Let's all hear it for me posting another chapter!! I really hope you all like it. Leave a comment! And, to all of those who celebrate it, Merry Christmas. Also, a belated Happy Hanukkah to whom it may concern. Lovings! Now read!
Edward POV
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath as I was forced to steady myself against the counter.
Bella turned around to face me quickly. "What part of 'stay there, I will be back in a second," do you not understand?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and placing one hand on her hip. I shrugged, only causing me to cringe again. I repeated my swearing and Bella dropped her bag onto the counter quickly, rushing over to my side of the breakfast bar. She took my hand quickly and gently pulled me in the direction of the living room.
"How are you feeling," She asked quietly.
"I'm fine," I stated quickly; I knew that she could tell I was lying.
"Edward, we don't have to go tonight. I mean, you just now got back from the hospital; it hasn't even been a week since you came home. I'm sure they would- "
"We are going tonight. No questioning. Really, Bella, I'm fine." I stopped walking and turned towards her. I dropped her hand and placed mine on her waist instead. Hiding the pain that wanted to show on my face as I pulled her against me, I pressed my lips firmly to hers.
Her breath was feather-soft against me as our lips worked in tandem. This perfection, this magic; how could I have let this slip through my fingers, even for a minute?
Her hand pressed against my chest, but not in a soft way as she had in the past; she pushed me back and tilted her hear away, hiding her face with her hair. This was how it had been since we got back together. She had been abnormally quiet throughout the days, slipping into silent spells, during which her arm would slip tightly across her stomach. While holding her hand, or brushing my lips against her hair, I would notice the way Bella's eyes would drop, her forehead crinkle slightly, a slim edge of worry playing beneath the surface.
Despite her shyness, Bella had always been bold and open around me; all of that had changed. In the time that things had started to piece themselves together once more, I had not touched Bella once in ways more than brief kisses and tentative hand holding. Even when I would rest my hand against her waist, something that had previously been natural to us, Bella had grown the tendency to twist out of my grasp, shifting slightly to lessen the contact.
It nauseated me, seeing the faint traces of cracks in her heart and soul. I did this to her; I knew it completely. I did not try to hide or deny my guilt. Bella was my first and only love, and I was hers. By letting things reach a breaking point as I did and by letting everything fall to pieces, I had hurt Bella horribly.
She had grown pale quickly, color fading from her cheeks. During meals, Bella would take a few bites then proceed to push her food around the plate delicately, keeping her eyes on me. Despite our lack of physical contact, Bella was hesitant to let me out of her sight for more than a matter of minutes.
The nightmares were the worst. She had always talked in her sleep; it had been calming for me to stay awake and let her soft murmurs filter in to me. But they had changed now. Murmurs of adoration and love had morphed into begs and pleading, transposing into screams and crying. Night after night, I would have to shake her awake, at which point she would sink against me, her hot tears dribbling onto my shirt as my arms clutched her tightly.
"Sit down," She said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced up at her and followed orders, seating myself on the couch.
As Bella left to gather her coat, bag and keys, I rested my head in my hands. What had I don't? And how could I ever make this right?
***
"A toast," Carlisle stated, standing up and holding up his champagne glass. "To family, to health and to love." I raised my glass and clinked it automatically with Bella's then reaching across to tap it against my mother and father's, finally Alice and Jasper's.
"Speaking of family," Bella started after taking a small sip of champagne, "Where are Rose and Em?"
"Emmet called this morning. He said that Rosalie wasn't feeling well," Carlisle stated.
"That's weird," Bella said, taking another sip of champagne. "I'm surprised she would miss all of this."
"Huh," Alice muttered before taking a small sip of her sparkling apple cider. "I hope she's alright."
Rosalie POV
"You alright, Love?" Emmett called from the kitchen as I bolted to the bathroom. My hair was clutched messily in one hand as I bent over the bowl, the small contents of my stomach uprooting themselves.
"Rose?" He called again.
"In here," I gasped, pressing down the handle and standing shakily. I crossed to the sink immediately and doused my face in cool water, brushing my teeth thoroughly.
He wrapped his arms around me the moment he entered the room. "What's wrong, Rose? Are you sick? What happened?"
I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it away from my face. Taking a deep breath, I looked up into Emmett's face, which was twisted with concern. I grinned; his concern turned into confusion.
"What- "
"I'm not sick," I stated.
"Didn't you just…"
I nodded again. "Morning sickness."
"What? Don't you get that when you are…?"
I nodded. A small smile started to play on his face.
"Rose," he said, drawing out my name. "Are you…?"
I nodded again. "I'm not sick, Em. I'm… I'm pregnant."
