Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter. Just incredible. You still have so many questions and I intend to answer them all. The next chapter is already done, except it needs a beta's eyes, so it shouldn't be long.

Three amazing women are still with me, encouraging and keeping me on track. I love how you girls have become part of the story. To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, thanks for everything. xxx

Chapter 25

The waiting area of Vertigo Magazine brings back memories from my first weeks in London: Charlotte giving me an interview when she knew I was lying, coming in to explain myself after pestering the editor-in-chief with my emails, the day I found out I had to go back to the States. When Maggie comes out to beckon me in, they're just a collection of anecdotes, stripped of the emotion they once held.

"So tell us what happened," she asks as soon as I'm through the door of her office. Charlotte pours a cup of coffee and sets it down for me.

They may have read the blog, but I'm not sure what they're asking. "What happened?"

Maggie rolls her eyes and motions for me to sit down. "He followed you to America?"

I can't help the smile as I hold up my left hand, and they gasp when they see my rings. "Married." Charlotte sighs. "I told you."

"So he surprised you with the proposal?" Maggie holds my finger, examining the diamond.

"He was worried the visa wouldn't be approved and…"

"Do you have photos with you?" Her eyes are alive with anticipation.

"Yes, I do."

With grabby hands, she asks for the laptop. "Oh, he's handsome." She sighs, scrolling through the images. "You have to capitalize on this, Bella. You know they love a romantic story."

"I wasn't sure if I should make it public."

She returns her eyes to the screen. "Your readers are waiting for answers... Good heavens, he really is adorable." Charlotte is resting her jaw on her hand, startled when Maggie finally shuts the lid. "Okay, you have things to consider. We want a piece to introduce yourself to Zipline's readers, and I'm asking you to include the wedding. Talk to your man so you're comfortable, but do it quickly. You will lose momentum if they think you're not going to deliver. In the meantime, fire up the blog as you've been doing. You've started a game here, Bella, so play it. You can use the highlights for next week's column. I presume you know where you want to lead them."

"I want to review London. I'm ready to discover the city."

"All right," Maggie responds. "That's a fitting place to start."

"I also want to write my story to warn people who think they can just arrive here and find a job."

Maggie nods as if she was expecting this.

Charlotte interrupts. "What about a serialization of the Seattle story—a teaser each day to keep the comments coming?" Maggie looks over her glasses, waiting. "And the final blog a link into the debut column with the full story with photos."

Maggie lips curl up at her assistant editor. "I do like that connection, Charlotte."

I like it, too. These women are getting me excited. "I want to write under the name Bella Masen, if that's okay."

"That's fine, but you don't need to use your real name. Just don't go changing it legally without informing us first. You're going to Paris in a few weeks for "Twenty Hotels Under Thirty Euros," but we'll talk about that once you settle in."

Oh, Paris. I would come back to you anytime.

"What are your questions, Bella?"

It's hard to get past the thrill of traveling to Paris for work, but I need to clarify what I'm doing. "Do I have restrictions? What about libel?"

"People can say whatever they like in your blog, and it won't always be pretty. If you want to publish a controversy or genuine grievance in the magazine, you'll need something we can verify, so a relationship with the reader is essential."

"I understand."

"Anything else?"

"Um... when do I get paid?"

Charlotte chuckles, and Maggie glances her way before answering. "Last day of the month."

I'm going to like working with these two women. They're straightforward, and they don't waste time. After a few introductions and a review of the building and its fire escapes, I leave, feeling confident and ready to go.

Edward opens the front door before I can get the key in the lock. "Oh, good. Can you let Eric in when he arrives? Everything's done."

He's already halfway out the door. "Sure. Where are you off to?"

"Doctor's appointment. I couldn't get in before I left, and now I'm overdue for blood tests. They said they'll fit me in if I go now."

"For the calcium deficiency?"

"Yeah, and I have to repeat the physical." My face must betray my unease because he runs his hand down my hair and kisses me. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Why do you have to repeat the physical?"

"It's part of the insurance cover."

"For diving?"

"Yes. Can we please talk about this later? I have to go."

