Stolen Dreams
Disclaimer: Plagiarism is taking something that you didn't write and claiming that you did. It's also called stealing. I did not write Twilight. If I had, there would have been more sex, and I wouldn't be working two jobs right now. I also wouldn't be about to strangle my husband, because I'd be able to afford a nanny and a maid. Don't take this and claim it as your own. There's no joy in false praise because you will always know that you didn't really do it. Guilt's a bitch, folks.
A/N: Okay, that was my PSA for the day. Here's another: if you see or hear of someone committing plagiarism, fight it. Report them. No one deserves to have their hard work stolen.
Thank you to JenRar for your fabulous beta skills. I promise I'll get you another chapter one day. Thanks to each and every one of you that read and double thanks to those that reviewed. Reading them really brightened my days when I've thought I was losing my mind.
Chapter 29
Esme called early Friday morning and asked if we would mind if they brought Ryan to us that night. They wanted to see the new house and get a feel for where Ryan would be spending the next two weeks. It chafed me a little as I considered that it sounded like they didn't trust us to provide a suitable home for our son, but when I stepped back, I realized that it really was a valid request. Ryan had never spent a great deal of time away from Esme and Carlisle, and if it was anyone other than us, I would be thankful that she was being so diligent. Regardless, that also meant that we didn't have to make the drive to Forks that evening and could possibly start looking for things with which to decorate Ryan's room.
By four o'clock, I was a nervous wreck. Thankfully, my last patient had already left and all I had to do before I could go home was finish dictating my case notes. I was planning to make lasagna for dinner, and our guests would be arriving a little after six, if Esme's text when they left was at all telling. Kate saw me running around throwing files back in their drawers, laughed at me, and told me to go home, that she would finish up for me. I couldn't have asked for a better friend and partner.
"Are you home yet?" I asked into the phone as soon as Edward picked up.
"Good afternoon to you, too," he laughed back. "No, I'm not home yet. I stopped at the grocery store to get some garlic bread and lettuce for a salad."
"Oh my God, I love you," I breathed out. I hadn't even thought about those things. I knew we had the rest of the salad already in the fridge, but we'd had to throw out the lettuce when we moved.
"I know, I'm the greatest," he teased. "Are you on your way?"
"Yeah, I should have enough time to at least get it in the oven before they get there. Esme said that their GPS indicated they would get in around six."
"Plenty of time," he soothed.
"I know. I'm just . . ." I trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say.
"I know, baby. Here, let me check out, and I'll see you in a couple of minutes."
I could hear the beeping of the register as he signed off, leaving me once more with the silence of my car and my own loud thoughts.
Our house wasn't too far from work, so I before I knew it, I was pulling into the driveway. I hastily grabbed my briefcase and ran into the house from the garage. Soon, the noodles were boiling, the sauce was simmering, and the various cheeses were set out on the counter. Edward brought in the lettuce and started making the salad without me asking.
We chatted idly about our days for a few minutes, and then he gently laid the knife he was using on the cutting board. In one swift movement, he grasped my hips and pulled me toward him. He kissed me fiercely, as if his life depended on it. I could feel every ounce of his own anxiety and love.
"Shit. I've been wanting to do that all day," he admitted breathlessly when he finally released me. His eyes looked a little wild.
"Glad you did," I quipped, trying to quell the need building inside me. There was no way we'd have the opportunity to fix that tonight, so I figured that I might as well quash it now.
A quick glance to the side told me that the noodles were done. I drained them and then began the process of layering the noodles, sauce, and cheese while Edward stood behind me with his arms around my waist. As soon as I stuck it in the oven and set the timer, Edward and I went back to the bedroom so I could change. Rooting around in the boxes of clothes that we hadn't bothered to put away yet took longer than I'd anticipated, and when I heard the doorbell ring, I was still in jeans and a bra.
"Shit, shit, shit!" I cried, looking around frantically for the shirt I wanted to wear.
"It's fine. Find your shirt, and put it on. I'll go let them in," Edward soothed, but his expression was far from calm.
