As usual, Edward and Bella don't belong to me. Thank you Netracullen and FangMom for putting your awesome beta hats on for me.

Also, a big thank you to whoever nominated my O/S Locker Room Girl for the One Night Stand Award, and my collab with Netracullen (Smutiversity) for BOTH the Hidden Gem Award AND the Court Jester Award on The Twinklings Walk of Fame. I'm honoured! The list of nominated storys and authors is impressive. Voting can be done here: http :/ / twinklingswfa . blogspot . com/p/voting . html

I've entered the anonymous For The Love of Women contest. Entries are being posted as they are validated. Go read and review! http : / / www . fanfiction . net/~fortheloveofwomencontest

This chapter is short - but I hope you'll enjoy anyway!

Confession and Confirmation

Yeah, I actually am sad for me.

And I'm sad for him, because he has such a messed up wife.

As we lie together on the bed I feel his rhythmic breaths against my neck. I keep stroking his hair slowly, unconsciously matching the pace of my breathing to his, and we fall into a symbiotic pattern of breathing and stroking. Breathe in, breathe out. Hand through hair. Breathe in, breathe out. Hand through hair. His hushed voice startles me when he speaks again.

"Bella, why is it that you don't feel like you're beautiful?" he asks quietly. I lean my cheek against the top of his head and sigh. I have so much to choose from… I don't think there is one part of my body right now that I'm pleased with.

"I don't know, really. I just don't. When I compare how I look now to how I looked when I was younger, before the kids came… it's all different. I feel like I'm decaying. I have wrinkles around my eyes, and these dark circles under them all the time. I feel pale and gloomy. My boobs are smaller, like empty pouches, and my tummy is soft and wrinkly. Even my goddamn vagina is all loose and floppy. I don't recognize my body anymore, I feel like it's not even mine, you know?"

"Err… No, I don't know. That's why I ask," he says, turning his face to mine. His probing eyes make me feel exposed and insecure, and I move away from him a bit, creating a space between us. I press my hands against my eyes and shake my head.

"I don't know how to explain it. It's probably about a lot more than just my body, anyway. I haven't felt like myself in a long time. A while ago, I felt like my personality was entirely gone – that I wasn't Bella anymore. I played a bunch of different roles that I didn't particularly like, and I didn't know how to be me again. It's better now, I feel more like my old self again, but being someone you don't like for such a long time… I guess it affects how you see yourself."

I pause and think back to my session with Emily. Has my past played a role in this as well? I disliked myself for a long time before Edward came along. It was he who made me like me again.

"Is it my fault that you don't like yourself?" he asks quietly, and I curse inwardly at myself for giving him that impression.

"God no," I exclaim with force, "I hated myself before you came along. You made me love myself again, but I kind of forgot it after a while."

He lets out a sigh of relief, but then furrows his brows in confusion.

"But Bella, I really don't get that. You didn't seem like someone who hated herself. You were always funny, happy, sexy, surrounded by men…"

I purse my lips and snort, not at him but at how he describes me. It's spot on, of course, very consistent with how I wanted others to see me, but completely off when it comes to how I felt inside.

"I got pretty good at hiding it, even from myself actually. I probably wasn't fine even before, but when I met James… He made it worse. Let's just leave it at that," I conclude, hoping desperately that he won't ask any more questions.

Edward raises his head and searches for my eyes. "No, let's not leave it at that," he says. "If there are things that made you not like yourself, I want to know what they are so I can show you they're not true."

His voice is earnest and resolute, and I know that I won't be able to elude him this time. I turn my face away from him, so he can't see the tears in my eyes.

"But what if they are true? What will you think of me, then? I'm ashamed," I whisper.

He puts his hand at my shoulder, shaking me gently to emphasize his words.

"Listen Bella, what you did or who you were before we met is none of my business, but I want to know anyway because it clearly affects you, and that makes it my business. I love you for who you are now, and I won't think less of you just because of anything that happened before we met."

I pull my hands through my hair in exasperation and take a deep breath. I don't know how to dodge his questions, and to be honest, I don't know if I even should. Maybe it's time he finds out who I really was, and what kind of person he married. It's more than fair, but I can't do it and look him in the eyes at the same time.

So I turn around, facing the wall instead, and then I tell him.

I tell him that I cheated on my first boyfriend even though he was a great guy, just because I met Jake and forgot everything else in the world. I explain how it made me feel like a whore, that I still feel guilty for doing that, and that I probably did a lot of stupid things just to punish myself for it.

I confess that I don't know how many sexual partners I had before we met, because I lost count and don't even remember some of them. I tell him that most of the times I wanted Jake to take me home, but he didn't, and I never asked him to, so I took whoever was closest just so I wouldn't feel abandoned.

I admit that I slept with some of them just because I liked the way they looked at me, and I wanted to feel desired and loved, but when it was all over I only felt empty. I tell him that I felt more like a whore with every man I dragged home, but I couldn't quit doing it because I got addicted to the high I got from their attention.

I explain that even though I knew I was on a self destructive path, I convinced myself that I was free to do what I wanted with whoever I wanted, and proved this to myself by taking yet another man to my bed.

