Indelible

A/N: I've taken some liberties with some Port Angeles establishments in this chapter. Hopefully it won't affect B & E's fictional day.

Chapter 25: Prior to Departure

I watch from the porch as he darts back out into the rain. Halfway to the truck, he turns, jogging backwards. Does he not realize it's raining?

"Get inside, Bella! It's cold!" he shouts. Smiling that smile.

"Get in the truck, Edward! It's raining!" I call back, shooing him with my hand and laughing.

He grins and turns, resuming his dash to the truck. I open the front door and wave, watching as the truck's headlights flash twice before he pulls away.

I shut and lock the door and wander to the kitchen on autopilot. My mind is elsewhere—examining the last few minutes of surprise and familiarity on the doorstep. The solid strength and warmth of him, the scent of him and his new shirt, the hope and sincerity in his words and his kiss. Everything assuring me of some connection beyond just these past few days.

Realizing I'm just standing in the kitchen while my mind has been back on the front porch, I finally remember to set my purse down on the counter. I also remember I have a dog. Someone needs to let him out to do his nightly business. And I'm the someone. And it's still raining.

Fitz isn't downstairs in the living room or kitchen, so I climb the stairs and find him sprawled out asleep on my bed, with his head on my pillow. He's probably having sweet dreams about running along the beach, chasing birds, and playing with that boy-pup who belongs to the kindly butt-scratcher.

"There had better not be any dog-drool on my pillow, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Fitz lifts his head and blinks innocently at me, telling me he wouldn't dare. He wants to be invited back.

"Who wants to go potty outside?" I ask.

He looks away, listening to the rain on the eaves, hoping I'll take someone else. Then he slowly gets up, stretches, jumps down, and stretches again. Having thought about it, he's decided it's better to go potty outside in the rain, than go potty inside and be Bad Dog.

I grab an old towel from the linen cabinet, to dry and clean him afterwards, and then I follow him down the stairs.

Turning on the porch light, I watch as he ventures down the steps and over to the right, beneath the protection of the trees. I'm about to step back inside when the porch swing catches my eye and calls to me. It hangs far enough back that it's protected from the rain, so I return inside to grab a sweatshirt and blanket, deciding I'll sit for a bit, watching and listening to the rain beneath the space heater. I doubt I'll be falling asleep anytime soon, anyway. I tell myself I'm not going to start with the what-ifs and maybes tonight, but this evening certainly demands more attention and review.

I don't want to delve too deeply into my feelings about Edward. I have to be realistic about this situation. And the time and distance involved. We have a lot of past, but so little present and our opportunities for more will be few and far between. Still, when I think about the time we spent together today and this evening, I know this was by far the best day I've had in a very, very long time.

*I*

By the time I finally do crawl into bed, I'm stuck on one thing. Something he mentioned. I can't help thinking how many things had to fall in place for the paths of our lives to re-converge like this. It's not just that he happened to look online and stumbled onto Dad's obituary. He wouldn't have done that if he weren't coming to Forks this week. And he wouldn't have come to Forks this week if it weren't for his son. Masen had to be college-bound at precisely this point in time and choose the University of Washington, out of all possible schools. And he had to start with summer session, necessitating a trip out west for a tour and a visit with an advisor during this particular point in time.

I don't know whether to think this re-convergence of our lives could so very easily never have happened, or if it's been two decades in the making. Do the events in our lives happen by chance or is it something more?

I reach over and turn off the lamp next to my bed, telling myself to just go to sleep. Contemplating what-ifs and maybes is one thing, but pondering the existence of master plans and grand designs is quite another.

*I*

It's nine o'clock Saturday morning and I'm ready to go. Edward said he'd be over sometime between nine and nine-thirty. We've decided to spend a few hours in Port Angeles before their flight out. It's a little overcast, so I'm dressed comfortably in brown flats, jeans, a dark blue long-sleeved blouse and a tan sweater.

I'm in the kitchen, at the sink, cleaning and drying the shells and beach glass I collected yesterday, and only remembered to dig out of my backpack this morning. My phone chimes with a text alert and when I check it, I see it's from Angela.

