girls tended to go for something more fruity and girly, the flirtatious ones in particular enjoy ordering something like 'Sex on the Beach' or 'Screaming Orgasm' in an attempt to get a reaction from me.

Not this one though. It occurs to me that she may be aware of this and is trying a different tactic – appearing to be different to all those of girls to grab my attention. Baby, you were doing that anyway.

"Are you trying to impress me?" Cockiness seeps into my tone.

She looks too young to be ordering alcohol, and I am strict when supplying drink illegally. Not because I am much of a stickler for the rules, but more because I was a heavy drinker at seventeen and regretted it immensely.

"Oh cut the crap, how old are you? Nineteen? Or are you in high school, rebelling against daddy?"

Those incredible eyes widen at my accusation and a fire lights up from deep within her, spreading through her like a wildfire. Her small hands ball up into fists and she looks like an angry kitten, eyebrows furrowing and shoulders strong. Fuck, I hope she's not in high school, because the stuff that I imagine to do to her are beyond illegal, forget giving her a drink illegally.

"Okay listen you condescending prick, you may be hot but that doesn't mean you lack of a verbal filter should be ignored. I am in my third year at NYU, majoring in English Literature and twenty-two years of age. So shut the fuck up and stop pretending you know everything, okay?"

She stares at me furiously, tension clear in her voice and I search her face. Fuck, fuck, shit, shit. This woman is my dream woman. Not only is she unbelievably beautiful but she's feisty, strong and obviously crazily intelligent. I want to take her on my bar right now.

I smile at her, "You know, you look really sexy when you're mad."

My kitten resists my charms but I can see a glint of lust in her Hershley colour eyes. Of course her eyes are the colour of my favourite fucking chocolate.

"And you are the smuggest asshole I have ever come across."

I bite back a huge grin, loving that she was standing up to me. Leaning forward I place my forearms on the bar so that we were practically nose to nose. She smells like strawberries and freesia, my mouth waters at the scent and I want to lick every part of her body.

One small movement and I could get my wish and taste her, but I don't want to push kitten any further away.

"You want to go out sometime."

A stunning smile spreads across her face, revealing a set of pearly white teeth and adorable dimples in her cheeks that I want to nibble on. Damn it, everything about her draws me in. At the smile, I feel my confidence grow and I inch a little closer.

I vaguely hear the notes of that popular Spanish song playing in the background but I am drunk on this girl. All I can think about is my need to feel her soft, flawless skin under my calloused hands. To push my fingers through her beautiful hair. To feel her hot lips moving against my own…

"Sorry, but I have to go and find my friend."

I am beyond stunned, and she sends me a sexy smirk that makes my hard on even more prominent – if that is even possible. She flicks her long dark hair over her shoulder and moves to the crowd. From her I can see that her body matches her face – beautiful in every way. The blue dress highlights her tiny waist and the curves of her breasts and his. It stops mid thigh, showing off her long, milky legs that seem to go on forever.

I keep my eyes on her as she winds through the crowd towards a couple. I notice that I am not the only man who is completely captivated by her. Beyond aroused and bewitched by this creature, I rush to the office.

I find Emmett standing between some blonde girl's legs; making out with her in wild abandon. Fuck this. He does this most nights – tonight is my turn.

"Oi! Breaks over, I'm going on mine."

Emmett pulls away from his blonde, but I don't bother waiting for him. No way was I wasting time with this oaf when a beautiful brunette was moving her body on the dance floor, crowded by a group of hungry men.

When I find her, she is dancing with some cute pixie like girl who seems a little distracted by a tall blonde. My kitten sways back her delicious body tantalisingly, her neck completely exposed as she holds her hair up with her left hand – inviting me.

Her neck glistens with sweat and again I am driven with this desire to lick the saltiness off her skin.

I sidle up behind her, not too close to come across as creepy but enough to express my need for her. She turns suddenly at the feel of my firm body against her soft one. Her face betrays her shock in seeing me, and she pulls my face down to whisper in my ear.

"Shouldn't you be at the bar?"

Her scent, her warmth, I press my lips against her ear needing this closeness – desperate for his closeness.

"I am on a break. Why didn't you answer my question?"

