A/N: Thank you as always for the amazing reviews and kind words! So, we finally get to join our troubled couple on their first date – I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed putting it into words :-)

.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

.

.

Chapter 11

.

The ride back to our house is quiet. Too quiet.

I feel like a socially awkward 16-year-old girl who's just been asked to the prom by a guy she's been having sex dreams about for months.

I'm nervous. Like really fucking nervous.

So much of our lives was predetermined and planned. So much of the way I've acted in his presence was just not me – it's hard to be the real me surrounded by this life full of fancy cars, expensive restaurants, and black tie affairs. Going out to dinner, just the two of us, without the safety net of several of his colleagues that I'm forced to make inconsequential conversation with is an entirely new experience for us.

Where will we go?

What will we talk about?

What should I wear?

By the time he pulls into our garage, my brain is riddled with anxiety and I'm contemplating how ridiculous I'll look if I put my head between my knees to keep from hyperventilating.

And then the self-doubt sets in.

God, I'm such a moron. My husband is taking me out to dinner and I'm having a fucking panic attack? What the hell is wrong with me? This is what I wanted, right? We're making progress – moving forward…starting our lives.

So why am I so nervous? Why am I not jumping up and down in excitement rather than clasping my hands together to keep Edward from seeing how bad they are shaking?

What happened to the giddiness I felt at the diner?

Ok. Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. I'm acting like a fucking idiot.

I love this man. I've loved him for a long time. If I can't find something to keep the conversation going through one damn dinner, then this just isn't meant to be.

That's the problem – it feels like this entire relationship hangs in the balance on this one evening.

Which is completely and utterly absurd. I don't even know why I'm panicking about this.

Dinner will be fine. We'll talk, maybe laugh a little, eat some good food, and then come home. We're married and after tonight we'll still be married. So what if dinner is awkward? All first dates are awkward. But I think it's safe to assume that our first date will lead to a second date. Because we already love each other.

Ok, crisis averted.

I think.

Unfortunately, although this entire exchange has happened inside my head over the past few minutes and I've tried to look as normal as possible, it's fairly apparent that I have failed.

When I finally return to reality and take in my surroundings, I look up to realize we are parked, the car is shut off, and Edward is staring at me with a look of combined confusion and horror.

Well, damn.

In a normal relationship, I'm sure I could just come right on out and say, "Hey, don't mind me – I've just had a panic attack over something completely ridiculous because even though I mentally laugh at you and your stupid pencils and OCD-ness, I can't even accept a dinner date from my husband without completely over-thinking and sabotaging it with 'what ifs'. That's why I'm all clammy and my legs are shaking like a kid with ADD who ate too many pixie stix. But hey, it's cool."

And then we'd laugh, high five each other and take off inside the house to have some incredible sex.

Nope, that approach just isn't going to work here.

So I just plaster a big smile on my face and exit the car without another word. Yep, I'm choosing avoidance.

Luckily, Edward follows, but wisely doesn't ask questions about my weird, silent meltdown.

I guess we'll just add this to the many things we should discuss later.

~~~~ATA~~~~

After a brief and semi-awkward pause inside the door, Edward has excused himself to work for awhile on the premise that he has some emails he needs to respond to. While the annoying, girly side of me is somewhat offended by this, the still slightly hung over and a bit nervous part of me is grateful for the time alone. It is barely early afternoon, so I have plenty of time to relax. I should call Rose again – I've still yet to hear from her. Hopefully she's no longer on the living room floor. And hopefully she and Alice have helped Emmett clean up the mess.

Shit. Edward has long since closed himself off in his study and I have no idea what time I need to be ready.

Damn it, what's the plan?

We just aren't very good at this dating stuff, I guess.

After a few more minutes of standing around, looking like an idiot in my indecision, I decide I'm wasting too much of my relaxation time. A bath and TV, I think. Yes – that's what I'm going to do. No more stressing over anything for me.

At least for a few more hours, anyway.

~~~~ATA~~~~

An hour later, I find myself fighting the urge to close my eyes and succumb to sleep as I soak in our large oval bathtub, steam filling the air around me. Surrounded by the sweet and spicy scent of bubble bath, punctuated with a fresh apple scent and a clean and crisp woodsy undertone, my senses are finally at peace. No more over-thinking, no freaking out, just calm and soothing thoughts fill my crazy head. The foamy softness of bubbles moving calmly against my skin and the gentle flickering of several candles have soothed away the last of the aches and queasiness leftover from my overindulgence last night and I'm sad to feel the water beginning to cool, knowing that I'll have to get out soon.

