A/N: Disclaimer - Stephenie Meyer owns all the characters, obviously, but I'm the one who makes them do all the weird stuff. Thanks to my dear beta, Trekgeezer, this chapter is now proofed and improved. Any errors remaining are all mine!


I like it when you're quiet. It's as if you weren't here now,

and you heard me from a distance, and my voice couldn't reach you.

It's as if your eyes had flown away from you, and as if

your mouth were closed because I leaned to kiss you.

It's then that what I want is to speak to your silence

in a speech as clear as lamplight, as plain as a gold ring.

You are quiet like the night, and like the night you're star-lit.

Your silences are star-like, they're a distant and a simple thing.

I like it when you're quiet. It's as if you weren't here now.

As if you were dead now, and sorrowful, and distant.

A word then is sufficient, or a smile, to make me happy.

Happy that it seems so certain that you're present.

Pablo Neruda: from "Twenty love poems:15"


Chapter 29.

EPOV

Amy has started working at the café, and since I will be working nine days straight, Kate suggests I take chief responsibility for showing her around during her first week, making her acquainted with our routines. I feel sort of proud that Kate trusts me this much, but nervous, too, in case I fuck something up. Carmen just laughs at me when I confide in her one morning.

"Get over yourself, Edward. You'll do just fine. You may still be wet behind the ears, but you're a smart boy. You just learned all this yourself so you remember what a new girl needs to know, and you have a hell of a lot more patience than I have. Plus, Amy would obviously love to tag around with you for the week, never fear."

She smiles a sarcastic smile and playfully swats the back of my head before going back to changing the towels. I rub my neck doubtfully. Then Amy walks in from the changing room in the back and greets me with a bright smile; now I've got other things to do than to stand around and worry.

Amy is really nice and easy to get along with. She asks smart questions and rarely needs to be told something twice. Amy seems like the kind of person who enjoys being busy and doesn't stand around waiting to be told what to do. I find myself laughing a lot when we work together, and even Jim lightens up a bit. I can tell that the customers like her because we get more tips in the glass jar by the cash register when she's serving behind the counter.

Amy and I get used to taking our short lunch break together most days this week, and we take our sandwiches outside to sit near the boardwalk and look at the people walking by. Friday is no different. We sit in a sort of park area a couple of minutes from the café with palm trees and bushes in bloom where we can watch joggers, au pairs with strollers and other people on their lunch break.

"I still haven't gotten over how exotic it feels to live in a place with palm trees," Amy remarks, nodding up at the swaying leaves above us. "Back in Philadelphia where I grew up, this would look like a postcard. I'm living in a fantasy!"

She laughs and blushes as a piece of sandwich goes flying from the corner of her mouth. Her fair hair is tied up in a ponytail. She's wearing a blue UCLA t-shirt and dark blue jeans. Amy looks pretty cute when she's embarrassed, like right now. She starts coughing, and I gently slap her back to make sure she's okay.

"So is that why you came to L.A.," I ask, "to see the palm trees?" She shakes her head, and takes a swig from her soda.

"No, the palm trees and sun were just a bonus. I got offered a scholarship here, and since I've always wanted to move away for college, I thought this was a good opportunity."

I want to ask if she misses her family, but that will inevitably lead to questions about mine, so I decide to steer clear of that subject altogether.

"So you won't be going home for the summer then?"

"No, I will be starting my senior year in August. I thought it would be good to stick around and prepare for it and work on my student research project. I've interviewed girls from differing cultural backgrounds about how they've experienced higher education. Then I plan to interview their mothers and grandmothers, whenever possible. I want to see if I can find similarities and differences between the generations in their views on women and higher education. I'm majoring in sociology but I'm also doing gender studies."

I smirk at her, amused. "You should tell Bella about your research. I'm sure she would find it interesting. She's into gender studies, too."

Amy looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, I was going to ask you about that. I haven't seen her around with you here, but you live with her, right? Kate mentioned it. Somewhere close to the beach? Are you two friends, or related or … something?" Her voice is tentative and I immediately feel my mouth setting into a hard line. I don't know what I should tell her. I frown at my hands, turning it over in my mind, uncomfortable.

