Chapter 12.

A warm breeze blows through Bella's hair as she watches the taillights of Emmett's car disappear into the fading afternoon. The wind picks up the spray of the sprinkler chek-chek-cheking across the lawn, surrounding Bella with a mist that beads on her hair and makes it curl.

The sound of their tyres on the drive makes Bella wonder why she doesn't feel the need to race around the continent, seeing everything she can whilst she's here. There's a part of her that's curious, that would like to see more of the country, but it's a patient curiosity. There's no rush. She's content where she is; her roots growing deep and strong.

Rosalie and Emmett had only lingered in the Hunter Valley for a few days, before they decided it was time to start heading inland.

"Where are you going to go?" Bella said, leaning into the arm Edward had draped across her shoulders.

"I want to see Ayers Rock," Rose told them.

Emmett and Edward corrected her at the same time. "Uluru."

Rose pressed her lips together but her chuckle still escaped. "Okay." She pushed her damp hair off her face.

"We're aiming for Perth," Emmett explained, tossing his car keys from hand to hand. "I've always wanted to drive across the Nullabor, she wants to see Uluru. The rest—we'll just play it by ear."

Edward nodded. "You going south first? Great Ocean Road and all that?"

"Yeah, I reckon."

"Nice."

There was a flurry of handshakes and hugs and cheek kisses and "goodbye" and "we'll Skype soon" and "drive safe, mate" and then they were gone.

Edward catches Bella's hand and turns her away from the disappearing car. She smiles up at him.

"Hi."

He chuckles. "Hi, yourself." His smile fades as he searches her face. He cups her cheek, thumb trailing across her cheekbone, dew-damp in the sprinkler's rain. He means to ask her if she's happy here, or if, like Emmett and Rose she has itchy feet—if there are things she wants to do or see, places she'd rather be—but his question dies in his throat. He can see the answer in her eyes. There's a peace and contentment there, confirmed by the smile curving her lips and the hand that covers his, holding him to her.

He drops his forehead to hers and kisses her softly. He wants to say the words he's been repeating to himself until they've become his heartbeat: I love her, I love her.

He pulls back, pushing a damp curl behind her ear, smiling. "I like the way your hair curls when it's wet."

She grins. "I like you."

His chuckle fades with her smile. She tilts her head, looking for something in his face. He hopes she finds what she's searching for.

And when she speaks, he thinks maybe she has. "I more than like you, Edward. I love you."

He kisses her hard, tangling his fingers in her hair, tasting her kiss and the water on her skin and the sweetness of those words.

She's breathless when he pulls back. She looks up at him, waiting. She knows.

"I love you, too," he says.

She jumps at him, catching him off guard. He stumbles as her legs wrap around his waist, but he's too off-kilter. He holds her tight, and it feels like he's falling in slow motion, like falling in love with her all over again.

He breaks her fall, landing on his arse and then collapsing completely, Bella on his chest. The wind gets knocked out of his lungs and his face twists in pain, his eyes squeezed tight. He lies there on his back in the red-brown dirt.

"I'm so sorry." Bella's voice is small.

Edward opens his eyes and sees the embarrassment flushing her cheeks and pulling tears to the corners of her eyes. "I'm not," he says. His hand behind her neck, he pulls her mouth to his.

She doesn't fight him, kissing him until the shame bubbling in her belly turns to steam and dissipates, forgotten completely.

Edward pulls away, his face turned to the sky as he breathes hard. He pushes a hand across his face, then squints at his palm. "Ah, shit."

"What?"

He looks up at her with a smirk. He wriggles his fingers, which are coated with rust-coloured dust.

She giggles. "It's all over your face."

"And probably your bum, too."

Bella wriggles on him, trying to look at the seat of her black work pants. Edward groans. "Bel–"

She whips her head back towards him and it's her turn to smirk. "Problem?" She wriggles again. Edward grips her hips, holding her still.

"You guys are so fuckin' unprofessional." Jasper snickers as they look up at him, eyes wide. Hand on his hips, his volleys are coated with the red dirt, too. "Bella, you've got Mase's handprint on your arse."

"Yep." Bella raises her eyebrows. "What of it?"

Jasper lifts his hands, palms out. "Nothing, mate. Just sayin', you know, in case you want to get changed before you get back to work."

He grins down at the two of them. Though the brim of his hat shades Jasper's face, Edward can see the mischief in his eyes.