B? How was it? Yay or nay on the date-debate?

I don't want to call her back right now. Edward could arrive any minute, so I just text back.

It was really good. And the results are in…

Optimists: 1 Pessimists: 0

I'll tell you more, later. :)

I laugh out loud when I get her response.

*handsprings and cartwheels*

And then I text her back.

And to think, you're at work. Must be quite a sight. :)

My phone chimes her reply and I laugh once again, reading it.

They think it's the caffeine. :)

Fitz has been out back, sitting at the top of the porch steps, watching the occasional bird or bug. When he gets up, barking as he runs down the steps and around to the side gate, I figure Edward and Masen must be here. I place the shells and beach glass in a small glass bowl and set it on the kitchen table as a little centerpiece.

Walking into the living room, I can see Masen's black truck parked at the curb, right behind where I've parked Dad's truck. I open the front door, just after Edward rings the bell. He's leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb and he looks good in his bright red T-shirt and blue jeans. He looks good in everything, but I can freely admit my personal favorite was yesterday at the beach, when he wore the least.

"Good morning, you," he says, smiling, though it's a different smile than the past few days. There's something slightly more intimate in his eyes and on those lips that kissed me last night. I feel my face warming at the thought.

"Good morning to you," I reply, feeling totally transparent. I blink away my girlish reaction and look past him, realizing he's alone. "Where's Masen?"

"Getting ready. I let him sleep in. I told him we'd be back to pick him up. I had an errand I wanted to run this morning."

"Oh. Well, come on in and I'll get my purse. What kind of an errand?"

"I already went," he says, moving away from the doorjamb. I gape in surprise when his arm comes around from behind him as he steps inside.

"I, uh… I got you these," he says, extending a bouquet toward me and looking a little unsure of himself.

"Flowers?! For me?!" The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement as he smiles. My questions are redundant. He just said they're for me and they're definitely flowers—a gorgeous bouquet of white, yellow, pink and purple freesia, mixed with lavender and ferns.

"Yes, to both questions," he says with a little smirk, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans—as if he doesn't know what else to do with them now that he's handed over the flowers he was hiding.

"Edward, these are beautiful." I look at the bouquet in my hands, bringing it up to my nose, inhaling the lovely fragrance. "Oh, and they smell wonderful," I add. I'm still surprised he brought me flowers, though he's clearly pleased by my reaction.

"I never really acknowledged Charlie's passing properly," he says softly. "Mowing a lawn isn't exactly standard. And I know white flowers are used to express sympathy, but I wanted to convey something a little more…hopeful, too. Something that would remind you I'd be thinking of you and looking forward to seeing you again.

"When I explained the situation a little to the florist, she told me freesia represent 'grace under pressure,' as well as 'friendship, trust, perseverance and high-spiritedness.'" He smiles warmly. "That sounded right to me."

"This was really thoughtful of you, Edward." I return his smile, touched by the explanation of his multi-purpose bouquet and that he wants me to remember he'll be thinking of me. "I love the variety of colors and what the flowers mean. Thank you, for these."

He nods. "I'm glad you like them."

I gesture toward the kitchen. "Would you like a cup of coffee while I put these in some water?"

"No, thanks," he says, following me. "I told Masen we'd stop on the way and grab coffees and a bite to eat for the road. What was the name of Angela's shop?" he asks as I hunt down a vase.

"The Cup and Saucer. You want to stop there?" I find a vase on a high shelf and he reaches up and grabs it before I can ask for help.

"Yeah." He hands me the vase. "Sound good?"

"Sure, that's great. Angela would love to see you." Angela will probably flip right the hell out.

"I'd like to see her." He smiles, leaning against the counter and watching as I fill the vase with water.

Fitz appears at the back porch door, barking and scratching to get inside. He's probably itching for a scratching, now that he's noticed Edward through the screen door.

"Would you please let Fitz inside before he burrows his way in?" I nod toward the door as I begin organizing his flowers in the vase.

He chuckles. "Sure thing." He walks over and opens the door and Fitz comes in, barking and wagging as Edward greets him and bends to scratch. And then Fitz quiets, smiling at the butt-scratcher's pure awesomeness.