"No, I'll just put on this one." I grabbed a random peasant blouse and pulled it over my head as we walked out the door. Edward took my hand in his, and together, we walked to our new front door and let the Cullens in.
Ryan was carrying his duffle bag and a pillow while practically bouncing on the doorstep. Esme and Carlisle stood behind him, looking rather nervous.
"Hey!" I greeted, plastering a smile on my face to hide my nerves. Ryan ran into my arms and gave both Edward and me a hug.
"Can I go put my stuff in my room?" he asked excitedly.
I winced, and his face fell. "Well, at least for tonight, you're going to have to sleep in the guest room. It's the one across from yours," I answered.
Edward grinned at him. "You haven't been here to decorate yours, so there's nothing in there. Where did you think you were going to sleep?"
Those were the magic words. As if a light bulb had gone off, Ryan lit up and practically ran upstairs to verify that he had a fresh slate to work with.
"Please, come on in," I greeted Esme and Carlisle, who were still standing on the stoop.
Esme and I embraced, and we led them on a quick tour of the downstairs. They both seemed impressed by the house and the speed in which we'd gotten everything together.
I was getting ready to lead them upstairs when the timer went off. "Why don't you . . ." I started to tell Edward to finish the tour, which Ryan had joined, but Esme cut me off.
"Why don't we save the upstairs for later, once Ryan has finished his room?" she suggested.
I smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you. If you want to head into the kitchen, dinner is ready."
"We don't mean to impose," Esme deflected and slanted her body as if she was planning to leave.
I rolled my eyes. "I made dinner for you. Come eat with us, and you can leave after dinner. No need to eat Wendy's," I teased. We'd talked on one of our trips to Forks about Wendy's always being our standard stop on the way because it was the easiest to get in and out of.
She grinned at me. "Thank you, Bella. That's very kind of you."
I led them back to the dining room and then slipped into the kitchen to get the salad and bread. Edward was already pulling the lasagna out of the oven. We quickly cut it into pieces, and he carried it to the table while I brought in the rest of the meal.
Unlike our first meal together, there were no awkward pauses or tense glances between us. We had grown comfortable enough with each other to interact like the family we were becoming. It didn't hurt that Ryan prattled almost the entire meal. Esme and I both had to remind him several times not to talk with his mouth full.
Once everyone had eaten their fill, Esme and Carlisle slowly rose. "We should get going and leave you to your fun," she said, her voice trembling slightly. I knew she would cry on the way home like I usually did.
We followed them to the front door, but stepped back a bit to give them time and space to say their goodbyes to Ryan. Despite his excitement over his two weeks from home, I could tell that he was going to miss them. He hugged both of them tightly and nodded solemnly when Carlisle whispered something into his ear.
"You have your phone, right?" Carlisle double-checked after releasing him. Ryan nodded. "Good. Call us whenever you want to. It doesn't matter where we are—unless I'm in surgery, of course—you take precedence. Have fun and don't get into trouble."
"Yes, sir," Ryan whispered. He was having a little anxiety about the upcoming separation as well.
It was hard for me to remember sometimes that this was the longest they'd ever been apart, having spent years bouncing back and forth between my own parents. It didn't matter that they all knew that he would be loved and safe here with us. They would still miss each other, and that was what mattered right now.
Edward stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Ryan's shoulder, giving him some silent support. Esme and Carlisle waved goodbye once more, and then they stepped out into the late evening air, closing the door behind them.
"Are you okay?" I asked Ryan gently, grasping his hands with mine.
"Yeah," he said sadly. "I'm just going to miss them."
"It's okay to miss them," I told him, and his eyes shot to mine, shocked, I supposed, that I'd given the permission for him to love someone else.
"It is," I insisted, leading him over to the couch and sitting us all down. "Ryan, we know that they have raised you and that you love them. We don't intend to take that away from you. If you need to call them to hear a familiar voice, then call them. If you want to talk, we're here."
He nodded, looking thoughtful. "Do we have plans tonight?"
