A/N: Disclaimer - Stephenie Meyer owns all the characters, obviously, but I'm the one who makes them do all the weird stuff. Unfortunately, this chapter is published without the tender care of any beta, but I hope you'll be able to overlook it's flaws! Thank you for reading!
Oh what is
this light that
holds us fast? Our
limbs quicken even
to disgrace under
this white eye as
if there were real
pleasure in loving
a shadow and caress-
ing a disguise!
Frank O'Hara: An Image of Leda
Chapter 28
BPOV
Knowing that I have a definitive deadline is helping me finish my work on the book, the way deadlines have always helped me in the past. The more I think about the scholarship, the more determined I become to take the chance that's been offered me. I start drafting an outline for a research proposal so that I can discuss it with Dr. Cope when I see her at Berkeley next week. I don't know where my best sources will be yet, but I'm guessing working in London will be a good starting point, then going up to Oxford for one or two days if I want to look at manuscripts there. A lot of library sources can be found online these days, of course, but I enjoy the idea of being able to access material that most people never get a chance to see, because it's too old, too fragile or too obscure to be of public interest.
The scholarship entails giving lectures in London on subjects relating to my research during my stay there. It will be part of an on-going lecture series, talks aimed not only at university students attending classes in the humanities, but at the informed public. This should be just up my street, since the book I'm finishing has that kind of scope. I'm used to working with both college kids and students who take night classes to get a degree while they're still working. The older students always bring their life- and work experience to the table, which gives me a whole new range of questions to work with.
Edward tells me he's talked to Kate and even though she's not thrilled to redraft the schedule she's agreed to make room for him to take several days off. This means that now he's going to be working nine days straight, then have four days off. We're going to drive up early Wednesday morning, stay overnight somewhere along the coast, arrive in San Francisco on Thursday, so that I can have my meeting with Dr. Cope. Then we'll drive back Friday afternoon, stay the night on the way and be back Saturday so that Edward can go to work Sunday morning.
I call Dr. Banner's office to reschedule my coming Friday appointment to the next week, and I can't say I look forward very much to seeing her this Friday either. What should I say? "Hey, Dr. Banner, thanks to your professional advice I went straight home from therapy and threw myself at this man who is half my age, and now we've been having amazing, mind-blowing sex all week. I'm completely confused because I think I'm falling in love with him, and I just found out we have about two months before I have to go to the other side of the world without him." Great.
This is what really bothers me. I've just found Edward and now, almost at the same moment, I have to come to terms with letting him go. I'm afraid of what will happen to him if I leave, but I know that it's exactly this kind of thinking that has screwed up my life in the past. I shouldn't make my decisions based on what I think other people need from me, I should make decisions based on what is good for me.
And what good would come from turning down this offer, when I really don't know how much longer I have with Edward anyway? What if September arrives, and then he decides to break up with me? In that case I'll regret not only investing all my emotional energy into a relationship that was clearly doomed from the start, but the fact that I've once again been monumentally stupid enough to let a man discourage me from doing what I truly love.
I'm sitting at my desk at home when I hear the door slam shut, and James calls out to me from the hallway. Distracted, I shout back "I'm in here!" and start saving my documents and collecting the papers I've been grading so that I can go out and greet him properly.
When I walk into the living room, he's over by the bar, pouring sparkling wine into two flutes. He turns to me with a smile, his face flushed.
"We're celebrating, Bella! Did you prepare dinner? Never mind, I'm taking you out tonight. What do you feel like? There's this place on South LaSalle that I've been told is good. You like sea food, right?"
I'm stunned, I don't know what's going on right now, and I'm not used to seeing James so excited. He's usually not this exuberant even when he's in a good mood.
"What's going on James? What are we celebrating?"
He walks over to me and hands me my glass, pulls me in and gives me a hard kiss, then releases me and raises his glass, still grinning.
"I got promoted, just like I knew I would be! Here's to a bright future, Bella!"
I clink glasses with him and drink, feeling the bubbles tickling my nose. It's tart and delicious and makes my taste buds tingle. I can feel the wine going straight to my head and knees, making me feel wobbly. I was always sensitive to champagne.
