Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.

Rated M for several reasons.

Chapter 28 Up

BPOV

We lay on the couch, kissing, cuddling and talking about all manner of inconsequential crap until we fell asleep.

Very 'us'.

I wasn't surprised to wake up on the couch in the early hours, nor was I surprised or upset to find Edward wound round me like a Virginia Creeper, his face buried in my hair. How can he sleep like that? It must be hot as Hades in there.

Now that I've accepted that we're trying 'us' I'm not worried by the fact that I'm largely calm about it. That's me, I accept what's happening and learn to go with it. But maybe I should be worried? That's what's what brought me here after all, to this apartment, this life, this relationship, the lack of worry, the abundance of stoic acceptance.

Relationship.

I am in a relationship with Edward Anthony Cullen. Heaven help me . . . .

...

"Insomnia?" Edward asks, rubbing his eyes sleepily, and cutely, as he shuffles into the kitchen.

"Yes. No. Sorry. I woke up and couldn't settle again, I didn't want to wake you up."

"What are you doing?" He asks as he grabs a mug and splashes some of the coffee I made into it.

"Surfing the net. Thinking and then trying not to. Checking my email." I laugh at myself, shaking my head. "Wasting a part of my life I'll never get back."

"Want to waste it together? We could run?"

I pull a face and he laughs but thirty minutes later we've warmed up and are heading out into the breaking dawn.

...

"I didn't know they could run." Edward gasps as we collapse against each other in the elevator a mere thirty minutes later.

"Oh they can run alright." I groan. "If they thought there'd be a payday in it they'd run the marathon."

"I thought they'd lost interest in us."

"I'm sorry Edward." I console, reaching up to pat his sweaty back as he curves over me. "They might one day."

"Not to worry." He says, recovering his breathing and his sense of humour. "That was one hell of a work out and I was impressed by your turn of speed, Usain Swan."

"You didn't do so bad yourself."

The doors open on my floor and we stagger out.

While I fish my key out Edward cosies up to me and starts nibbling on my neck.

"I'm all sweaty." I remind him as the door swings open.

"I don't mind if you don't." He rumbles, turning me nimbly in his arms and pressing me up against the tallboy. "Your fleeing ass and bouncing pony tail were incredibly sexy."

The sweat on his face makes it sparkle like diamonds and I can't take my eyes off the bead of moisture that's collecting just above his top lip, ready to fall at any moment . . . .

"And I thought you were running behind me to protect me." I whisper, watching that bead get heavy and start to droop . . . .

"That too . . . ." He breathes, lowering his lips to mine slowly.

My throat makes a constricted sound as the bead lets loose and splashes down on my already tingling lips, just in time for his insistent ones to massage it into my flesh like balm . . . .

...

I don't know, and might never know, how I've come to be in my shower alone. Is it possible that lust causes blackouts? Have I missed something? And if I have, how can that possibly be fair?

No. I don't think I have. My body, despite the cooling water, is still on fire. Damn, he really is trying to kill me.

I close my eyes, remembering the way we felt, sweaty body to sweaty body. The feel of him . . . . pressing himself into me as he held me against the wall . . . . my legs wound round his waist . . . . his salty tongue penetrating my mouth . . . . and my hand slides down my body to give it the release it so desperately craves . . . .

...

When I emerge some time later my cell is flashing its message light. Wrapping myself in a towel I sit on the edge of the bed, Renee would kill me, to check it.

Two work emails, nothing I need to worry about, and a text from Rose.

'Your ass in on YouTube.'

'?'

'Follow the link. And tell E to wear a jockstrap x'

I click the link and despite my usual, well hidden, horror at being exposed I can't help but laugh . . . .

I'm still laughing when I pad into the kitchen.

"Don't." Edward groans, redder than his hair. "Dad, Em and Alistair have already sent me the link."

"I, um, don't know much about the needs of men while exercising, but, damn, Edward . . . ."

"On the plus side." He says, mustering a sheepish but very handsome grin. "At least you don't have to ask if I find you attractive."

"I don't know." I muse. "It might have been the fact you were being chased by a hoard of men with really, really, big telephoto lenses . . . ."

"Oh Bella." He chuckles darkly, green eyes sparkling. "You really shouldn't have said that."

Shrieking I exit the kitchen making it all of about four strides before he catches me and has me pressed up against the wall. Again.

Oh well . . . .

...

We decided not to go out for lunch since we'd had enough 'exposure' for one day. So Edward cooked, even though I'd no idea the contents of my refrigerator could constitute a meal in the right hands.

We ate. We watched television. We talked. And when we weren't doing any of those we kissed, cuddled and flirted with a few bases.

Demetri pricked our bubble at five, collecting us from the apartment to drive to the airport. Returning me to it, alone, a couple of hours later.

Unable to settle and unwilling to think again I started packing . . . .

...

As a consequence, even after working out, I was barely awake when Demetri delivered me safely, with coffee, to the office the following morning.

It's okay to hate Mondays? Right?

Emails first . . . .

Aro Volturi.

Subject: Haven't we been in the news this weekend?

Fuck. I'll read that later.

Alexander Tiberius Donahue III.

Fuck. Chairman of the Board, otherwise known as AT, or if you are feeling uncharitable, Attila the Hampton. Better read that one first . . . .

...

The intercom buzzes a few hours later, startling me out of the report on Cincinnati I'm drafting for AT, I really need to get rid of that thing before it gives me a heart attack . . . .

"Lauren?"

"Bella, I have Harry Clearwater on line one."

"Oh, okay, thanks."

"Hi Harry!"