He grinned, lifting me into the air and spinning me, carrying me out of the bathroom. Her spun me around, his laughter filling the air. Finally, my feet touched the floor. I tilted my face towards his. Boldly, his hand rooted in my hair, he pressed his lips to mine, a new energy filling us as we touched.
A baby. Finally. Finally I could give Emmett what he wanted, what I wanted. Finally we would have the family we had always dreamed of.
The sound of little feet pattering against the hardwood floor, little giggles erupting as Emmett chases them around our house, as I blow raspberries against their soft stomachs. Everything. Breastfeeding and cribs. Painting a nursery and buying tiny shoes and socks. Those were the things that came with a baby.
I hadn't told anyone except Emmett. How could I have? With the previous pregnancy ending in a heartbreaking disaster, I promised myself that I wouldn't jinx this once. I refused to tell any family or friends, not wanting to speak to soon and have everything fall apart.
And I had failed again. I had let it slip through my fingers.
Is it possible to mourn endlessly? It is possible to never run out of tears? Is it possible to have everything ruined within a matter of three hours? Turns out that the answer is yes.
It had been eight weeks and three days of pure bliss, of Emmett's fingers tracing wistfully against my stomach, of holding the knowledge of what resided within.
"Ouch," I muttered as I pulled myself out of bed. My head was spinning slightly and there was a slight cramping in my stomach. Just hunger I told myself. Stupidity. I should have know then; I did know, maybe. I just didn't want it to be true.
Emmett stood, his back to me, cooking pancakes on the griddle when I staggered out of the bathroom an hour and a half later. My hands were shaking; I was shell-shocked.
"Hey. Rose, do you want me to make some bacon also?"
Tears were building in my eyes; I knew it was too late already, but an overwhelming sense of urgency was building in me.
He slipped a spatula under one of the cooking pancakes, flipping it into the air. I was shaking; all thought was cut off. It infuriated me, seeing him stand there, flipping pancakes as if there was nothing wrong. I crossed forward quickly; seizing the spatula in one hand, the plate full of pancakes in the other, I threw them both to the ground. The plate smashed into pieces across the tile floor.
"What the-" He cut off the moment he saw my face. "What happened? What is it?"
"I need to go to the hospital, Emmett," I choked out. "I'm… It's wrong; I messed up. Everything is ruined. I'm so sorry, Emmett. I don't know what happened. It's just…" Tears were flooding over my cheeks now.
"What are you talking about? What's going on? Is it the…?"
I nodded slowly, wrapping my arms around him as sobs ripped from my throat. Gone. Completely and utterly gone.
It had hurt before, the first time. I had never expected it. But this was worse, if that was possible. Once. That happens all the time. But to lose a child twice is terrible beyond measure.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Cullen," the doctor said softly as I bent forward, placing my head in my hands.
"Isn't there anything…?" Emmett trailed off. He knew the answer as well as I did.
"I'm sorry," the doctor repeated. "I'll… I'll leave you two alone." The door shut softly behind her. Emmett crossed around to my front and embraced my tightly. I could feel a warm dampness where his tears dropped onto my hair.
When we got home, I silently walked to the bedroom and shut the door behind me. No words. No talking. Silence. It continued, as the sky grew steadily darker. I sat on the small balcony off of our second story bedroom, watching people wander by, laughing and giggling. Their voices were merry. Loud. Happy. But there were no words shared by us. Emmett left me to myself; I knew he was crying and that he wouldn't want me to see. Wouldn't want me to hurt.
The tears had stopped. I was in a stupor, drunk off of my own horror and loss. How was it possible, how was it fair, that two people who wanted nothing more than to hold their own child in their arms were denied the privilege, while those, such as Alice or Jasper, were granted a baby, even when they didn't want one? It was sickening.
I hated it; I hated myself. My inability to hold a child inside of me. It was wrong; it was all wrong. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. My knees were drawn in to my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around them as I rocked slightly.
In some peripheral part of my mind, I was aware that the bedroom door opened behind me and of Emmett's footsteps drawing closer. He pulled up a chair beside me, seated himself beside me and gently pulled my curled figure into his laps. His lips brushed my hair.
"I'm sorry, Emmett," I whispered, my voice thick. "I'm so sorry."
His fingers continued to trace a pattern along my back.
"I love you, Rose," He whispered back. He pressed his lips against my hair once more and buried his face into my shoulder and hair. "And merry Christmas, baby."
Well, there is that. I really hope you liked this chapter; I am a bit iffy about it. Not sure if I like how it turned out. Did it all make sense? I sure hope so. If not, let me know. xoxo
Thanks, as always, for reading. Drop me a review! Love you all.