"Congratulations. Promoted to what, exactly?" As far as I know James is already head of his department, ruling it over nearly seventy people in his steel-gray office building downtown.
"Oh, they've just made me head of the San Francisco branch," he grins at me, mock bashful. "I start in two months, which should give us plenty of time to wrap up here, sell the apartment and find a house in San Francisco. Where do you want to live, Bella? Somewhere close to downtown or outside the city? I've heard commuting works just fine. Palo Alto? Oakland?"
I sit down on the couch with a thump, carefully placing my glass on the coffee table in front of me, made from a heavy slab of black, opaque glass.
"We're moving to San Francisco?" I hear my voice waver. "In two months?" Suddenly I feel dismay and anger coursing through my body. How the hell did this happen? I quickly stand up again, and start pacing the room to get the adrenaline under control..
"How can you just make a decision like that without consulting me? Where does that leave me in your grand scheme of things? Do you think I can just pick up and leave? I'm finishing my Master's degree and hoping to get a chance to write my thesis here at the University of Chicago: I can't drop everything just because you get a promotion!"
James looks at me, smirking. "Oh, Bella, Bella, calm down. Everything isn't about you, you know. The country is full of universities and I'm sure the West Coast will do just as well as the Midwest for someone with your… skills." I feel myself flush hot red. He's mocking me.
And then he walks up to me, drawing me in close. I can feel the hardness of his body beneath his impeccable suit when he tucks my head under his chin and plays with my hair. My instinct is to struggle free, but I don't want to appear childish. I have to keep this conversation on a reasonable, adult level. I force myself to relax, pretending that it's physical comfort I want when I really wish I could kick James in the shin right now.
"James," I say, willing myself to sound calm and not whiny or mad. "I'm really pleased for you, but I don't think you understand how difficult it may be for someone like me to get accepted as a doctorate student in an English department at any university, not to mention a good one. Anyway, I can't possibly be ready to move in two months, it's just not going to work. I have to see my professors tomorrow and talk to them about helping me look at my options."
James releases me, then runs his fingers across my cheek and down my throat, pretending to write something with his fingertip across my collar bone as he smiles enigmatically. It's an erotic gesture, and yet it leaves me cold.
"Of course, if you need to stay on here for a couple of months longer, I can move out ahead of you. It will be inconvenient that you won't be there to help me settle in and establish our new home, but I'll do anything for you, Bella, you know that? Only…" He drains his glass and leaves it beside my own untouched one on the table, pulls me by the hand over to the couch, and sits down. He sits me across his lap, so that my legs dangle sideways over his legs and the side of the couch. I'm not sure that I'm comfortable in this position. It makes me feel like a little girl being chided by her dad, and James is not really that much older and wiser than me.
He pulls my head down on his shoulder and twiddles with a strand of my hair, his free hand stroking the back of my hand in my lap with his thumb. His voice is persuasive now, soothing.
"You knew when you married me Bella that this might happen. I've never tried to hide the fact that my work is important to me, and that I am an ambitious man. I work for a company with international connections and offices all over the United States. It may well be that I'll be relocated to work in New York, or even overseas one day. And then I hope you'll come with me?"
His arm travels down to my waist, and tightens. I swallow. Yes, I knew his work might mean moving one day, theoretically, but I never thought it would be this soon. I had really hoped I would complete my doctorate degree here in Chicago, and eventually be ready to apply for work somewhere else.
"Yes James I know, and I'm committed to supporting you, you know that. I just … I didn't think it would have to come to this. It doesn't seem fair that I have to choose between you and my work. After all, I've never entertained the idea that I could make you leave everything and move with me to Florida if I got tenure there ... " I sound petulant and sullen even in my own ears.
James chuckles, and I feel his laughter reverberate through his chest. He's like a smooth machine, ready to pounce at any sign of weakness.
"Oh, baby, you'd hate Florida, you know that. Whereas I'm sure you'll love San Francisco. And you'll be closer to your dad again, isn't that a good thing? I know you said only the other day that you worry about him sometimes."
I squirm in his lap. Yes, it's true that I worry about Charlie from time to time. I hardly ever get to see him since I moved here, except for the occasional Christmas or Thanksgiving visit. James isn't keen on keeping tabs on family, and rarely visits his own parents out in Boston, so I feel I can't demand that we go see Charlie every holiday.