After another kiss, he leaves me standing there, watching him rush down the street. When I close the door and look around the empty pub, I'm drained of enthusiasm, hearing only the dull hum from a dishwasher. Last night, this felt like the essence of home, but now all I see is Edward gone for another month. It's time we had this out properly. As his wife, I have a right to resist his decision to put himself in danger. If he thinks he has a valid reason for returning to Scotland, then he's going to have to work hard to convince me.

The sun streams in through the front windows, creating an inviting place to write, but I don't work on my romantic story. I look at the street and try to organize ideas for the blog.

Just before eleven, Eric knocks on the door, surprised when I open it. "Good morning."

"Edward's gone to the doctor."

"Oh?" He looks slightly taken aback.

"It's just a check-up. I'm sorry we weren't introduced last night. I'm Bella."

Holding his hand out, he smiles. "Eric."

He stashes his small backpack under the bar and punches a code into the till. Turning the televisions on, he checks that he has everything he needs. As he opens the dishwasher, Liam walks in, followed closely by Jasper, who's carrying a big box of vegetables and herbs.

"Hey, Bella, how's Alice?" Jasper asks.

"You'd hardly recognize her. She already looks and speaks like an Italian."

"Nice. Is she coming back soon?"

I'm shaking my head when Liam tells him to get to work, so I turn my attention to Eric who is polishing glasses before putting them away. He buffs the bar top to a shine as if Edward had trained him.

"Where do you come from, Eric?" I've learned to ask the question early in a city with a myriad of accents because I often guess wrong.

"Tasmania."

That gives me no clue. When I wait, he looks up from his gleaming surfaces and smiles.

"It's an island off the south coast of Australia."

"Oh... is it part of Australia?"

"That depends on who you ask. Officially, it's a state, but we're very protective of our separation from the mainland. We like our beaches unspoiled with no one on 'em."

"So, is it a beachy place?"

"Hmm, kind of. A big chunk of the island is World Heritage rainforest, so people go there to hike and camp, but lately it's turning into a foodie destination for tourists. The cheeses, Bella, the apples, the Tassie bubbly! Sullivans Cove won last year's World Whiskies Award for single malt, and that was a big deal when they knocked the Scots and the Japanese off the podium."

I love the way he's so proud of where he comes from. "What else?"

"Uh… It's full of history. The jail from the 1800's British penal colony still stands. Well, the stone walls anyway. It's sad that Port Arthur is known for the massacre as much as its convict heritage."

"Massacre?"

"Yeah, a guy with a screw loose decided to go there and kill tourists. He shot nearly 60 people at close range, and over half of them died, mothers and little kids and… "

"We have these shootings in America all the time." It doesn't surprise me I'm desensitized to this kind of tragedy. That, in itself, is a terrible tragedy.

"After what happened at Port Arthur, the government outlawed automatic weapons and bought back the guns through a nationwide amnesty, so we don't have the problem anymore." I can't get my head around the magnitude of such an operation when I barely understand the politics that defeat gun control in my country. "Hey, I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing. People still do own guns in Australia. If you're pro guns, it has nothin' to do with me."

"We're not pro guns." I don't know him well enough to tell him why. A memory comes flooding back from my childhood—Dad showing me his gun and calling it a bomb—you touch it the wrong way, and it explodes. He was vigilant about locking it up as soon as he came home, but the image of it blowing up always stayed with me.

Eric moves away, greeting a group of men at the bar with a smile. They're a mixture of ages, all in suits.

"Four half pints a' bitter, thanks. Lunch on?"

"Certainly is." He hands them their menus and pours the beers without spilling a drop.

"Any recommendations?"

"Have you been here before?" Eric asks.

"No... first time." The younger of the group looks me up and down and smirks.

"Then I highly recommend the sliders."

They order quickly, giving me a chance to find out more. "So what are you doing in England?"

"I'm working for two years, and then I'll keep traveling. I'm not ready to go home yet."

"What did you do back home?"

"Bar work, hospitality management at uni, which I still haven't finished. I took a job over the summer at a resort and never went back. Emmett told me you and Edward worked with him at a similar place."

"Yeah, that's where we all met… and I worked last winter at a ski resort in Switzerland."

Eric asks about Davos, and I find him open and easy to talk to. He describes how he fell in love with his island on the Great Barrier Reef. From the way he speaks, the life of resort workers was the same there. Then something changes—a memory takes the sparkle from his eyes.