Perhaps I could just run another bath – this is just too wonderful to end anytime soon. I've still got time before my date. At least I think I do. I have no idea what time it is or how long I've been sitting in here in my own little oasis. Or what time we're leaving.

And right now, I honestly don't care. I just close my eyes and drift in and out of consciousness once more.

A light shuffling sound forces me to look up. As I hadn't closed the bathroom door completely, through the six-inch gap I spy Edward passing through our room. I wonder if he's looking for me.

After a few seconds, he returns, peering tentatively through the door, clearly unsure if he has permission to enter.

"Hi," I say softly, followed by a gentle smile.

His answering smile is just as gentle and after a brief pause, he pushes the door fully open with one extended arm.

As he takes in the sight before him, he cocks his head to one side.

"Are you alright?"

I grin up at him. "Yes."

Suddenly, I'm thankful for my tendency to add entirely too much bubble bath. The white mountains of foam cover up most of the Bella-goods, giving only a view of my wet shoulders, with just a delicate hint of the very tops of my breasts. This man may know my body better than anyone, but I do think it is probably not quite appropriate to show too much skin before he even buys me dinner.

His smile widens briefly, still showing a touch of concern, but mostly relief, before his brows knit together slightly. He begins chewing on the inside of his cheek and glancing around nervously.

"Um…may I sit with you for a bit?" he asks, before finally returning his eyes to mine. I must say, I'm both impressed and slightly annoyed that his eyes have yet to venture any lower.

I smile up at him and nod.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. Obviously, he probably didn't mean he was going to join me in the bath. But still, I'm surprised when he crosses the small space before sinking to the ground, leaning his back to the wall with his jean-covered legs extended, mirroring my position though on the outside of the bathtub. I subconsciously lean my head slightly towards his, our foreheads merely inches apart, our eyes gazing into one another.

I'm not sure what to say. He apparently isn't either, as he remains silent, just watching me carefully. It's both flattering and unnerving to some degree. It's nice to be so close and the intimacy of the moment is almost more than had he actually joined me beneath the water. It's sweet. And innocent. And it makes me love him all the more.

After a few moments, I decide to break the silence.

"Did you get your work done for the day?"

"Yes," he answers, with just a hint of a smile.

He reaches out, so slowly it's almost painful, and just barely brushes my cheekbone. His fingers graze further, tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear, leaving a warm path of tingles in their wake. I suck in a breath at the contact, my mouth dropping slightly in a surprised "O".

And then he leans forward. His lips touch mine in a soft, simple, and chaste kiss. There is no movement on either our parts to deepen the kiss, no tongues sneaking out to turn it into a prelude to something more physical, no gasping and moaning, but it is enough to send a quake of tingling all the way down to my toes. So intimate, yet completely innocent. A mere few seconds later, he pulls back, his fingers following the movement, tracing along my jaw line so softly, I'm almost not sure if the gentle touch even happened.

Having been so swept up in the tender moment, I hadn't even realized my eyed had closed. As they flutter open, my breath hitches at the intensity of the look on his face. It's pure love and bliss - a look I've longed to see from him in so long, that now that I've seen it I vow to do whatever is in my power to keep it there. It's just simply stunning.

He clears his throat quietly.

"Um…let's leave at six or so, alright?"

Too stunned to form a coherent response, I simply nod in return.

It isn't before he's stood and is halfway out the door before my voice finds me again.

"Wait!" He turns sharply, surprise and worry etched on his face.

"Um, what should I wear?"

His eyes widen and that beautiful, carefree smile I had a glimpse of at the diner returns.

"Jeans. We're going casual tonight." And with that he leaves.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Dressed in a pair of Capri-length skinny jeans, a black peasant top, and ballet flats, I for once feel happy and not the slightest bit nervous – anxious to see what my Edward has planned for the evening. I've chosen to leave my hair down in soft tousles and they blow gently in the breeze of the partially opened windows as his car speeds through the twilight.

His jeans and dark green polo shirt have once again left me breathless. If it were up to me, I'd never let him put on a suit and tie again. I like this casual, carefree version of him.

"Where are we going?" I ask softly, pushing some hair off my face before glancing over at him.

His head tips slightly, his eyes sliding over to glance at me briefly with a smile on his lips.

"It's a surprise," he replies, offering no further explanation.