And . . . the feelings talk was over. Boys.
"Well . . . there is that little matter of you not having any furniture," Edward hinted. "And I happen to know that the furniture store is open until nine."
"We can go now and get my bed?" He was thrilled with this idea.
I shrugged nonchalantly. "It wouldn't be delivered for a few days, but we can go pick it out."
Ryan jumped up from the couch and headed for the front door. Edward just laughed and took my hand as we followed him out.
Edward's usual sales girl wasn't there, which suited me fine. I didn't want to have to deflect her around our ten-year-old son, and I was sure that she wouldn't care. Instead, an older gentleman was there. He eagerly showed Ryan every child and adult bed they had, but it didn't seem to be about making a sale for him. He seemed to truly enjoy Ryan's enthusiasm. I could relate.
"Ryan, make sure you pick a bed that you're going to be happy with for a few years. We aren't going to replace it anytime soon," Edward warned.
I stared at my fiancé in shock. I couldn't believe him. As if sensing my ire, Edward turned toward me and offered me a sad smile.
"He's ten, Bella," he said quietly so that we couldn't be overheard. "Those bunk beds he's looking at are cool now, but is that really what he's going to want when he hits high school? I don't mind buying him a new bed when the time comes, but God only knows how much use it's going to get between now and then. Besides, I know you're short, but it's not going to be too long before he outgrows it." Edward gestured to his own height.
He had grown some since we parted, but he'd been tall the entire time I'd known him. And the Edward I knew in high school wouldn't fit in that bunk bed.
"You have a point," I conceded.
"On the other hand," he allowed, "if we have more children, we can pass it down and get him a new one."
I stood beside him, just gaping. Sure, we'd talked about having more children, but he'd put a lot more thought into it than I'd suspected. Ryan was the one that broke my train of thought.
"Dad, please," he begged. "I really like this one." The bed he was standing next to had a full bed on the bottom with the separate twin on the top and stair-stepped drawers coming down the side, eliminating the need for a dresser. The full bed was big enough to accommodate him as he grew.
"The top bunk is removable and can stand alone as its own bed," the salesman informed us.
Well, fuck. That did it. How was I supposed to say no to a bed that solved world peace? "Is there a desk to go with it?" I asked, resigned.
Ryan cheered and looked thrilled. That look was almost worth the price tag on the bed, which made me want to choke. I knew that we'd planned for this when we bought the house, but the idea of spending that much money on a piece of furniture galled me.
"It's like three pieces in one," Edward whispered, clearly recognizing the look on my face. "See, if he got two of those beds over there and the matching dresser, it's more expensive than this one piece."
His math was correct, but it didn't dull the ache at the thought of how much we were really spending. This must have been why Edward didn't show me the final ticket the last time we'd been here. After living so frugally for so many years, including those in my childhood, it was a hard habit to break.
I knew this was what had to happen, though, so I merely closed my eyes and nodded. Edward sighed, but left me alone.
"I don't think we need the desk today," Edward said politely. "Come on, Ry, let's get this taken care of. We have a couple more stops to make."
Edward finished up in the store, as he had last time, and then led Ryan and me out to the car. He didn't take the familiar way home. Instead, we pulled up outside of Target. Edward turned to look at Ryan in the backseat.
"We're here to get ideas on how you want to decorate your room. If you don't see anything you like, that's fine. We'll go to Lowe's and Home Depot tomorrow," Edward informed him.
"I saw this one thing I liked in Mom's Ralph Lauren catalog," Ryan hinted. "Or they have the Star Wars bedding online."
I was so torn. I wanted our son to have the room he wanted, but Ralph Lauren? The stuff in there cost twice what the same thing would have elsewhere. I was all for quality, but a line had to be drawn somewhere.
Mr. Spends-a-lot beat me to it, though. "Ryan, we're not buying you sheets from the Ralph Lauren catalog. The bed was a splurge, because you need one that will last, but we're not laying out a small fortune for sheets and blankets."