Amy immediately backpedals. "Sorry, maybe that was rude. You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm just nosy. Sure, it would be great to meet again sometimes and maybe talk to her, if you think she would find this stuff interesting. I'm actually thinking of interviewing women working at the university next. My idea is to try and determine how much their ethnic and general family background has influenced their choice of an academic career."

I kind of zone out after that, while Amy chatters away. I'm squashing the saran wrap from my sandwich between my fingers, while I think about how I should introduce Bella at the barbecue tomorrow at Jim's. I'll have to ask her how she feels about it. Fortunately, it doesn't seem as if Jim's invited anyone else from work, so at least it will be a small party. Bella did say she wanted to be my girlfriend, but we just haven't tested that out officially yet. I feel the familiar twisting of my stomach when the inevitable thought pops up. "Yeah, your girlfriend, but not for much longer!" I swallow and push it away. I've been refusing to think about it all week and now is not the time. Instead, other girlfriend memories start drifting in, unbidden.

I remember sneaking around with Lindsay behind Michael's back. Although I was stupid enough to feel smug about the fact that I was cheating with a hot girl behind her boyfriend's back, it wasn't all fun and games. There were times when I had to watch them make out in the car or at a party when I was just itching to pull Lindsay aside and ask her what I was to her. Why couldn't she just make her mind up and either be with me or be with Michael. Those times I felt insecure and immature; just a warm body that Lindsay used for purposes known only to herself. I felt sick thinking that she secretly despised me. Sometimes I hooked up with other girls in a calculated attempt to make Lindsay jealous. She always ignored me and never mentioned it the next time she called me up to meet me, so I never knew if it had any effect on her at all. I was a coward for not asking her what she felt about me.

What I have with Bella is arguably different. We're both free to be with one another; no one's being used. It's more a question of how others will react to our relationship. I don't know if Bella is uncomfortable just because of the age difference or because she picked me up when I was dead broke and sleeping on the beach. Maybe it's because she's so much smarter, gentler and more mature than I could ever be. Still, on so many levels, I feel that we're equals, soul mates or whatever you want to call it.

Bella seems reserved, but she's really vulnerable. And although she's been taking care of me, she's also let me in, allowed me to care for her in the small ways that I can. Physically, it's as if we're magnetically drawn to one another. We're like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly, even though superficially the design doesn't seem right. This feeling of belonging with someone is what I've been waiting for all my life. It's just too bad that I had to arrive at this moment lugging so much crap from my past. Maybe it's karma that's taking Bella away from me. Or could it be that leaving really is what's best for her?

Amy stands up and brushes crumbs from her jeans, and I pull out of my head, ready to follow her back to work. I relieve her of her trash to throw it away with mine. She smiles up at me when I return from the trash cans.

"Thank you, Edward. I hope you're not sick of me by now? I'm sorry that you got stuck with me this week, but I've really appreciated how you've helped me get the hang of everything." Her smile is genuine, but her eyes are worried, and I feel bad about clamming up on her like that. It's not her fault things are fucked up in my life.

I run my hand through my hair, still surprised at how much shorter it is, even if it feels more comfortable now than it did before. I shake my head at her question as we start walking back.

"It's no problem, really. I enjoy working with you. It's just, I'm not very good at talking about myself, okay? No offense, it's just not something I'm comfortable doing." I don't know what else to say without tangling myself in a bunch of cryptic comments, so I just smile apologetically. Amy shrugs.

"It's okay, I get it. We don't really know each other, and I can't expect you to talk about your private affairs with some random girl at work. But I hope you'll give me the chance to get to know you a tiny bit better?" Her eyes crinkle at the corners. "After all, if we're going to be working together all summer I hope we can do better than just 'Mop that up, please' or 'Could you take care of the dirty dishes from table eight?'" I smirk at her.

