Many thanks to WriteOnTime for beta'ing.

Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters that may appear in this story. The remainder is my original work. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.

*0*0*

Bella

"Jesus, Jess," Alice moaned. "You're still stringing that boy along?"

Jess sighed and sat up a little straighter, fidgeting with her mimosa. "He's an adult and he makes his own choices."

"But it's so obvious that he's crazy about you. And he's just a baby. Please be careful."

"Alice, he's twenty."

Angela was taking a sip of her drink and sputtered ungracefully at Jessica's words. "Jessica, you're dating a twenty-year-old?"

Alice snorted dismissively. "Dating? He'd kill to actually date her. No, they're just fucking."

Jessica narrowed her eyes at Alice, and I held my hands up to shut everyone up. "Alright, ladies, let's not come to blows in the middle of this nice restaurant and ruin everyone's brunch."

We were having what was becoming one of our regular Sunday brunch get-togethers. Not everyone could make it every week, but this Sunday, all the girls were here: me, Alice, Angela, Jessica, and Rose. I really loved these gatherings. We were all so different, but somehow the mix worked and we always had fun.

Today, the brunch was dominated by the exciting news of my new job, but as the mimosas were consumed, the talk turned more personal and raunchier, as it usually did. Jessica always shared racy stories about her latest conquests, but her current toy worked as an office assistant at the magazine with her and Alice, and Alice was feeling protective of him.

"Besides," Alice continued as if she hadn't heard me, "You're still talking to Mike! Does Seth know about that?"

"We just talk. There's nothing for Seth to know."

"Wait a minute," Rose interjected. "You're still talking to Mike more than five months after your one-night stand? Jesus, you're worse than that one!" She pointed at me across the table. I just smirked, but said nothing. "Do none of you know how to have a proper one-night stand? Maintaining contact is not how it's done!"

Jessica huffed and looked defensive. "We're just friends. That's all! I like talking to him."

"So let me get this straight," Angela interjected, holding up a hand. "You like talking to Mike."

Jessica nodded, "We're friends."

"And according to you, the sex was phenomenal."

Jessica rolled her eyes and smiled broadly, "Oh my God, yes."

"Ew," Alice whimpered at my side.

Angela ignored her. "So, you're great together in bed, you're great together out of bed. Explain to me why you won't just date him?"

"Aside from his living in Atlanta?"

Angela waved her hand dismissively, "You can work around that, as Bella can attest."

I opened my mouth to protest that I could hardly be anyone's example of how it should be done, but Jess rolled right over me.

"He's nice," she said succinctly.

"Excuse me?" Angela pressed. "He's nice? Why is that a problem?"

"Go ahead, Jess," Alice spoke up. "Tell them your crazy theory."

Jess glared at her. "It's not a crazy theory. It's a sensible plan. I don't date nice guys. Not yet."

"Wait. What? Explain," Angela sputtered.

Jessica heaved a sigh and tucked an explosion of chestnut curls back behind her ear. "I'm not getting married until I'm at least twenty-eight," she said, as if that made everything perfectly clear.

When she said nothing else and we all just stared in confusion, Angela prompted her. "And?"

"Aaaannd…it's pointless to date a really great, nice guy now, when it has no hope of working out."

Angela closed her eyes and shook her head. "But…if he's great and nice, and you meet him now, then you just adjust things, right?"

Jess rolled her eyes, "Noooo. I have a plan. My twenties are for working on my career, so I'm only allowed to play around with guys. Nothing serious. So I only date assholes that I won't get attached to. Once my career is firmly established, then I can date a nice guy who I plan on marrying. It's still too soon."

Jessica's explanation was met with stunned silence.

"Jess," I finally started, "that has to be the craziest, most ridiculous plan I've ever heard."

"Ha!" Alice shouted, clapping her hands together. "I told you! You see? She's insane, right?"

"I gotta say," Rose said slowly, shaking her head, "I'm the first girl to advocate taking charge of your life to make it what you want it to be, but Jess, that's just lunacy."

Jess huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "It's working just fine, thank you very much."

"Except you've been talking to Mike on the phone for five months while you screw a string of faceless hotties," Alice said.

"Oh, hush! You've never approved of the plan, Alice!"

"Because it's crazy! Nobody approves of the plan, Jess!"

"Let's talk about something else," Jess said, too loud and overly-bright. "Bella, how are things going with Edward?"

