A/N There are pictures of Bella's Volvo and Edward's BMW on my profile. This chapter is a transitory one, so it's a bit shorter than usual.

Enjoy!

Chapter 19

Edward Pov

~ April 15th, 2012 ~

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"Yes?" I answered the phone, stifling a yawn. I was in the kitchen making coffee while Isabella was still in bed, watching the morning news.

"Hey, Edward," Alice greeted.

"Hello, Alice."

"How are you?" she inquired.

"I'm fine," I said, leaving the coffee maker to do its job as I headed over to the windows and gazed out to the beautiful spring day that was just beginning. "And you?"

"I'm okay," she replied before pausing for a moment. "I was wondering how Bella is doing? I wanted to call her, but I figured she probably doesn't want to have anything to do with the infamous Cullen clan."

"You're not a Cullen yet," I argued, her comment confirming my suspicions about why she hasn't tried to contact Isabella in the last week. "And she's doing just fine. Fortunately, she's already gotten over that horrendous dinner."

"That's good to hear." I could hear the relief in her voice.

"Mmhmm," I hummed affirmatively.

"So, do you guys have plans for tonight?"

"No, we don't. Why?"

"Would you like to come over?" she asked tentatively. "We'll order take out and watch a movie or something, just the four of us."

"I don't know. I'll have to ask Isabella," I said, walking back to the countertop and placing a few homemade cookies on a plate. "Better yet, why don't you call her? I'm sure she'll be happy to hear from you."

"You think?" She didn't sound so sure.

"Call her," I said more firmly.

"Okay, I will. Talk to you later."

She was about to hang up when I remembered something very important. "Oh, and Alice?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to do something for me."

As I hung up, I couldn't help but think about the previous weekend's events and a sudden wave of guilt washed over me. I was ashamed to admit that I had acted like a coward and let Isabella fend for herself. What I had done was comparable to pushing her into the lion's den and then watching impassively as she was being attacked.

To be honest, I had no idea why I had let my family treat her that way. We should have left as soon as my mother begun throwing poisonous arrow after poisonous arrow at Isabella; there was no excuse for my impassiveness. But I guess that deep down I had hoped that Mom was going to back off eventually. And she had, but only too late when the damage was already done.

Prior to overhearing her threatening Isabella, I was still fairly optimistic in regard to their future interactions. Although Mom had been hostile towards her, I truly believed that there was still a chance for her to see Isabella as the wonderful woman that she was. But now I was certain that my mother was never going to change her mind about her, and it pained me to know that the two most important women in my life were never going to get along.

It also pained me to break off all contact with my mother, but it needed to be done in order to give Isabella the respect she deserved and to help our relationship survive. Regardless of how ill-tempered and manipulative Mom tended to be, I still had a great deal of affection towards her, and that fact was probably never going to change.

She had kept calling and texting me every day since the dinner, pleading with me to talk to her, but I hadn't budged so far. I was keen on teaching her a lesson, and the coldness I was treating her with seemed to pay off. She had even asked Dad to interfere, but to her utter disappointment he had refused, saying that it was her job to fix her own mistake. To say that she was desperate would be an understatement. She sensed that she was rapidly losing her son, and for good reason.

As for my relationship with Emmett, it was pretty much the same. We were ignoring each other, unless work actually forced us to acknowledge one another. He was sticking by our mother's side fiercely, but I believed that for him there was still time for redemption. He wasn't a bad man, but he was stubborn as hell and he most certainly didn't like to admit that he was wrong.

When I headed back to the bedroom minutes later, Isabella was on the phone.

"Don't worry about it," she said, watching me as I placed her coffee and the plate with the cookies on the nightstand by her side of the bed. She smiled at me, continuing her conversation. "Mmhmm... Mmhmm… Yeah, we'd love to…. Okay, see you later."

"Alice?" I questioned, starting to undress for my morning shower.

"Yeah," Isabella answered, her smile never faltering. "She was afraid that I was upset with her because of how Esme treated me."

I frowned, tossing my plain white t-shirt on the bed at her feet. "Why would you be upset with her for something that my mother did?"