"Yeah, I was hoping by now we'd be at the stage where you go 'Edward, could you please let me clean the toilets' and I'd be all 'Well, Amy, if you think you're ready for that much responsibility, I'm willing to concede my toilet-cleaning privileges to you now.'" She rolls her eyes at me, and pretends to push me aside as she walks inside the café.

"Shut up, Edward. I will never take your toilet-cleaning privileges away from you, don't worry. They're all yours!"

"Hey, did you say "up yours" to me, young lady?" I shout after her, and am pleased to see Kate pop her head around the door to the office, frowning at Amy. Amy blushes and shakes her head as she dives into the employees' lunch room. I roll my eyes at Kate in a gesture meant to convey "Yeah, can you believe that girl!" before I hurry off to wash my hands, grab my apron and get ready to collect the clean dishes from the dishwasher.

Amy forgives me until later in the afternoon when I point out that, even if she gets tipped a lot, I'm really better looking and should therefore be up front serving more often. I suggest that it constitutes discrimination to keep all the male employees lugging things in the back, while all the female employees get to flirt with the customers. Since I opened early this morning I get to go home first, but before I take off for the day, I suggest we make it about money. When I get back from my four-day leave we're going to start competing for the largest tip of the day - equal opportunity and all.

"That will give you some time to work on your skills, Amy. I'm just saying it wouldn't be fair if you lost just because you served people bad coffee after becoming cross-eyed from smiling too much and measuring out the coffee grinds incorrectly." She throws a dish towel at me, but I pick it out of the air and elegantly send it on towards the laundry basket, crying "Touchdown!" I think I hear her mutter something about "immature," but I'm already on my way towards the back door. I stop a moment outside to see Jim. He's having his last smoke of the day since he will be taking off, too, in another hour or so.

"So, I'll see you at six o'clock tomorrow then, Jim?" I ask him. "I'm bringing Bella and we're taking some food and drink with us, is that okay?"

Jim shrugs a little, but his eyes twinkle at me when he replies. "Yup, that's fine. Lorraine will love it. You think you can find the place?" They live in another part of town with which I am unfamiliar, but I've got the address memorized and will ask Bella to look it up for me. Maybe she can drive and I will give her directions. This reminds me that I'll have to talk to her about arrangements for our trip up north. I hope she'll let me assist with the driving duties so she doesn't have to sit behind the wheel the whole time. I absentmindedly nod to Jim and leave the café behind.

On the way home (I feel another cold pang of dread at the fact that I've started to think of the house as "home") I decide to drop in at the Ink It Black bar. I want to see if there's a chance that I could borrow the piano for some practice after I leave work. I've felt torn between the impulse to just keep out of there, since Bella didn't seem to be completely comfortable with Tony hitting on her - or whatever he was up to - and the longing to get my hands on a piano again. I really miss the music, enough so that I'm willing to humiliate myself for an hour in a bar where other people can hear me making a fool of myself.

I make my way into the gloom of the bar with some hesitation. To my relief, I notice that there are only a few people hanging around, sipping beer and watching a replay of a football game on the flat-screen at one side of the bar. Maryann's the only person behind the counter, and her face lights up when she sees me.

"Hey, long time no see! Did you drop by for that drink or did you want to see me?" I can't help answering her cheeky smile with a smile of my own.

"Actually, I came here to ask if I could date your piano. Would it be okay if I just hung out for a bit and practiced? Do you think it would disturb those guys?" I nod over at the people watching the game.

Maryann shrugs. "If they ask me to I could just raise the volume, if that's okay by you?"

I nod. "And I can adjust the volume on the piano, too. Then you're fine with it?" She nods but looks kind of disappointed, so I mind my manners and try to strike up a conversation. "How have you been? I saw that you had a couple of guys over here playing live last weekend. They told me they played mostly classical blues. Were they any good?"

She wags her head so-so. "Yeah, well the crowd seemed to like them, but that's not really my kind of music."

I try to draw her out. "So, what is your kind of music? Foo Fighters? Evanescence? Green Day?"

