They belong to SM, I just used them to bring to life my own tale.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning found Bella going over last night's conversation with Emmett.
Their little test run, so to speak.
She dropped her head in her hands and groaned.
The cup of tea she had made earlier, sat untouched on the coffee table, cold.
She had managed to keep down the light breakfast she had made, and she was glad about that.
Marcy and Emmett were right, she did look horrible and she believed that they were just being sensitive to her feelings.
Where the hell had her weight gone in such a short space of time.
She had a doctor's appointment soon and she had to regain some of the weight or the doctor might put her in the hospital for a while.
Her laptop sat open on the coffee table, she had been reading up on pregnancy.
So far, she was being a horrific mother.
That would definitely have to change. She wanted to be the best thing she had to offer this child.
That's how she came about thinking to email Peter.
The other day when she had crumbled in his arms, the pull to tell him then had been so strong, but she couldn't bring herself to.
It was probably a good thing, because the next day he had been called away to do a shot in Switzerland.
He was due home sometime today, or so he had told her.
The blue skies outside beckoned to her, daring her to come out and enjoy it, and then there was the web page that she had opened.
It sat there taunting her, open to the email compose page.
Had been sitting there for a while.
Still all she could think to type was: 'Where are you?'
Ten minutes later, she heard a ping.
He had replied.
"I've just gotten home."
"Dinner at my place tonight?" she typed before she lost her nerve. "Eight p.m.?"
His reply was quicker this time, "Why?"
Bella tried to tamp down the wave of pain she felt, although she couldn't blame him after she had told him. "Don't call me. I'll call you."
"Need to talk to you," she typed back.
A guaranteed phrase that was sure to send a shiver down any man's spine.
After fifteen minutes, there was still no reply and Bella stood and started pacing. The phone rang suddenly, startling her and she reached for the phone gingerly.
Wanting it to be Peter, and still wanting it not to be him.
She took a deep breath and pressed the call button, hoping that she sounded calmer than she felt.
"Bella Swan."
"So talk," Peter's voice came over the lines, warming her body like a furnace. It was deep and gravelly, and heavy with tiredness.
"Hello Peter," she said, her voice shaky. So much for cool. "I thought that you'd still be in the Swiss countries."
"No."
She tried to remember the script she had planned out in her head, but everything had gone through the windows as soon as she heard his voice.
"What do you want Bella?"
"Not money," she blurted out.
"You'd never ask for money," he replied warily.
"True," she said feeling foolish. "I just said it because, money's not the problem here."
"Then what is?" he asked. "I'm sorry about Dottie, but when I'm alone all I can remember is that last night on my boat."
Bella closed her eyes, she had tried to steel herself against anything Peter would throw her way, but the memory of that night came flooding back and she lost her nerve.
"Look, never mind," she stammered. "This was a really bad idea. I shouldn't have bothered you. Sorry."
"Bella, wait!"
She sat there, trembling. Silent and waiting.
"Dinner you said?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I still want you. And I just think as a courtesy to you, that I let you know this," he stated. "I will not keep my hands off you if this happens at your place."
"Somewhere else then," she said bravely, even though his words tore through her. Filling her body with longing and apprehension. "There are dozens of restaurants nearby."
"Name one."
She did. A steakhouse and partial night club.
She remembered that it had large enclosed booths, perfect for conversational needs.
And there was a definite need for conversation.
"I'll meet you at seven," he said sharply.
She moved to hang up when he spoke again, "And Bella?"
"Yes?" she answered.
"If you want me to remain civil," he said. "Let me pay for the meal."
***PP***
Peter Whitlock was no stranger to trouble. He knew how it crept up on a person, he knew it so personally, he knew its smell. So that's how he knew without the shadow of a doubt, that meeting up with Bella Swan would prove to be trouble for both of them, was no big surprise.
His needs were a little too intense when it came to Bella Swan.
Before he had left for Switzerland, he was all ready to jump in with his eyes closed but since he had been apart from her, rationality crept back into his thoughts.
There was no telling what demands he would make of her, or what he would concede to in order to have those demands met.
This whole process had hurt him.
He tried to stay away from her, to give her what she so desired. Dottie's death had thrown a monkey wrench in his plans, and he had felt compelled to come to her side.
He didn't regret that one bit.
Still, he had to protect himself.
Cancel.
Abort.
His mind was going into overdrive thinking of ways in which he could cancel the dinner.
He should tell her that she had been right. They simply wouldn't have made a smart choice if they had pursued a relationship. And there was no reason for them to meet now.
Or meet up again, at all.
Cancel.
Yeah, he didn't.
***PP***
Peter arrived twenty minutes earlier.
He told himself that it had nothing to do with his plans to skip out on the date.
A glance around the place showed why Bella had acquiesced to his offer to pay for dinner.
The place smelt heavenly, showing that it was indeed living up to its homeliness.
He looked around, and was glad to see that she hadn't had the same plan as he did. He ordered a beer and sat in one of the shadowed booths with a clear view of the door.
Bella the enigma.
She had been such a good assistant, good company. Never imposing herself on him on shoot or at the office. Mesmerizing in her sexual abandon.
He cursed her afresh as those thoughts re-opened the scars she had left him with.
Peter saw Bella before she saw him. She looked stunning, she was wearing a pair of black slacks and a pink and purple vest that matched the headband that pulled her hair back from her face.