"That's what I asked her. It's not her fault Esme is an evil witch," she said, and I looked at her in surprise. She was watching me with an expression that dared me to contradict her. When I didn't, she went on. "But she feels like she should have defended me or something."

"I should have been the one defending you," I muttered, proceeding to remove my flannel pants.

"Let's not open that subject again," she said sternly, reaching for the coffee and taking a sip.

I nodded, finally stripping out of my boxer briefs. "So, I take it we're meeting them today?"

"Yeah," she said absently, watching my naked form with a sexy leer. "Now come back to bed."

I chuckled. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" she whined, displaying a ridiculous pout.

"We have to go running in the park, remember?" I said, starting to walk out of the room. Because neither of us had had time for the gym that week, we had agreed that we were going running on the weekend since the weather was now warm enough.

"Ugh," she groaned, throwing a pillow at me and hitting me in the back. "Can't we skip running today?"

I stopped in the doorway, picked up the pillow and threw it back at her. "No."

"Just today?" she laughed, parrying the hit with her forearm. "Please?"

"No. Get up."

She huffed. "You're a tyrant."

"Yes, but you owe your nice toned ass to this tyrant," I said, smirking, and she rolled her eyes at me.

"Oh," I added, stopping once again and turning to face her. "I didn't want to remind you because of the dinner and everything that transpired afterwards, but last Sunday it was Jessica's birthday. I sent her a gift from the both of us this Tuesday."

I had sent her the gift through Emmett, and even though we weren't exactly on speaking terms, he had no choice but to accept it.

"Oh my God," Isabella groaned, covering her face with her palms. "I forgot all about it. I feel so bad."

"I know you wanted to give her that book you had in your clutch."

"Yeah." She nodded sadly. "I was so nervous about meeting your mother…"

"I know," I cut her off gently. "Trust me, Jessica's birthday was the last thing on my mind as well. That's why she's going to be at Alice's this evening."

She perked up immediately at the news. "Really?"

"Yes." I winked conspiratorially. "We're going to celebrate, just the five of us."

~~ 0 ~~

Later that evening, we were heading towards Alice's condo. Soft jazz music was playing in the car, and I smiled as Isabella reached over to the gear shift and placed her hand on top of mine. I laced our fingers together, bringing her knuckles to my lips and pressing a gentle kiss against them.

"I need to tell you something," she uttered, rubbing my thumb with hers.

I glanced at her to see that she was biting on her lip which meant that she was nervous about what she was about to say.

"What is it?"

She hesitated before speaking again more softly. "Dr. Hall… I mean, James asked Angela the other day if he could have my phone number."

"Did she give it to him?" I demanded to know, my voice rough. The mere mention of his name was enough to make me see red, but the fact that he had asked for her number when I had explicitly told him to stay away from her...

"No," Isabella said quickly, cutting off my train of dark thoughts.

"Good."

She angled her body towards me. "Is there something more you're not telling me about him?"

"Beside the fact that he's a sleazy bastard?" I muttered, keeping my gaze on the traffic ahead.

Truth be told, there were a few things about James that I had omitted telling Isabella.

That night when I had seen her climb out of his car, I was too furious to think before acting. I wanted her out of his presence as soon as possible, and I had to admit that my reaction had been a bit over the top. But there was a good reason for that.

From my past experiences with James, I knew that he was a despicable human being, using his charm and flirty personality to hide his vicious nature. He was dissimulative, concealing under a false appearance with the intent of deceiving those who weren't familiar with his true persona. Those like Isabella.

On top of that, he had serious moral issues, he was also a womanizer and he liked alcohol a little too much. That was the James I knew, and I sincerely doubted that he had changed in the few years I hadn't seen him.

"You seem really against him," Isabella insisted. "Why?"

I sighed, deciding it was better to tell her about his relationship with Tanya and why I despised him so much.

"Since the first time I met him, I knew he was bad news. He changes women like socks, he's rude, obnoxious and a bad influence on everyone who spends enough time with him," I started, turning to look at her as we waited at a red light.