Ryan nodded his acceptance, and I saw the ruse for what it was. He was playing us, trying to see what he could get away with. It wasn't malicious, per se, but he was testing our boundaries. It bothered me, but I recognized that this wasn't unusual behavior in multi-home families. Edward and I were going to have to talk and solidify what those limits were.
Edward smirked at me, seeming to come to the same conclusion, and opened his door. Ryan and I followed suit and got out, too. The trip through the store to their bedroom section was quiet. Ryan had his hands stuffed in his pockets and spent most of the time looking at the floor, as if he'd rather be anywhere than walking through Target with us. For just a moment, I felt bad that we had shut him down so quickly, but then returned to my firm conviction that we were doing what was right, what all good parents did.
"All right, Ry, do you have any ideas on what you want?" Edward asked as we approached the aisle stuffed with kids' themed pillows and comforters. "Other than Star Wars?"
Ryan smirked and looked up. "So I can't have that?"
Edward snuck a look at me and whispered, "I didn't say that."
I snorted and rolled my eyes at them, turning toward the items on the shelf. "We're just here to get ideas, Ryan. This is your room, but I don't want to have to redecorate it every couple of years, so I want to find something you like enough to keep awhile."
"Okay," Ryan said, more agreeably than I expected. "Thomas is for babies, though. I like trains, but no. No rockets." He was making his way down the aisle, nixing everything he saw. "No camo—sorry, Dad. Wait, this is kind of cool."
Edward and I walked hand in hand over to the comforter he'd stopped at. It was a Shaun White set with blue and black patchwork on one side and red and gray stripes on the other. Sheets with blue amorphous monsters riding skateboards sat next to it. It certainly wasn't my favorite, but I didn't hate it with a passion.
"We can mark that down as one idea," Edward said, clearly loving it as much as I did.
Ryan shrugged. "I don't see anything else here that I really like. It's mostly for little kids."
I had to agree with him, and we left the store with no more than we'd come in with. When we got home, I powered up my laptop, thankful that Edward had overseen the installation of our internet access earlier that day.
"Do you want to look at some ideas online?" I asked. It was still relatively early to put him to bed on a Friday night.
He crinkled his nose. "Can we play some games, or something?"
Edward laughed and towed him over to the entertainment center where our two—yes, two—video games systems were housed. They argued over games and picked one that Edward said I "didn't totally suck at."
It was Wii Play. Seriously, who can suck at Wii Play? For the next thirty minutes, I shot all the balloons, cans, ducks, and aliens that came my way, plowed down all of the scarecrows, and caught all the fish in the pond. When I handed my controller over to a gaping Edward, I just smirked at him and Ryan.
"See, I did learn a thing or two from Charlie," I quipped as I plopped down on the couch.
"Remind me never to get her a gun," Edward whispered to Ryan just loud enough for me to hear.
Ryan giggled, and then proceeded to school Edward in the exact same games.
By the time we all went to bed, the tension of Ryan's first overnight with us settled in again. We walked him to his room, reminded him where we would be if he needed us, and kissed him goodnight. Later, as Edward and I lay in bed together, we listened for any sound he might make. After hours of hearing nothing, we finally succumbed to the exhaustion and fell asleep.
"Ma. Wake up. Ma, Dad says it's time to get up." A not so little person shoved my shoulders in an attempt to wake me. What he didn't know was that I'd been awake since he'd tiptoed into the room. I flipped over suddenly and pinned him to the bed with a tickle attack.
Ryan laughed and squealed, wriggling on the bed.
"What's going on in here?" Edward asked from the doorway, the expression on his face wicked.
"Oh, nothing. Just some tickle torture," I said nonchalantly, while never stopping my fingers. "You want in?"
Edward grinned, and Ryan shouted as Edward launched himself onto the bed and joined in. Ryan decided to try to fight back, and in seconds, had found Edward's one really ticklish spot. My son grinned at me, and we both turned on Edward, making him laugh and squirm.