Everybody chuckled, but they let her change the subject, probably because they wanted to grill me, too.

"Good," I said, before taking a tiny sip of my mimosa.

The other four women at the table just stared at me, saying nothing.

"Good?" Alice finally pressed. "That's all you've got to say?"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Alice, I'm hardly going to spill all the gory details, including panting breaths and grasping hands."

"Oooh, that part sounds good!" Jessica chirped. "Tell us more about that!"

I glared at her. "Things are good. He's got an apartment in Wicker Park now, so that's better. He's closer."

"Is it nice?" Angela asked.

"Really nice. He has a doorman and everything. I have to admit, hanging out at his place is a lot nicer than hanging out at mine."

"I give you a month before you're shacking up with him," Jessica said dryly.

I flushed and looked at the table hard. "Um, no. That's really not going to happen."

That was met with dead silence, so I glanced up to find the four of them watching me expectantly. After a moment, caving to the pressure, I continued. "He kind of already asked me to move in with him and I said no."

"What?" Alice shrieked. "And you didn't even tell me?"

"Alice, it was hard. I didn't want to talk about it. I just…I can't do that now. Not yet. Not after everything that happened."

"I get it," Angela said softly. "It kind of sucks…for both of you…but I get it."

"Thank you, Ang."

"Okay, so no co-habitation yet," Alice sighed. "How are things otherwise?"

"Great. I'm meeting his parents this week."

They all let loose a chorus of "ooohs".

"You'll love Esme," Alice said. "That's his mom. Oh! And the house! Wait till you see their house!"

Rose nodded in agreement. "The house is amazing."

"What?" Jessica asked, "Are they loaded or something?"

Alice laughed, "Yeah, you could say that."

"Jesus!" she shrieked, "Bella, he's rich, too? I swear, if you don't marry the guy, I will!"

"Very funny, coming from you, Jess," I sighed, "But I can assure you, we're nowhere close to even discussing that."

"Yeah, right," Rose snorted.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you might be a little gun-shy, Bella," she said, "but I seriously doubt Edward is."

"What do you mean?" I pressed.

"Edward's been ready to settle down for a long time, whether he was entirely aware of it or not. And now that he's met you, I'm pretty sure he's done looking. I mean, he's already brought up living together, right?"

"This conversation is giving me an anxiety attack," I moaned.

"Why are you so spooked?" Alice asked, "You love him, right?"

"Yes, I do. But surely, after all the shit I went through, you can all see why rushing things would be a bad idea, right?"

"Look, B," Alice said, her voice level, "Yes, you maybe made some bad choices with Jay. But don't mistake what you have with Edward for what you had with Jay. Because they're two very different situations."

"So you think I should have moved in with him?"

"Not if you don't feel right about it. Just…don't feel like you have to apply the same rules to every situation. This is love. There are no rules."

I smiled at Alice and reached out to squeeze her hand. For all her meddling, pushing, and nosiness, sometimes she had the ability to cut right through the bullshit and say exactly the right thing. I still thought I was right to insist on my independence, but what she said made me feel better nonetheless.

"I know, Ally. It's just…Edward is …he's so…complete. You know? His career is all sorted out, he apparently has this amazing family, and then there's the money— and according to Rose, he's ready to settle down and live his happily ever after."

"And you're not?" she pressed gently.

I paused for a minute, trying to think through my answer. "He's just more done than I am. I want to have something to bring to the table. I want there to be more of myself to offer."

Angela leaned into me a little on my other side. "I'm pretty sure he'll take you just like you are."

I smiled, "I know that. But it's not about him— it's about me."

The table was quiet for a moment until Rose drew a deep breath and leaned back. "I suppose I can see that. Just don't leave him hanging too long, okay?"

I smirked. "You're one to talk, Rose."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Whatever. Em knows where to find me. He's known. The ball's in his court and it has been forever. I've just quit waiting on him to hit it back to me."

We were all silent for a moment after Rose's words.

"Ugh," Alice moaned after a moment, "I'm so depressed now. Let's decide what Bella should wear to meet Edward's parents instead."

I laughed sharply, "Let's let Bella pick out her own clothes for that particular trial by fire."

"Well one thing is certain," Jess said decidedly, "we need to drink a lot more today."

At that, we all nodded in solemn agreement.

*0*0*

"Why are you fidgeting so much?" Edward asked gently, and I realized I was compulsively zipping and unzipping my bag in my lap.