He extends a hand to Bella. She pushes up on Edward's chest and starts to reach for Jasper. Edward wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her trapped against him.

"Fuck off, Jas."

"What? What? I'm just being a gentleman, helping the lady– oh, you got a little problem goin' on, Mase?" He cackles madly, cupping a hand around his ear. There is a car crawling up the drive. "And some customers on the way, too. What're you gunna do?"

"How about," Bella pipes up, "you cover the Cellar Door while I go get changed, and I won't tell Angie's little sister about the mad crush you have on her?"

Jasper looks at her, his lips pressed together. His expression wavers between panic and admiration. Bella props herself up, her elbows on Edward's chest as he shakes with silent laughter.

Jasper nods, pulling his hat off and pushing his hands through his hair. "Well played." Turning on his heel, he moves towards the Cellar Door, muttering to himself.

Bella grins down at Edward.

"You wouldn't really …"

She giggles. "Of course not. Come on." She pushes herself to her feet, her hands going immediately to her backside, brushing at the dirt and dust. "I reckon," she says, lowering her voice and smirking at Edward as he clambers to his feet, "we've probably got time to take care of that problem of yours while we change."

Just as the last of the whites come off the vine, thick, black clouds gather overhead, and the rain begins. It falls steadily; big, fat, heavy drops drumming on the roofs, and making the vines sway under their clumsy pounding. Disease pressure is high, the downpour combined with the summer heat makes for unbearable humidity—the kind of conditions that molds and mildews thrive in.

Bella sees the concern that lines Edward and Carlisle and Garrett's faces as they scour the weather reports for any hope that the rain will ease and the humidity let up enough for them to salvage their Shiraz and Cabernet Sauvignon crops. Other winemakers drop by often, and Carlisle and Edward, too, seem to be spending a lot of time off-site, walking through the neighbouring vineyards.

Jasper shrugs when Bella asks him what it will mean for them if the rain doesn't let up soon. "We'll be fine," he says, setting his rain-splattered hat onto the bar. Though the morning saw dozens of tasters streaming through the doors, it's been quiet since lunchtime. "Some of the other guys, though." He shakes his head. "A few of them are only just holding onto their places as it is. Without their reds—some of them might have to sell up to the big corps."

"Shit." Bella has always liked the rain, but here, the dark grey clouds seem threatening, and the incessant patter of the rain against the windows sounds to her like impatient fingers tapping away, waiting out the hours until it's planned destruction comes to fruition. "Do you – is it possible they'll be able to salvage them yet?"

Jasper pushes the corkscrew curls out of his eyes. "It's possible, yeah. If the rain clears up soon and we get an extended dry period. Assuming the fruit hasn't been damaged but."

Around mid-February, even with the stress he's shouldering, and the long hours he's working, Edward notices a change in Bella. She's quiet, but not in a peaceful way. She's having difficulty sleeping, and she spends a lot of time in front of the television. Edward often wakes to start work to find her staring blankly at the set, her face reflecting the flickering blue light in the darkened living room.

She brushes off his concerns with somewhat wistful smiles, or by distracting him—usually by removing her clothes. He wrestles with himself over how easily he lets her change the subject. On one hand, he knows she's avoiding something. On the other, he hopes they're at a point in their relationship where she'd tell him if there was something seriously wrong.

He considers the fact she may be homesick. It's getting close to six months since she landed in Australia—maybe she misses her friends and family back home. He doesn't think that's it. She talks to her father and stepmother, and coos over the photographs of her half-brother, but she rarely mentions anyone else from her life in the U.S.

It's Esme who hands him the missing piece to his puzzle.

She seeks him out in the lab, where he's checking on the progress of the Semillon he's fermenting on skins. "Edward?"

"Mmm." He's only half-paying attention to her as he monitors the ebulliometer on the bench.

"I've spoken to Carlisle, and I need you to take tomorrow off. Maybe the day after as well."

"Mmm—what?" Edward looks up, frowning. "Why? Es, I dunno, I've taken too many days lately – I've got a lot of work on my plate at the moment." He glances at the thermometer again and jots down a reading.

Esme sighs, combing the strawberry blonde hair off her face with her fingertips. "Tomorrow will be hard … for Bella."

Concern over the alcohol measurements he's taking slips straight from Edward's mind. "Is it – shit. Her mum."

Esme nods. "Yeah. Tomorrow will be the anniversary of her death."