"Besides," he purrs into my ear, his hand wandering now to touch the side of my breast, "I'm sure with a little help I can pull a few strings out west. Berkeley, Stanford, I'm sure we can find you something. After all, you're the shining star of your department. At least that's what I hear. I'm sure you'll be able to impress them, baby."
And with a smooth movement he's flipped me over onto my back on the couch He hovers above me while his fingers make quick work of the buttons in my shirt. With a growl he yanks my shirt out of my skirt and lowers himself to kiss my breasts, twisting first one, then the other cup down, pulling the bra straps down for better access.
"Oh, Bella, I love you so much. You're such a sweet girl all the time, but you know how you turn me on when you get angry."
I'm exasperated by him but kind of turned on, too. I know this is his way of deflecting the conversation and I know damned well that there's nothing I can do to change his mind once it's made up. I pull his shirt up out of his pants, and when he wrangles out of his jacket, I release his belt and the top button on his trousers. I frown up at him as I pull down the zipper. His erection is pretty prominent beneath his boxers.
"Can't we do this in the bedroom?" is my only comment, because the couch is kind of cramped.
He smirks down at me.
"No."
He's deftly pulling my panties and panty hose down my legs and over my feet with lightning speed and bunching my skirt up around my thighs. I can tell this will be quick and to the point, so I decide to just go with it. Then his hand is on my chin, holding me still as he dives in for a deep kiss. It leaves me breathless, and reflexively my hands curl into his hair. He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes gleaming at me wickedly as he whispers, "Fight me, Bella."
He's tried this before and I get why it's a turn-on. I'm not certain that I like it all the same. Still, it's a sure way to get the sex over with quickly, and then maybe we can get back to thinking seriously about how to make this big change work. So I comply and use some of my pent-up irritation in a wholehearted attempt to flip him off me and the couch with my hands and feet. He's predictably too heavy for this move, so I end up squirming and pushing under him ineffectively, while he chuckles and breathes heavily as he tries to catch my hands. When he does, pinning them down, it's only a question of minutes before he's inside me. I give up the pretense of fighting and wrap my legs around his hips, meeting his thrusts with my own.
For once his lovemaking isn't elaborate or thought-out; it's just plain fucking, which is okay by me. He's forceful, but he's not out of control or hurting me. I don't have time to come, but I know I can remedy that later if I feel like it. When he comes quickly with a low moan, pressing his face into my neck, I know he'll be in a good mood for the rest of the night and maybe ready to listen to reason.
Not that it means I'll get my way. I never seem to. It's more about damage control.
I sigh. Yes, my life with James through the years was increasingly about damage control. First I was dealing with the damage to my career, then increasingly the damage to our relationship and in the end the damage to my heart.
I got my chance to study for the doctorate degree at Berkeley instead, and I don't think it had anything to do with "strings" being pulled. Maybe it was more about the clout my professors had with their colleagues at Berkeley, and - so I'd like to think - the quality of my work. Looking back, I don't blame James for moving us out west since I love Berkeley. But he was jealous of my time, and reluctant to let me leave him to go off on work-related travel. A conference of a couple of days was okay, but a week was frowned upon, and going off for a semester or a year was right out. He "needed" me, and always expected me to be there when he entertained visitors or to accompany him when he went away on important business trips. And I complied with his wishes, as much as it was possible, because I wanted to keep the peace at home. It really didn't get us anywhere in the end. He wanted me to show intelligence and spirit but only up to a point, beyond which it was clear that he wanted to have his way, with me as with everything else.
Through the week that follows, I keep busy working. I'm not only finishing the end notes but doing some final revising on all my previous chapters, perfectionist that I am. Edward is a darling, tip-toeing around me most of the time he's home, pulling me out of my room only to remind me of our run. He tries to make me eat something with him and borrows the car to go grocery shopping on his own, making himself useful in an unobtrusive way. Every time I signal that I'm done for the day he pounces on me with glee, for a prolonged session of making out on the couch under the pretext of watching a movie. Most often we end up making tender or passionate love on one of our beds.
