A/N: Hey, you guys. Thanks so much for the thoughts on the last chapter, but here's an even bigger thank you for enduring this. I know it's not all happy and I know you guys want Jake and Bells to be happy, but I swear, they will get there. Happiness takes time. :) Here is chapter twelve.

Chapter Twelve

I managed to hold out for a week; I went to work, read books, and mainly stayed out of Jacob's way, trying to pretend things were normal. Pretending was a double-edged sword, though: when it was good, it was great; when it was bad, it was terrible. There was no halfway point.

That being said, that week without really interacting with Jacob was hard. Of course it was; I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. I wasn't sure what love was, exactly, but I'd read and watched it before, and I knew that people weren't supposed to avoid the people they loved. Was I in love with Jacob? I didn't know. I did know that I loved him, however, and that was all that mattered.

Once the week had passed, I decided that because I loved him, I had to be able to talk to him. So after work the next Friday, I ordered a pizza and sat next to Jacob on the couch. It was like we were back to square one; I did the awkward middle school thing where I pressed my hand down between us in case he wanted to hold it, but he didn't touch me. He just sat back, arms crossed, and watched the television attentively.

At the commercial break, though, I took the remote and muted the television. He looked at me, and he didn't even look annoyed. "Yes?" he asked.

It was time to be straightforward. "Tell me about her."

He sighed and turned to me because he knew exactly who I was talking about. "It's a long story."

I shrugged. "I've got loads of time."

"So where do you want me to start?"

Damn.

It was almost a bit hard to believe; Jacob was being open. He was being open and looking at me straight in the eyes and looking so honest and beautiful...

"From the beginning is fine," I decided.

He sighed again. "Guess this is one secret I can't keep forever. So, the girl at the funeral was Leah Clearwater."

"Harry's daughter?"

"Yes," he clarified.

"Oh. So you were keeping her a huge secret."

"I can't be the only one with secrets," he said. "Don't tell me you've never had any."

"I've never been engaged," I replied, "and I never tried to hide it. That's different, Jacob, and you hid that from me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, his hands out in front of him. "Who said I was engaged?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Rachel said -"

"Rachel said I proposed, which I did," he simplified. "Not that I was engaged, which I wasn't."

I shook my head. "Could you just give it to me straight?"

"See, the thing is," he began, "I proposed to Leah, but she didn't accept-Wait, no." He groaned. "Lemme start from the beginning. So I grew up with her, yada, yada, yada, we started dating when we were nineteen, things got serious, and I proposed. I was so ready to settle down and everything. I even got this apartment for us. It was gonna be a surprised. But when I proposed, do you know what she said?"

"No?" I guessed.

"She said no!" he claimed animatedly. "She said no to me, and it's not like I'm a stalker or anything, but I was pissed."

"Aww, I'm sorry," I told him.

"I am, too."

"And that's it?" I asked.

"Basically. All of my secrets are out of the bag. Now it's your turn, Bella."

"Why do you want to know any of my secrets?" I inquired.

"You know mine."

It was easy to see his motives now; I could see right through him most of the time. I took a deep breath, and finally admitted, "I got pregnant."

His eyes widened and his mouth agape, he looked genuinely shocked. "Oh, God, Bella. God, no, you didn't."

Catching on to what he was assuming, I quickly shook my head. "No!" I said. "I mean. Well. I was pregnant, but that was a long time ago."

Jacob blinked. "So where's the kid now?"

I took a bit just to think on this. "...Heaven?" I concluded.

"Aww, man. Why'd you get rid of it?"

"I was younger," I replied, "and way dumber. I couldn't have a kid. I was only eighteen."

"Oh."

"I guess that's the difference between us," I murmured wryly. "You're ready to spring into real life and family and shit like that. I'm not."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I guess so."

"But..."

"But...?" he prompted.

"But why did you seem so... embarrassed of me in front of Leah?"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"She asked if we were dating," I recalled, "and you said no. I know it's not true, but why? Is it because I'm white? Was I dressed wrong or something? Was it something I said? Are you ashamed of me or something? Was -"

"Bella, no," he said, his voice as honest and sweet as cinnamon.

"Then what is it?"

"I care too much."

I was pretty sure my heart had either stopped or it was beating so hard that I couldn't even feel it.

"It's because..." he continued. "Because if I did say we're together, Leah would've said something rude. She's never been afraid to call things as she sees it, and it's kinda bitchy, but that's her. I just didn't want to give her the opportunity to say anything bad about you, but I fucked up. I'm sorry. I just..."

"You care too much," I reminded him with a small smile.

Our hands hovered closer together, and I took his like nothing was wrong. For the first time ever, I was sure that things weren't wrong. Not at all.