"Sorry," I muttered, stuffing my hands under my thighs.

"Are you nervous?" he smirked.

"Shut up! You know I am."

He reached across the center console and pried my hand out from underneath my leg, twining his fingers with mine and resting them on my thigh.

"My parents are nice. I promise. And they're so excited to meet you, Bella. Honestly, I think I'm going to have to hold my mother back."

I sighed. "That's what I'm worried about."

We'd just pulled up to his parents' house, and I tried not to look further than the narrow drive alongside the house that we were parked in, lest I freak myself out some more.

"What, that they want to meet you?"

"That they're excited. What if I'm a disappointment? What if they don't like me? What if they think I'm not good for you?" I was usually so good at masking these stupid insecurities, but now that we were at zero hour, they were all bubbling up out of my control.

Edward chuckled and dropped his chin to his chest, shaking his head. Then, without a word, he climbed out of the car and circled around to open my door. I stood up, but he didn't move out of my way— he stayed put, trapping me against the side of the car. One arm was on the top of the open door, the other on the roof of the car, caging me in.

"Listen," he said softly, ducking to catch my eyes with his, "They are going to love you, Bella. Because I love you. I love you because you're smart and kind and passionate. They'll see those same things and love you, too."

I sighed and smiled, reaching out to put my hands on his waist and pull him closer. He slid his arms off the car and around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.

"Thank you," I murmured against his neck.

"Of course," he murmured against my ear, "I also love you because you're unbelievably sexy and there's nothing on earth I love more than feeling your naked body under mine, but I'm really hoping they don't love you for those reasons."

My laugh came out as a choked sputter against his shoulder. "Eeew, Edward. Thank you for that incredibly inappropriate mental image. But at least I'm not freaking out anymore, so maybe it worked."

He leaned back, smirking. "All part of my evil plan."

"So evil," I whispered, leaning in until my mouth was just a breath away from his. I watched his eyes flash, his eyebrows draw together and an almost imperceptible flush of color spread across his cheekbones. God, there was nothing hotter than Edward when he was turned on. I sighed, sorry that, at least for the next several hours, there was nothing we could do about it. He sighed, too, apparently having the same thought.

Then he slid his hands up my arms, over my shoulders, until he was cupping my face gently.

"You'll be fine. I love you," he said.

"I know I will. I love you, too."

He leaned in and kissed me, soft, slow and lingering. I sighed into his mouth.

"Are you ready?" he murmured against my lips.

"As I'll ever be."

Edward stepped back and released my face, skimming his hand down my arm to wrap my hand firmly in his. Throwing me his warmest smile, he tugged me after him to the door.

I took just a moment to glance up at the house in the fading twilight and I gasped.

It was breathtaking.

The house plus the yard took up the entire end of the block. It backed up to a street in the rear, and a wide, sweeping lawn stretched to the parallel street in front. It was absolutely majestic, several stories tall, made of sandy-colored brick, with dark-shingled steepled gables jutting out in several directions. In between the sharply-pitched slopes of the roof and the corners of the walls were heavy dark timbers and panels of stone carving. The windows were made up of intricately paned and leaded glass. This wasn't a house— this was a museum.

"Edward," I murmured, absently slowing to a stop as I gawked. "This house…"

"Um, yeah. I know. The house is…well, I'll let my mother tell you all about the house. It's sort of her mission in life."

I wanted to know more. How on earth they came to live here, what it cost, how many rooms, but I made myself not press for details. If his mother really was so gung-ho to talk about the house, I figured it would be a good conversation starter, and I could use all of those I could get. We mounted the wide, low steps up to the stone porch and Edward was just reaching out for the intricately-carved brass doorknob when the dark oak door swung open under his hand, revealing the woman I could only assume was his mother.

He didn't look like her. Well, the hair color was the same. They both had the exact same shade of indescribable not-quite-brown, not-quite-auburn hair, and hers was as thick as his, although it hung in soft waves to her shoulders. But her face was entirely different than his. Where Edward was all carved bone structure, jutting cheekbones and sculpted jaw line, her features were soft; her nose was tiny and pert, her face was heart-shaped. Her eyes were the same bright green as his, but the shape was different. Then she broke out in a wide smile, and her eyes transformed into Edward's. It was the same exact expression I saw on his face when he smiled like that, and it made me feel like I knew her already. I couldn't help but smile in return.