We've also taken to introducing each other to some of our favorite music, which has led to attempts at dancing in the living room. (I don't really dance but Edward does, and it's kind of hard to resist him.) Who would have thought you could slow dance to Van Morrison? When I tried to persuade Edward that it was possible to waltz to 16th century baroque music he almost ended up breaking our necks swirling around the living room. After that we decided to keep the dancing to a minimum where classical music was involved. We've discovered that we both like Debussy and Bach, though. And Edward has promised to play me something by Satie once we get to a piano, to convince me that it's not just "elevator music".
One of the good things about how busy I've been is that we've spent most of our time around the house. I haven't had to face the question yet of when and to whom we should present ourselves as a couple. Frankly, thinking about it, I feel slightly sick. I can imagine all kinds of unpleasant reactions from Edward's co-workers or from my friends and family. Anything from cackling laughter to disbelief to disgust seems likely. Because however okay it may be for a forty-year-old male professor to take up with a twenty-year-old female student (as long as she's not actually his student) it will always elicit some sarcastic comments behind his back. And if the forty-year-old professor happens to be a divorced woman on the dowdy side, the comments are sure to be scathing. "Who do you think you are, Bella?" are the words that keep ringing through my mind.
And again, I don't know how to begin to describe the effect Edward's had on me to Dr. Banner. I feel lighter, as if someone had relieved me of a backpack I didn't know I was carrying. I feel more physical, more aware of my body, but not in a bad way. Even if I still can't bring myself to be naked in front of this beautiful man, his touch has made me crave physical closeness in a way I can't remember since, well maybe since the beginning of my marriage.
But I don't remember feeling close to James the way I feel close to Edward. I can actually feel him without looking at him, like a magnet feels the hidden iron. As soon as he's at home the whole house becomes different, inhabited in a new way. Whenever he walks into a room, my body knows it even when my back is turned. If he looks at me, I feel his gaze like a physical touch on my face. I don't feel threatened at all: I feel warm, and safe. And I want more, which scares me.
Will there be a renewed Bella post-Edward, or will the nuclear fall-out be worse this time when I lose him? I still haven't figured out why I reacted so disastrously to my break-up with James, and therapy doesn't seem to be getting me anywhere on the understanding-myself-part. But if I crumpled when I was left by someone I'd been together with too long for the wrong reasons, who claimed that he never really loved me, then how bad would it be if I had to leave Edward? I know I have to keep some part of myself separate from him, protected from the overwhelming emotion that threatens to break the surface. I feel it every time we make love, when I'm exposed and vulnerable and at the same time completely lost in him.
I've never enjoyed sex this much, and I don't think it has anything to do with technique and everything to do with emotion. James never lacked in technique, but I was often too tense or self-aware to let go and let myself be swept up in the mere physical act of sex. With Edward, emotion comes first, and sex is just one way to express that emotion It's a powerful, bone-deep way of shattering the senses, to expose what moves in my heart and beneath my skin. I've never felt so aware and yet able to let my mind drift. I turn into a sea creature languidly moving with the green sea, warmed by the sun, feeling each cell open to the water and the light.
Thursday afternoon, Edward comes home, calling my name as usual as he walks in the front door. I stretch and stand up to straighten my back, leaving my computer to walk out and greet him. He smiles at me, and as always that smile has the power to turn my insides liquid. It lights up my heart just as it lights up his face. I walk up to him and hug him, because I have to. He claims that he needs a shower but I can still feel the delicious Edward-smell beneath the cooking and the faint cigarette smoke that clings to his hair and his clothes. He's told me about his smoke-breaks with Jim and assures me that he's not tempted to smoke himself. He just enjoys drawing conversation out of Jim, which he claims is like milking a stone.
He smiles down at me, and I notice that he's giving me a one-armed hug, holding something behind his back.
"I got you something. It's a present." He pulls his hand through his hair, suddenly shy.
"It's not much, it's just something I saw that made me think of you. If you don't like it, that's fine, you don't have to keep it or anything."
He holds out a plain white shopping bag to me, and I take it, hesitating. We've been through this. I don't want him to waste his money on me, but neither do I wish to be graceless and spoil his fun. He's already given me so much, but if he wants to give me a present … I smile at him and open the bag. It's fabric, a piece of clothing. I pull it out and hold it out in front of me. It's a dress. I bite my lip and then I clutch the dress to me with one hand, reaching out and pulling Edward's face down to me for a brief kiss.