When we pull into the parking lot of Lou's Seafood House, I can't help the giggle that escapes. When he said casual, he certainly meant it. This is one of my all time favorite restaurants and I can't honestly picture Edward ever having known that, let alone actually eating here by choice. Once again, he has surprised me and I can't help but beam brightly over at him. As he helps me from the car, his smile matches my own.

It's going to be a good night – I can just feel any last bit of awkwardness and nervousness melt away as we walk through the summer night towards Lou's.

The large building, made to look like a large, rustic cabin, is topped with a large, flashing, neon caricature of a lobster. The food is simply divine – huge portions, which is always a plus in my book.

We are seated quickly at a nicked and rickety wooden table near the back, once again lucky to have some privacy in the otherwise bustling restaurant.

We've both chosen the lobster platter – a whole lobster, a bowl of clam chowder, steamed veggies, and steak fries. I scoffed at his offer to order a bottle of wine and after a brief moment of confusion, he chuckled in response. I instead have decided to stick with iced tea and lemon, while he is nursing a beer.

We settle into a comfortable silence while we wait for our food to arrive.

Eventually, the silence becomes too much for me and I long to hear his voice again.

"Let's play twenty questions!" I blurt out.

His barking laugh surprises me.

"Ok. What are the rules?" he asks, still chuckling.

"Well, we take turns asking questions and then we have to answer the same question. It seems like a good date activity, yeah?"

He grins. "Sure. You go first. What do you want to know?"

I contemplate my approach. I have twenty opportunities to dig further into the complex mind of the man I love.

And I just can't think of anything to ask. It's sort of like how I can think of a million things I want until someone asks me what I want for Christmas and I draw a complete blank. Damn it.

Finally, after a smirking Edward has stared me down for several moments, a random question pops into my head.

"Did you have any pets when you were growing up?"

He looks entirely surprised. So am I. I've tried to figure this man out for years, and this is the only thing I can think to ask?

His smirk returns. "Um. Yeah, I had a dog once. Her name was Georgia, but I called her George. She was a yellow cocker spaniel." I grin, picturing a little green-eyed boy playing with his childhood pet. I've met his parents a few times of course, and for some reason I could never quite picture Esme and Carlisle as pet people.

"Your turn."

"Oh, um, my dad bought me a kitten once, but it turns out I'm allergic, so I had to get rid of her after a few weeks. That was my only one. She was so cute, but I kept breaking out in hives and sneezing so I wasn't too sad to see her go."

His smile is sweet and indulgent.

Our food arrives, and both of us looking completely silly in the required plastic bibs, we begin the process of cracking open our lobsters. It's messy and fun – the perfect first date.

"Your turn," I say, with a grin.

He chews on the inside of his cheek while he thinks, staring down at his hands while he attempts to crack open his lobster claw.

"Ok…what were your parents like growing up? Every time I meet them, I just can't quite figure them out."

Biting my lip, I try to find the right words to respond. "Well, they divorced when I was so young and my mom walked out, so I rarely saw her growing up. It was almost always just me and Charlie, you know. He's a good dad, but just really quiet. I don't think he really knew how to raise a kid, let alone a girl, so I think he liked to pretend I was a boy. He made me watch sports and go fishing and stuff all the time. But we were happy, you know? He tried his best." I take a breath. This is one of those topics I generally shy away from. "What about your parents?"

He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. It seems we have this in common.

"My parents were great. You've met them, they've always been really loving and open. After they had me, um, Esme couldn't have any more children, and I think that was really hard on her. I remember her being depressed a lot about it. But I think it made them sort of pour all of their efforts into me, like piano lessons and grades and stuff. I know they were just trying to do what they thought was best, but they always had really high expectations. I love them though. Always have." He smiles wistfully, looking off into the distance before returning his eyes to me.

I suddenly have a much clearer picture of why he might be the way he is. His parents' expectations of perfection provide a glimpse into his own perfectionism. My heart aches a little bit for him. I wonder if he'll be that way with our kids, if we ever have them.

Shaking my head slightly, I think about my next question. Looking down as I swirl a fry in ketchup, I ask my question quietly.

"Why did you decide to come here for dinner? It's perfect, but definitely not what I thought you would choose."

He chuckles quietly, almost shyly.

"Um…" he trails off, wiping his hands on his napkin. The pause is so long, I'm not sure if he's going to answer and I start to feel bad for putting him on the spot like this. He looks up, he eyes not quite meeting mine, but staring off into the space behind me.

"Do you remember last year when you saw that spider in the kitchen?" he asks.

Confused, I nod.