"Is this Bella?" she said, her voice a melodic lilt.

Edward chuckled at my side and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "Ah, yes. Bella, this is my mother, Esme. Mom, this is Bella. Bella Swan."

"Bella Swan. What a lovely name. Well, don't just leave her on the porch, Edward. Come in! Can I hang up your jacket, Bella?"

Edward was behind me in a flash, sliding my jacket off my shoulders and down my arms. He leaned in close until I could feel him breathing in my ear. "Remember…I love you."

I felt myself flush as I tried to suppress my grin. Edward stepped away to hang up our jackets and Esme hooked my arm with hers.

"Come on into the living room and Carlisle can get you a drink."

Knowing vaguely that Edward came from money, and then seeing the house, I was braced for coolness and formality, but there was absolutely none of that here. Esme exuded warmth and affability. The house, although massive and imposing, was glowing with warm gold light, softening its edges, making it feel homier than it probably was.

We entered the living room, long and open, with high ceilings lined with exposed beams. There was a rough stone fireplace on one wall, although it was too mild tonight for a fire. Along the opposite wall were the lovely leaded glass windows I'd noticed from outside. In one corner, at a long oak bar built into the wall, stood the man who could only be Edward's father. I recognized his face immediately, because it was Edward's face. The same beautiful bone structure and pale skin, although his hair was blonde and his eyes were lighter— blue, I guessed. I did the rough math in my head and figured them both to be in their mid- to late-fifties, but they looked so much younger. Both of them were remarkably attractive.

Edward's father pivoted to look as we entered, smiling at us.

"Carlisle, come and meet Bella!" Esme said, pulling me over to him. He extended his hand to me— he had the same long, tapered fingers as Edward's.

"Bella, it's a pleasure. We've heard so much about you from Edward."

"Oh…" I stammered, only now realizing I'd had yet to say a word. Brilliant start. They'll think I'm a mute. "That's…whatever he said, I'm sure he was exaggerating."

Esme laughed. I felt Edward's hand slide up under my hair, cupping the base of my neck, as he joined us. "I only tell the absolute truth where you're concerned, Bella."

"Well, then, you're a saint according to him," Esme winked at me. "Now, what do you drink? Wine? Something stronger? I think we have everything."

"Wine would be lovely. Red?"

Carlisle nodded and poured me a glass. I relaxed a little once my hands had something to occupy them. "Esme, your house is so beautiful. Edward didn't tell me anything about it."

Esme smiled and her whole body seemed to come alive. I thought I caught Edward and Carlisle exchange a brief, amused glance.

"Thank you, Bella. The house is very special."

"It's…I'm sorry, I don't know much about architecture, but it's old, right?"

"Yes, built in 1895. Frank Lloyd Wright was the architect."

I nearly spit my wine out in shock. I might have known nothing about architecture, but even I knew who that was. "Frank Lloyd Wright?" I repeated faintly.

Esme nodded. "My great-grandfather had it commissioned. It's been in our family for four generations. Well, I guess Edward makes five."

I turned to look at him and he shot me a small smirk. "The house is kind of a big deal," he explained, humor in his voice. "It's practically another member of the family."

Esme pointed a finger at him. "This house is family. We've spent more on it than we have on your education!"

Edward and Carlisle both laughed and Esme pretended to be affronted, although she was chuckling, too.

"You'll have to forgive me, Bella. The house….well, architecture in general, is a bit of a passion of mine. I'm on the board of the Oak Park Historical Society. Frank Lloyd Wright lived and worked here in Oak Park, and there are a lot of his works here, including this house. The house is fairly significant— one of the earliest examples of what would become the Prairie Style of architecture. It's on the National Register of Historic Places."

"It's amazing. Really, so lovely."

"Thank you," she said seeming genuinely pleased. "Dinner's almost ready, so we'll eat now, but afterwards, I'll give you the tour."

"I'd like that."

"So," Carlisle said, "Edward tells us you've just relocated to Chicago from…Seattle, was it?"

My eyes flashed to Edward's, but his face was calm. I doubted that he would have shared my whole sordid history with his parents, and from the untroubled atmosphere in the room, I was pretty sure he hadn't. "Yes, a few months ago now."

"And how do you like it so far?"

"I love it. Truly. It's such an exciting city. But so big. I feel like I'll never see it all, or figure out where everything is."

