Hello there. Thanks to Bella Dean for doing her beta thing on this chapter, and thank you for reading.
The Spa
Chapter Twenty-Five
Romance Is In the Air
What to wear, what to wear? It's a daily dilemma for me. If it were up to me, I'd wear sweats or yoga pants every day, but I don't think my boss would think too kindly of that. I stand in front of my closet staring at it like it leads to Narnia. So many clothes, but nothing I want to wear, and what I want to wear, I can't fit. I have been slacking off a little on my workouts, and that's because of the two options available to me, one is so much more appealing. I could either go to the spa to be tortured by Rose, or rush home and free my night to be sweetly tortured by Edward. No contest—the spa has taken a backseat to Edward, and I'm starting to see the evidence of that on my backseat.
I'll have to throw something on quick, otherwise I'm going to be late. I still have to drop off the chicken soup to Leah before going into the office. The only reason I'm going in today is because I have two difficult clients who refused to reschedule. So I have to listen to their whining and complaining for two hours. Then I have to head home to pack the lunch I made and meet Edward at the hospital at one. That little fact adds to my wardrobe indecision. I want to look professional, but I also want to look sophisticated, and sexy, and I want it to look like I'm not trying too hard.
I'm not one of those women who looks sexy in anything she wears. I have to really work at it and even then, it's questionable. I'm running out of time, so I settle for professional with a side of sophistication. I grab a skirt and blouse from the closet, and my best pair of flats, and I put my hair up in a loose bun. This will have to do—it's only lunch, after all.
I stop at Leah's to drop off the soup. She told me to let myself in, but when I get there I realize I forgot my key. I hate to wake her, but I don't have the time to go back home to get it. I ring the doorbell for what seems like five minutes until finally I hear a man's voice say, "Just a minute!" Maybe she changed her mind and let Sam come by after all. I can see this being a little awkward. I quickly think of what to say… "Hey, Sam, is Leah here?" No—that's dumb, of course she's here. Maybe, "Hi Sam, I brought soup for Leah, but there's enough for you." As I go over more scenarios in my head, the door opens, and it's Leah with wild hair all over her head, wearing an old pink bathrobe with a big bulge in the pocket—probably a wad of used tissue, her eyes barely open, and her nose red from blowing. I suddenly remember how she sounded last night, but I think she's worse today.
"Come on in," she says, moving aside to let me in.
"Oh, my, aren't we a lovely sight this morning," I say as I walk past her. "Is that the bathrobe you used to wear when we were kids?"
"Yeah, I know it's a ratty mess, but I'm a big baby when I'm sick. I wear it because it reminds of how my mom used to take care of me."
Sue was always the caring mother who took care of both of us when we were sick. In fact, she took care of me when my own mother wouldn't. I can imagine how much Leah misses her right now, with her being so far away.
"Now I see why you didn't want Sam to stay over," I say, changing the subject. "You would have scared the crap out of the poor man."
"Oh, shut up. For that, I should blow my germy breath in your face."
"Please don't—I'm on a mission, and I can't afford to get sick. I'll put this soup in the fridge, and I'll be on my way," I say as I head to the kitchen. I open the refrigerator, and I'm shocked by what I see—a Chinese food container—the contents of which are unrecognizable, two beers, eggs, and a carton of milk that I'm afraid to check the date on.
"Do you even eat here?" I ask, looking back at her.
"Only when forced. I'm a busy woman, Bella. I hardly have time to sleep, let alone cook."
"Leah, if you want to get well you need nourishment—juices, fruits and vegetables. Do you have water?"
"Yes, I have bottled water in the cabinet. Why…you want one?"
"No, thanks," I say chuckling. "I was making sure you had some to drink. I don't want you to get dehydrated."
"De who?" she says squinting and scratching her head.
"Dehydrated…you know, when your body doesn't have enough fluid?"
"I know, Bella, I was just playing with you," she says, her voice fading in and out. I wince when she talks because it sounds like it hurts. "Did you have your talk with Alex?"
"Yes, we had a very enlightening conversation. Our little boy is not a little boy anymore," I say as I think back on our little talk.
0==0
While sitting at the dining room table waiting for Alex to get home, I play it out in my mind what I want to say to him, but as the time gets nearer I start to panic. I think to myself, I'm his mother, why am I nervous about having a conversation with my own son? We've always been able to talk freely about anything. Shortly after my inner dialogue, I hear him come through the door.
"Hi, Honey," I say, startling him a little.
"Hey, Mom, what are you doing down here so late?"
"Waiting for you to get home. I thought maybe we could have a little chat, I say, motioning for him to have a seat.
"Okay," he says hesitantly. He drops his workout bag on the floor and sits down in the chair next to me. "What's up?"
"Well, I was wondering what you think about my working out at the spa?"
He shrugs his shoulders and says, "Like I told you before, I'm all for it. You've definitely been in a better mood since you've been working out, and it's good to see you smiling and laughing again."
"Yeah, I guess I have been in a better mood lately." I'm a little taken aback by his observation, and I feel a surge of guilt go through me. I must have really been down in the dumps.
"Why do you ask?" he says, concern evident in his eyes.
"I'm just curious if you still feel the same way about it. You know you were my number one supporter and motivator when I first started," I say, smiling as I lean to nudge him with my elbow.