She just laughs at me. "Keep guessing. Though I'd really like to hear you do a Foo Fighters cover on that piano. You did okay with Coldplay, even though I don't really like them, either."

I think for a bit. Foo Fighters isn't really on my repertoire, but I've always been good at picking out tunes by ear, both on the piano and the guitar, and I think I've got an idea.

"Can't make any promises. I might just end up playing Sinatra. But if you don't like it you can always come over and hit me over the head with that baseball bat of yours." I nod at her before walking over to the piano and pulling up a chair. She gives me a sort of "you have my blessing" hand gesture and resumes polishing glasses.

I turn the power on, check the settings and make sure that the volume is low before I start tinkering around, warming up. I don't want to plague the people in here by practicing scales and technical stuff, so I start up with a couple of simple tunes while I think about Maryann's challenge. I like Nick Drake, so I play "One of These Things First" and "Fly". I see Maryann giving me the thumbs up. She nods when I interpret her gesture as encouragement to raise the volume a bit so she can hear me better over there. Then, just for fun, I play "My Way", and see her scowling and gesturing threateningly towards the counter where she showed me she keeps the baseball bat. I just smirk and play on, because there are a couple of people who are nodding along to the song in spite of how cheesy a choice it may seem.

Then I tentatively start trying to pick out "Come Alive," one of the few songs I know by Foo Fighters. It's kind of hard to convey the melody without singing the lyrics, so I hum the tune under my breath, repeating the verse and chorus until I feel I've got it down. Then I improvise the climax at the end with intricate variations on the melody weaving up and down, high and low on the piano, ending up in a sort of repeated syncopated rhythm fading out into nothingness. It would probably sound better on the guitar, but I'm still kind of pleased with the result.

When I look up I see that the bar is filling up with people. I realize it's time to get home to Bella. I close up the piano, replace the chair and walk up to the counter. I patiently wait for Maryann to finish serving up cold beers to a party of four who seem to have just come from work and are starting the weekend early. I idly look at them wondering what they do for a living – shirts and ties and jeans indicate maybe some kind of office work – until Maryann comes over. She shakes her head at me.

"I've got no idea what that song was, but it sounded good. Did you just make it up?"

"No, I'm not that talented. It was a Foo Fighters song, just like you requested. Look it up on the Internet if you like. It's called "Come Alive." I may even sing it to you sometime, if we're ever alone in the bar," I promise, since I don't think this is likely to happen. "Thank you for letting me play. Tell Tony I said 'hi' when you see him." This seems safe, too, since he's not around.

Maryann leans forward across the counter and grabs my hand. "You never stay very long, Edward. You're very … elusive. Why don't you come in on Monday when we're closed and the place is empty; you could have as much time to practice as you like then."

I hesitate. "I work until seven this Monday. And anyway, if you're closed, how would I even get in?"

Maryann smiles, and her dark eyes twinkle at me.

"We live above the shop, Tony and I. All you have to do is come round to the side door and ring the bell to our apartment. I'll be here around seven, no problem. I could let you in, if you promise to play me something. Do we have a deal?" She squeezes my hand briefly before letting go, and I feel the ghost of her impression on my skin.

I rub my neck, then nod. "Okay, but I probably won't stay too long. If you're sure that it's no trouble?"

She shakes her head, and her shiny, straight hair flies. "None whatsoever. I'd love to have you come over." I sort of like her because she's so straightforward, even if she intimidates me a bit, too. I smile and wave as I head for the door. I'm already looking forward to having some more time practicing in peace.

When I step out onto the sidewalk I almost run into Tony, who's on his way in. He flinches then puts a hand on my shoulder, whether to stop me or to stabilize himself I don't know.

"Hi there, Edward!" He looks over my shoulder, and seems to realize that I'm on my own. He frowns.

"So, I haven't seen Bella around all week. Is she all right, do you know?" He kind of shuffles his feet and I get the feeling that he's not comfortable asking me about Bella. Nor should he be, since she didn't seem to like him.

"Bella doesn't really visit bars a lot, as far as I know," I say, trying to keep the scowl off my face.