"Thank you." I murmur. I look up at him, doubtful. "Do you want me to try it on? I can't guarantee that it will fit me, you know."
He shakes his head.
"Do whatever you want to do, Bella. I thought it would look good on you, but if you're not comfortable wearing it you shouldn't. I won't mind." He smiles again, shyly, and backs off towards the guest bathroom.
"I'm just going to take that shower now, and then I'll grab a bite to eat. Do you want to go running now or later?"
I hesitate. I'm almost done, and it would be nice to get out of the house for a while.
"Maybe we could just go for a walk in an hour or so, and then run later when it's cooler outside?"
Edward nods in agreement, before turning around and disappearing around the corner of the hallway.
I slowly walk back into my room, running the fabric of the dress between my fingers. It's a vintage cotton print dress, in a style that was common maybe fifteen or twenty years ago, but which I guess could pass today, too. It's long, with short sleeves and small buttons all the way down the front. Instead of sitting down in front of my computer again, I walk into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. If the dress is a disaster and too small I don't want Edward to see it on, I'll just hide it away in my closet and tell him it was lovely but didn't fit me.
I quickly strip down with my back to the mirror as usual, then unbutton the top five buttons and slip the dress over my head. It glides down and settles over my chest. It's not big, but not uncomfortably tight either. I button it up, noticing that the buttons look like tiny white rosebuds, and turn around bracing myself for the view.
And … it's not too bad. The dress is dark blue, with a print of white and faintly pink sprigs of flowers, a rounded neckline that stops well above any cleavage but exposes a bit of shoulder and my neck. That could be remedied with a scarf though, if I feel shy. I guess it manages to cover the ugliest parts of my body. The sleeves stop shortly above my elbows and since the waist is narrow but cut high, below my bosom, it covers the unattractive bulge of my stomach and hips without making me look huge. It actually makes it look as if I have some kind of female shape. I'm amazed, and grateful to Edward for finding me this dress. I decide to keep it on.
When I hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, I go out and find him standing at the counter, making himself a sandwich. He looks up, and freezes when he sees me. I'm not sure if this is good or bad, so I just stand there stupidly, and stare back at him like a deer caught in headlights. He clears his throat and speaks first.
"You look really pretty in that dress, Bella, if you don't mind me saying so." He grins at me, his initial surprise apparently forgotten.
"You should wear dresses all the time." He frowns and adds. "At least you should wear them around the house. Or maybe when I'm around you can wear one when you go out, but don't risk it alone." His goofy smile is back, and he leaves the food on the counter and walks over to me to pick me up and swing me around.
"Because Bella in a dress is a-do-ra-ble" he sings, "and we wouldn't want her ab-duct-a-ble".
I almost squeal, before reminding myself that I'm not fourteen years old anymore.
"That's not even a word! Please, Edward, put me down before you hurt yourself," I say breathlessly, and he laughs and follows my orders; only to put his arms around me, hug me close to him and kiss the top of my head.
"I'm right, though, you look really good in that dress, and I'm almost worried someone will come and try to snap you up if you go walking on the beach with me dressed like that. But the world should know what it's missing. By all means, wear the dress if you want to and I won't mind." He goes back to his sandwich making and briefly waves a big knife threateningly in the air, before slicing up tomatoes with it. "Don't forget that I'm armed and dangerous, though."
I think to myself that it's his smile that is the most dangerous part of his arsenal, but I just roll my eyes and go off to my room to wrap up my work, and shut down the computer.
We walk down the beach, Edward in khaki shorts and a t-shirt, looking glamorous in his sunglasses, me with my new dress blowing around my legs. I feel slightly overdressed for the beach. The dress is thankfully long enough so that I don't risk having any Marilyn Monroe-moments. I feel sort of shy and proud at the same time when I'm wearing it. I've gathered my hair in a low knot at the nape of my neck so that it won't blow in my face, and I'm wearing my sunglasses, too, as a sort of protective layer. When Edward reaches out and takes my hand as if it's the most natural thing in the world, I kind of shiver all over to feel his warm hand wrapped around mine.