"I still am, Mom."
"Thank you for that."
"You're welcome. Is that it?" he says, obviously anxious for this conversation to be over.
"Actually, no," I say, looking down at the table cloth, tracing the lace pattern with my finger. Looking up at him again, I finish my thought. "I was also wondering what you think of Edward?"
"He's alright," he says nonchalantly.
"Alright?" I repeat, chuckling at the simplicity of his answer.
"I don't really know him, but he seems like a nice guy," he says dismissively, as if this conversation is keeping him from something more important.
"He is a nice guy, and you not knowing him is what I want to talk to you about. Honey, Edward and I are seeing more of each other. I know he's the first man that you've seen me with since your dad, and I want to know how you feel about that."
"What do you mean how I feel about it?" he says, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.
The tilt of his head and bemused expression reminds me so much of Jake that it startles me. Throwing that image out of my mind, I continue. "Well, are you okay with it? Does it bother you? Does it put you in an awkward position with your Dad?"
He lets out a barely audible sigh before answering. "Sometimes—like when he asks where you are. It's weird telling him that you're out on a date, and it's even weirder when he asks questions about 'your new boyfriend'."
"I'm sorry that he puts you in that position, Son. You shouldn't have to answer those types of questions." I say, trying to hide the anger I feel building up at Jake.
"It's okay. It really does bother him that you're not sitting at home doing nothing the way you used to, but I can't help that. If he asks a question that I know the answer to, I tell him the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts. He's the one who started dating in the first place, so he really doesn't have a right to be upset if you do the same."
"Do you really mean that?" I ask a little surprised.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" There he goes again with the head tilt and bemused expression—it's a little unnerving. Why is it that I never noticed that before? I wonder if it's something he recently picked up being around Jake.
"It's just that when Edward has made attempts to get to know you better, you always seem to find a reason not to. I was beginning to think it's because you're hoping your dad and I will get back together."
"No, it's not that. Well, at first I did want you to get back together, but mainly because I thought it would make you happy again. It was hard for me and Tiff in the beginning, but we got used to packing up and going to Dad's every other weekend. What was really hard for us was leaving you here alone.
"But then you started working out, and feeling better about yourself, and going out with your friends, and doing things on your own, and you seem happy again," he says with a smile growing on his face. "Now I'm concerned about Dad—it's like whatever made him leave has lost its excitement, and now he seems…lonely, and that makes me sad.
"I don't have a problem with you dating, Mom, as long as you are happy. I just don't like lying to you or Dad, so when he asks questions about Edward, I just tell him, 'I don't know,' which is the truth because I don't. It may be the easy way out, but it works for me." His smile is now replaced with a solemn expression.
I reach over and place my hand on his. "I understand how you feel, Alex, and I'm blessed to have a son who is so caring and compassionate. I know you love us, and you don't want to see either of us hurt, but your dad and I are not getting back together. I've finally accepted that, and it's time for me to move on with my life. And at this point, that includes getting to know Edward. If your dad wants to know about Edward and me, tell him that I'd like him to come and ask me.
"Honey, you and your sister are the most important people in my life, and I won't do anything to jeopardize what we have, but it's important to me that you get to know him, too. I'm not talking commitment or trying to push Dad out of the picture because you know that'll never happen. I just want us all to feel comfortable together.
"You've met Emily, who obviously has a little crush on you," I say, making him blush a bit. "But Edward also has a son your age, and the two of you have a lot in common. You're both seniors, you're going off to college next year, and you both play football. Edward and I think it will be a good idea for us all to do something together—maybe go out to dinner or do something fun. What do you think?"
"That'll be cool, I guess," he says. I had hoped he'd be a little more excited, but I'll take that—for now.
"Great! What about next weekend?"
0==0
"Judging by that smile on your face, I assume it went very well," she says bringing my attention back to her empty refrigerator.
"Yes, it did. He's being very mature about it, and although it's awkward with Jake asking questions and being nosy, he's handling it very well. He's willing to get together with Edward and his kids, and we're going to try to set something up for next weekend. He was so sweet, Leah—he says he just wants me to be happy. When I think about how much the two of them have grown up it makes me cry," I say as I start to tear up.
She just rolls her eyes at me. "Oh, get over it," she says putting on her usual pretense in sentimental moments.
"Anyway," I say wiping a tear from my eye. "Do you want me to go to the market for you? I can pick you up a few items like juice, bread, throat lozenges, maybe a heart for you and a mask for me."
"Very funny, but Vicki and Ross are bringing me food and more drugs before they head over to open the shop."
"Are you sure you don't need anything before I go? The offer expires in five, four, three, two…"
"What is this…Mission Impossible? Is the soup going to self destruct when you get to one? No, I'm okay, but thanks, anyway. I'm going back to bed after I let you out. I'd still be sleeping if it had not been for some squatter making a home on my doorbell."
"I'm sorry about that—I forgot my key."
"It's okay. Since I'm up I might as well shower before I go back to bed. I don't want to scare anyone else who comes over," she says sarcastically.
"You do that—it'll probably make you feel better, too. Call me if you need anything. I can stop back by on my way home to pick up lunch. I'm meeting Edward at the hospital."
"Oh, yeah, you did say you guys were having lunch. So you're cooking for him?"