"If only everyone could be as pleased to hear from me as you Bella." He laughs gently.

I love Harry, a crony of The Old Man's, and I don't speak to him nearly as much as I should.

"How is Sue? The family?"

"We are all well, thank you for asking. And you? It has been so long since we have seen you."

"I'm sorry Harry, it's been, manic." God I suck, too manic for at least one measly phone call?

"Bella, I understand, I was young once too, and I was not running a billion dollar corporation."

"You've always been way too nice to me Harry." I sigh.

"The soft man to Reginald's hard one." He chortles.

"I need to come and see you."

"You do. The time of my retirement is rapidly approaching."

"Harry, you're not actually going to retire are you?"

"Well now, Bella, that is what I wanted to talk to you about. I have been thinking . . . ."

...

"You own a publishing house?" He asks.

"Cask owns a publishing house." I correct, adjusting my cell under my ear as I relax into my welcoming pillow.

"Semantics." He observes.

"Whatever Edward, I don't have time to teach business ownership right now."

"Sorry, get to the good bit already."

"The Old Man insisted on us owning something he considered 'cultural' he said it was good for our image. We've bankrolled touring Opera companies. We've briefly had a television station and a few magazines but we've let them all fold, they're not our forte. The only thing that's survived is First Beach, the publishing house."

"Never heard of it."

"You wouldn't have, their speciality is military history."

"Man stuff." He laughs.

"Man stuff." I confirm. "They used to build dioramas and get together a couple of times a year to 'wage war' on each other. Demetri and Harry's son Seth still meet up sometimes to carry on the tradition."

"Have I met them?"

Oh Edward. Yes you have, though I'm betting you'll only remember Seth's older sister . . . .

"You might have, I can't remember. Anyway, I said I'd visit, if that's okay?"

"Um?"

"Oh. Sorry. They're in Indianapolis. We could go this weekend, while I'm down, if you don't mind?" And if Seth's sister isn't home . . . .

"I don't mind at all."

"Thanks." I breathe, relieved. "So, has Sweet given birth yet?"

"I wish." Edward groans. "I know you'll laugh but that mare's pregnancy is more pressure than I've ever been under, I should never have blogged about it. If anything goes wrong or the resultant foal doesn't win a classic . . . . my ass will be grass. And probably William's too."

"He's letting you do this because he knows you can."

"And that's the problem." Edward sighs.

"Tell me?"

Another sigh.

"I had a plan. You know that. And I'm almost at the point where I'm supposed to be striking out on my own. I've made, am making, a name for myself, a professional reputation . . . . a successful one . . . ."

"Go on." I urge, sensing his reluctance.

"College only teaches you the basics in this profession." He admits after a moment. "What I know, I know because he's taught me, shown me, been patient and shared his experience with me. Plus, the fact that I haven't starved to death while I'm learning is entirely down to Moira. She cooks better than Mom, but don't tell Mom."

"So what do you want to do now?"

"I don't know. I still want what I always wanted but it no longer feels like a natural progression, more like setting myself up in competition."

"There's a show on at the moment with a line about the 'heir always killing the king'." I murmur.

"I've seen the trailer." He sighs. "But I'm no heir. I've got my own ideas, not all of which William agrees with, but . . . ."

He trails off and falls silent.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm no expert in your field but I've some experience that might help?"

"Talk to me Bella."

"Talk to him Edward. Tell him how you feel. What you want, wanted. Be honest."

"Did you? With The Old Man?"

"No. Never. But I should have done. I think now that he would have understood better than I thought."

"And if he hadn't?"

"I guess I wouldn't be here. But Edward, that wouldn't necessarily have been a bad thing, would it?"

He's silent for a while and then he sighs, heavily.

"I suppose I should take a dose of my own medicine and your advice."

"Hey." I laugh. "As much as I'm still mildly hating on you for it, the talking stuff's working, isn't it?"

"Yes." He says, sounding more cheerful. "Its working better than I could have hoped."

Cue the warm fuzzy feeling . . . .

...

"Is Em still mad at you?" I ask Rose the following morning.

Sometimes when her boss isn't in and I don't have any meetings we put our desk phones on hands free and multitask an hour or two away.

"Yup." She chuckles though I can hear her still hammering away at her keyboard in the background. "But on the plus side since my lack of brain to mouth filter he's spent every spare moment this week vigorously proving that he's better endowed than his 'little' brother. I am a satisfied, if slightly wilting woman right now."

"Ew."

"And what about you?" She asks slyly. "I'm assuming Edward's extensively photographed 'problem' was put to good use?"

My cheeks heat.

"You've gone red haven't you?" She laughs.

"Probably."

"Bless you. So, was it?"

"Not directly."

"Whoa, Cyggers, the earth is really gonna move when . . . ."

"No!" I cut her off. "No, no, no, we are so not going there."

"You're in Kentucky this weekend right?"

"Yes."

"Staying in a hotel?"

"No."

"Earthquake warning!"

"Earthquake?" Aro squeals as he sweeps into my office unannounced. "Where, when?!"

"Localised to Kentucky!" Rose shouts down the line. "And expected this weekend!"

Aro claps his hands together and squeals again.

Rose laughs, the bitch, and hangs up before I can.

I eye Aro warily and he smiles. From ear to ear. Like a poisonous toad.

"I really don't think . . . ." I begin.

"Shush." He commands, pursing his lips. "I came today because we need to start prepping your Spring Wardrobe and you've been avoiding my emails since 'Erectiongate'. But my timing, as always, is impeccable. La Belle Bella, let us talk lingerie and getting laid."

Oh dear god . . . .