Our hips move in complete synchronisation and I marvel at the way we fit together. She feels so right against me.

"Conceited dickheads aren't my type. Don't you take no for an answer?"

My need to take her is getting too much but I love teasing her too much – I skim my nose against the column of her neck, feeling her pulse against my nose, beating like a hummingbird.

She wants this just as much as I do.

"You and I both know your real answer."

I am unable to control myself – my tongue darts out, trailing around the shell of her ear slowly and sensually. The taste of her skin is sweet.

"Y-you don't even know my name."

"Then tell me," I murmur between open-mouthed kiss. Christ this girl tastes spectacular. Imagine what she'd taste like from the main source…

"B-Bella."

Of course her name is fucking Bella – it fits her perfectly. I smirk at the irony, "Bella – beautiful. I am Edward."

"Great." Her voice quakes under my administrations, "Well… Edward, I really should get going."

No fucking way was she leaving. I was never going to let her fucking go. She was mine.

To affirm this, I hitch her leg around my waist, wrapping it around me so that she could feel my erection against her.

"Do you really want to leave Bella?"

I continue to kiss her neck, grinding to the rhythm of the music. Fuck, I can feel the heat of her pussy through the thick denim of my jeans. No way was she going.

Then suddenly she isn't in my arms anymore. Feeling the emptiness of her departure straight away, I look at her shocked.

"I am not that type of girl Edward."

Of course she isn't. I knew that from the moment she called my cheap-ass compliment out. She is so much more than the other girls.

I run my hand through my hair in frustration, wondering how to convey this to her, but it seems her attention has been redirected to the hint of skin I have shown from the rise of my shirt.

She licks her lips sexily yet totally unconsciously – I have a feeling she has no idea of how sexy she can be.

"I never said that Bella. But I want you." I need you, "I like your fire."

I take a tentative step forwards. Seeing that she wasn't stepping back, I place my hands back on her hips, pulling her back towards me – where she belonged.

"I like your eyes."

I move my lips back to her neck, licking and nibbling it, not getting enough of her.

"Your hair."

I weave both of my hands though her hair to emphasise my point. It's so soft between my fingers.

"Your body. Your blush."

"Edward…" There is faint resignation in her voice but I know I have to be quick.

"One kiss. Please."

I am not even embarrassed by the obvious need in my voice. It's raw and clear in those three words but I don't care if I sound like a pussy. All that matters is Bella and this moment.

She draws me closer and I can feel her breasts against my chest, nipples straining through the material of her bra and dress – she needs this as much as me.

"One kiss?"

Please.

I am not sure whether it was her or me, but suddenly she's all I see, feel, taste. It's fucking heaven.

Our kiss is passionate, as our lips crush together; tongues licking one another in a dance that is both completely new but also so… normal. Normal in the fact that – its like she is meant to be kissing me.

Her legs are around me, and I can feel her pulsing pussy against me; hot and needy. I rub my erection against her in desperation, wishing that we were somewhere private. A place where we could be skin on skin.

I hold onto her perfect ass rising her upwards so I can kiss her even deeper. Fuck, she's amazing. She consumes me completely. I want to spend forever entangled with her.

I trail my hands up, feeling her skin; smooth under my rough arms.

She gasps, and pushes me away.

"I really must go. Sorry."

And then she is gone.

I am humiliated to admit that I just stood there for a moment, completely and utterly dumbfounded. The kiss has gotten me breathless and I have forgotten who and where I am.

The only thought in my mind is –

I need her.

Since then my infatuation for Bella had only grown. Everything she did gave me a thrill.

The flush in her cheeks as I paid her a compliment or said something particularly sexual. Long lashes tickling the tops of her cheekbones as she tried to shy away from me. Of course, to no avail – whenever she was with me, I could barely stay mere two-steps away from her.

How she would dance while she was cooking or doing the laundry; shaking her shapely hips back and forth to an abysmal pop song from the charts – thinking that no one is watching, whilst I covertly gazed at her from the doorway.

Every time she spoke in her sleep; muttering in low whispers random words like 'truck' and 'fishing', to those throaty caresses of my name. Those were the moments when I would feel my heart pound just a little faster, and a cheesy grin spread across my face.