"I did last night—garlic shrimp with linguine. I just have to warm it up, pack up everything, and meet him at one."
"Will you have time to do all of that and get changed, too?"
"I hadn't planned on changing," I say, smoothing my skirt with my hands—like that's going to help. "What's wrong with this outfit?"
"Oh, nothing—have a good time," she says, turning to walk away, but not before giving me her if you say so look.
"Leah, I saw that look. What's wrong with what I have on?"
"Nothing's wrong with it, Bella. I just thought maybe you'd want to look a little…sexier."
"I tried to find something sexy and professional, but I don't have a multi-dimensional closet. It's either one or the other."
"Bella, it wouldn't take much—you're sexier than you think. The first thing you need to do is get rid of those flat shoes with the little bow that look like you borrowed from Grandma Swan, and put on some heels.
"Grandma Swan?" I say, refutably. "I'll have you know these are Ferra…"
"I don't care who they are," she interrupts. "They are boring, and they are not invited to lunch with you and Eddie-Boy."
She looks at me shaking her head. "Come with me," she says as she grabs my wrist and leads me into her bedroom. She goes into her closet, which is definitely better stocked and better organized than mine. Many of the pieces still have price tags on them. She pulls down a brown box from the shelf, hands it to me and says, "Here, try these on."
I open the box and remove the covers to find a beautiful pair of red pumps.
"Where did you get these?"
"They were a gift."
"An expensive gift," I say as I turn them over to see the red leather soles.
"Yes, an expensive gift from a very generous friend," she says, grinning as if she's recalling something.
I'll probably regret it, but I ask, anyway, "Why are you grinning like that?"
"I was just thinking about the events that led to him buying me the shoes. We were doing a little role playing one night, and I told him I needed red come fuck me pumps. The next day, he surprised me with these. Now, try them on."
"Leah, I can't wear these—you haven't even worn them," I say handing the box back to her.
"Believe me, they've been worn many times, just not outside of this room. Bella, stop making me strain my voice, and try on the damn shoes."
I slip them on and they fit perfectly—and they're so pretty, too. "Leah, they're gorgeous! Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. See, they're much better that your little bow flats, and they make your legs look great."
"Thanks. Yes...they're much better," I agree as I admire them in her full length mirror.
She looks at me as if she's examining me, and she goes to her dresser and opens her jewelry box, pulls out a pair of earrings, and hands them to me. "Here, put these on," she says placing the silver hoops in my hand. I remove my pearls and put on her earrings. She reaches and unbuttons the top two buttons of my blouse, takes a step back and looks at me. "That's much better. Now, I think you're ready—well, almost. We'll have to do something with that hair."
"Now, wait a minute. What's wrong with my hair?"
"Leave the bun for the hamburger," she says removing the pins from my hair. "Now bend over and shake your head."
I look at her and laugh, thinking she's joking, but she doesn't crack a smile. "Oh," I say as I do as I'm told.
As I bend over, shaking my head, she says, "Now, straighten up and throw your head back." Once again, I do as I'm told. I throw my head back and my hair flies back looking wild and tousled. I look like I just walked out of the eighties. She notices the look of horror on my face, so she runs her fingers through it to tame my mane. When she's done, I look at myself in the mirror, and I smile.
"You likey?" she says, grinning.
"I likey," I reply. It's a nice combination—my black skirt, black and white blouse that shows a little more cleavage than I'm used to, and the red shoes—I really do likey.
"Now, all you have to do when you get home is put on some makeup, and don't forget the lipstick—red."
"I have on makeup, Leah," I say looking for traces of it in the mirror. "Well, I did have on makeup."
"Well, you could have fooled me. Look, you said you want to create memories that'll make his mind wander to you. Well, take my advice. With the way you look and the way you cook, you'll have him eating out of your hands. Hmm, that's not a bad idea…tell him you forgot the eating utensils, and feed him with your hands. That would be kind of sexy."
"Yeah, right, Leah. I'll feed him pasta with my hands, making a huge mess."
"Bella, use your imagination—you can do some erotic shit with a noodle. And forget about the mess—the cleanup is part of the fun," she says. "You almost jumped his bones when he licked you off his fingers. Just think of how it'll feel when he's got your fingers in his mouth licking them clean. You won't be able to keep your legs closed. And while he's in the mood to lick and suck, let him have a taste of your dessert."
"Oh shit, I forgot about dessert," I say as I start to panic. "Maybe I can pick something up on the way."
"My poor sister," she says, shaking her head at me in frustration. "I'm not talking about the kind of dessert you make or buy, Bella, I'm talking about your dessert…your cookie, your cherry pie. I'm talking about giving him some of your hot, steamy, melty, gooey goodness."
"Okay, okay I get it," I say before she breaks it down even further. The thought of him doing that does get me a little warm and excited, but I shake it off because now, I'm officially late. "I've got to run, Leah. Are you sure you don't need me to get you anything?" I say, grabbing my grandma flats.
"I'm sure. Have fun, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Oh, so that means that anything is fair game?"
"You got it, and give some thought to the dessert idea. Go in there commando. That'll make it easier for him to get a taste," she says, getting a kick of making me squirm.
"You know what? You're even nastier when you're sick. Go back to bed you little perv, and I'll check on you later," I say as I rush out the door.