"Tanya used to love him to death. That's until I came around and forced her to see him for whom he truly was. He always took her clubbing and to pretentious parties and got her drunk to the brink of unconsciousness. She was just so different around him and not in a good way. That's why my mother didn't like her very much in the beginning. But when we moved in together, I conditioned her. It was James or me. I asked her to interrupt all contact with him, or I was going to break it off with her. She got scared and accepted my condition, and since then we only saw him at family gatherings. He hates me with a passion because of it."

"That explains your reaction to him," Isabella mused.

"There's much to be said about James Hall, but I don't want to ruin my evening by talking about him," I said. "The thing is that I don't trust him. I never had and I never will, no matter what Angela says about him. She can have her opinion, and I'll stick to mine."

She nodded, gazing out her window as we both grew silent. The conversation was over as soon as it had started.

Minutes later, we were knocking on Alice's door. Jasper greeted us, wearing faded jeans, a ratty t-shirt and a genuine smile on his face.

"Come on in."

"Hi, Jasper." Isabella returned the smile, stepping inside.

"Hi," he said, leaning down to give her a brief hug which surprised the both of us. "It's good to see you again."

Isabella blushed, but seemed pleased with his display of affection. "It's good to see you too."

Just then Alice came down the hallway, dressed just as casually. "Hey, guys," she said, beaming as her eyes landed on Isabella.

It was Isabella's time to take Alice by surprise as she hugged her tightly. "Hi, Alice."

Alice wrapped her arms around her, relief flooding her features. When she straightened up, she called over her shoulder, "Jess! Bella's here."

The sound of running feet reached our ears, and Alice made sure to add conspiratorially, "It was actually Edward's idea."

"Bella!" Jessica squealed, throwing herself into her awaiting arms. "Hey."

"Hi, Jess," Isabella breathed, pulling back a few inches to take her in. "Oh, wow. What did you do to your hair? You look so pretty."

Jessica had her blond hair pulled up in a sleek, crooked ponytail that had been braided and anointed with some kind of hair wax to keep the stray threads in place.

"You think?" she said, twirling around for us to admire her new hairstyle. "Alice did it."

"Absolutely," Isabella said. "Good job, Alice."

"Okay, I'm starting to feel ignored here," I complained, looking at Jessica pointedly. "Don't I get a hug?"

She rolled her eyes, but wrapped her arms around my torso nonetheless. "Hi, Uncle Eddie."

"Hey." I gave her a kiss on the forehead.

When we were finally seated in the living room, Isabella pulled out the neatly wrapped book from her bag, handing it to Jessica.

"So, this is for you. I'm really sorry that I forgot about your birthday."

"Eh, it's okay." She shrugged, starting to tear at the wrapping paper eagerly. "Uncle Eddie sent me a present."

It didn't escape my notice that Emmett hadn't mentioned that the gift I had sent was from the both of us.

"Well, I have one for you as well," Isabella said, watching Jessica's reaction attentively. "I hope you'll like it."

Jessica smiled as her eyes landed on the lively colored cover. "Oh, I'm sure I will. I loved every book you've ever given me. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The rest of the evening was spent in great company, and I think Isabella was just as grateful as I was to at least have Jasper and Alice on our side. They accepted our relationship without judging. They didn't care about our age difference and most importantly they didn't give a damn whether Isabella belonged in our world or not.

In regards to Jessica, she was too young and innocent to have her soul tainted by prejudice and discrimination, and for that I was glad.

Alice ordered Italian takeout, and we ate while savoring a glass of good wine and listening to Jess talk about school and the dancing lessons she had recently started taking.

Sometime around ten, we cut the chocolate cake I had asked Alice to buy earlier that morning. Jess was delighted that she was practically celebrating her birthday for the second time, not missing the opportunity to point out that the cake was better than her mom's.

Before we left, Alice asked Isabella to help her wash the dishes. They both went into the kitchen, and by the time they emerged twenty minutes later, it was clear that it had all been a pretext for them to talk. Isabella was beaming as she sat on my lap while Alice kept smiling at us approvingly for the rest of the evening.