"Okay. Of course. Yes." Edward rubs his forehead with his wrist, his eyes closing. "Carlisle's okay with it?"

"He and Jasper will manage just fine. He said to note anything that will require urgent attention on the whiteboard and he'll take care of it."

"Okay." Edward nods again. "Okay." He blows out a deep breath. "What do I – I mean … Are you sure it wouldn't be – you knew her mum, maybe she'll want you."

Esme squeezes his shoulder. "It'll be okay, Edward. Just – be with her, okay? She'll let you know what she needs."

In the morning, Edward wakes in an empty bed, again. He expected as much, and though he had willed himself to wake early, he opens his eyes knowing he's failed. Dawn lights on streams of invisible dust motes, and he inhales deeply, like he hopes to fill his lungs with this moment of quiet and still beauty and breathe it back to Bella when she needs it.

He finds her at the breakfast table, pushing her Weet-bix around her bowl. The brown sugar has dissolved and the cereal has turned to mush.

"Bella?"

She looks at him, unspeaking, as he squats down beside her. He can see the red rimming her eyes as she fights her tears. Edward takes her hand, enveloping it with both of his. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry."

She kind of falls out of her chair, sliding into his arms, unbalancing him. He catches himself, fingertips splayed on the timber floor, before he can topple over, and folds her into his lap. She buries her face against his bare chest. He feels her tears, sliding warm and wet between their skin as he rubs circles on her back.

He presses his cheek to the top of his head, his eyes stinging, too. He remembers the solace he found in Bella's quiet presence when Kate passed. His chest is tight with worry—he hopes he's giving Bella what she needs. He doesn't know what else to offer her.

"I'm here," he whispers. He hopes that's enough.

On the kitchen floor, they huddle together, sometimes crying, sometimes silent. They make no attempt to suppress their grief. Instead, they share it.

Edward isn't sure how long they've been sitting, tangled together, when he feels Bella start to squirm in his lap. He pulls back, one hand on the side of her neck, the other tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I need to pee," she says, her voice a rasp.

She stands up, and waits for Edward to get to his feet. His hands on her waist, he dips his head to meet her eyes. He doesn't ask, but she nods. "I'll be okay."

He kisses her forehead and steps back.

Bella leaves the kitchen slowly, feeling like she's walking through a strange fog. She can see clearly, though her eyes sting, but her mind feels fuzzy around the edges. Her movements are automatic, like her body is moving without her input.

Whilst Bella uses the bathroom, Edward ducks out the front door and looks at the sky. Despite the clear dawn, the clouds have slid back across the sky, thick and grey, but the rain seems to have paused for the moment. He moves back inside, gathers a few things and packs them into the ute.

He walks back into the kitchen to find Bella sipping a glass of water, her eyes unfocused. He touches her shoulder. "Come on."

She doesn't hesitate. She sets down her glass and seeks out his hand. He leads her outside, opening the door of his ute for her to climb into the passenger seat.

The drive is quiet; scored by the engine's low rumble, the sound of rubber on dirt, and the occasional sniffle from both passenger and driver.

When Edward cuts the engine, he looks across at Bella. She squeezes his thigh, whispering a hoarse "thank you." Her face still puffy, sadness' residue drying on her cheeks, she grabs the tartan rug from behind the seat and climbs out of the ute. Edward watches as she ducks under the barbed wire fence and spreads the blanket over the same spot they sat so many months ago.

He follows, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses, a large golf umbrella tucked under his arm.

Bella looks at the label curiously as Edward removes the muselet. "Champagne?"

He nods. "Blanc de noir."

She smiles at him then, and his heart expands. It feels swollen, like it barely has enough room to pound out its rhythm between his lungs.

He hands Bella a glass and lifts his own. "This is an excellent wine," he tells her. His eyes look grey, reflecting the stormy skies. "And sometimes, Hemingway isn't quite right."

Bella holds his gaze, waiting as he fumbles with the words that feel like they're trying to claw their way out of his throat. "Life – death. Bel, it sucks, and I'm sorry. I wish I could've met your mum. I wish she could've seen you today. How beautiful and strong you are, how much you loved her." How much I love you.

She lifts her glass to his. Her voice is still scratchy. "To life, and love, and m-making the most of the time–" she swallows down a sob "–you have … w-with the people who matter."

The chime of glass on glass shimmers in the air.

Later in the afternoon, whilst the cloud cover is thick, Edward can almost feel the sun's movement behind it. It's warm and humid, the glare making them both squint and shade their eyes.