"Do you enjoy living so close to the ocean?" he asks me.
I think about it and shrug.
"I enjoyed it more when I was living with my Dad up in Oregon. The beaches around Los Angeles are so … artificial." He looks silently at me, raising his eyebrows, so I try to explain.
"Just look around us; it's sand and palm trees and houses and people everywhere. You can't tell what kind of country this is, it could be a beach resort anywhere in the world if it weren't for the flags. But the Olympic peninsula, where we lived, is green and wild in a completely different way. And the sea is wilder, too, more grey-green than here. I love the smell of the rain forest and the smell of the ocean. You smell so little of nature here with all the traffic and the people. And it hardly ever rains."
He smirks at me.
"Most people would say that was a good thing. You don't like the sun?"
"No, I love the sunlight, it's just …" I frown at the innocent blue sky above us. "There are no seasons here. It's always the same."
And as I say it, I know that this has been bothering me for the past months. I have the uncanny feeling that I'm on vacation but that I've overstayed and lost count of the days - and now I've missed my flight home. None of this feels real. Maybe that's why I've not only allowed but accepted my relationship with Edward, because it's just a part of this unreal world?
I turn to him, shrugging the thought away, squeezing his hand. At least he feels real.
"What about you?" I ask. "Did you ever live close to the sea?"
He frowns, and once again I wonder how much it will take for him to really tell me about himself. He's started opening up to me, but we've far from done the Twenty questions-sessions that are so common in the beginning of a relationship, the likes and dislikes, the stories of our families and where we grew up, our dreams for the future. I wonder when he will begin to really trust me? But then again he's probably smart to protect himself and not give me too much too soon, especially now that I've told him I won't stick around after the summer. So far, on the abandonment level, it seems I'm doing the abandoning, not him. Which makes me feel twisted up inside for some reason, instead of relieved.
"I moved around a bit when I was younger" he finally says. "I've seen the East coast, and the Midwest and Florida. But I've never lived close to the Pacific, like here." He smiles at me and pulls me closer, so that our arms are touching as we walk.
"Oregon sounds like fun, though, for a paleface like me. I've never been able to get a real tan, probably because of my redhead genes."
I study him: yes, there's some red in his hair, and he has the green eyes that sometimes go with red hair, but his long lashes are dark and his skin is fair and clear without a trace of freckles. Except for the delicious stubble which I've had the opportunity to enjoy, his skin is flawless enough for a girl to envy. And it's certainly sun-kissed now, because I can see the golden glow over his natural paleness.
"I'd like to take you there. My Dad still lives in Forks, which is on the Olympic peninsula. It's really beautiful – wet and cold, but beautiful. So green."
I remember how strange I thought it was when I moved there in high school, after the scorching heat of Arizona summers and the city life of Phoenix. But then I soon realized what I'd already learnt through my years of moving around with Renee: home isn't a physical place, it's something you carry around inside you or it doesn't exist at all. Forks was really no different from Arizona. I was the same person, and so my new life molded around me pretty much like the old one, for better and for worse. But I started enjoying the colder climate and the generous nature; if I hadn't been such a klutz I think I would have been a natural at hiking. Long-sleeved thermal shirts and boots kind of grew on me.
Almost as if he's read my mind, Edward says:
"My family used to go hiking a lot when I was younger. I haven't done it in years, though. There's something about sleeping in a tent that's scary and relaxing at the same time. You feel vulnerable, but on the other hand it's almost as if you're floating in space, far away from everything else. All that silence. It's impossible to find that kind of silence here."
He absentmindedly lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. It's the kind of gesture that makes me want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him hard because it's so tender and familiar. Suddenly he turns to me with a smile, and pushes his shades up so that I can see his beautiful green eyes.
"Hey, I forgot to tell you: Jim said he's having a barbecue in his backyard on Saturday night, sometime around six o'clock and he asked me to come and meet his family. He said I could bring a friend, so I thought of you. Would you like to go?"
I am a bit taken aback at the suggestion. But Edward looks really excited.
"I thought Jim was the guy who never talks very much? How did you get so friendly with him?" I ask, stalling.