~~ 0 ~~

A week later, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of Isabella's apartment building as I dialed her number. I had taken the morning off from work, because her Volvo C70 had arrived, and I had arranged for it to be brought to her address at eleven a.m. on Monday. There was an immense red bow on top of the hood to match the beautiful burgundy of the car's metallic body, and I was excited to see Isabella's reaction at seeing her new vehicle for the first time.

Although the car was the result of a jealousy induced impulse, I was now berating myself for not thinking about buying her one earlier. She needed her own means of transportation, and it was my duty to make sure that her needs were met. Unfortunately, it had taken James and a fit of possessiveness on my part to realize that I had not been taking care of her the way I should have.

"Yeah?" she answered groggily after what seemed like an eternity. I knew she didn't have classes that particular Monday, so she had been sleeping in.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," I said cheerfully, watching as a young passerby gave the car a curious look.

"Ugh." She groaned, sounding half-asleep. "Why are you calling me so early in the morning?"

I chuckled, throwing my watch a fugitive glance. "It's well past eleven, my love."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes, really," I said amusedly. "Now, put some clothes on and come downstairs."

"Why?" There was suspicion in her voice, and I could almost picture her narrowing her eyes at the phone.

"Because I say so. I'm waiting, and you know that I don't like it when you keep me waiting."

That remark seemed to wake her up completely. "Are you seriously downstairs?"

"Yes, I am. Now can you please hurry? There's something I want you to see."

"Fine, fine." She sighed, scrambling out of bed with a loud thud. "I'm coming."

When she stepped outside a minute later, she was still wearing her pajamas, a pair of UGG boots and a long cardigan that reached her knees. I smiled invitingly from where I was leaning against the side of the car, and her sleepy eyes widened as her hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Oh my God!" she yelled, causing an old pedestrian to glare at her like he thought she had lost her mind. "It's here!"

"Do you like it?"

She stared at the car in awe for a few seconds before throwing herself into my arms with such force that she managed to knock the breath out of me. "I love it, I love it, I love it," she chanted as she climbed on me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said in a strangled whisper because she had her arms wrapped so tightly around my neck that she was cutting off my air.

I was just about to drop her back to the ground so I could breathe, when Angela showed up with her arms akimbo. "What's going on here?"

Isabella let go of me, jumped down and turned to attack her friend instead. "My car is here! Oh my God, my car is here! I can't believe it."

Angela craned her neck to look past Isabella. "Okay, this is not fair. You go from no car to this?"

Isabella grinned, spinning around and running back to me. I took a step back, afraid that she was going to strangle me again, but she just halted in front of me, holding her hand out for the key. I gave it to her, and she looked at Angela with a thrilled expression.

"You were the one who insisted I needed one in the first place."

"Yeah, yeah." Angela waved her off with a sly smile as Isabella opened the driver's door and got inside. "Man, I have to admit that I love the color."

"If you behave yourself, maybe I'll buy you one for your birthday," I teased.

She smirked challengingly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't make promises that you can't keep, Edward."

"I can't wait to drive it," Isabella moaned longingly, running her palms over the leather wheel.

"Did you catch a cold?" I asked, my brow furrowing. "Your voice sounds a bit different."

"Yeah, I think I did." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Spring colds suck."

"Make sure to take something for it," I advised.

"Mmhmm," she hummed, only half listening to me. "Can I take it for a ride now?"

"You can do whatever you like. It's yours."

"What are you waiting for then? Hop in."

I let Angela in the passenger seat as I stretched my long form on the backseat. Isabella put the key in the ignition and immediately started fumbling with the different buttons on the dashboard, pushing the top-down button in the process.

"Isabella, I don't think that driving with the top down is a good idea, given your condition," I said, referring to her cold.

She turned around in her seat to smile at me indulgently. "Please don't ruin my good mood. I want to enjoy driving my new car for the first time."

I held my hands up defensively, deciding not to say anything more on the subject. I was just glad that she was so accepting of the car after the fight she had put when I first suggested it.

I was aware of the fact that it wasn't easy for her to agree to such expensive gifts, but whether she wanted to admit it or not, this car was a necessity. Maybe a part of her consciousness was telling her it was wrong to give in, but judging by her blissful expression, a much bigger part was telling her that it was okay to do so.