Tony sighs, and straightens up, looking around as if Bella might magically appear on the sidewalk.

"No, of course, I see. I didn't really expect her to turn up here, I meant at the coffee shop."

Now it's my turn to feel confused. "What coffee shop? I work in the café on the beach, Kate's Place, but Bella doesn't work there. Why would you … ?"

He shakes his head. "No, it's nothing, it's just that last week I saw her around a lot more in the neighborhood. She seemed to get her coffee from this place I go to and ... well, when you guys were at the bar last weekend I got the feeling I had pissed her off. I just wanted to see if she was okay, that's all. When you see her, will you give her my number and tell her that I want to talk to her, if that's all right?"

He pulls out a wallet from the back pocket of his dark blue jeans and hands me a business card. What am I, a fucking secretary now? I take the card between my fingers carefully, as if it was something that might bite me, but don't make any promises.

"I'll tell Bella you said 'hi'," I say. "See you around, I guess." I decide not to tell him about Maryann's invitation to come by on Monday, since I'm not sure I want him to be around then. It would probably be better if it was just Maryann and me. Or, just me. Or, come to think of it, Bella and me. It would be nice to be able to play something for Bella in private. But if Tony finds out, he'll probably hover, itching to "talk to Bella." Ugh. He may be a nice guy, but I don't like the effect he seems to have on her. I jerk my head in a sort of goodbye gesture, and saunter off. Tony stands there for a beat, as if he wanted to say something more, then shrugs and walks into the bar.

When I come back to the house, I find Bella hunched over the computer in her room. She looks up and smiles when she sees me, but her eyes are clouded and she seems troubled.

I kiss her neck and bury my nose in the hair behind her ear, feeling the little shiver that runs through her at my touch. Her hand snakes up into my hair, tugging on it softly, which I love.

"Is something wrong?" I ask her, letting my hands skim her back in a soothing motion, as I look over her shoulder at the screen.

"Bad day, that's all," she mutters. "Don't worry, I'll get over it. To make myself feel better, I'm looking at places to stay when we drive up the coast next week. Do you have any preferences?"

I shake my head. "No, not any that I can think of. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, as long as I get to sleep with you." And that's the truth.

"There's this interesting place called the Esalen institute, but they say on the home page you can't be sure they'll have a place for you unless you're booked into one of their classes. It's very New Age. Maybe Monterey would be kind of perfect for a stop-over. Have you ever been there?"

"No, I've never seen the Big Sur or much of California before, so it's all going to be new to me. Why don't we just drive up the coast and look for a place when we feel ready to stop? They can't all be fully booked, can they?"

Bella looks doubtful. "No, you're probably right, it's just that Highway 1 runs through a lot of national parks and there are not that many motels along the road. That means our choices are limited."

I squat down so that our faces are level with one another and I capture her soft lips with mine. Closing my eyes, I revel in the feeling of her cheek under my palm, and the tentative way she opens up to me and lets me feel her silky tongue. I deepen the kiss before I remind myself that Bella has her period and that there probably won't be much going down tonight. I hold myself back and finish with some chaste kisses before letting her go.

"Well, I've slept on the beach before, so we could always stop at one of those national parks and just snuggle up in the sand." I wiggle my eyebrows at her. "Bet it would be way more comfortable with you and me in the same sleeping bag?"

She shakes her head at me and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well, let me tell you, I'm not sleeping outside with anything less than a tent and an inflatable mattress. And, my father would add, a shotgun. Not that I don't trust your camping skills, but I'd rather not test them out on a California beach."

I stand up and flex my legs, then remember the card in my jeans pocket. I frown as I fish it out.

"Hey, I've got a message for you from Tony at the bar."

Bella's head jerks up and she looks at me, surprised.

"Did you meet him? He left a message for me?" I'm not sure how to interpret her expression. Is she excited, displeased or just stunned?

"Yeah, well, I used the piano in the bar for some practice and then ran into him on the way out. He seemed to think that he'd offended you or something, and asked me to tell you to call him. If you wanted to, that is."