0==0
I get home in record time. It's amazing how easy the drive is without traffic. I warm the food and pack everything I need before running upstairs to freshen up my makeup. For a quick second, Leah's suggestion enters my mind, and I consider taking off my panties, but the thought leaves as quickly as it came. I get to the hospital with a few minutes to spare. I call Edward when I park the car, and he picks up right away.
"Hi, I'm here," I say.
"Oh, okay. I was thinking we could go to this new deli that just opened across the street. I hear it's really good."
"Well, I brought lunch," I tell him.
"Really? Bella, you didn't have to go through all that trouble."
"It wasn't any trouble."
"Okay…well, that's great. We can eat in my office, if that's okay with you. Or would you prefer to go to the cafeteria?"
"No, your office is fine," I say quickly. I'd prefer to have some privacy.
"Okay, when you walk into the lobby, take the elevator on your right to the 6th floor. I'll meet you in the receptionist area."
"Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes," I say, hoping I remember his instructions.
I gather lunch, and I start my way to meet him. Suddenly, I feel nervous. I should have just kept my hair and clothes the way they were. Now, I'm a little self conscious. What if he doesn't like how I look? I jump when I hear the bell ring indicating that I've made it to the sixth floor. I look down making sure I have everything securely, and when I look up to exit the elevator, Edward is waiting for me.
"Hey, gorgeous," he says as he kisses me on the check—a slow, lingering kiss. I just look up at him and smile. "Here, let me take some of that," he says taking the heavy bag off my shoulder.
We walk to his office, passing several people whose attention we apparently have, but I guess I'm the only one who notices. Edward appears to be unfazed. We get to his office, and there is a nurse, an older lady, who looks to be making notes to charts at the station outside his door. "Carmen, this is Bella. Bella, this is the best nurse in LA, Carmen."
"Hello, Bella. It very nice to meet you," she says with a big smile.
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, too, Carmen." I can see why he likes her. She seems to be the protective, motherly type, who would bring him homemade cookies. She kind of reminds me of Mrs. Doubtfire—who actually wasn't really a woman, but Robin Williams dressed like one.
"We're having lunch in my office if you need me," he says.
"Okay, you two enjoy. I'll make sure you're not disturbed… unless, of course it's an emergency," she says.
"Thanks, Carmen," he sings out. They exchange a smile that seems to have some secret meaning between the two of them. I wonder what that's all about, but I don't get a bad feeling about it. I just count it as cute.
"Bella, I'm sure I'll be seeing you again," she says, still smiling.
"I hope so, Carmen," I say, returning the smile.
I follow Edward into his office and place the items down on the sofa table. His office is really nice—and big. I can definitely see Esme's influence here—the artwork, the area rug, the sofa, and the trinkets on his desk. As Rose would say, the woman's got skills. I certainly wouldn't mind her giving me decorating ideas.
"Your office is beautiful, Edward," I say looking around.
"Thank you, but my mother deserves the credit," he says confirming what I was thinking. He walks to me and wraps his arms around my waist. "I'm so happy you're here."
"Me, too," I say as I wrap mine around his neck. He plants a kiss on my lips that ends much too soon for my liking. When he releases me, the absence of his warmth leaves me feeling a little chilly.
"So, what did you bring? I'm starving," he says rubbing his hands together. "Don't tell me…did you bring lasagna?"
"No, I'm sorry, I didn't bring lasagna today."
"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it's delicious."
"I made garlic shrimp linguine. It's another family favorite."
"Ooh, that sounds good." We sit down on the sofa, and I unpack the items—plates, stemware, and utensils. When I pull out the forks and spoons, I think of what Leah said, and I briefly contemplate putting them back in the basket and pretending like I forgot them. I plate the food, pull out the baguette and pour sparkling water into the glasses. It's just as I pictured it—a nice little romantic lunch.
"Bella, this is wonderful, and it smells delicious." He takes a bite and closes his eyes, while doing a cute puckering thing with his lips and says, "Oh, my goodness, this is good. This is my other favorite dish."
"Thanks," I say chuckling. "I'm glad you like it."
We sit and chat as we eat—or at least I do. I guess he is starving—he eats like he hasn't had a meal in a month. As I watch him enjoy the food, my mind wanders to feeding him with my hands.
I imagine him sitting on the stuffed arm of the sofa with his legs open wide and his head back. I stand between them with his plate of food in my hand. I pick up a noodle, and I dangle it over his head, slowly lowering it into his mouth. I love watching the way his lips and tongue move as he takes it into his mouth, sucking the last length of it through his lips. I never knew watching a man eat noodles could be so erotic. I'll have to thank Leah. I take another one, and I do the same, but this time, when his tongue moves to take in the last of it, I lower my head to meet it with mine for a nice, soft, wet, gentle collision.
"Mmm…more," he whispers.
I assume he means more food, so I pick up a shrimp, making sure to get some of the sauce on my fingers, and I feed it to him. He moans when he tastes it, and I watch him chew slowly and swallow. I start to reach for more when he takes hold of my hand, brings it to his mouth, and begins to lick the sauce from my fingers while looking sensually into my eyes. He wraps his lips around each finger, sending what feels like surges of electricity through my body. I swear, it's as if I can actually hear the crackling sound.
"Bella, Is there anymore?"
"Huh," I say, a little disappointed to find it isn't real—although you couldn't convince my body of that.