The dimples in her smile that I made sure to kiss whenever I had the chance, and the crinkles at the corner of her eyes when she was laughing particularly hard, chocolate eyes alive with mirth.

How she swam in my shirt, tugging on the hemline in a half-hearted attempt to cover up. But there was that tell tale sparkle in her eye that told me that she was teasing me.

When I would growl at her – usually before I would embark on tickle war or more excitingly, go down on her – and she would squeal

The stunning faces she makes when she orgasms, mahogany curls sticking to her face and neck with perspiration, eyes wide and glossed over, that detectable pink mouth set in an 'o' shape.

Then there was that constant thrumming of electricity that passed through us through every touch – from a simple brushing of the fingers to our passionate lovemaking.

The cute way she scrunches her nose when she is mad, her beautiful eyes burning with kitten-like fury. Her bottom lip going pale from the vice grip she has it between her teeth. This was something that I had only witnessed twice – once from when I had first teased her about her age in the club and the second… well, from tonight. My heart stings at that thought alone.

My mind rehashes those last moments I had seen her

Over the last few weeks, Bella had brought me a happiness that I hadn't truly felt since my mother had died. She was my sun, moon and stars. It was cheesy and something that was totally out of character for me; but this feeling that coursed through me made me feel powerful and untouchable. She made me powerful and untouchable.

And I lost her.

I grunted my head falling backwards, hitting the hard wall and effectively bringing me back to reality.

I looked around in distaste.

The hospital was a place that I had come to greatly resent. Esme and Carlisle pin my hatred for it, to that fact that my mother couldn't be saved here – but that isn't true.

Nothing could save Elizabeth. Her life ended as soon as her car hit that wall, and proceeded to burst into flames. I wasn't even given a final goodbye, since her body was deemed 'unidentifiable' and some other bullshit excuse about how I needed to be 'shielded' from such a horrendous sight.

No, I hated this place because it was here that Esme and Carlisle had pushed me towards all my life. From a young age they drilled into me the idea of following Carlisle's footsteps and becoming a surgeon. When I was a kid, I could even remember them giving me, instead of a guitar that I had begged for, one of those plastic toy medical kits complete with a fake stethoscope. Carlisle had me reciting the symptoms of heart disease, how to identify them and even how to rectify them by the age of twelve, and at fourteen I was given a medical journal for my birthday.

My childhood revolved around three main things:

Go to an Ivy League – preferably Harvard or Dartmouth

Become a successful surgeon, hereby continuing a legacy set by Carlisle Cullen

Marry a rich socialite from one of Esme's many circles.

To say I was a disappointment to my adopted parents was an understatement. When I put my foot down on going down the route of medicine, Esme was particularly furious. Both shouted how ungrateful I was. How so many other boys would kill to be in my shoes – to have parents that pushed them to be ambitious, parents that did everything so that their child would reach that goal in the highest, most prestigious way.

Neither could empathise with my passion for music. It was my creative outlet, a way to release my emotions and put them into something positive. Besides that, it was also a way I could connect with Elizabeth. Elizabeth loved it when I played the piano for her. She would always get a little teary and have to leave the room. I didn't really understand this emotion when I was young but now it was clear – my love for music and playing instruments was something I got from her. While Esme and Carlisle could give me a family and any toy, piece of technology or video game that a kid could ask for – she was the person I inherited this talent from.

"Edward?"

My eyes opened slowly, meeting Rose's. I nearly roll my eyes as I take in her state of attire, as she is decked out a grey dress, black leather jacket and knee high boots. Where the fuck does she think she is? Partying at Times Square? Eclipse?

I bite back any insults remembering why I was here and not with Bella. Bella. Jesus, what I wouldn't do to have her beside me right now…

"Eddie!"

I looked at my adopted sister, "how is he?"

She heaved a sigh, running a hand through her blonde hair "it was just a scare. Mom says that he'll be up to the Gala next week."

I snorted, turning away from her "of course."

Even when her husband suffers from a heart attack scare, all Esme Cullen fucking cares about is her high society affairs and snobby ass friends.

"You're still coming?"

"Do I have any choice?"

Rosalie looks at me appraisingly; her look just confirms what I know already – that it will take something major for me missing the gala next week.

"You did promise Edward."