I try to wipe the scowl off my face because I don't think it's my place to tell Bella what to do, one way or the other. If she wants to call him, fine. If she wants to meet with him, fine. If she wants to read fucking poetry with the asshole it's fucking fine! I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. I need a shower and a beer, preferably in that order.

"Okay, so I'll just go take a shower now, and then I think I'll need something to eat. How about you?"

Bella is turning the business card over between her fingers, looking distracted.

"Oh, there's some eggplant parmesan in the fridge if you'd like to eat that with some pasta or some bread and a salad. I can heat it for you while you wash up if you want." She looks up at me, and her lovely dark eyes are worried. Am I freaking her out or is it Tony's message that has her thinking too hard? I try to smile a reassuring smile, and reach out to touch her hair.

"Thank you, that sounds great. If it's not too much trouble, could you boil some pasta? And please join me; it would be nice to have dinner with you tonight. We could run later, if you want to."

Bella smiles up at me and leans her head into my hand. My inside clenches with a mix of tenderness and desire. I want her so much it's distracting and ridiculous, and now I really need the privacy of my bathroom.

When I walk into the kitchen later, my hair messy and still damp from the shower, Bella has already set the table for two and is draining the pasta. She looks over at me and bites her lip, before returning her attention to what she's doing. I smile, because I think I know what's going through her mind.

When I hug her from behind, she sighs and leans into my body, relaxing against me, setting the bowl down on the counter so that she can hold my arms tighter around her.

"Is your period bothering you?" I ask. I really have no idea and I don't know if I want to know, but I've heard that women have cramps and stuff. Maybe that's why Bella seems a little off.

She shakes her head. "No, well, it's not bad anyway. I took a painkiller earlier today and now I feel fine. I saw Dr. Banner this afternoon, though, and she gave me a lot to think about. Sorry if I seemed distant before. It's really got nothing to do with you, so I shouldn't take it out on you. Let's just have a quiet evening and talk about the trip next week, okay?"

Her voice is gentle but matter-of-fact. I don't feel comfortable asking her questions about her trip to the shrink, even though I'm sort of dying to know what goes on there. I don't feel that I know her mind at all. I wonder what her life was like before I met her, how she really feels about me or what she's looking for in her life now. Does she really want to go to England?

Going with her to San Francisco is a big deal. It's the first chance I'll get to take a peek at the life she lived there, maybe meet people she knows, learn something more about her plans for the future. Whenever I think about the future now, my mind does a double take. First, it recoils as if from fire - don't go there - because for months I've made myself think that I don't have a future, or shouldn't have one. Then, it unfurls, tentative like a green leaf, probing the possibility that my future may unfold before me, a new kind of life with a new identity. I see myself building something from scratch, with only my wits and talents. I could ignore the past and try to become a new Edward, a man worthy of being with someone like Bella. I could have a new beginning, and then maybe a new forever.

As we eat, I'm thoughtful, barely keeping up my end of the conversation. Bella finally leans forward and touches my hand, smiling a question.

"Is everything all right, Edward? Did you have a bad day at work?"

I shake my head and smile back at her.

"Apart from being bugged all day by the nosy new girl? Nah, it's all good." When Bella raises her eyebrows, I explain: "Kate thought it would be a good idea if I mentored Amy. You remember Amy, don't you? We met her with Kate and the others at the bar." Bella nods, her eyebrows furrowing.

"You danced with her," she says, matter-of-factly.

"Yes, that's her. Anyway, she's going to be working at the café on and off all summer, when the regular staff take turns going on vacation. She told me she hopes to be able to jump in if Kate needs her after the summer, too, because she needs the extra cash. Kate asked me to do her a favor and open early a couple of times with Amy this week. Then we close the place Sunday through Tuesday so she knows what needs to be done." I feel as if I'm rambling, so I lean back in my chair and drag my hand through my hair. Bella is watching me, impassive.

"You're doing Kate a favor?" she asks.