"It was early in the morning and you were making coffee. You started screaming for me. I remember I came running to the kitchen, half dressed. Just slacks on and barefoot. I was freaking out, thinking maybe someone had broken in or something. You were still in your pajamas, your hair a mess." He smiles, looking down. "I had to fight not to burst out laughing when I realized it was just a spider. You were so cute. You're always so calm, but you were acting like you were being attacked by a serial killer or something. After I killed it and made sure you were ok, as I was finishing getting dressed, I kept thinking how normal it was. You know? I was just a husband who killed a spider for his wife."

He blows out a breath quietly and smiles at me.

"You know, that's what I want for us. To be a normal couple. Those every day kind of things. I want to be the man who kills spiders for you. I want us to be able to hang out and watch TV. I wanted tonight to be like that. I love my job, but I hate all of the things that go along with it. Honestly, I hate wearing a tux and having to rub shoulders with people who are supposedly important. I want us to not be that."

Another pause. My lip has started to quiver, taken aback by the sheer magnitude of what he's saying.

He leans forward, taking my hand in his, his beautiful eyes staring right into mine and I have no doubt that he has meant every word he says.

"I heard you a couple of years ago talking to Rose and you mentioned that this is your favorite place. When I invited you to dinner, this was the first place I thought of because I want to be the one who gives you your favorite things, you know? If we're going to make this work – and I want us to work so badly – I want us to be able to just be us when we're together. That's why I chose this place." Suddenly, his confidence slips slightly, the nervousness seeping in. "I hope that's alright," he finishes quietly.

I nod frantically, tears sliding down my face, happy tears – tears full of promise and the comfort and safety of knowing we're on the same page and headed in the same direction. Together.

His shy answering smile is so beautiful and it's overwhelming to know he feels the same as I do.

As dinner continues on, our questions become sillier, an unspoken agreement that we should finish on a lighter note. I've learned that his favorite color is blue, he absolutely hates spinach, he secretly wishes his hair wasn't so red, and he loves it when I choose not to wear makeup. I've laughingly shared that I love the color green, hate strawberry ice cream, wish I could get rid of the small freckles sprinkled across my nose and cheeks, and I love seeing him dressed so casually.

I love him. And with every passing second, I love him even more.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Arriving home after dinner, my chest begins to feel heavy with sadness that our evening has come to a close.

Where do we go from here? I want it all. And I'm so impatient for it to happen now.

But I know we need to take this slowly. We need to build our relationship and make sure our foundation is one of love and mutual respect. That can't happen in one night, I know.

At the door to our bedroom, I begin to feel some anxiety creeping into my thoughts. It's been an amazing night and I know there are many more amazing nights to come. Am I ready to reintroduce the physical side of our relationship? I honestly don't know. I want him. I want to feel his skin on mine. I want to feel him inside me. I want that connection.

But is it too soon?

We stare at each other, both clearly conflicted as to how this ends.

He slowly steps towards me, his hands reaching out slowly before finally resting at my cheeks. My breath hitches as he moves closer still, our lips hovering against one another, not touching, breathing into one another. When they finally meet, a slow, sensual movement takes over. It's not frantic. There's no fight for dominance. It's tongues slowly feeling each other, hands gently massaging, lips gently pressing, tasting, wanting more, but making no effort to push it further. His hands never leave my face. No clothes are torn off in a fight against passion.

It's the single more incredible moment of my life. And in those lingering moments, I forget about the past. There is no before – only now. We've known each other, explored one another physically in carnal acts before. But this – it's amazing and breathtaking and makes every single part of my body erupt into a tingling fire. It's as if we've never touched before.

This is our first real kiss.

I'm both thankful and disappointed when he pulls away to rest his forehead to mine. I know we won't go any further tonight. It's perfect just as it is. We're both left longing for more, but knowing we need to be patient.

Later, as we climb into bed, lying beside each other, as I'm slowly drifting off to sleep in his embrace, I realize I've never experienced happiness and pleasure like this. His arms are wound tightly around me, my face buried in the soft hairs of his firm chest.

As I feel his breathing deepen in his chest, my mind drifts to the future. Will we one day lay here, chatting about our day, about funny things our kids said, about chores we need to remember tomorrow?

As I finally succumb to sleep, I feel nothing but content, knowing our lives together have only just started.

.

A/N: Sooooooo….Yes? No? Whatcha thinkin'? I'd love to hear from you! Thank you as always for following this story and for all of your words of encouragement – it means more to me that I could ever describe in words. Hope you are still with me!