"I asked if there's more?" he says.
"Oh…yes, there's more," I say, coming to. I empty the contents of the bowl onto his plate and tear off another piece of bread. I guess feeding him will have to wait for a time when he's not so famished. He'd probably snap at me if I took that fork out of his hand right now. He finally slows down and takes a sip of water. I finish off a whole glass, too, trying to cool down.
"So, how was your day?" he asks.
"Busy, but I like it that way—it makes the day go by faster. I went in for a few hours, dealt with a couple of clients, and then I went home to get everything ready for lunch."
"Thank you so much for doing all of this. You didn't have to…but I'm glad you did," he rushes out making me laugh.
"I wanted to do something nice," I say.
"Well, you succeeded. It was the best lunch I've had in a long time. In fact, I can't remember a better one. I'll have to reciprocate," he says. There's that word again.
"That sounds nice. Well, it's getting late, and I know you have to get back to work. I'll pack this all up so I can leave you to it," I say as I get up.
"I'll help you, but I'm not ready for you to go yet," he says.
"I can stay a little while longer," I say, flattered that he wants me to stay.
"Good," he says giving me a big smile that gives me goose bumps. He really is a gorgeous man. I'm sure all the female nurses and doctors around here have tried to get their claws into him. I'm just glad he had thick skin until he met me.
"Did I mention how beautiful you look, Bella?" he says, looking at me. His eyes look different…darker, maybe.
"Yes, you did mention that—thank you. And you look debonair in your white doctor's coat."
"Oh, I forgot I was still wearing it. I usually take it off when I eat." He stands up and takes off his coat, and he's wearing slacks, a crisp powder blue shirt and tie. I notice his tight ass, and I want to reach out and grab it. But I'm not that brave…yet. I stand up to put everything back in the basket, and I can feel his eyes on me.
"Nice shoes, Bella. Red looks good on you," he says.
I look over at him, and he really is sitting on the arm of the sofa this time with a glare in his eyes. I want to say, "They're my come fuck me pumps, so come over here and get to it, you big beast of a man" but I just say, "Thank you." I think he read my mind, though, because in the short time it takes me to turn around and close the basket, he's standing behind me—I can always sense his presence when he's near. I turn to face him again, and he's right there—he does that a lot. He slides his arms around my waist again, and I place my hands on his chest, sliding them up his until they meet behind his neck.
"I've been thinking about you all day," he says, planting wet kisses on my neck. "No matter what I'm doing my mind always wanders back to you."
I smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment—that's exactly what I was hoping for. "Me, too," I say, tilting my head, granting him better access to my neck and thanking Leah again for unbuttoning my blouse—the girl really knows what she's talking about. He kisses that very sensitive spot on my neck causing me to squeal. He lets out a husky laugh that sends vibrations throughout my entire body, especially between my legs, and I can't stand it. I run my fingers through his hair, grabbing hold of it and bringing his head closer to me. I open my mouth and take in his lips, caressing them with mine. The come fuck me pumps make me taller and his mouth more accessible, and I take full advantage of it. It evolves into a wild, noisy, sloppy, tongue battling, teeth clanking kiss—the kind that usually leads to much more. But we're in his office, and Carmen is right outside. Not to mention the other staff, who I'm sure are wondering what's going on in here. Even with that, I don't want to stop, and I know he doesn't, either. Finally coming to my senses, I decide that one of us has to be strong, so I guess it will have to be me.
"Edward," I murmur, drawing in a long breath through my teeth and moaning softly as I let it out. "I'll never get tired of kissing you, but we should probably stop."
"No, not yet. Just a little longer," he whines, sounding like a kid begging to sleep a little longer.
"But we'll have all the doctors and nurses wondering what we're doing in here," I say.
"I don't care—let them wonder," he says, surprising me.
"You say that now because of how good this feels. Believe me, I feel it, too, but you don't need the whispers and rumors going around the hospital about you having some woman in your office doing who knows what with. And you know it'll get blown out of proportion when it's all said and done."
"You're right," he says loosening his hold a little. "People do have a way of embellishing a story. Tell me, Bella, what do you think they'd say?
"I don't know…probably that we were doing something sexual in nature."
"Something sexual in nature?" he says, amused, "Like what?"
"What do you mean like what? Uhh…like maybe we're having sex?" I say, dumbfounded. "Is this some type of exercise or test?"
"No…well, maybe, but for the both of us. Bella, we have these wonderful late night conversations on the phone, and I feel comfortable saying anything to you."
"So do I," I say.
"And that's great. But when we're face to face, there seems to be some reluctance to say the things we really want to say…the things we'd say if we were on the phone," he says.
"Yeah, I know," I say, suddenly feeling shy. "But it's difficult saying them to your face."
"I want us to feel just as comfortable saying these things when we're face to face as we are saying them on the telephone. This is new territory for both of us, and I'm not saying that every conversation has to be sexual, but when we're together like this, I want us to be able to talk about what we're thinking and feeling.
"I'll tell you what…let's make a game of it. We'll call it…Express It. When we're thinking about something we don't have the courage to come right out and say, we have to be brave and just express it. So, if you think I'm holding back, you should say, 'express it', and I'll have to oblige you. And the same goes for you. How does that sound?"
"That sounds good, Edward. I'll give it a try."