"It is a little overwhelming. Honestly, Esme and I are life-long Chicagoans, and there are still neighborhoods we've never seen. You can spend your whole life here and never know it all. That's what keeps it interesting, I suppose."

"Well, Carlisle," Esme interjected smoothly. "Why don't you get everyone settled in the dining room while I serve dinner?"

She slipped away towards the back of the house as Carlisle topped off everyone's wine. Edward wrapped his hand around my free one, leading me after him into the dining room. Their house continued to astound me. It was obvious that they'd made every effort to maintain all the original features. Even the furniture seemed of a piece with the architecture surrounding it. In some ways, it felt like being in a museum, but in others, it felt like just a comfortable home, and I was impressed at the way Esme had balanced that.

Once we were settled in and dinner was fully underway, the conversation picked back up again.

"Bella," Carlisle started, as he passed me the green beans, "I think Edward mentioned that you're just starting a new job?"

I cleared my throat a little before answering. "Yes, just this week. At The Chicago Lantern. Have you heard of it?"

"I think I have," Esme said. "It's a literary review, right?"

I nodded.

"Bella's an Assistant Editor. The editor tapped her personally for the job," Edward said proudly. I laughed and rolled my eyes at him.

"Edward, you're making it sound so much more impressive than it really is."

"Bell, it is impressive. Dida was impressed with you the minute she met you."

"It's just a tiny review with a very small readership. Nothing too exciting."

"You never know where it might lead, though," Esme remarked.

"Maybe. For now, I'm just excited to be working again. I'm thrilled to have the opportunity, no matter what the venue."

"Tell us what kinds of things they publish," Esme pressed, so I launched into a brief description of the pieces I was currently working on for the Lantern's next issue. Esme asked informed questions that told me she was an avid reader, and I liked her even more.

It was hard to be nervous around Esme and Carlisle. They were both so down-to-earth and warm. Esme was a lively conversationalist, never letting things slow down or get awkward. After we'd exhausted the Lantern as a subject, they both asked me plenty of other questions— about my childhood in Forks, college, my long friendship with Alice— but I never felt like I was being grilled. They were just friendly and curious. Things might have gotten dodgy when Esme asked how I'd met Edward, but he seamlessly took over the talking, saying simply that we'd met at Alice and Jasper's wedding. One day, we'd probably have to share all the gory details of exactly how complicated that scenario had really been, but my first dinner with his family was certainly not that time.

As Edward told a glossed-over version of our four days in Chicago, I felt his hand curl around my knee under the table and squeeze reassuringly. I reached down and put my hand over his in silent thanks for negotiating this potentially sticky situation so easily. Even though I remembered all too well all the bad parts of that time— the guilt I felt, the battle I waged to keep him at bay— it was nice to hear him tell the "happy version". He told his parents all about glimpsing each other at the airport and the surprise of meeting again that night at dinner, and about our instant attraction, and the way we kept finding ourselves drawn into conversation with each other. Edward chalked up our long separation simply to the distance and bad timing.

Esme leaned forward, her eyes glittering in the light of the taper candles she'd lit on the table, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "So, how did you reconnect here?"

I decided to jump back in and take over for this part, since we were past the awkward bit. "Well, about a month and a half ago, I was out antique shopping with Alice, and while we were trying to get a cab, Edward just ran into us on the sidewalk."

"Just like that? Of all the crazy luck, running into each other on the street like that," she marveled.

Carlisle shrugged, "For a major metropolis, Chicago can also feel like such a small town. I'm always amazed at how often I run into people I know on the streets. The odds should be astronomical, but it happens all the time."

"Well," Esme said, raising her wine glass, "Let's toast to astronomical odds and fortuitous meetings."

Edward reached across the table to grasp my hand as we raised our glasses. "To fortuitous meetings," he said, smiling at me, his eyes soft. I smiled back and squeezed his fingers.

"Fortuitous meetings," I said.

"If you all give me a minute, I'll bring out dessert," Esme said, pushing back from the table.

"Can I help?" I offered. Being one-on-one with her was a little nerve-inducing, but it seemed the polite thing to do.

She looked back at me for just a moment. "That would be lovely, Bella. Thank you."

Carlisle cocked an eyebrow, "Bella, you should know; almost no one violates the sanctity of Esme's kitchen. If she invites you in, that's how you know you've done something right."