Lacing our hands together, he smiled at me. I could have melted with that million dollar smile, but I could have melted happily.

"I care too much," he repeated.

The next few weeks weren't very special. The sporadic hand-holding hadn't occurred any other times, and I was pretty sure it was because Jacob didn't know how to make his move and I was scared of coming on too strong.

We were like fucking kids.

So we stuck to our books and television shows. Over breakfast, we would debate over the psychological goodness of the character Dexter Morgan. He would call me at lunch - everyday at twelve-fifteen and nothing else - and would challenge me to a read-off. Over dinners (which I slowly learned how to prepare myself), we would have heated discussions on the motives of various Walking Dead characters or how funny or not funny The Office was without Steve Carell. Jacob and I were nerdy - okay, really nerdy - but at least we were nerdy together.

It just wasn't like I didn't want to go further.

However, time went on. The weather got colder, the heaters were on all the time, and work was progressively getting easier to handle but not much more enjoyable. Before I knew it, Christmas arrived.

Sometime in early December, I'd discovered that Jacob didn't have a Christmas tree of his own, so I'd told him I'd buy him one. I had eventually purchased a fake four-foot-tall Christmas tree that he could keep forever (along with ornaments and household decorations), but I hadn't really had gifts to place under them. Procrastinating (and procrastinating hard) I went out to buy gifts for him on Christmas Eve. There were gifts for me under the tree (I'd felt them and was pretty positive one was a sweater because Jake hadn't thought of putting it in a box), and I felt guilty for not getting him anything.

Shopping at the mall on Christmas Eve was really strange.

This wasn't like shopping on any other day for gifts; this was different. Everybody had the same mindset: buy, buy, buy. There were the over-enthusiastic parents, being really careful but really speedy to buy that one last gift. And then there were the major procrastinators like myself, swiping everything in sight.

I'd been saving some money, and I had enough for a few gifts, but shopping for Jacob was hard. Men were simple creatures, but not simple to buy for. I didn't want to get him anything too kid-like, but I didn't want to get him a boring sweater, and I was definitely not going to get him anything immensely inappropriate, even if both of our minds were. I could have gotten him a nice beer mug, but he didn't drink-period. I could have gotten him a barbeque set, but the weather was never nice enough to barbeque-ever. There were only a trillion things I could get him but wouldn't really work for a while. Fuck. Halfway through my trip, I was about to start praying that things would end up okay.

My prayers had been answered at some point, because I wound up finding a neat comic store with a bunch of merchandise and novelty crap from The Walking Dead. Jacob wasn't a fanboy, but he was going to appreciate the things I got him. I even got him a board game on the TV show; I knew he'd kick my ass at it, but the gift would still make him happy. I was determined to make this a very merry Christmas. I felt cheesy, but this was the time of the year to be cheesy, anyway.

After buying gift wrap and wrapping everything up in the truck, I made my way back home, and was greeted by the aromas of dinner. Jacob greeted me and helped me with my two bags. "Huh," he said, "I wonder what these are for."

"So do I," I replied, playing along. "Maybe they're for Quil and Claire."

"Looks like I'll have to take them instead," Jake said. "They went to La Push for the holidays."

"You never told me they left."

"Quil never told you at work?"

"Nope."

"Well, maybe it wasn't important."

He's not your problem, I reminded myself. Quil is not your problem anymore.

After placing Jacob's wrapped presents under the tree, I changed the subject by asking what was for dinner. It was chicken fettuccine. As I shrugged out of my jacket and placed it with my purse on the couch, Jacob set a plate of food down on the table for me.

"I got started kinda early," he told me.

I sat down at the table. "'S'alright." I took a bite of the noodles and asked how his day was.

"It was great," he said, still standing in the kitchen. His face looked discouraged.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Don't laugh, but I can't bake anything to save my life."

Only because he told me not to, I laughed. "Why are you baking?" I asked.

"I'm just trying to be festive," he admitted. "Get into the holiday spirit."

"I should've picked up a couple of ugly sweaters," I said. "My bad."

"It's okay," he replied. "We'll make it all up in carolling tomorrow."

I laughed again. "What are you trying to bake, anyway?" I wondered.

"Cookies. Chocolate chip and peppermint."

"Wow. I used to bake those all the time."

"And you're letting me know this now?"

I took a big bite of the dinner, chewed, and swallowed. "No," I replied. "I mean, yes. When I was a kid, the only times my mom and I got to really hang out as mother and daughter was during Christmas. We baked cookies all the time."

"And after all this time of knowing how to cook, I never learned how to bake." He chuckled. "Well, shit, at least I tried."

"Are you making the cookies by scratch?" I wondered.

"No. I have this package thing."

"Jake, just preheat the oven."

"It's already preheated."