"Good. Now, getting back to my question, what do you really think people would say is going on in here? Express it."
"Well, they'd probably say that you had me for lunch, and now you're having me for dessert."
"Okay…that's pretty clever," he says with a little chuckle. "Not exactly what I expected, but I'll accept it."
"Good, because Rome wasn't built in a day, Edward, and neither will be my comfort level with saying these things to your face. It'll take some time."
"I understand… we'll get there," he says, reassuring me.
"I will express this though… when you took off your coat and walked across the room to hang it up, my eyes were stuck on that nice ass of yours. I wanted to reach out and give it a squeeze," I say, pulling out my brave.
"Oh, yeah?" he says with a naughty grin. "So, you're an ass woman, huh? That would have been a very nice and welcomed surprise."
"Oh, you'd like that?" I say.
"Yes…very much. You can still do it, you know?"
I let my hands slide down his back and take hold of his firm ass and give it a tight squeeze. In doing so, I pull him against me, and I can feel how hard he is.
"Maybe this wasn't the best time to play our new game," he says evidently feeling the effects of being pressed against me. "It doesn't do us any good to express it, when we can't undress it." We laugh as he dips down, grabbing my ass, and lifting me up for another intense kiss. I guess he's an ass man, too.
"Words aren't necessary to express that," I whisper, barely opening my eyes. "Now I know it's time to go before we prove all the rumors to be true."
"Okay," he drags out before releasing me—he's such a big kid sometimes. He reminds me of Emmett when he shows his playful side like this.
I gather all my belongings and get ready to leave. Carmen buzzes reminding him that he has a meeting at four, so I tell him not to bother walking me to the car. As we walk to the elevator, I look at him and see the familiar expression he had earlier.
"Edward, you had that same look in your eyes earlier when you were sitting on the arm of your sofa. It was right before you commented on my shoes. Express it," I say as I push the elevator button.
He comes closer, bending over slightly to whisper in my ear, "I was thinking about those sexy red pumps moving over my head as I'm thrusting deep inside you," he says sending spasms through a particular part of my body. It's a good thing I don't have to express that.
I stumble toward the elevator and words escape me. "O…Okay…good talk," I stutter as I step into the crowded elevator.
I turn to look at him, not sure of my expression right now. He smiles, knowing what he's done to me. "Yes, and we'll have to have another one very soon," he says as the elevator doors close. I drive home on auto pilot, thinking about our day and looking forward to another good talk when he calls me later tonight.
Rose's POV
In the middle of a good dream, I'm awakened by a song that has recently gotten on my last nerve. "How the hell did it become my ring tone?" I say as I grab my phone, looking at it as if it's going to answer me. Then it dawns on me…that damn Yani and her practical jokes. I was at her house yesterday watching Frozen with my niece, who knows every song and performs them—gestures and all. I stepped out of the room and told Yani, "If I hear Let It Go one more time, I'll scream." Later that evening, my niece was playing a game on my phone. That must have been when Yani did it. I can just hear her whispering to my niece, "Auntie Rose loves Let it Go. Let's surprise her and make it her ring tone!" And then she calls me at four in the morning, waking me up to it. Now, that's taking a joke too far. "I'll show her how to let it go, alright," I say as I scream into the receiver.
"What the hell?" a deep voice yells out.
"Leah?" I say, surprised.
"No, it's Emmett. What's wrong?" he says, frantically. I can hear the concern in his voice, and I feel bad and good at the same time.
"Nothing's wrong."
"Then why in the hell are you screaming like that? You almost gave me a coronary!"
"I'm sorry, Emmett. I thought you were Yani playing a prank on me. There's this song, Let It Go, that I hear on the radio all the time. I told her if I heard it one more time, I'd scream. When you called, I woke up to it. Apparently, she made it my ringtone.
"Oh…and she'd call you at four in the morning to prank you?" he says sounding amused.
"Yes, believe me, she's done much worse. She's the queen of pranks. You two would get along perfectly if you got to know each other. On second thought, maybe it's best you don't. The two of you together would be out of control. When I heard the song, I figured it was her calling, so I kept my word and screamed. I thought I was getting her back—sorry about that. We really are mature adults. We just have a big kid streak," I say grimacing.
"So, why did you call me Leah?"
I chuckle. "Leah's been sick with a cold, and her voice is probably deeper than yours right now."
"It sounds like you all are having too much fun out there," he says.
"You're one to talk—Dec tells me you're quite the prankster, too."
"I've been known to pull a prank or two or ten. I guess you can say I have a big kid streak, too. That ring tone stunt for instance. That's pretty good, but I would have called at a more… inopportune time.
"Like when?"
"I don't know…maybe when you were with a client."
"No, that would be so embarrassing, Emmett—for me and my client."
"Come on…it's a prank—it's supposed to be embarrassing and funny. And that one would work so well in your situation."
"What do your mean?"
"You can't tell me when you're listening to the same story over and over again, you don't want to say, 'Oh, just let it go!'"
"All the time, but I wouldn't do that."
"You wouldn't have to—just let your phone do it for you. They'd probably think of it as a sign or something."
"You are disturbed, Emmett Cullen. Anyway, I'm sorry I almost gave you a coronary and ruptured your ear drum. How is your ear, by the way?"
"Huh?"