Edward grins, and kicks at an empty water bottle a couple of times, before bending down to pick it up.
"Well, Jim isn't a big talker, but he's a really nice guy. Did I tell you he gave me a bag of clothes when he heard I used to run track? He quit running years ago and had a lot of pretty good training clothes still lying around the house that happened to fit me okay." He shakes his head, lets go of my hand and jogs up to a trash can to dunk the bottle in, before coming back to me and slinging his arm casually across my shoulders to resume our walk.
"So what do you say? Would you like to meet him? I won't go unless you're interested in coming, too, since he's told me he's got a house full of girls. I need protection."
I know he's teasing me, but I squirm a little. I don't want Edward to stay away from meeting other people just because I happen to be a bit shy. And it would probably be good for me to get out more. A family barbecue sounds kind of harmless, doesn't it? I nod my head.
"Sure, let's do it. I have been living like a recluse here for too long. Should we bring something?"
Edward stops for a minute, and puts his hands on my shoulders, looking into my face intently. I remove my sunglasses and squint at him.
"What?"
"You're pretty amazing, Bella, you know that, right?" He smiles, but his eyes are completely serious.
I smile back at him. "Look who's talking; Mr. Amazing Guy himself."
He leans down so that our foreheads are touching, and we rub noses.
"Eskimo kiss. Secret greeting of our private club for amazing people," he whispers, before catching me around the waist and spinning me around quickly in a circle, laughing.
When he drops me down I realize I've been holding my breath and gasp, but I'm feeling so damned happy and light. This is how I think a kid is supposed to feel, but like I somehow never managed to be when I was little. Childhood is overrated, I decide. Middle age is what I've been waiting for all my life.
When we get back to the house after our walk I discover that my period has started, and I feel a mix of disappointment and relief. Disappointment because this means I don't think we'll have quite so much sex this weekend. On the other hand, it's a sort of relief too, because less sex will give me time to think more about how I feel about us without being constantly distracted and overwhelmed by our mutual desire. And I'll be able to start taking the pill again, to prepare myself for unprotected sex with Edward. By the time we leave for San Francisco my period should be over so it won't get in the way of our plans. I feel a tingle of expectation running down my spine. Tomorrow, I will look into possible places for us to stay along the coast, after I send off my files to my editor. It will be nice to have some freedom again, working for myself without the feeling of someone looking over my shoulder.
Edward offers to vacuum while I make a beet salad for dinner. I smile at how domestic everything feels as I hear him humming along to the songs on my iPod that he's borrowed while he drags the vacuum cleaner from room to room. He has an amazing singing voice, warm and filled with emotion. He sounds completely unselfconscious and I really hope I'll get the chance to hear him play and sing sometime soon. I wonder idly if Rosalie knows any people in the entertainment business that could give someone like Edward an audition, in spite of the fact that I don't really want to share him with anyone right now. I feel as if he's someone destined for greatness, he just hasn't found out how yet.
We run much later than usual, and as we near the house on our return the sun is coming down. Out of breath, I stop and drop down on the sand with my legs stretched out in front of me, facing the ocean. It's so beautiful with strands of pink, orange and gold, and the darkness slowly descending from the mountain behind us like a huge midnight blue canopy. The wind is stronger now as the temperature is dropping.
Suddenly I'm aware of Edward sitting down behind me, shaping his body around mine. His chest is heaving against the curve of my back as he gets his breath back, his head rests on my shoulder and his legs are pressed against mine, long and lean. We're both hot and sweaty but somehow it doesn't matter, it's as if we're one. We're sharing body-heat, space and time together in this twilit moment between night and day, between now and tomorrow. It doesn't matter what went before or what will follow, because right now we have this. And as our breathing slows down, our bodies find the same rhythm, breathing as one. We sit like that, quiet, with the sound of the waves, our breaths and our heartbeats filling our senses until the sun disappears beneath the horizon.
A/N: So this was a sort of filler, a transition between places and a chance to let Bella and Edward catch up with everything that's happened between them. I think we're about half-way through the story by now, and soon we'll see how the trip to San Francisco turns out... Tell me if you have any ideas on that and I promise to take them into consideration. I love SF btw; it's one of my favorite cities in the world. Do you have any favorite places?