~~ 0 ~~

Isabella's cold got worse in the following days. On Thursday evening, I arrived at her apartment, only to find her lying in bed with a cloth compress on her forehead and a cup of tea between her hands. She smiled apologetically, telling me not to get too close because she didn't want to give it to me. I waved her off dismissively, taking off my suit jacket and rolling up my shirt's sleeves as I prepared myself to take care of her.

Angela was working the night shift at the hospital so I went into the kitchen and warmed up some soup, pouring it into a bowl and bringing it to Isabella. When she was done eating, I washed the bowl and a few other dishes that were lying in the sink before returning to her side. I slid under the covers beside her, pulling her to me until her head rested on my chest.

"Do you want me to make you some more tea?" I said, rubbing her arm comfortingly and reigning in the urge to scold her because she hadn't listened to me when I told her it was a bad idea to drive with the top down.

"No. Ugh, I feel like a zombie and I bet I look like one as well."

"Well…" I trailed off teasingly.

She chuckled, hitting me in the chest weakly. "You're an asshole. You should argue that I look beautiful, boost my spirits or something."

"Well, I don't feel comfortable lying to you…"

"Edward!" she gasped in mock outrage, raising her head to look at me.

"I'm kidding," I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "You look beautiful with puffy eyes and a red runny nose."

She rolled her eyes at me. "I bet I do alright."

"You know, there's an effective cure for that."

"Beside chicken soup?" she said nasally, reaching to the nightstand for another tissue.

"Yes, beside chicken soup."

"Pray tell."

"Sex," I replied simply.

"Yeah, right," she huffed, blowing her nose.

"I'm serious. It's been scientifically proven that sex stimulates the immune system."

She finished wiping her nose and looked at me like I had suddenly gone insane. "Are you seriously suggesting that we have sex?"

"No, I'm just stating a fact. I read in a magazine once that a Swiss researcher from Zurich has concluded that sexual intercourse not only has physical benefits but it also builds up the immune system, allowing the body to attack and kill ailments like the common cold better. This guy found that the number of antibodies increases significantly during sex and may even double during an orgasm."

"So you are suggesting that we have sex," she concluded, leaning over me to toss the tissue in the waste bin she had dragged next to the bed.

I shrugged, running my fingers through her hair. "I'm just telling you what I think would help."

She stared at me for a moment, seeming to contemplate my suggestion. "Have you tried it before?"

"Actually, I have."

"And did it work?"

"It did. But it has to be done under a thick comforter or blanket so you can sweat out the toxins in your body. After that, you take a really hot bath and an aspirin, and I guarantee that by tomorrow morning you'll feel much better."

"Huh," she said pensively. "What if I sneeze in your face?"

I laughed. "I'll take the risk."

She remained immobile for another minute or so before moving off of me abruptly.

"Okay, I'm desperate enough to try it," she said, sitting back on her knees and starting to pull her t-shirt off. "Start undressing."

"Yes, ma'am," I saluted playfully, getting out of bed and stripping quickly.

~~ 0 ~~

The next day, around six in the evening, I was in my study at home when I heard the front door unlock. Susan was already in the kitchen, cooking, so it could only have been Isabella. I abandoned the papers I'd been holding on the desk and got up from the chair, making my way down the hallway.

She was just removing her ankle boots, but smiled up at me when she saw me. "Hey," she said, her voice husky from the cold.

"How are you feeling?" I inquired, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest as I watched her straighten up and take off her jacket.

"Much better," she admitted. "I even went to work for a couple of hours today."

I smirked. "See? I told you it was the best cure. We need to do it again tonight."

"Definitely." She grinned, stepping in front of me. Removing my glasses, she leaned in to kiss me on the lips softly then sniffed the air curiously. "I'm starving. What's Susan making?"

"She's making Garidomakaronada with Ouzo and fresh tomatoes," I said with a smile, pulling her in for another kiss.

"Say what?" She scrunched her nose in confusion, pushing my glasses on top of her head to keep the hair from her face.

I explained, "Garidomakaronada is a compound word in Greek meaning pasta and shrimp."

"Oh. It sounds good."