"Excuse me." He serves another couple, and more people are standing inside the entry, commenting on our tightrope artist. I take my spot by the window and glance over at Eric, wondering what made him sad.

Why didn't he go back to finish his degree? Did he have a girlfriend on the island who had to leave?

Now I'm thinking about Edward again. I just know he's going to breeze in here with a glowing health report, and I'm dreading the fight that's coming.

Sighing, I write some half-baked questions, scrap them, and write others. Someone laughs, and I lose my train of thought. Checking the blog, there's a deluge of speculation about Seattle, and all I can do is sigh. I hate that this is overwhelming me. My fingers should be itching to type, but I feel lonely, sitting here on my own with my laptop.

Then something red invades my field of vision—a single rose, sliding along the table toward me. As I look up, Edward leans down and says, "Just so you know, I've decided not to dive anymore." He cups my cheek and kisses me, smiling as he joins Eric behind the bar.

The fragrant flower, his choice of words, and his mannerisms are pretty clear. He loves me, and he's made the decision for us. I'm so happy, I blow him a kiss as I go upstairs, feeling re-energized.

The first thing I do is get us organized. I open the suitcases and start a load of clothes, packing my clean summer clothes into the wardrobe. My cool weather stuff will have to live in the suitcases for now.

The bathroom takes me ten minutes to clean. The floor another five.

I start a list of things we need: second wardrobe, big thick rug, television.

Sitting on the bed with my laptop, it feels like the blog's no longer controlling me. I have things I want to say and things I need to learn. Instead of dealing with the host of questions that are basically the same, I post a new comment. "If you want me to tell you about Seattle, then you have to give me London first. I'm ready to see this city, so where should I go?"

Closing the lid, I plug in the power and place the laptop on the floor.

New items for the list: bedside tables, desk, and chair.

My phone pings with an incoming text. "Eric's eating later. Do you want me to order you lunch now?"

Hmm, I want to send the right message. "Bring food if you want, but I'm ready for you anytime you want to come."

The smiley face he sends back makes me grin. I'm going to surprise my husband, a fitting reward for making me this happy.

By the time I hear him on the stairs, I'm ready and waiting, wearing an outfit I had planned to reveal in Seattle on our wedding night, but Edward never gave me a chance to change. He opens the door and locks it behind him as his eyes rake over my body, clad only in lavender lace and black silk. The plate of sandwiches is abandoned on the bed when he sees I'm wearing heels.

"The doctor had good news?" I ask, running my hands over his shoulders and down his arms.

"Very good," he answers, playing with the strap of my bra.

"But you're not going back." As I feel his chest, his fingers slide over my hips and grip my ass. Now I know why I kept these platform shoes.

"My priorities changed. I have a wife now who I'm crazy about."

He heats me up as his smoldering eyes roam over me. "Is this the outfit you wear when you write? It's positively scandalous."

"No, this is me wanting to have sex…" I slide my palm over his erection. "With you."

Moving my hair back, he kisses my neck. "I was really hoping that's what you meant."

"Edward, give me your clothes, so I don't mess you up." With an eyebrow raised, I undo his belt.

He just smiles. His pants hit the floor, and he helps me with the buttons of his shirt.

As I'm hanging his clothes up, he stands behind me and squeezes my breasts. He pushes himself onto my ass and slips a hand down the front of my underwear. When I rock back against him, he sucks just below my ear, sending a shot of electricity through me.

He slides my undies down and gently eases them over my shoes. Then he runs his hands up my legs and bites my ass, making me cry out. "Quiet," he purrs in my ear, returning his fingers to the place I need them. "Fuck, you are just the right height." He enters me from behind, thrusting smoothly with a momentum I love. Our breathing becomes heavy and synchronized—our movements like a dance. As my insides tighten, he groans, and his mouth works its way up my neck. My legs start to shake, and his lips overwhelm mine. When he sucks on my tongue, I explode.

Then he's moaning, kissing me roughly and panting into my hair, swearing as he thrusts faster and harder. I think he's losing control when he suddenly stills and holds me tight, rocking us together as he comes.

"That was..." he whispers at my temple, then shudders. "...intense. Fuck." When he finally lets me go, his face is one big satisfied smile.