I growl, standing up and moving to stand in front of her. She stands a little straighter, and looks up at me without flinching. Our stand off is reminiscent of all the arguments we had growing up; Rose and I always have had difficulties in staying civil with one another. To me Rosalie was a spoilt bitch who loved no one except herself. She had her life laid out on a golden platter since the moment she could walk – become a top model, date some rich, handsome dick and live in his and our parent's shadow. What kind of life was that?

"You know I don't want to do this Rosalie. You know she's fucking blackmailing me."

She rolls her eyes, "Blackmail? Isn't that a bit strong Edward?"

I pull my hair "you know what it fucking is Rosalie!"

She looks wildly around, "Keep your voice down!" she hisses.

"Oh yes, we wouldn't want any one to think that we aren't some perfect, American family – would we?" I say, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

"Mom is right about you. You are such an ungrateful prick! Mom has given you your time out of the spotlight, she even invested in that cute bar that you run – the least you could do is come next week."

I've had enough of this. I didn't come here to get fucking laid into.

"Can I go see him?" I ask through gritted teeth.

Rosalie crosses her arms across her chest, glaring at me fiercely "yes. But of you fucking upset him Edward, I swear to God I will murder you."

I mock salute her, and hurry to the hospital room. Although I harboured some bitterness towards Carlisle due to his incessant pushing over being a doctor, he was tame in comparison to Esme. Plus, he was still family – I would never want to see him hurt.

As I reach the doorway of his room, I see Esme looking pristine as per usual in a light grey business suit and pearl necklace, bronze hair sitting neatly on her shoulders. She is speaking on her iPhone, probably releasing a statement to the papers. Fuck, couldn't that wait until morning?

I barely spare her a glance and walk into my adopted father's room. He looks perfectly well, sat up in the hospital bed, blonde hair combed and peppered with a few silver hairs. He looks stoic and bored, probably hating that he was the patient and not the doctor.

"Carlisle?"

He looks at me, a small smile gracing his features "well, well – the Prodigal's son returns."

I roll my eyes at him, picking his chart up and glancing over it. Every thing looks good. According to it, he suffered from loss of normal lung function leading to the heart receiving un-oxygenated blood.

I tut as I read it, "You should know than picking smoking back up again."

He snorts, "with your mother, a guy needs a cigarette every now and then."

"I get it. But you need to take better care of yourself. Wouldn't want to miss one of Esme's functions."

He chuckles as the sarcasm in my voice, and looks up at me wistfully.

"You would've made a great doctor."

I sigh, putting the chart back down. I don't need this shit right now.

Sensing my refusal to talk about the subject he continues, "how is the bar going?"

"Fine," I say defensively "New York Times rated us number one for Best Night Life in their newest feature."

"I saw," he nods pensively "I am proud of you. But isn't it about time that you fully pass the reigns to Emmett?"

I move towards the door "Fuck you Carlisle, I came here because I was worried about you – not because I wanted an inquisition."

"Don't swear." A snobby voice says from behind me.

"Esme."

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, "Anthony sweetheart, when are you going to learn that my name is 'mother' to you?"

I snigger, "you haven't been a mother to me for a very long time Esme. And when are you going to learn that my name is 'Edward'? Now if you'll excuse me –"

"You will be at the Gala next week, Anthony."

"Yes Esme."

"And don't bring the tramp with you."

I stop, whirling around, fury rolling off me in waves, much like I did with Rosalie - I stalk up to her.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I spit.

She smiles sweetly at me, not batting an eyelash "Rosalie told me you are dating some College student? Non-Ivy League no less? Now Edward, I have been extremely lenient with you and your impending career, but don't expect me to be as generous with this girl. If you want a girlfriend, I know plenty of highly respectable women who are perfect for you."

"This isn't the 1900s Esme" I seethe "you can't tell me who I can or cannot date. I am a twenty five year old man, and I will date anyone I fucking want. And I don't care if she's non-Ivy League! She's beautiful, intelligent and independent. She has more class than you in her pinkie finger. Back the fuck off Esme, or I swear to fucking God, you will regret it."

I turn away leaving the room quickly – before I fucking hit her and get arrested– but not before I hear her last words…

"Don't mess with me, Anthony, otherwise you'll regret it."