"Are all of these from yesterday?" Edward asks after a moment. When I look over my shoulder, I see he's referring to the little glass bowl of shells and beach glass on the table.

"Yeah. I collected more than I realized during the course of the day, but I thought they made a nice little centerpiece. Now they can be a centerpiece-sidekick." I smile as I bring the vase over to the table. Hopefully it doesn't look like I'm building a shrine. At least I haven't put out candles and a photo of Edward in a gilt frame. Not that I have a recent photo of Edward. Or a gilt frame.

I lock up the house while Edward pulls Masen's truck into the garage next to my green Volkswagen Jetta. He says that little sedan looks so out of place. He only ever saw me and Charlie in trucks or a police cruiser, so it's hard to imagine otherwise. I laugh, but he's right. In the past year I've rarely used that car we bought through Jake's work.

"What are you going to do about these?" I ask, looking in Masen's truck bed, where two bicycles are situated, front tires removed to fit.

Edward scratches an ear. "To tell you the truth, I completely forgot about the bikes—well, mine, anyway. Masen can do without his for the next two months—he'll need it here for school. I'll have to ship mine back, but I'll take care of that in June." He smiles at me and shrugs. "Maybe we can all go for a bike ride when we return?"

I laugh and shrug back at him. "Sure. That would be fun. And it's a good way to rationalize keeping your bicycle here for the next two months."

He chuckles as he hands me the truck's keys and I put them in my purse for safe-keeping. Closing the garage, we head to Charlie's blue Tacoma to go pick up Masen.

Edward sits in the passenger seat, his arm stretched out across the seatback as I drive. I can feel the warm presence of his hand behind me and the occasional feathery touch of his thumb on my back. We're quiet. It makes me think of last night, when we just held each other on the porch without speaking—the moment too big for words.

When I pull up behind two cars at a stop sign, I sneak a peek over at him, only to catch him already looking at me. We both smile, caught, and the moment feels a bit awkward. I can feel my face heat, and I wonder if we're both thinking the same thing.

"I enjoyed last night, Bella," he says softly, the look in his eyes confirming my suspicions. I know he's not talking about the food.

"Me too," I tell him sincerely.

The light in his eyes kicks up a notch as he smiles, and it's no longer the brush of his thumb on my shoulder, but the warmth of his hand.

As we head up South Forks Drive in the direction of their hotel, I glance back to him, curious about his return there last evening.

"Did you discover any extra guests in your room, when you got back last night?"

He chuckles, looking back at me with a smirk. "As a matter of fact, I did." My eyes widen.

"Bree was with Masen?!"

"Yep. On his bed. Both of them." I gasp but his mouth just draws into a broader smile.

"Edward! What did you do?! What did you say?!"

He laughs. "Nothing. Her sprained ankle was propped up on a pillow and Masen was sitting cross-legged next to her. The other girls were all there, too. Everyone was fully dressed. They were just hanging out, watching TV, picking at marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate bars. Apparently the rain interrupted the girls' S'Mores-making at the bonfire."

"Oh!" I laugh. "How sad!"

He nods, chuckling. "Yeah, but it's nice to catch your kid behaving. It doesn't always happen that way."

I smile, imagining Masen and his little spring break harem, just being kids.

"Did you kick those poor girls out into the rain?"

He laughs. "No. I let them finish their TV show. And I was treated to a thrilling account of their frantic departure from First Beach while I ate a couple marshmallows."

I smile. It's funny to imagine this adult Edward, just kicking back with a bunch of teenagers. But he seems like an approachable dad, and with him and Masen having a close relationship, I'm guessing this happens in the Cullen household in Chicago.

When we get to the Calawah River Motel, Edward gets out to let Masen know we're here and grab their bags. He's already paid their bill, so it's just a question of clearing out of their room. I pull my phone out of my purse while I wait, sending Angela a quick text.

We're coming by for coffee. :)

I look up to see Edward coming out of their room with his backpack slung over a shoulder, carrying two bags. Masen appears right behind him, swiping his floppy, still-damp hair back off his forehead. He pauses, shoving a foot into a shoe, and then slings his own backpack over his shoulder, following Edward with that same long-legged easy stride.