"How's your ear?" I say a little louder.
"What did you say? I can't hear you with this ringing in my ear," he says, chuckling.
"Okay, Mr. Hilarious. What do you want, anyway? It better be good at four in the morning."
"Sorry for calling so early, but I wanted to talk to you about next week."
"What about next week?" I say sitting up in bed and reaching over to turn on the lamp.
"Well, my plans have changed—again."
"Oh, so you won't be able to come to Georgia?" I say, trying to hide my disappointment, but not doing a good job.
"No, it's not that. I planned on flying originally, but Craig wanted to come along, and he hates flying. I considered driving until the idea of driving eleven hours started to sink in, even though he says he can do it in eight. Now I'm leaning toward flying again."
"Emmett, if you haven't gotten your ticket yet, you might as well forget it. It's going to cost you an arm and a leg to get a flight at the last minute."
"Not when you've got connections, he says."
"Oh, excuse me. I wish I knew about your connections before I booked my flight."
"Well, in my own defense, you had already made your arrangements when you told me about your trip."
"I know…I'm just giving you a hard time. So you're bringing reinforcements?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're bringing Craig along to ease the blow."
"I'm not sure what you mean by that, but Craig wants to come because there's food involved. Especially since he knows you're a good cook."
"I know it might be a little intimidating meeting my family. If I didn't know them, they'd scare the hell out of me, too. Anyway, I figured you wanted to show them that you're down," I say, half seriously.
"By down, you mean that I have black friends?" he says.
"Something like that."
"Why would I need Craig to show them that I'm down when I have you? If I need protection, you'll take care of me, won't you?"
"Yeah, Emmett…I got you," I say, realizing the ambiguity of that statement.
"Good. Now that that's settled, it looks like I'll be flying, and I should…"
"Emmett," I interrupt him. "I was just kidding with you about reinforcements. Craig is welcome to come with you."
"No, he hates flying—even for food. It would have to be an emergency for him to board a plane. I arrive Tuesday afternoon, and I'll rent a car when I get there."
"You don't have to do that. I can pick you up."
"That's okay. I like to have my own transportation when I travel. Maybe I can take your out one night."
"I think that might be possible," I say, trying to sound nonchalant when I want to scream—again. "Have you made hotel arrangements? Because I'm telling you right now my mother is going to insist that you stay at her house. If you'd rather have your privacy, and I understand if you do because you won't have any there, be prepared for a fight."
"Actually, that was the next item on my list, but what makes you think she'll want me to stay there?"
"Because she mentioned it to me last night—by the way, you're Esme's boy," I say making him laugh.
"I haven't been called that in a very long time," he says, still laughing.
"My Mom's a crack up—you'll see. Eventually, she'll get around to calling you by your real name."
"I look forward to meeting her—she sounds adorable. If she'll have me, I'd love to stay there."
"Okay. I'll let her know, and Craig is also welcome if your plans change again. We'll be there most of the time, but my brother and sister-in-law wants us to stay at their house at least one night."
"Us?"
"Of course, unless you'd prefer I leave you at Miss Minnie's."
"Miss Minnie is your mom, I presume?"
"Your presumption is correct. She'll treat you like royalty, or you can come with me to my brother's to see how the other half lives."
"Hmm, being treated like royalty versus a commoner, that's a hard one," he says facetiously. "I'll go where ever you go, as long as I'm not imposing."
"It's no imposition, I've told them about you, and they're looking forward to meeting you, especially my brother. My family is very welcoming…nosy, but welcoming. Get ready for the fifth degree."
"You mean the third degree?" he corrects me.
"No, they surpass the third degree. Yani and I always say that our family gatherings prepared us well for our professions. That's what attorneys and psychologists do... get into other people's business."
"Your family sounds like a lot of fun. I can't wait to meet them. Now, getting to the other reason I called. What do you think about coming back to Chicago with me for a few days?"
"Chicago?"
"Yes, Chicago, you know… the place they call the windy city—the place where Emmett lives?" he says teasingly.
"Okay, I get it. You just shocked me," I say.
"I'm flying out on Friday, and I was wondering if you'd like to come for a visit. You'll get a chance to meet Craig and Shell, and I can take you to see some of the sights in Chicago."
"Emmett, I'm due back at work on Tuesday," I tell him.
"Well, you can stay the weekend, and we can just hang out… do a little sightseeing," he says excitedly.
"That would be great, but I already have my ticket, and I don't think I can change it."
"Let me worry about that—I told you I have connections. We can change the return ticket from LA to Chicago, and I'll take care of your ticket home."
"Where would I stay?"
"With me—I have three bedrooms–you can take your pick," he says, matter of factly.
"Emmett, I hope this question doesn't offend you, but I have to put it out there. Is this a rich man's version of a booty call?"
"What?"
"I guess I need to know what your expectations are because if that's what you have in mind, you've got the wrong girl."
"First of all, Ms. Hale, I'm not rich—yet—although I plan to be some day. Secondly, if I wanted a booty call, there's plenty booty right here in Chicago. I don't have to import it. Lastly, my expectations are to spend some time with you and show you a good time. Now, I'm sorry if any of that offends you, but I just had to put it out there," he says, matching my attitude.
"Well…I guess you told me."
"Yeah, I guess I did, so what do you say?" he says boldly. I think I just pushed the serious Emmett button.