"Uncle, uncle!" Edward yelled. "Breakfast is ready, and no one wants to eat cold eggs."
"You cooked?" Ryan gave Edward a skeptical look. I took that to mean that he didn't believe that Edward could and that Carlisle probably couldn't.
"Hey, it's edible," Edward defended with a laugh. "Get up. We've got sh-stuff to do today."
I giggled at his almost slip and climbed out of bed. The boys raced off to the kitchen, and by the time I got there, they were both seated at the table with a plate of slightly burned pancakes between them and scrambled eggs on all three plates.
Edward, it turned out, could actually make a decent breakfast. It wasn't going to put Willie's out of business or anything, but as he'd said, it was edible.
Ryan helped us clean up the kitchen, before running upstairs to get cleaned up for the day. I, of course, was the last one done. Edward had showered before making breakfast and was already dressed. My boys were waiting for me when I came down, and we piled in the car again.
Taking a ten-year-old boy to a home improvement store was a much bigger trial than I had anticipated. He wanted to see everything. The men in the orange vests patiently answered his questions when we could find them, and Edward did his best with the rest.
The paint sample aisle was a test of patience that I wasn't expecting. Ryan wanted to take a sample of every paint color that caught his eye. I kept trying to tell him that some of the colors didn't go together, but he ignored me for the most part.
"They all do this," the guy at the counter whispered to me when it became evident that I was losing my cool. "I don't know what's so fascinating about paint chips, but I have yet to see a kid that didn't want to take a handful home—and those are the ones that aren't actually painting a room."
I laughed, his aside making me feel marginally better. He also took control of the situation, which also helped.
"Hey, little man, whatcha got there?" the guy asked Ryan.
Ryan showed him the dizzying array of colors in his hand.
"Psychedelic," the guy said in his best hippie voice. "Is that what you're going for?"
"No," Ryan said, startled. "I just want my room to look cool."
The guy pulled out a couple of paint schema brochures and handed them over. "Maybe you want to look at these first, then. Less guess work."
Ryan sat down on the floor and paged through the brochures. One of the pictures had a nautical theme, with navy blue, red, and white. One was a jungle theme, and another was a sports mecca. None of them seemed to fit my boy, though.
"Oh, one more," paint guy added. He handed over a slick showing several professional and college sports teams. "If you have a favorite team, you can paint the room in the team's official colors."
Ryan's eyes widened as he paged through it, and he looked up at Edward and me hopefully. "Can I?" he asked tremulously.
"What team would you choose, bud?" Edward asked, squatting down so that he was level with Ryan.
Ryan looked momentarily torn. He glanced down at the color card in his hand and then back up at his dad. "The Mariners?" he asked.
"Is that what you want?" I asked, wanting to clarify that he did want it and wasn't doing it to impress Edward.
Ryan nodded. "They have the best colors of all my teams."
God, I loved kid logic.
"Mariners paint it is, then," I told paint guy.
Edward wandered off to get the rest of the things we needed.
The bill for paint and supplies was outrageous, but it would be fun to do this as a family, and it was certainly cheaper than having to pay to have it done. Ryan immediately donned his "junky clothes" when we got home. Edward and I changed and taped up the woodwork while Ryan chatted about how he wanted it done.
One wall would remain white, and all of the woodwork would be painted gray. He wanted Edward to paint the Mariners' compass logo, but Edward figured that he would botch it and promised to look into a wall sticker instead.
With drop cloths on the floor and tape around the wood work and ceiling, Ryan dipped his brush into the paint can and made the first mark on the wall. Edward and I followed with our rollers while music from Edward's stereo blared through the house.
It was three hours of laughing, dancing, and painting. There was almost as much paint on the drop cloth and each of us as there was on the walls, but there was no question that we'd had fun. Edward sealed up the paint to use the next day for the second coat, and Ryan and I tromped downstairs to order pizza. I couldn't remember a day in which I'd ever had so much fun.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Have a great week!
Recs this week: Unbecoming by BookishQua. Run, don't walk. Go read it. It's worth it.