My phone chimes and smile as I read Angela's response.

*more handsprings and cartwheels, to the customers' delight*

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and get out as they near the truck. Greeting Masen, I open the door so Edward can set their bags on the back seat, and then Masen climbs in, shoving the bags across to the other side. Once we're all in place, we take off for The Cup and Saucer, just a couple blocks up the road.

We manage to park right in front of the shop, and Angela comes out to greet us as we're climbing out of the truck.

"Oh, my gosh! Edward Cullen! Oh, my gosh!" She's beaming at him, wiping her hands on her burgundy Cup and Saucer barista's apron before darting in for a hug.

"Hey, Angela! It's really good to see you," Edward chuckles, hugging her in return. She turns to smile at me when I round the truck with Masen, but her mouth drops open, her eyes widening the minute she spots him.

"Oh, my gosh! It's the apple! And the tree!" she exclaims, looking from Masen to Edward, grinning for all she's worth. Edward bursts into laughter, but poor Masen just looks startled and confused. I smile at him and explain.

"She just means you and your dad look…"

"Oh, I get it!" He laughs, nodding. "'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.' Yeah, we do look a lot alike."

"Oh, my gosh! And you even sound like your dad!" Angela gasps, her eyes sparkling.

Edward introduces them, telling Angela that Masen will be starting at U-Dub come summer, and explaining to Masen that Angela went to high school with us.

"Hi, Angela," I finally greet her with a broad grin.

"I'm so glad you stopped by before they had to leave!" She gives me a hug, whispering a quick 'Good Lord!' into my ear, her eyes twinkling at me when she pulls back. I know that's in reference to their appearance.

"Ben is going to be so bummed he missed you!" she says, turning to Edward as she herds us into the shop. "I'll have to get a picture of you before you leave." She shoots me a wink as she ushers them inside. She's sweetly devious. The photo isn't just for Ben. It's mostly to remedy the fact that I didn't take photos at the beach yesterday.

The early morning crowd has thinned. I look around the shop, but don't see anyone Edward would know from high school—although Eric Yorkie's eighteen year old daughter, Amanda, is working the counter. When we step up to order, she does a double take, looking from Edward to his son. It turns out she recognizes Masen from the bonfire last night, having been there herself. I introduce her to Edward, explaining that he went to high school with her parents and Angela and me. Edward asks her to give her mom and dad his regards.

Angela gives Edward the tour of her shop, including the new book nook, and Masen and I tag along. She tells me the nook has already increased her sales, with people lingering to work on laptops and read from the collection we shelved on Tuesday morning. Edward studies the contents of the bookshelves and I know he spots my books when he gives me a quick glance and a little secret smile.

Once our orders are ready, we finish our quick visit and Angela takes a photo of Edward and Masen "for Ben," telling me to get in the shot as well. When she shows us the results, Edward asks if she would text it to him. I ask her to send it to me as well, though my request is more for his benefit than hers, because I know she was already planning on it. And thankfully, Angela needs both hands to input Edward's cell phone number, otherwise I'm sure she'd be doing handsprings and cartwheels, at the subtext of our requests.

"It's too bad Ben didn't get a chance to see you," Angela tells Edward as she walks us out to the truck.

"I'll be back in Forks for a day or two in June, before we head to Seattle," he replies, glancing over and including me in that 'we.' "Maybe we could get together then for dinner? Or go bowling?" He grins as he makes his second suggestion and I snort a laugh, thinking about the four of us bowling when we were teens—Angela and I were laughably dreadful.

"I'll have you know I'm actually decent, now," Angela says with a twinkle in her eyes. "I bowl in a women's league on Monday nights with a few girls from church."

Edward looks surprised. He turns to look at me, cocking an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Don't look at me!" I say, splaying my hands in front of me as I shake my head. "I'm as hopeless as ever." He bursts into laughter.

"Well, that has potential, then," he says, grinning at Angela. "You, Ben and I can still enjoy Bella's finesse with the gutter-balls."