I hummed in agreement, taking her hand in mine and pulling her towards the living room. "It's delicious."

Over dinner, we made light conversation as we enjoyed our meals. I was having a glass of white wine while Isabella sipped on a glass of orange juice from time to time.

"I was thinking we need to start planning our vacation to France," I said, chewing on a piece of pasta. "I promised I was going to take you and I intend to keep my word."

Isabella nodded, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "Okay, what did you have in mind?"

"I'll take two weeks off from work, and we can spend the first week in Paris and the second one in Monaco."

"I would like to see the French countryside as well," she replied tentatively.

"Sure. Whatever you prefer. We can also visit Mont Saint-Michel."

Her expression lit up at hearing my proposition. "Oh, I'd like that. I bet the island is beautiful."

"It is, especially at night. Saint Michel Abby is one of the most impressive I've ever seen."

"Did you know that French composer Claude Debussy frequented the island and possibly drew inspiration from not only the legend of the mythical city of Ys, but also Mont Saint-Michel's cathedral for his piano prelude La Cathedrale Engloutie?"

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "I did not know that. I also didn't know that you are a lover of classical music."

She smiled over the rim of her glass. "I'm not exactly a lover of classical music, but I do enjoy good music."

"You and me both." I chuckled with a sense of nostalgia. "Did I ever tell you that I used to play the piano when I was younger?"

"No, you didn't, but I have to confess that I'm pleasantly surprised. Do you still play?"

I sighed heavily, shaking my head. "I haven't in quite a while."

"You need to play for me sometime," she said, reaching across the table for my hand and linking our fingers together.

"Unfortunately, I don't own a piano anymore."

"Why?"

I shrugged, bringing her knuckles to my mouth. "When Tanya died, I lost all appetite for life, especially for music."

She smiled mischievously. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who would know how to play the piano."

I chuckled at her comment. "Is it because I'm a lawyer?"

"Well… yeah."

"Never judge a book by its cover," I scolded gently, but I started regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth.

Isabella's brow furrowed, the air between us changing abruptly. "You can tell your mother that," she muttered. "Is she still calling you?"

"Mmhmm." I nodded, letting go of her hand and going back to my food.

There was a long pause during which only the sound of our eating could be heard. Then Isabella decided to speak again. "You should talk to her; let her know of your decision."

"No," I uttered firmly. "I'm still too angry with her. I don't even want to hear her voice."

"What does your father say?"

"He's pretty much impartial on this. He knows Mom is guilty so he's not even trying to defend her."

Then, a minute later, as if she sensed that we were talking about her, my mother decided to call. I frowned at the phone and tossed it on the table roughly, but Isabella grabbed it and glanced at the number flashing on the display furiously.

"You should answer," she urged, pushing the phone towards me.

I knew she was right; I needed to confront my mother and tell her that I had decided to cut off all contact with her. But I had to admit that I was afraid she was going to convince me otherwise. My mother's manipulative ways knew no limits, and I didn't even want to think about what she was capable of doing to gain me back.

The phone grew silent, but just as I was about to let out a sigh of relief, it started ringing again with even more vigor.

Isabella gave me a pointed look, and with a low groan, I picked it up. "Yes?"

"Edward," judging by her gasp, she hadn't expected me to answer. "How are you, honey?"

"What do you want, Mother?" I said flatly, letting her know that I was in no mood for chatting. I wanted to put an end the conversation as soon as possible.

"You haven't been answering any of my calls these last couple of weeks, and I was afraid that you're upset with me."

I laughed humorlessly. "I'm not upset, Mother. I'm furious."

"But, Edward…" she started to say in a pleading voice, and I cut her off.

"You humiliated Isabella in front of everyone, and for that I'm never going to forgive you. I only answered your call to let you know that from this day forward we have nothing to tell to each other anymore. If you can't accept her, I refuse to be a part of your life."

"Edward, you, you are my son, you-" she stammered, panic starting to set in, and I cut her off once again.

"No, Mother," I retorted gravely. "I'm not your son anymore."

A/N Thank you for reading!

I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year, and I hope you had a lovely Christmas with your family and loved ones!

See you next year…

~Andreea~