We eat our sandwiches and talk about the decision to give up diving. I relate Maggie's request that I write about us getting married, and he says he trusts me, but I promise to show him first. As he leaves, looking immaculate, I wonder if anyone would suspect what we do up here. I love being the only one who knows how hot my husband is when I get him alone.

It's a very productive afternoon for me, approaching my first column without fear. I start by saying I feel honored and lucky to be joining a magazine that reports on what's happening right now, establishing Zipline's aim to publish the current travel experience with all the highs and lows occurring along the road.

Briefly, I describe my educational background and the six months I've just spent in Europe. I hint that I'll be reporting from Paris in coming weeks and write that I will soon be enticing travelers to head north from Milan to the unknown jewel called Stresa where I've just come from. This leads into Seattle, and I already know how I want to start.

"This week, my editor is asking for a report on my recent trip to Seattle. I won't discuss how I came to be there. That remains part of the bigger story of how I got my working visa, a topic I'll cover in a future column. Seattle is my hometown, the place I had to leave to pursue a dream of travel and a job as a journalist overseas. When I had to return so soon, almost defeated, I never imagined a determined man was coming to sweep me off my feet."

This is where I bring in what I wrote last night, but I rework each section toward a suspenseful ending, so until the very end it's not clear how things resolve. Obviously, everything worked out, but I want to highlight Edward's strong belief that he was bringing me back with him because it was so important during that week.

Hours later, I'm happy enough to stop and check the blog, and the number of comments is shocking. I read through and like them all, but it will take me all night to respond to every one. There is so much detail, like a travel guide to London, but a definite theme runs through the comments—the expectation of something in return.

I'm not ready to start without Edward's approval, so I close my computer, exhausted but exhilarated.

Edward takes a break so we can have dinner with Carlisle and Siobhan. Carlisle is not himself, having worked himself up into someone who's angry and defensive.

"They are not going to dictate what happens with my daughter. I am making all decisions regarding Alice, and I'm taking Siobhan with me for a vacation, so you'll have to find yourself another chef."

If he thought his first battle would be with us, he's very wrong because we both agree it's a good idea. Siobhan has worked on Liam's day off since the pub opened, so it is short notice, but we never thought she would stay on permanently. Her assistant is more than capable of showing someone new the ropes.

"We're going to Milan tomorrow, and we'll be in Stresa by the weekend."

I have mixed feelings when we have to say goodbye. Carlisle is emotional, and I know we're both going to miss him. He thinks he's going back to the States without Siobhan, but the fact he's bravely taking her to Italy convinces me he is meant to journey down a different path and start a new life. It doesn't feel like goodbye, more like we'll see him soon.

When Edward finishes for the night, I have the column ready for him to approve. He reads it quite slowly and plays with his lips, then he hands me the laptop with a slight nod.

"I know I'm uneducated, and I'll never have your way with words, but I'm going to try to write this from my side, so you'll know how it felt for me. I want to get one thing straight, Bella. You're not lucky to have me. I'm the one who's lucky to have you."

I wrap my arms around his neck, my eyes filling with tears. "But I do feel lucky. I love you."

The next morning, he's on the laptop, applying for the family visa. He hands me his card and asks if I'll get some copies of our documents while I'm out buying my desk and chair. I smile and kiss him, realizing he's seen my list.

The blog bursts to life each time I deliver a new snippet of the Seattle story. The readers give me so much material in return that Maggie agrees two columns on London is the only way to cover it all. Even then, there are disappointments and heartbreaking tales I have to research before she will include them. She asks me to plan a future column dedicated to fraud and misinformation on the internet.

One of the stories gets to me, and I have to read it to Tanya while she paints upstairs.

"Listen to this, Tanya. This is the kind of shit that happens to people on the internet.

We were scammed in London and Paris. We booked and paid in full for our accommodations nine months before, through hotelcollect dot com, thinking we were getting an amazing deal. I confirmed the following day that the London hotel had our booking and asked them, only a week before we arrived, if they could store our luggage. We were coming in on an early flight.

When we turned up, they produced a fax sent while we were in the air, cancelling the booking. I contacted the company listed who said they were passing on the cancellation from another company, who never answered their phones or returned emails, so we couldn't find out who had our money.