"Well, I'll try my best not to screw it up," I laughed, before I followed Esme towards the back of the house.

The kitchen was huge. It was low-ceilinged and retained the feel of the rest of the house, but much of it had been updated.

"Wow," I breathed, taking in the seemingly endless counter space and top-end appliances. I could go nuts in a place like this. "Esme, I see why you guard your kitchen. This is beautiful."

"There's a lot about old houses that's charming," Esme said, opening one of the glass-front cabinet doors to get down dessert dishes. "But old kitchens generally aren't one of those things."

"So this is all new?"

"The room and a lot of the built-in features, like the cabinets, are original, but we've done a lot of renovations on the kitchen and the bathrooms. Of course, because of the house's status as a historic landmark, the renovations can be difficult and expensive. Can you take these, dear?"

I retrieved the dessert dishes from her and set them out on the counter as she moved to the refrigerator. "It sounds like such a huge responsibility."

Esme nodded. "It is. I do it out of love; I'd work on these old homes without any sort of personal connection. But the fact that it's part of our family history makes it much more special. It's not just preserving an old house, it's preserving our heritage, too."

I thought about that as I fetched spoons out of the drawer that she pointed me towards. Esme wasn't being in any way obvious, but her meaning was clear. This house was her legacy, which meant that one day it would be Edward's legacy. And if he and I…well, then it would be mine as well. Edward was already such a complete package just on his own. Now I was finding out that he came with his very own piece of American history as part of the deal. It was more than a little daunting.

"He's different, you know." Esme's voice made me jump, I'd been so lost in my ruminating.

"Pardon?"

"Edward. He's been different since…well, since you."

"Me?"

She smiled softly and shrugged. "I've been worried about him. I know it seems silly to ever worry about Edward, doesn't it? He's so well-adjusted; so smart and sure of himself."

I chuckled knowingly at her spot-on description of him.

"He's disturbingly perfect, and I'm not just saying that because he's my son," she said. "It's always been that way for him. He's so gifted. School, all of it— it came so easy for him. Whatever he tried, he excelled at it. He could have done anything at all with his life. Of course, he's always been sure he wanted to practice medicine. And naturally, he did as well at that as he has everything else. But…"

She trailed off and cocked her head to the side, thinking.

"But?"

"Well, I'm sure he's told you all about Lenox Hill. Life just has a way of fast-tracking Edward, whether it's the ultimately the right track for him or not. I was so relieved when he chose to come back here and practice with Carlisle, and not just for selfish reasons. I was worried that life in New York would just eat him alive eventually. As talented as he is, it just wasn't the right place for him."

"He figured that out for himself," I said. "It took him a while, but he knows what he wants now."

She looked up at me and smiled, "Yes, he does. He knows exactly what he wants. It's been so good to see him change, being back in Chicago. It's like the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. And then when he met you, it was like he came alive inside."

"You think so?" I asked, trying to suppress the giddy little grin on my face.

"I know so. I know his face so well, and when he looks at you…"

Esme stopped abruptly and waved her hands in front of her. "He'd absolutely kill me for talking like this. You can't ever tell him I said those things!"

I laughed. "It'll be our secret. But thank you. For telling me."

"You're very welcome, Bella." And I got the feeling, as she smiled at me, that she meant so much more than the little peek inside Edward she'd afforded me. It felt like she was welcoming me into their lives, into their family. It felt good.

We just smiled at each other and finished assembling dessert. When we came back to the dining room with our serving trays, Edward and Carlisle were deep in discussion about a patient.

"No shop talk at dinner!" Esme cried. "That's the one thing I never anticipated with Edward joining the practice, Bella," she said over her shoulder, "These two never turn it off."

"It's just healthy professional curiosity, Esme," Carlisle protested mildly. She ran a hand alongside his face lovingly.

"It's just you being a caring person, as always."

The tenderness and intimacy that hummed between them in that moment nearly took my breath away. I looked at Edward and he smirked at me, rolling his eyes dramatically. I supposed it was a lot less sweet when you'd spent your life around it. I remembered back at the wedding, Edward telling me how embarrassed he was as a kid by his parents' relentless affection, and I had to stifle my laugh. All the same, I loved that about them. They were so clearly still in love with each other, and had such a deep, evident respect for each other.

I nearly moaned out loud as I took my first bite of Esme's dessert. "Esme…oh, my God…this is amazing."