"Give me a second while I pull my big foot out of my mouth," I say, making him laugh. "I'd love to come visit you in Chicago, Emmett."
"Great! Send me your flight information, and I'll take it from there."
"Thank you, Emmett," I sing out, hoping to soothe any hurt feelings I may have caused.
"You're welcome, Rosalie. Now, go back to sleep."
"No, I think I'm up for the day."
"Is everything okay with you? I'm getting a sense that something is bothering you."
"What is it with you Cullens? Are you all psychic or something?"
"No, just sensitive to the feelings of the people we care about," he says, making me smile.
"I have been dealing with a few issues, but I'll be okay," I say.
"You want to talk about it?"
"Maybe when we have more time. If I start now, I probably won't be able to stop, and you need to go to work."
"I can push my schedule back if you need me," he says sweetly.
"I really appreciate that, Emmett. We can talk when I see you."
"Okay. I'd better get going. Don't forget to send me your flight information. Oh, and Rosalie?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever is bothering you, you should really try to…" He pauses for a minute, peaking my curiosity.
"I should try to what?" I say, prompting him to finish his sentence.
Suddenly I hear that dreaded song through my phone. "Let it go, Let it go, Can't hold it back anymore."
"Very funny, Emmett. Did you just download that?" I ask, amazed by his wit and timing.
"Yep—on my tablet—I couldn't resist," he says, laughing as he turns down the volume.
"Oh, so you want to be a comedian, huh? Well, be very afraid because I can be a prankster, too. You don't want to get me started," I tell him.
"Is that a challenge? Well, bring it on, Baby!" he says.
"Baby? You don't want none of this. I'll bring you to tears, Son," I retort.
"Yeah, right. I'll eat you for breakfast and spit you out for dinner," he comes back.
"Alright. It's gon' be on in Atlanta next week," I tell him.
"On like Donkey Kong," he replies going old school on me.
"Oh, God, give me a break," I say.
"Just call me Emmett," he says, causing me to howl out laughing.
"Okay, Emmett, you win. You just proved what I've been thinking all along—you've got some black in you. Where did you learn to talk trash like that?"
"I have some very loud, boisterous poker buddies—Craig being the main one. He's the self-proclaimed mack of smack. What about you?"
"Every family reunion and family gathering where there are games or any kind of competition involved, there's trash talking. Watching my brother and cousins go at it has become an event itself. Craig has taught you well. I have to meet this guy," I say still laughing.
"He'll be there when we get off the plane. He and Shell are picking us up from the airport."
"Us? So you knew I'd say yes?"
"No, but I was hopeful."
"Actually, I'm getting excited! I've never been to Chicage before. That's how Doris Day pronounces it in Calamity Jane, another one of my favorite movies."
"You have very interesting taste in movies, Rosalie," he says, probably really meaning weird. "It's not Cali, but I think you'll like it."
"I'm sure I will. I've got so much to do before I even think about going anywhere. I have to go into the office, I've got to pack, the girls want to take me out, and I also have to cook a few dishes. I don't know if I'll be able to fit it all in."
"Why are you cooking when you won't be there?"
"It's for my neighbor, Mr. Johnson. His wife is out of town, so I'm helping him out."
"Why didn't Mrs. Johnson cook for him before she left?"
"I don't know. Maybe she didn't have time."
"And judging by your to do list, you don't either. How old is this man, anyway?"
"He's an older gentleman…late sixties, early seventies."
"Well, he's not too old to cook or go out for food," he says, sounding a little territorial.
"I know, but he likes my cooking. When I cook too much food, I usually share with them."
"I'm sure your food is not the only thing Mr. Johnson likes, and just because he's older, doesn't make him a gentleman. He's still a man, and with Mrs. Johnson away, Mr. Johnson might want to play."
"Why, Emmett, do I detect a bit of jealousy?
"More so, concern. You shouldn't go in that man's house when his wife is out of town. That's how rumors get started."
"Okay, Emmett," I say to appease him.
"I'm serious, Rosalie," he says.
"Look, I don't think there's anything to worry about, but if it makes you feel better, I'll call him and have him pick it up."
"Then he'll have to come to your house. Can't you just drop it off on his porch or something?"
"Absolutely, not—that would be rude. Really, Emmett, the man is harmless," I try to reassure him.
"Well, at least if he comes to you, you'll have more control of the situation. Got Mace?" he says, making me laugh.
"Actually, I do, but I don't think I'll need it. If necessary, I'm sure I could take him. He's a little guy."
"Napoleon was a little guy, too, and you see the damage he caused."
"You are too funny for words, Mr. Cullen. I need to start packing. How's the weather in Chicage?"
"It's mild right now, but we're expecting some rain next week, so pack a coat and umbrella just in case."
"Okay. The same goes for Georgia. You might want to bring a jacket."
"No, I'll be fine…the cold never bothered me, anyway."
I chuckle and shake my head. "You looked up the lyrics, too, didn't you?"
"Google is a wonderful thing," he says, laughing. "Call me butter because I'm on a roll."
"Later for you, Emmett," I say, trying not to laugh.
"What was that?"
"Oh, I'm surprised your boys didn't teach you that one. It means we'll talk more smack later."
"Oh, okay—I'll have to add that one to my repertoire. Later for you, too."