I roll my eyes. "That's not happening. We can do dinner." He just laughs.

Angela tells us goodbye then, wishing Masen a good end of his senior year, and giving Edward another hug. She hugs me goodbye with a quick, quiet, "Optimists: 3, Pessimists: 0" in my ear and I smile. I'm guessing Edward wanting our photo was worth a point, as was his suggestion of a future dinner double-date.

*I*

Though it's an hour's drive to Port Angeles, I suspect the time will go quickly and not just because we have baked goods and coffees to entertain ourselves along the way. Having been presented with a little more living proof of his father's history in Forks—at the same age he is now—Masen is eager for information.

"So you guys were all close friends back in high school?" he asks.

"Well, I didn't really know Angela until the end of my senior year," Edward tells him. "She was kind of shy and quiet and she was a grade below mine—a junior, like Bella. They became friends when Bella moved to Forks and that's how I met Angela. Before that, I just knew who she was because her father was the pastor at the Community Church."

I explain a little further. "Angela was the first girl I met, when I moved to Forks, second semester of my junior year. She was quiet, like your dad said, but she was nice and had a wonderful, subdued sense of humor. I liked her instantly, and she's been my closest friend ever since. Needless to say, she's not very shy and quiet anymore." I glance in the rearview at Masen. He's smiling. I don't think he found Angela to be shy or reserved.

"And you guys went to school with her husband, too?

"We did," I reply. "Ben was in your dad's class. Angela had such a crush on him. They started dating toward the end of that school year…" I almost say, 'shortly before your dad and I started dating,' but I catch myself, thinking it might be weird. "Anyway, Ben is the pastor at the Community Church here now. Angela's dad is semi-retired."

"Ben was an officer on student council with me, senior year," Edward adds. "He was treasurer and I was president." He side-eyes me and then looks over his shoulder at Masen, smirking. "And…on her first day at Forks High, Bella thought Ben and I were a couple."

"WHAT!?" Masen yelps.

"Oh, my god! Edward! I did not!" My face is on fire. I reach over and smack his leg and he jerks it away as he cracks up.

"Don't listen to your dad, Masen. I never said that or thought that," I say, glancing in the mirror. He's grinning like the Cheshire cat, watching his father laugh, and I can tell he smells a good story. I look over at Edward—at that beautiful, unabashed grin, and I can't help but laugh.

"That was Jessica Stanley's doing, and you know it, Edward Anthony Cullen! She's the one who implied everyone was together, embarrassing the wits out of me in front of the whole cafeteria!"

"Wait, what happened?! Who's Jessica Stanley?" Masen asks eagerly.

"The school gossip," Edward says.

"The town gossip," I say at the same time. We share a glance and snicker.

"I guess some things never change," Edward says, shaking his head, while I nod in agreement.

"So, what's the story, Bella? What happened?" Masen asks, still keen on hearing the details.

So I explain. And he's embarrassed for me. But he gets a good long laugh out of his father's and my initial meeting, knowing we later dated. Then I tell him my day went to hell in a handbasket, when his dad walked into my Biology class that same afternoon and turned out to be my new lab partner. That brings on the guffaws. He thinks that's absolutely priceless. Then I tell him Edward glared at me like he wanted to murder me, and practically sat in the aisle to get away from me.

"That wasn't the case at all!" Edward laughs. Stretching his arm along the seatback, he rubs my shoulder reassuringly, and I blush, wondering what Masen thinks. "I really wasn't mad at Bella," Edward says, glancing back at his son. "I was just so angry about my situation with baseball that day, I couldn't even think straight. My schedule had gotten all messed up, so I couldn't fit team sports into sixth period. It looked like I wasn't going to get to play ball my senior year."

"But you did get to play...thanks to Bella," Masen says, already familiar with this part of his father's history. "So it's a good thing you didn't kill her that first day in Biology. Not to mention it would have made the rest of that class period really awkward for everyone." I giggle at his observation.

"Yep." Edward chuckles, throwing a crooked little smirk my way as he gives my shoulder another little squeeze.

"So, how did you know the Mariner's pitcher who coached Dad, Bella?" Masen asks.