We made the Paris booking on the same website, so we emailed, assuring them we would not be cancelling. They responded by saying they never received our booking. Losing over a thousand dollars at the beginning of our vacation was demoralizing, and the rooms weren't as cheap when we had to pay this time.

Our travel insurance told us to contact the vendor for a refund, but there was no hotelcollect online any more, only complaints from others who had the same thing happen to them. It consumed our first days in London, and we were miserable when we should have been out sightseeing. I could go on about how it felt, but I had the best travelling buddy who convinced me to let it go, saying we would make it up over the next six weeks. We went without sometimes, didn't do things on our list, but we managed to keep traveling.

When we came home, they declined our insurance claim because the "travel agent" failed to provide the services we paid for.

I wanted to share here. Do not under any circumstances book with hotelcollect dot com. They are scum."

"Assholes." Tanya shakes her head, looking just as angry as I feel.

"Yeah, assholes. I'm following this one up for the magazine."

Mom calls the day my debut column posts. "I'm proud of you, Bella. You write lovely words that make me cry."

"Oh, Mom, I'm happy. I hope it came through."

"It did. You love him, don't you?"

"More every day." She's making me want to cry.

"You know your father's over the moon about him giving up diving?"

"He doesn't need to go back. Actually, Emmett's going to be a partner in the business."

"Oh... well, I guess that's good… is it?"

"It's the responsibility, Mom. Edward's working every day until Emmett returns. He's going home to New York for his visa soon and taking Tanya with him. They'll probably be gone for a few weeks."

"And what about Alice and Carlisle? Are they returning to the States?"

"We don't know. It's been a week, and we still haven't heard. He sent a text to say they had arrived in Stresa, and that's it. I guess they'll work it out, and we'll support whatever they decide to do."

"You know I love you, and it's not just because you're my daughter. You've matured into a wonderful woman, and I know that's why good things are happening for you."

"Thank you, Mom."

We have to end the call because we're both blubbering too much to continue.

The next morning I turn to Edward in bed. "Do you think we should call your dad?"

He considers my question. "I don't want to push him, love."

"Well, let's call Alice, just to see how she is? She might spill the beans."

"Okay." He takes his phone and rolls over onto his elbows. "I'll put her on speaker."

We almost give up when she finally answers. "Hi."

"How's it going?"

"Good."

"Are you still having a good time?"

"Yes."

"Are you going back to Chicago?"

"No."

Edward looks at me and raises his eyebrows, "What's Dad doing?"

"You ask him."

Alice has never been much of a phone conversationalist, but I can see Edward becoming irritated. He snorts and asks, "Why hasn't he called me, Alice?"

"Talk to him."

There's a rustling noise as she hands over the phone. "Edward."

"What's going on, Dad?"

"Just a minute." The sound of a door closing dampens the background noise. "I wanted to call you but... I'm wrestling with some demons."

Edward frowns and asks, "What demons, Dad?"

"This place… I love it here, Son. I always did. It's where I courted your mother and spent happy vacations together. Everywhere I look, I see her." Edward closes his eyes. I don't think either of us considered how hard it would be for Carlisle to return with the memories it would evoke; we were so focused on Alice and Joey.

"Dad."

"I've made a mess of things, isolating the two of you from your family. I've cut myself off from Goia and especially Joey and Mary. We were once so close, and now look what's happened to them? I could have helped had I known. Why didn't you tell me about the state of his hotel?"

"We thought you would see it yourself."

"I could make a difference here."

We look at each other and smile. "What's stopping you from staying there?"

"The house in Chicago, Edward. You gave up your future to stop me from selling your home."

Edward looks perplexed. "I… I thought you were selling it to pay for Alice's treatment. I only saw you with nowhere to live."

"If that's true, I'm struggling to find a reason to go back and live in the States."

"Dad, you've gotta do what makes you happy. God knows you've given everything for your kids."

"I should have taken their offer of support years ago. Anyway, Alice is definitely staying. She's thriving here." With a deep sigh, he says, "I will talk to Joey and Siobhan. You never know."

Carlisle ends the call, and Edward looks at me. "He seems depressed doesn't he?"

"Let him work through his demons. It's a lot to process with your Mom on his mind. Apart from the fact that he loves it there, you know he won't leave Alice."

He nods, then leans over and kisses my forehead.

"I think it's Mom who's telling him to stay."

Thanks for reading xo