"Bel?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you tell me about your mum? I mean, if you want to …" Bella's brow creases and he looks away, scratching at his forearm. Idiot. "I– sorry. I'm sorry. I understand if you'd rather not – if it's too hard to talk–"

She stops him, her fingertip against his mouth. "It's okay. I just – I mean …" She trails off, looking around. She sighs. "I didn't know her especially well, you know? Like, who she was. I have lots of really vivid memories of the things we did together when I was a little girl, when she came to visit."

Her smile is sad. "I think – well, she was very spontaneous." She closes her eyes as she talks. "I remember she'd just turn up out of the blue. I'd come home from school and she'd be sitting on the doorstep, or the door would knock just when I was brushing my teeth, and she'd be there with candy and other little trinkets that she'd collected wherever she'd been recently."

She sighs. "Looking back, now, it must've driven Dad absolutely crazy, but he never let me know that. He just let me be excited that she'd come to visit. Sometimes he'd put his foot down—I had to go to school even when she was in town—but mostly he'd just kind of shake his head and smile and tell me to remember to clean my teeth if I ate a lot of candy."

"Sometimes she'd take me places, sometimes we'd just hang out and watch movies and play board games. I do remember her taking me to the circus when I was about eight, and I absolutely flipped out because clowns scare the shit out of me. She slept in my bed that night."

She opens her eyes and stands up, stretching. Edward blinks, watching her move across the grass, picking all the little yellow flowers she can find. He stretches to his left and grabs a few more, squinting against the glare as he holds them out to her.

She smiles, shaking her head. "I need their stalks, too."

"Oh." Edward chuckles. "Sorry."

Bella folds herself back onto the rug, and he pushes himself to his feet, gathering more of the flowers she's been collecting—not pulling them off the stalk too close to the head.

He drops a few dozen into her lap, and she smiles up at him. "I think that's plenty. Thank you."

Edward watches as her fingers move deftly, twisting and twining the stems together, like she's braiding the flowers together.

"My mom taught me how to do this," she says, her focus on her lap. "Except with daisies, not whatever these are."

Edward doesn't tell her that they're weeds—in her hands, now crowning her hair, they're beautiful.

She looks at the remaining flowers in her lap and shrugs. She picks them up and starts making another crown. When she's done, she lifts it towards him. Edward chuckles but lets her place it on his head. He lifts his eyebrows and she laughs, the sound makes his heart lift a little higher in his chest.

It's dark by the time they head home. Even with his mind so focused on Bella, Edward registers that the rain has held off all afternoon and into the evening.

Angus and Julia are crooning softly from the stereo as he drives them back towards the cottage, and it catches him by surprise when Bella's hand lands on his knee. Her fingernails rake slowly up his thigh, raising goose bumps. He swallows a groan.

"I love you," she says.

He covers her hand with his own, squeezing gently. "I love you, too."

She sighs. "Is it – is it bad that I really want you? Now?"

He swallows hard. "No."

"It's – I want to be close to you, like that." She hesitates. "I–I need it."

His eyes leave the road for just a second. Bella's face is mostly shadowed, but light glints in her dark eyes. He nods. "I understand."

He can feel the tension build in the darkened cab, like static electricity. The ten minutes it takes to wind back down the mountain seem to stretch into an eternity.

As soon as he kills the engine in front of Bella's cottage, they're out of the car, colliding, hands grabbing at each other, mouths fusing together. They stumble and trip up the path and onto the porch, swallowing each other's grunts and moans.

Edward pushes Bella against her front door, his kiss hard, his hands everywhere: sliding across her belly, kneading her breasts, slipping into her underwear. Bella moans her approval as his fingers encounter slippery-wet flesh, her fisted hands pulling at his hair until it stings.

He moves his lips across her jaw, sucking hard at her neck, pulling a bloom of blood to the surface. His fingers pump and curl, his thumb making tight circles, and Bella is panting and moaning—and shouting.

"Fuck! Jacob, fuck. What the fuck?" She closes her hand around Edward's wrist, stilling his movements. His mind takes a few beats to catch up—Jacob?!

He pulls his mouth from her neck, eyes wide. Bella's head is against her front door, turned to her right. Her chest still heaving, one leg still hitched around Edward's hip, her eyes narrow into a scowl.