"Oh, I didn't, but my step-dad did…"

And with that, we're off on more stories from our combined past: Phil hooking Edward up with former pitcher Jay Jenks, trips to Aberdeen for pitching practice, the baseball league championship game, and even a trip to Jacksonville we took a year later, to spend spring break with Mom and Phil.

*I*

We get to Port Angeles a little past eleven thirty—about three and a half hours before Edward and Masen have to be at the airport. I point out the Peninsula Daily News building, where I used to work, and then I park down near the City Pier.

We walk through the park and out onto the pier—out to the tower at the end. Masen groans as we climb all the steps up to the observation platform—his legs are indeed sore from yesterday. From up top, we look back at the waterfront and Port Angeles sprawled up the hillside. A few ships lay anchored in the harbor, and we watch boats sailing in and out and beyond Ediz Hook, through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, with Canada's Vancouver Island in the background.

Masen asks about traveling to Canada and Edward rolls his eyes.

"Just stick with exploring the State of Washington for a while, before you go all international on me, Mase. Break me in slowly, okay?"

Masen and I laugh and exchange a look. "Dad's such a worrier," he says. Like I don't know that.

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to change anytime soon, Masen. I told your dad you could contact me in the event of an emergency when you're out here, or if you come out to the peninsula and need a place to stay, but I'm not sure about picking you up in Canada if you have car problems."

He laughs. "Okay. There's probably enough in Washington to keep me busy for a while, anyway."

We walk around downtown then, checking out the shops along Front Street. The hiking display in the window at Brown's Outdoor Gear catches Masen's eye and he wants to head inside to investigate. I tell Edward to go ahead—I'll look around in Odyssey Books next door, and we'll find each other when we're done.

I'm really not in the market for a new book. I have a few to wade through already. But a thought occurs to me as I step inside and I suddenly know what I'm here to buy.

At the counter a short while later, I glance furtively at the shop door as I write something brief inside the covers of two of the three books I've chosen. The cashier looks confused when I request two bags, but I tell her two of the books are gifts for friends I'll be taking to the airport shortly. The third book is for me, however, and I just tuck that into my oversized purse.

Just as I leave, Edward and Masen emerge from the sporting goods shop next door. Masen has a bag and he looks happy about it.

"What'd you get?" I ask.

"Dad bought me new hiking boots. My old ones are in pretty bad shape and these were on sale."

"Very cool." He grins.

"What did you buy?" Edward asks.

"A couple books. I'll show you at lunch."

Retracing our steps, we head up Lincoln Street to First Street, past the old movie theater where Edward and I used to go. Jake and I too, now that I think about it.

We stop into Northwest Gifts and Collectibles. Masen bought Grandpa Carlisle a U-Dub polo shirt, but he has yet to find something for Grandma Esme. When he asks my opinion on a pillar candle with flowers embedded in the wax, I tell him I think it's perfect. It has a lovely scent and the tag states it's handmade by a local artisan, using natural materials, including local wildflowers.

Up near the cashier's counter, Masen stops to look at a display of handmade dreamcatchers. He thinks they're a cool concept, and given the approaching turning point in his life, he picks one out for himself, using up the remainder of his spending money.

It's a after one-thirty as we continue along First Street, arriving in front of Bella Italia.

"Do you want to have lunch here?" I ask Edward.

"Was there ever any question where we'd eat?" he asks, smiling that crooked smile.

I smile and shrug. "No, I guess not. But I'm buying lunch or we're not eating here."

"Please let Bella buy, Dad," Masen begs, inhaling the delicious aroma emanating from the restaurant.

"All right. I can see I'm outnumbered," Edward chuckles, herding us to the door and following us inside.

A young man seats us at a booth, and when I slide in on one side, Masen slides in across from me. He doesn't scoot down though. Instead he places his bags and sweatshirt on the seat next to him and immediately begins looking over the menu on the table. Which leaves Edward to scoot in on my side, with a crooked smile and a roll of his eyes just for me. Once the waiter leaves with our drink orders, Edward looks across the table at his Wingboy.