"Okay, now open the package of cookie dough."

"Got it."

"Make little balls and put them on a pan with foil on it. That's all you have to do."

"But..." He shook his head in dismay. "But how big do the balls have to be?"

"Well, how big do you want the cookies to be?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"When you figure it out, let me know."

"Wow, thanks."

"No problem."

Jacob and I watched various Christmas specials of The Office tonight, just to prepare ourselves for the cheesy movies that would come tomorrow. I snuggled into his warm body, and laughed until my sides hurt. There was nothing wrong with being lonely on the holidays as long as I had someone just as lonely.

Maybe we weren't even lonely anymore. There wasn't a problem in the world with that.

Late at night, I couldn't sleep. Jacob had already gone to bed, but I still struggled to lose focus and empty my mind. I was acting like a little kid on Christmas Eve even though I had a good idea of what I would be receiving. However, I eventually came to the conclusion that I was too damn cold.

So maybe I was a little crazy for sneaking into Jake's room that late. Maybe I was a little crazy for climbing into his big, inviting bed. Maybe I was a little crazy for putting myself in his arms. So what?

He had to have been crazier for tightening his arm around my waist. Stroking my fingers against the back of his hand, I knew that we were crazy. We were crazy and shy and nerdy and undoubtedly the best relationship I'd been in, but maybe things were supposed to be this way.

I didn't want to pretend anymore.

Jacob was gone when I woke up. Sigh... The whole waking-up-in-Jake's-arms fantasy would have to remain a fantasy. The bed was uncomfortably cool, but I stretched my limbs and yawned. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, and I rubbed my eyes. God, why did I even do that? I'm so fucking weird.

The distinct scents of bacon and coffee - just like every morning - filled the apartment, and I padded off to its source. Seeing Jacob cooking for me-okay, for us-never got old. Really, it never did. Seeing him smile at me like I was his favorite person in the world never got old, either. I could get used to this, I thought.

"Merry Christmas," I greeted him. It truly did feel like Christmas; the decorations seemed brighter, everything smelled better, and both Jacob and I were happier. The only thing missing was a blanket of snow outside, but it never snowed on time in Washington. I could expect a load of snow to be dumped on us in February.

"Merry Christmas," he replied. "How'd you sleep?"

Feeling myself blushing, I gulped. "Pretty good. I was warm, for once. You?"

He kept his cool. "Good," he answered. "Great, really. Maybe you should sleep with me more often."

I started laughing, but then tried covering it with a feigned fit of coughs.

"I mean," he said, trying to rephrase what he'd just said. "You can come-"

I burst into a fit of giggles, and he laughed with me. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just feeling immature today."

"Right. Well, I didn't mean sleeping as in, uh... sex. I meant it as in... what's the word...?"

"Spooning," I finished.

"Yeah. Spooning."

"Haven't you heard, though?" I asked. "'Spooning leads to forking. Use condiments.'"

He cracked up laughing. "Did you come up with that yourself?"

"Nah, you caught me red-handed. I didn't make it up."

"Aw, damn." He turned to the clock on the oven behind him. "Crap," he muttered.

"What is it?"

"I gotta do something real quick. Help yourself to some breakfast, ya know, all that regular stuff." He took off his apron and headed for the doorway, where he slipped his shoes on.

"Where are you going?" I wondered, making my way to the kitchen to get a plate from the dishwasher.

"Somewhere." He winked at me as he put his leather jacket on.

"Alright," I said.

"Alright."

He left, and I wondered just what I was supposed to do with that man.

Jacob came back soon enough, and he told me he was lucky enough to come back when I was in the bathroom. I still didn't know what he was doing, but it was time to open up the presents. Sitting in the living room floor with my cup of coffee on the table and the man I loved next to me, I excitedly picked a present from under the tree marked Jacob on the front.

Jake shook the medium-sized box, and once he finally unwrapped it, his face was so happy I could have sworn that he was going to explode.

"Walking Dead bobbleheads," he proclaimed, smiling cutely. "You shouldn't have."

"Oh, I had to," I replied. He handed me a gift - the one that I was positive was a sweater - and I opened it. When I saw that it truly was a sweater, I pretended to be surprised.

"I hope it fits," Jake said.

I held the soft, lavender sweater up to my chest. It was probably a size too small, but I didn't want to let him know that. "It's perfect," I replied.

After opening the gifts, Jacob told me there was "just one special gift" left for me. He went into the kitchen and told me to close my eyes. I did as told and waited for him to bring me whatever he had.

Right as he told me to open my eyes, I heard soft meowing, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Jacob sitting in front of me with a tiny gray kitten in his arms.

I squealed louder than I should have. "You remembered!"

Jake nodded. "'Course I did."