I tell him about James. I tell him how James broke me down, piece by piece, how he confirmed the negative view I already had of myself and made me feel unworthy of love, how he made me so unsure of myself that I never knew how to act around him.

As I speak, I realize how many of my issues these last years might actually be related to my past. I can see that parts of it were from me being depressed and the pressure I felt, and that my problems with intimacy and touching may derive from my experiences with James – and even before him. It's suddenly clear that I haven't felt beautiful inside for a very long time, and that it has affected how I see my outer self.

Edward stays quiet behind me, listening as I spill my secrets and fears, twirling a lock of my hair between his fingers. When I finally run out of words and fall quiet, he waits a few moments before putting his hands on my body, urging me to turn around and face him again.

He is lying on his side, one elbow on the pillow and his head propped in his hand. I lay on my side and mirror his pose, but I don't dare to look in his eyes, and focus ruefully on the pattern of the sheets instead. He has made no indication whatsoever that he's angry with what I told him, or that it has in some way changed how he feels about me, but that doesn't matter because I'm still ashamed for some of the things I've done.

"You don't see yourself very clearly, Bella," he says gently and takes my hand. I shrug lightly, still not able to look at him.

"Do you know why I think you're beautiful?" he continues, his thumb stroking my knuckles. I shake my head and swallow audibly.

"Do you know why I love you?"

He lets go of my hand, takes the duvet and slides it off my body, and I shiver both from the cold and from the exposure. He rubs his hand up and down my arm a few times, warming me with the friction it's creating. He lets it rest on my shoulder for a few seconds before continuing down my side to my waist.

"I love how soft your skin is. I can't understand how it's possible to even have skin like that. I want to touch it all the time, to see if it still feels the same way or of I'm just imagining it. It's so smooth, like silk, and the colour is amazing. It's like cream. I love cream. The small moles you have, they're like tiny star constellations and I like to pretend I see pictures in them."

He drags his fingers along the line of my waist up to my hip, traces small circles on top of it, and then slides them down again; his touch firm enough that I won't feel any discomfort, but still light enough to make it intensely erotic.

"I love the curve of your waist, right here. It's incredibly sexy. I like to watch it from different angles to see how it changes. I like to run my fingers along this line, from your hip down to your waist. Then, I like to continue up, like this…" He slides his hand along my ribcage and lets it dip down as he reaches my breasts. He runs his fingers along them, following the soft curve all the way around before covering one of them with his palm.

"Your breasts… You're telling me they're too small and empty. I don't think that. The softness, the roundness, the colour of your nipples and the way they change shape and harden as I touch them… it's still there, and I still love it. They feel a bit different than before, of course, but different doesn't mean bad, you know. And to be honest, I'm a man. Men love all boobs, and these are yours, so I love them more."

He moves his hand down and takes a hold of my waist, caressing my tummy with his thumb before slowly sliding his hand up to my hip. He lets it rest there for a second and then runs it down to my lower back. As he speaks he moves his hand further down, cupping my bottom.

"Your ass… It's so… grab-friendly. I know you think it's too flat, but it's really not. It fits right into my hands, and it's so soft, and when I squeeze it like this…" He grabs my ass and presses his fingers into my cheeks, kneading it rhythmically. "…it makes certain parts of my body grow very hard, very fast."

I smile at him and lay my head down, resting it against the pillow. I like listening to him. I still can't really believe all he's telling me, but it's sweet of him to try, and I love him for seeing the positive things about me. My breath hitches as his hand sneaks down between my legs, brushing against my clit and coming to rest against my sex. I feel his fingertips tapping lightly at my entrance.

"And this? This is awesome. I know it has changed, I can feel it. I get what you mean when you say it's not as tight as it used to be, but I don't think that's a bad thing. Not for me, anyway. Before we had the kids… I had so much trouble trying to not cum at once. Every move I made inside of you, I felt those walls clench and pulsate, and it was so good… I had to think about baseball, my old grandma and dirty underwear to be able to last longer than a few thrusts. You have no idea how difficult it was. It's easier now. I like that I can actually last long enough to give you something good, without having to think unpleasant thoughts. Now I can allow myself to experience how it feels, listen to the way you moan, focus on the look on your face… I couldn't do that before, because if I let myself do that I'd shoot my load instantly. So yes, I love your pussy."

I feel my tears rising, and draw a deep breath as he slides his arm around me and pulls me closer. He's quiet for a while, and I lay still, listening to his heart beating. I feel the rise in his chest as he starts talking again.

"But what I love you for the most, right now, isn't that you have this beautiful body. It's not because you've given me these two wonderful kids, or that you take care of the entire family the way you do. Instead, it is that you're still with me, lying close to me, and that you give yourself to me even though you have had such a hard time with my touches."

I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest, inhaling his scent and feeling the vibrations as he murmurs his words, the ones that make me believe we will be okay.

"You say you don't tell me you love me often enough. I say you don't need to, because you show me. Giving up your power to someone, like you did when you let me tie you up, is truly a gift, and an act of love and trust. And that's how I know you love me."