"Got enough room, Mase?" he asks, and I almost laugh out loud at Masen's guilty expression of innocence when he looks up at his father.

"Yeah. I'm good." He must realize his dad is onto him, because his lips twitch and I think he's biting back a grin as he quickly looks back down.

"So, what's good here?" he asks, studiously perusing the menu.

"Everything," Edward and I reply together. Mirth-filled blue eyes shoot up at us, and Masen just shakes his head.

*I*

After our sodas arrive, we place our order for a large house salad with a creamy parmesan dressing, a Sicilian pizza, and an order of the mushroom ravioli. I can't come to Bella Italia and not get the ravioli. Our plan is to split everything, though, and I'm happy to learn Masen likes the smorgasbord arrangement as much as Edward and I do.

Once the waiter leaves, I reach for the bags next to me.

"I got you both a souvenir of your trip to Forks...and I guess Port Angeles, too," I tell them as I hand them the appropriate bags and they look at me in surprise.

Edward frowns. "Bella, you didn't have to…"

"But I wanted to," I tell him firmly, before he can finish. I turn my eyes to Masen as he removes his book from his bag.

"Oh, wow…" he exclaims, "Hiking Washington: Day Hikes and Easy Overnights." He shows his dad the cover and Edward smiles at him and then me.

"This is awesome, Bella," Masen says, flipping through it, but pausing when he sees I wrote an inscription. He smiles as he reads it to himself, and then reads it aloud for Edward. "Happy trails to you, Masen. Good luck in school and wherever life leads you. (Just not to Canada for a while.) –Bella." He looks up and grins. "Thanks, Bella. This will go really well with my new boots."

I laugh at his comment. "You're very welcome."

It's now Edward's turn and I start chewing at my lip as he reaches into his bag. I'm a little unsure of my gift to him, but his mouth curves into a smile when he sees the cover and realization hits.

"A journal," he murmurs as his fingertips smooth over the dark brown embossed leather cover.

I nod. "Yeah. I, um… I didn't know if you still…"

"I will definitely use this," he says, nodding and smiling at me before looking back down at the book in his hands. "Bella, this is beautiful."

I smile, feeling more certain of my gift, given his reaction to it. "I'm glad you like it."

He holds the journal up for his son to see the cover. "Look familiar?" he asks.

Masen's eyes widen and he smiles. "That looks kind of like the beach we went to yesterday."

"That's what I thought," I tell them, looking at the embossed image of an ocean at sunset, with a few pines on a craggy cliff. It's not Second Beach, but it's definitely reminiscent of the Olympic Peninsula.

"Did she write something inside?" Masen asks and I can feel myself blush. Because I did.

Edward eyes me and then looks inside the cover, silently reading what I wrote.

"Yes, she did," he finally says, looking up at his son with a smirk. But he closes the journal and places it back into its bag without another word. I snort a soft laugh at him, torturing his son like that. I wonder how long it will be before Masen sneaks a peek. What I wrote to Edward wasn't overly personal, but certainly more so than what I wrote to Masen.

The waiter returns with our salad then, and Edward hands me his bag to put on the other side of me, by my purse. When I turn back, his hand reaches for mine beneath the table.

"Thank you," he murmurs softly as his fingers curl around mine. "Me too," he adds, and I know he's referring to the lines I wrote inside. I smile, feeling his thumb stroking over my knuckles and I turn my hand to clasp his.

When the waiter leaves, we divvy up the salad and dig in, though I find I'm not terribly hungry. I know I'll have to drop them off at the airport in an hour and for that reason, my appetite seems to be waning.

As we finish our salad, the rest of our lunch arrives. I apologize to Masen that the Sicilian pizza isn't a Chicago-style pizza, but he grins and says it won't be a problem—he's never met a pizza he didn't like. He says the mushroom ravioli looks like it has real potential, too, and I assure him it never disappoints.

While we eat, I ask Masen if he had a good time last evening, and it turns out to be a good distraction. He's chatty, maybe sensing that Edward and I are not. He entertains us with the rundown from dinner at the diner, to untoasted and unsatisfying S'mores in their motel room. I know Edward has probably heard most of this, because he seems to be paying more attention to me and my reactions than to his son's words.