"Do you like it? I'm so glad. It's Edward's favorite, you know. I'll give you the recipe before you leave. Edward said you like to cook, right?"

"Yes, I do. That would be great. I'd love the recipe." I heard Edward chuckle softly at my side, but when I looked at him in question, he simply shrugged.

"Nothing," he said innocently, before taking another huge bite of his dessert.

After dessert, Esme took me on the promised tour of the house, leaving Edward and Carlisle behind in his study, back to discussing patients. The rest of the house was every bit as magnificent as the bit I'd seen. All the main bedrooms, including Edward's childhood room, were on the second floor. His was largely frozen in time, a snapshot of a high school golden boy. Diplomas and certificates were framed on the walls, trophies for swimming and track lined the shelves. Edward running track…Edward on the swim team…yeah…I made a mental note to ask Esme at a later date if she had pictures of him from then. I assured myself that it couldn't be considered pervy to drool over pictures of a high school boy if the boy in question grew up to be my boyfriend.

He seemed to have lived such a charmed life. I had a mostly happy childhood; I had no doubt about that. My father loved me, and did his very best for me within the confines of our circumstances. But Edward's early life was like something out of a fairy tale. I was sure it couldn't have been quite so blessed. Over time, I figured I'd see the cracks, the things he'd been unhappy about, or the ways in which he felt slighted. Everybody had something, and surely Edward was no different. But this first glimpse into his early life left me feeling a little like we came from entirely different worlds.

The rest of the house tour took a while. Esme had clearly done this many times and had a lot to say about the house. But it was all really interesting and her passion for the subject kept me rapt. I knew almost nothing about Wright and the Prairie School of architecture, but Esme seemed to be a near-expert. We finished up in the library, re-joining Edward and Carlisle, still talking shop. Esme showed me her library, a whole bookshelf devoted to her architecture books. She pulled one weighty, over-sized book down and flipped to a page before handing it to me. I was surprised to see their house, displayed in a glossy photograph, taken from the corner of the block. The page was titled "The Edward Platt House, 1895". The house had a freaking name. Edward was right; this house was a member of the family, without a doubt.

"They're all named Edward," Esme said over my shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

She pointed to the name. "My great-grandfather, my grandfather, my father, and my son. All Edwards."

Again, I felt the weight of Edward's history. They were like a string of noble ghosts, standing behind him, hands resting on his shoulder. I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was standing in front of the desk with his father, talking about some new medical test he'd read about in a journal. I admired their beautiful, matching profiles, so similar except for the hair color. As it so often happened, once I looked, it was like Edward could feel my eyes on him, and he looked over to me. His face transformed, losing that intense, slightly scowling look he had when he was thinking hard, into something softer and far more intimate. My face.

"I think we need to get going," Edward said, a little abruptly. I suppressed my smile, knowing he was eager to be alone again, no matter how delightful his parents were.

"Oh, of course," Esme said lightly, ever the gracious hostess. "Bella, let me just get you that recipe I promised you."

It took us another twenty minutes to actually leave the house. Esme invited me to the monthly Oak Park Historical Society Lecture, and I accepted. She made Edward promise not to be such a stranger now that he had his own place. I felt guilty, since I knew he spent nearly every free moment he had with me. Soon, though, we were at the door and Edward was helping me back into my jacket.

"Bella, it was so delightful to have you visit tonight. I hope you'll come back soon. Edward, please bring her back soon," Esme said.

"It sounds like you two have already made plans that have nothing to do with me, so I'll stay out of it. I would just be in the way."

"Smart-aleck," she smiled, before kissing his cheek. Carlisle hugged me goodbye, and so did Esme. I was feeling happy, warm, and quite proud of myself about how well the night had gone. I was pretty sure they liked me and I knew I liked them.

Edward kissed his mother's cheek goodnight before taking my hand and leading me down to the car. I cast one last wave to them both over my shoulder. Carlisle and Esme were standing in front of the open door, arm-in-arm, backlit by the gold light flooding out onto the porch. Just before I turned away, Carlisle leaned down and pressed his lips against Esme's temple and she smiled, closing her eyes.

"Edward, I love them. Your parents are amazing."

He chuckled and cast a glance over his shoulder at the house. Once he assured himself that they'd gone back inside, he turned to me, stepping forward, backing me into the side of the car. My pulse fluttered and raced as his hips pressed lightly against mine and his hand came up to cup my cheek.