She was simply beautiful, but Peter saw something that made him frown.
Maybe it was that he had the practised eye of a lover, but something was off with her.
She'd lost more weight.
He didn't like that.
Peter stood as she surveyed the insides of the place, her eyes wide and searching.
He beckoned for her and he saw the deep breath she took before heading towards him.
"Thank you for coming," she murmured as he waited for her to sit.
He wanted badly to reach out and touch her, but he stayed his hands and sat down, glad that the table put a little distance between them.
"I'm a glutton for punishment," he said with a wry smile.
She blanched and reached for the glass of water in front of her.
After taking a sip, she looked up at him, "How's your mother?"
That was certainly not what he had expected, however he went along with her lead.
"She's fine, thank you for asking."
"How's the Charlotte situation?"
"We've talked since the barbecue, she blames you for my new insensitivity."
Bella scoffed, "Hardly."
The waiter came by and Bella ordered a glass of lemonade, ignoring the look of surprise that Peter gave her.
"You don't drink lemonade," he said watching her intently.
"It's hot and I need to have something with a little sting," she said quietly.
"Have wine instead," he replied with a careless shrug of his broad shoulders.
"I haven't eaten anything yet, and I don't want to be off my kilter," she replied quietly.
"Have you not eaten since Dottie died?" he asked without censure. "You look a fright."
"Way to make a girl feel special," she said lowering her gaze.
He immediately felt repentant. He didn't set out to make her hurt, no matter how much she had hurt him.
"I'm sorry," he said reaching for her hand.
If the gasp she gave when his fingers touched her skin, was an indication that she felt the same current of electricity run between the two of them.
"You've lost too much weight," he continued when she remained silent.
"Are you sick Bella?"
Peter watched in horror as tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over. Dear God, she was sick.
"What is it?" he asked leaning over, his voice strained.
"Not sick," she murmured. She raised her hand as if to rub her forehead but thought better of it, "Not sick."
She hadn't looked at him once, her eyes on the glass, the table, the entrance, anywhere but at him.
"I'm pregnant."
"What?"
Bella glanced up at the sharpness of his tone, her gaze startled, terrified and apologetic all at once and he had his answer.
"Mine," he said. He didn't need to ask.
"Yes," she said so softly, he had trouble hearing her over the rush of blood to his head.
"There are tests that can be done," she said. "But there's been no one else," there was a hint of defiance in her tone.
"Forget the tests. You don't need any."
The rush of satisfaction that hit him had been unexpected and quite savage.
Mine.
Then he frowned..."Shouldn't you be putting on weight?"
"I'm working on it," she croaked. "I've been thinking about what we would do. I don't want to raise a baby by myself Peter. I'm not enough."
"That's simply nonsense," he snapped. "You are more than enough, but what did you have in mind? An abortion?"
He hadn't noticed the way his fingers had gripped the edge of the table, as he awaited her answer.
"Is that why you brought me here? To tell me you plan on killing my child? That is not going to make me have any feelings of love towards you Bella."
Mine.
Her eyes flew up to his as the implications of his words sank in.
"I would never kill my baby," she whispered vehemently.
The breath he had been holding, whooshed out of him, "Good."
"I'm not asking you for marriage or money," she said, her jaw jutting out stubbornly.
"Tough," Peter said. "You're having both. And food. Pick something, now."
"Maybe I'll have a salad," she said.
"Choose something else, not rabbit food."
Bella cursed silently, the man was a boar.
She liked it however, although she would never admit that aloud.
"I'll have a steak and potatoes," she said petulantly. "I'm only humoring you."
He shrugged, "I don't really care, as long as you eat."
Peter glared at her, and it was all he could do to stop himself from leaning over the table and kissing her senseless.
He did it anyway, afraid that she wouldn't respond to him, and more terrified when she did because all it did was prove that the consuming need to lose himself in her was still there.
"Choose a date," he murmured when his lips lifted off hers and he settled back into his seat.
"We hardly know each other," Bella said with a shake of her head. "I'm not marrying you."
"So you want me to just accept your bullshit offer," he said. "Is that it? You want me to take the route where I will never be able to get enough of my child or will he or she get enough of me."
"Is this about your name living on?" she asked. "The baby could still have your name. We don't have to be married for that."
"You're wrong," he said. "I think you're just chicken shit."
"Excuse me?" she blinked up at him.
"The only reason I'm even knowing about this baby is because you're afraid that you'll be an inadequate single parent," he said evenly.
"This is never going to work," she said looking even more wan than she had before.
"Are you going to faint?" he asked immediately moving to her side.
Bella shook her head and lifted the water glass to her lips with shaky hands, "No."
"Are you going to cry?"
Another shake of her head, "I won't cry."
'Not here, not in front of you,' she thought.
He looked unconvinced for a minute but he rose to his feet and sat down next to her.
"Bella, I never fail at anything I put my mind to," he said. "I never give up."
He cupped the back of her neck and his lips were on hers again, taking the breath out of her.
"I'm free Thursday," he said pulling back. "What do you say we get married then?"
A/N: So again...I'm so in love with Petey right now. I love how he just takes charge. *fans self* These Whitlock boys are gonna be the death of me, I swear. Anyway, let me know what you think. *fingers crossed*