When we've finally finished eating, I pay our bill and they both thank me for lunch.

And that means it's time.

Our walk back to the truck is a quiet one. Masen is oblivious, or maybe he's not, walking ahead of us to give us a little space. Edward's free hand brushes against mine twice, before he loosely links a couple of our fingers together. When I look up, he smiles, though he exhales a sigh that says enough for both of us.

It's a short, quiet drive to the airport, and Edward's hand never leaves my shoulder. Masen busies himself in the backseat, packing his new boots, gifts, and souvenirs into his duffle bag and backpack.

When I pull up to the passenger drop off, I park and we all get out. Masen and Edward grab their bags from the backseat and it's time to say our goodbyes.

"Masen, it was a real pleasure meeting you." I smile at Edward's young quasi-doppelganger.

"You, too, Bella. I had a good time. Thanks again for the book. And for lunch." I'm a little surprised when he ducks in for a brief, awkward hug, but I'm glad to return one.

"Take care of yourself. And your dad," I tell him when we move apart. I glance at Edward, smiling softly at the both of us.

Masen grins. "I will. You take care, too. And say goodbye to Fitz for me."

I smile. "I'll do that."

He looks at Edward then. "I'll just, uh…" He pauses and then nods toward the terminal entrance. "I'll go on in…and…check on our departure gate. I'll wait for you inside, okay? I've got my phone on in case you get lost," he adds with a little grin as he slings his backpack over a shoulder.

Edward chuckles at his Wingboy. "Okay, I'll be right there. Don't board any planes without me." Masen laughs as he picks up his bag.

"Bye, Bella," he says. I give him a little wave as he heads to the terminal.

"So, I guess this is it," I say, looking up at Edward, my hands fidgeting together.

"Just for now," he says, reaching for my hands. I nod in agreement as he pulls me into an embrace, like he did last night, wrapping his arms around me as my arms encircle him. And just like last night, this hug is a silent, simple communication. We refuse to let go of our past and we're grasping at this all-too-fleeting present, hoping to hang onto it somehow.

He pulls back after a moment to look down at me. "Bella, what you wrote in my journal… I'm so glad I took a chance on seeing you, too. And I'm thankful you let me see you." He pauses, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and then smiles as he skims his knuckles along my jaw. "I never could have imagined the past couple days, but I agree—there weren't enough of them. I'll be thinking of you, and I'm hopeful for more, too."

I smile as I slide my hands up his back a little, memorizing the feel of him. "I'll miss you, Edward," I tell him softly, breathing in the scent of him while I still have the chance.

"I'll miss you, Bella," he murmurs, tucking me in close, tightening his hold on me—if only for the moment.

"Let me know you guys got back to Chicago okay, okay?" I ask.

He looks down with a smile. "It'll be late," he warns.

I just shrug. "I'd rather know."

"Okay," he says, the light in his eyes soft as his lips curve into that crooked little smile. He reaches up then, cupping my face in his hand. His eyes search mine for a moment, and then he tips his head down and kisses me. I reach up to touch his cheek. It's been so long since I've touched this beautiful face.

"I'll call you, Bella," he says, his voice husky as he presses his forehead to mine. I nod.

"Often—I mean. Not just tonight," he clarifies.

"Okay," I smile. "We'll keep in touch."

"Take care of yourself, Bella."

"You, too, Edward. I'll see you in June."

He kisses my forehead and we let each other go. He waits there as I round the truck and climb in. He waves as I drive away, and I watch him there, watching me leave, and I wonder where we'll be in two months' time.

*I*

Stopped at a light just before I get onto the 101 South to Forks, I reach into my purse on the seat next to me and pull out my own personal purchase from Odyssey Books. The embossed leather cover is identical to Edward's, though my journal is a deep green—like the spiral notebook I wrote in years ago, back when we first met. So much has happened in the last few days and I don't want to forget any of it, but I'm hopeful the days to come will be worth writing about as well.

A/N: I hope you found something to love. Shoot me a review and I'll send you Bella's inscription in Edward's journal. (Just don't tell Masen!)