"Well, they liked you, too, so I'd say the night was a complete success. Feel better now?"

"Mmm hmm. I feel really better at the moment, actually," I murmured, grabbing his hips and pulling him into me. He groaned softly.

"Come over to my place tonight?"

I smiled and nodded. "Why were you laughing when your mom offered me that recipe? Don't think I didn't notice you."

He chuckled and shook his head. "It's just…Mom is really protective of her butterscotch mousse recipe. Tons of people have asked her for it and she never gives it up. And she just offered it to you out of the blue."

"Why would she do that?"

"I told you— she likes you. And she can see how much you mean to me. I think it was just her overeager way of saying 'welcome to the family'." Edward stiffened slightly, looking closely into my face. "Does that freak you out?"

I let the idea settle in, that Edward's wonderful, loving parents had essentially just opened their arms wide to me and asked me in to their family. "No," I said sincerely, "it doesn't freak me out at all. It's wonderful, actually."

Edward exhaled and smiled, leaning in to kiss me gently. "Good. Because I think it's wonderful, too."

He pulled away with a sigh and opened my door for me. On the drive back towards Wicker Park, I leaned my head back on the headrest and turned to look at him. His perfect profile was intermittently illuminated by the streetlights we passed under as we drove. His eyes were on the road and his expression was relaxed and happy.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?" he answered absently.

"You have money," I stated.

He cocked an eyebrow in surprise and turned to glance at me. "Excuse me?"

"I figured you must have before, but now seeing your parents' house made it kind of clear. You have money, right?"

"What exactly do you mean?"

I sighed, slightly exasperated. "You have more in your bank account than you earn in your paycheck, right?"

"Oh," he said, giving an awkward chuckle. "Yeah…I have a trust fund. Is that what you mean?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Yeah, that's what I mean."

"Do you want to know how much?"

"No! I mean, that's your business. I just…I don't know. I've never known anybody with a trust fund. I'm just trying to wrap my brain around it."

"I'm just me, Bella," he said hesitantly, sounding uncharacteristically anxious.

"I know that. It doesn't change who you are to me at all. You know that, right?"

He turned his head to look at me again. "But you're curious, aren't you?"

I nodded reluctantly, because I was curious, but I didn't want to prod him.

"Okay, here's the whole story. My great-great-grandfather, the one who built the house, made the money. In manufacturing. It was a family business until my grandfather took it public in fifty-nine. That's where the trusts come from. Honestly, my dad and I aren't really adding to the bottom line with the line of work we've chosen. Quite the opposite, actually. But yes, my mother had a trust fund and I have a smaller one. Not enough to set me up for life or anything, but yeah…there's some money there."

I let that sink in for a minute. "You seem…well, not exactly secretive, but you don't show it off."

"In the past, sometimes I've found that people…women…found the trust fund a little more interesting than they found me."

I laughed out loud at that and he looked back at me, puzzled. "Edward, I can't imagine ever finding a bank account more interesting than you."

"I'm glad to hear that. Seriously, Bella, it doesn't weird you out?"

"Seriously, Edward, no. Like I said, it's just a foreign concept to me, but I'll get used to it."

"Good. Because it's just money, Bella. I didn't earn it; it doesn't really mean anything. It allows me to be comfortable to a certain degree, but it doesn't affect who I am. At least, I like to think it doesn't."

I reached across the console to rest my hand on his thigh. "Of course it doesn't affect who you are."

He said nothing, but I could still sense the tension and unease in him. The subject had unsettled him, and there was only one thing for me to do about that. I never wanted Edward to feel that I wanted him for anything other than just himself. Because he was plenty just as he was.

I leaned across, until my lips were nearly against the side of his neck. I exhaled across his skin and heard him draw in a sharp breath. "After all, it's just money. The money doesn't kiss me like you do." I kissed his skin and he let a breath out slowly, keeping his eyes studiously fixed on the road. "The money doesn't touch me like you do." I slid my hand on his thigh further up and squeezed. He groaned. "And the money doesn't love me. You do."

"Yes, I do," he murmured in a hoarse rasp.

"And I don't love the money. Only you. I only love you."

"Bella…"

"Drive faster, Edward."

"Hang on."

*0*0*

A/N:

The Edward Platt House (Esme and Carlisle's house) was inspired by The Nathan G. Moore House in Oak Park, Illinois. There's a link to a picture on my profile.