He follows her gaze. "What the fuck?" he mutters, as a tall, dark-skinned guy unfolds himself from the carved timber bench seat on Bella's porch.

Edward steps forward, trying to shield Bella's body with his own, pulling his hand from inside her knickers. She lets go of his wrist with a sigh. Every muscle in Edward's body is tensed, fight or flight instincts swinging wildly towards fight.

"Where are you staying, Jake?" Her voice is like a slap. Edward gets the feeling her displeasure goes beyond the fact this guy came very close to witnessing her climaxing on her front porch.

Jacob scratches his ear, his dark gaze wandering across their pressed-together bodies. His nostrils flare. "Uh, in a little bed–" he swallows hard "–and breakfast down the road."

Bella's nod is curt, a dismissal. "Then go check in. I'll call you in the morning."

She smoothes down her dress, still scowling over Edward's shoulder. "Seriously. Go. I'm busy. I don't know why you're here, but common courtesy dictates that people usually call before they show up on someone's doorstep unannounced."

"Izzy–"

Bella knows she's acting like a child, but she's pissed off, embarrassed, and still somehow aroused—and after today, it's just all too much for her to deal with. She claps her hands over her ears. "Go away, Jacob. I'm busy."

"So I saw," Jake mutters. The hostility in his voice sparks in his eyes as he sizes up Edward.

Edward is pissed off and still turned on, and rattled by this clown's sudden intrusion into the little Bella-bubble he's been living in. Turning away from the guy with the worst timing in the history of bad timing, he looks at Bella and tugs her hands away from her ears. "Are you okay?"

She nods, tipping her face up for a kiss. He licks his lips, hesitating. He's unsettled. He wants more than the soft kiss she's asking for—he needs more than that, and he thinks she might, too. "If I kiss you, I'm not going to be able to stop," he whispers.

"Fuck." The word is carried on her gasp. Without looking away from Edward, she fumbles for the doorknob. "Jake, we're going inside. I'll call you in the morning."

She swings open the door and grabs Edward by the shirt. Smirking, he doesn't bother to look back at Jacob.

The door bangs closed and they fumble in the darkness, shedding their clothes as they stumble the familiar route, down the hallway towards the bedroom.

Edward can feel her desperation in the way Bella moves over him. It's there in the way she grabs his hands and covers her breasts with them, in her hard, frantic kisses, and the sting of her fingernails on his chest as she rocks against him, racing them towards their climaxes.

It's there in the way his name falls from her lips over and over as she shatters.

Edward grits his teeth and grapples with his control as she dissolves above him. When he feels her muscles relax and her body slump, he rolls them carefully, holding his weight off her.

She wraps her arms around him, pulling him down. He surrenders, dropping his weight onto her, pressing her into the mattress as he moves inside her, deep and slow.

Her fingernails scrabble at his back. "Edward."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he croons. "It's okay." He dips his head and kisses her softly.

He continues at the same pace, until he feels the tension in her body morph from stress-taut to the stiffening that he knows signals her impending release.

She moans and he grunts, and then they fall together into bliss.

Their limbs still tangled, their bodies damp with sweat and sex, neither Bella nor Edward make any effort to pull away as their breathing returns to normal and their heartbeats slow.

Bella addresses Edward's chest. "I don't know why he's here."

"I figured." He chuckles, stroking her hair. He presses a kiss to her temple.

Bella says nothing, squirming a little, like she can't get close enough. Edward sighs. "It's okay," he murmurs. He feels around for the lamp switch, cringing as warm light paints the room.

She closes her eyes against the burst of brightness. "He …" She shakes her head. "I don't – I mean, I love you. You know that, right?"

Edward smiles down at her, his forearms framing her face. "Yeah, I do. It's always nice to hear you say it, though." He kisses her mouth, once, twice, three times. "I love you, too."

She smiles up at him, her dark eyes shining. "It is nice to hear, huh?"

"Very." He rolls off her and climbs out of bed, holding a hand out to her. "Shower?"

She grips his fingers. "Shower. Then sleep."

A/N: My love to any readers in Oklahoma. Be safe.

Thank you so much for all your beautiful reviews – I read and treasure every single one. I am convinced I have the loveliest readers ever!

I also have the most wonderful beta, cheerleader, and friend, ever, in BelieveItOrNot. Thank you, old Phoebe.

Love, Shell x

Also, I had a piece of erotica published in Pique! If you want to read it, it's called Stumbling is Not Falling and it's available on piquezine dot com