"Yeah, since I'm messing up the schedule by taking four days off, she thought it would only be fair if I made sure Amy was ready to pitch in for me by the time I leave." I smile. "She's a quick learner, but she keeps giving me grief about cleaning the toilets. She says that this is obviously why Kate hired me. Since I'm full of shit, according to her." I really have a lot of fun together with Amy. She's so snarky and quick on the uptake. I like that kind of confidence in a girl.

"So what does Amy do, when she's not bugging you at the café?" Bella puts some more salad on her plate and refills our water glasses.

"She's a student of sociology; oh, and that's right, I told her she might want to talk to you about her project. She's into gender studies, and is interviewing women in higher education, and their mothers and grandmothers, about their attitudes to education. I think she's trying to look into family backgrounds or something." I remember something and lean forward, looking straight at Bella.

"What about you? Did your parents go to college? How did they feel about you taking your PhD in English? Were they proud?"

Bella shrugs. "Of course, parents are always proud when their kids do well, but as to your question, no, they didn't go to college. They met in high school. My mother got pregnant with me, my father trained as a police officer and started working as soon as possible to support us. My mother stayed at home. That is, until they broke up, and she took off with me across the country." Bella looks down at her plate as she speaks, but I would really like to see her eyes.

"My mother never went to college, but she's taken all kinds of classes: from arts and crafts to health and beauty to business evening school." Bella finally looks up at me, and her eyes are far away, kind but tired. "She was always trying out new things, you see, looking for the one thing that would make her happy; making pottery or jewelry, yoga instructor, health food saleswoman. In between she did some stints in stores or offices or teaching, just to make some money. She has a lot of talent, but she's restless." She sighs, and pushes her plate to the side.

"I think my mother could probably have been anything she wanted, if she had just been able to make up her mind to stick to one thing for long enough. It wasn't until she met Phil that she started to settle down, and then I was, what, fourteen years old? We'd been living in Phoenix for a couple of years by then, and when Phil and Renee wanted to go on the road again, I'd had enough. I wanted to finish high school in one place, take advanced classes in peace and not have to worry about my grades being disrupted by moving around every year. Plus, I knew that Phil was going to take care of my mother from there on – they were crazy in love, embarrassingly so to a teenager. So, I left Renee and moved in with my Dad in Washington State, and that's where I graduated."

I watch her thoughtfully. "It sounds like you had a rough time as a kid. Moving around must have made it hard to make friends. And you mother doesn't sound very … responsible. Did she take care of you, or did you take care of her?"

Bella laughs, a short laugh, and her eyes crinkle at the corners, those happy wrinkles that I love, even if her laugh doesn't really sound happy.

"Oh, Renee was the best friend a girl could have, but she didn't really know how to be a mother, that's true. We had each other, though, so everything worked out just fine. School was rough, but I think it was the same for a lot of other kids, too. Didn't you tell me you were teased in school? Anyway, I graduated with top grades from high school and got a scholarship to study in Chicago, so everything ended well. Charlie had tried to put away money for a college fund; Renee never thought that far ahead. I knew I needed a scholarship, so that's why grades were important to me. How about you?"

I feel uncomfortable getting into details about my past, because that will inevitably lead to lying. I feel less and less comfortable lying to Bella, the closer I've gotten to her.

"My parents have money, so I didn't need a scholarship, although if they had been poor I would probably have been able to apply for one. I've always tried to get top grades or win first place, I don't know why. I'm competitive, I guess." I shrug.

"So both your parents went to college?" Bella looks curious, but also cautious, as if she knows questions about my family could be loaded. She just doesn't know to what degree. I ponder how much I can tell her.

"I lived with my adoptive parents since I was very young, and they are both professionals with college educations. So yes, they expected me to go to college and were prepared and able to pay."

Bella is quiet for a beat, then it comes: "Were you happy with them?"

I don't really know how to answer that question.

"I … don't know. It's complicated. They took good care of me, but I was an unhappy kid. I can see now that it wasn't so much their fault as something I carried around inside me." Bella looks puzzled, so I try to elaborate. "I mean that it was easy for me to be unhappy. Maybe it's hereditary, like red hair. I don't remember very much of my birth mother, but I think she was an unhappy woman."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bella asks, probably sensing my discomfort.