You see, this wasn't just some ordinary kitten. No. This was the kitten I'd always wanted but never had. A while ago, Jacob had asked me if I'd ever had pets. I'd never been able to, though. Because my mother had been (and still was) a control freak, she'd never allowed any pets that didn't belong in water. I'd had an aquarium as a child - it had been pretty big, too. My fish had always died, though. I hadn't known what I'd been doing wrong, but my fish had kept passing away, one by one. Once my mother had been sick of all the mini funerals I'd held in the bathroom, she'd given up on the aquarium. I'd asked for a kitten on my birthdays and for Christmases only a thousand times, but no. Still ignored. I'd told this story to Jacob, and he'd thought it was one of the saddest things he'd ever heard.

And he'd decided to give me a kitten for Christmas because he'd remembered. Jacob had remembered. I was twenty-one, and I finally had the kitten I'd wanted since I'd been seven years old. An adorable, gray kitten who already had me pulled into its spell. It was all because Jacob had remembered.

"You're the best, Jake," I told him. "Seriously. You are."

"I had to adopt him," he replied.

Because I had nothing else to say - and actions spoke louder than words - I hugged Jacob. I hugged him not as tight as I normally would because the kitten was between us, but I did it.

"Thank you, Jake."

"Merry Christmas, Bells."

I sat back, and he carefully put the kitten in my arms. "What's his name?" I asked.

"I dunno," Jacob replied. "It's all on you. When I adopted him, I decided that it's probably best if you name him, since he's your cat. Do you have any ideas?"

I smiled. "I think I'll name him Caderousse."

"Cat-a-what?"

"Caderousse," I clarified. "Like the character from The Count of Monte Cristo."

"Oh. That's cute."

"I know." I stroked Caderousse's soft fur. "How old is he?"

"Nine weeks."

"Awww," I cooed. I held Caderousse up to me. "You're just a little baby," I told him. "You're gonna love it here."

"I also got food and a book and stuff," Jake informed me. "It's all in the car. We should see a vet soon, though."

"You really got the whole package," I replied. "You're awesome, Jake. You're the best. And you know what?"

"What?"

"This isn't just my kitten, okay? It's ours. Our home, our kitten."

Jacob nodded. "That sounds about right."

Then Caderousse scratched me. "Ouch," I hissed.

"That's all your kitten," Jacob accused jokingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Ha, ha. You've got jokes."

"You know you can't deny them."

"Sure, sure, Jake. Thanks, though. And merry Christmas. Love you." I kept accidentally telling him that and I swore to God I was going to kick myself for doing it again.

"Merry Christmas," he replied. "Love you."

Maybe it wasn't an accident, after all.

New Year's Eve came along, and it was then that I realized I really didn't have a life outside of work, books, and television. It's like TV had taught me how to feel, leaving no appeal to real life.

At ten o'clock that night, I poured myself another glass of wine.

"Don't we have somewhere to be tonight?" I called to Jacob, who sat in the living room, playing with Caderousse.

"You tell me," he replied.

"I just feel like a loser," I said. "We're little hermits, never leaving our homes."

"Home is a good place to be," he countered.

"I guess," I agreed.

I went into the living room with my glass and sat on the couch. After taking a sip, I asked Jacob if Quil and Claire were doing anything tonight.

"They're still not in town," he replied.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. Apparently, they're still in La Push."

"You make it sound like you don't believe them," I accused.

"To be honest, I don't. They've been secretive since Thanksgiving. I don't get it."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Me neither. I guess people change."

"I bet Claire changed him," Jacob said. "He used to be fun."

"Well, they did what they did," I quickly said. "They're happy together, from what it looks like. Besides, who are we to talk about their relationship?"

"Fine. It's not our problem."

"Exactly."

Jacob put on a movie, and when there were only two minutes left until two thousand thirteen was going to begin. I had a bad feeling about that number, for some strange reason.

Jake and I did the countdown, and Caderousse sat between us on the couch. Once the New Year's ball dropped and it was officially two thousand thirteen, I wasn't sure what to do, and neither was Jake. Things got awkward, so I decided to finally do something at one point. I held Caderousse in my hands, between us, and we both kissed him on either cheek.

"He's so damn furry," Jake said.

I laughed. "He is."

"Happy New Year, Bells."

"Here's to learning how to cook," I toasted.

"And to being open-minded."

"And happiness."

"And hope."

A/N: And there's chapter twelve! I had fun writing it. Now I've got just one chapter left to write to you before I go on my trip. After that, I'll probably just be booking it. I've got a plot going on, and this is such a fun story to write. It's different from most other things I've written. Now, what did you guys think? Was it cute? Cheesy? Obnoxious? Let me know.

Stay cute,

MTL. xoxo