"No, not really. It's all in the past now, anyway." I sigh, and pull my hand through my hair.

"Are you unhappy now?" Bella's voice is level and she holds my gaze, unflinching.

I shake my head and smile. "Since I've been with you? No. I can safely say, I've seldom been this happy in my life. It's like when you're a kid and you wake up in the morning feeling all bubbly. At first you don't know why, but then you remember: It's Christmas day. That's how you make me feel."

Bella blushes, and suddenly I have the strong urge to tell her that I love her, but I choke back the words, thinking about the end of summer. If I tell her that, will she believe me? Or will she think that I'm trying to manipulate her into taking me with her? I want it to mean something to her when I say the words, and I have to think about how to do it. I can't just blurt it out.

"I always think of you as a person with a great capacity for happiness, Edward. I've seen you with other people, and they usually look happy to be with you. People light up around you. It's too bad if you can't feel that in yourself. I feel happy around you, too, and I hope you know that. Maybe I'm not that good at showing how I feel." Her hand sneaks across the table and touches my cheek where I'm leaning on my hand, watching her while she speaks.

"Oh, I think you've made it clear how you feel about me, Bella, don't worry," I smirk at her, trying to turn the conversation around to a lighter tone. But to be honest, I don't know. Does she love me? Is she fond of me? Does she have a crush on me? Or does she just lust after me? I hope what I see shining in her eyes is love, or the beginning of love, but I don't know yet if it will be strong enough to keep us together.

We clear the table and sit for an hour with her laptop, looking at pictures and maps of the Big Sur, talking about how many hours we want to spend on the road driving, and where we might stop to take a look around. Bella has already booked us into a hotel near Union Square in San Francisco for Thursday night. We decide to head for Monterey on the way up, stay there Wednesday night, and leave it open how far we'll drive on the way back Friday. It will depend on when we leave San Francisco.

I tell Bella that if she's comfortable letting me get behind the wheel, we could take turns driving. She looks at me, her voice teasing:

"I don't know, Edward, are you a good driver?" I put my arm around her and kiss the side of her throat.

"Bella, I'm good at everything," I smirk, sarcastically. She squirms around a little in my arms as my mouth travels down. I expose part of her shoulder, then kiss my way back up to her ear lobe. She draws a deep breath when I suck on it, then twists her head around so that our lips meet. I love her kisses, tentative and soft, then turning bold as she sucks on my bottom lip and explores my mouth with her sweet tongue. It's too bad we won't have sex tonight, but kissing Bella tops most of the sex I've had before in terms of arousal.

When it gets to the point where she's starting to really drive me crazy, I groan and pull back, leaning my forehead against hers. "Time out, or I'm going to attack you right here on the couch."

Bella pants. "Okay. Time out. You've got me convinced. You're such a good kisser; you must be a good driver, too." She smiles up at me, tracing my lips with her finger. "And if you drive I'll get the chance to enjoy the scenery more."

I chuckle. "Exactly what scenery are you referring to, Ms. Swan?"

She arches her eyebrow at me. "Why, I always watch whatever view is the most appealing, Mr Masen." It's a long time before we get off that couch.


A/N: So, I've seen that some readers complain that the age difference makes this relationship unbelievable: please note that Bella (and I) so far seem to be in perfect agreement with you on that point, lol! But this is a Twilight fan fiction, not real life! Is the relationship between a 107-year-old vampire and a human teenage girl really believable? To me, Twilight was always about hope and wanting to believe in an impossible love. It's often not the mundane or the realistic stories that make us happy. It's the fantasy that, for a moment, makes us believe we could overcome the impossible. So, either we suspend disbelief and take the leap of imagination, or we stay grounded in how we know that the real world works. It's every man's and woman's choice, really. But I know what makes me happy. I hope you know where to find your happiness, too! *cue "Defying Gravity"* Thank you for reading!