Bring On The Wonder Chapter 35: Declarations, a twilight fanfic

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own (NotGonnaBe)Priestward and PottymouthBella.

All plotlines, characterizations, and details in Bring On The Wonder belong to the author: Bronzehyperion. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without the author's authorization.

This story is rated M for a reason. Violence, swearing, religion being made fun of and criticized. And lemons at the right time.

This story leans heavily on my BETA Parama. She doesn't just make sure my grammar is bearable, she also helps me put my thoughts into order, has great suggestions and is always supportive even when giving constructive criticism. She's my BETA and my friend!

CHAPTER 33: DECLARATIONS

Tap Tap Tap…

I stared at the screen of my laptop, looking at what I'd just typed.

But the words weren't ones that belonged in my dissertation.

I had typed without thinking, or perhaps because I'd been thinking too much.

Isabella Marie Volturi.

I stared at those three words, really looked at them for a while. On screen they seemed so insignificant.

Meaningless. Three words typed in Verdana.

Just a name. No big deal.

But the name held a mystery. The name belonged to a secret I probably couldn't begin to comprehend because Bella refused to share it.

Now, a part of me was simply curious because the name Volturi rang a bell. Not a very loud bell, mind you, but a small tingling that kept me wondering where I'd heard that name before. I supposed it was human nature to be speculative and while every person had their right to privacy, we all had a certain desire to know other people's deepest and darkest secrets especially if we felt there was a good mystery involved.

And Bella was a good mystery.

My curiosity was something I could ignore or contain. If curiosity had been my sole motivator to learn Bella's secrets, to know her past, I would have admonished myself to value Bella's privacy and get over it even if the name sounded familiar.

Unfortunately things weren't that simple. Bella's refusal to share was understandable yet frustrating.

Also, it was getting old.

I had no doubt her past was colorful and that remembering and having to talk about it wasn't easy for her. I truly understood that.

But now that we were getting closer, it was more than curiosity that had me desperate for her to open up.

Bella's past was haunting her in many ways. While I didn't have any details I knew that much. It consumed and frightened her; I'd seen that up close a few times. And that wasn't healthy and prevented her from leaving the past behind and living her life in the now and focus on her future.

There was this Aro person, whom she clearly feared. Whoever he was it was evident he seemed to be this invisible force with a strong hold on her. I'd wondered if maybe he was an old boyfriend or someone she owed money but her dread seemed to run too deep for it to be something relatively simple like that.

The tumultuous relationship with her parents didn't help either and while she never mentioned them in specifics it seemed they played a part in the mystery as well. All I knew was that her dad liked sports and that Bella seemed unimpressed with her mother because she had mentioned she didn't want to become like her during one of our group therapy sessions.

Whatever that "becoming" entailed or what it was based on, I had no idea.

Then there was Forks. And that church in Italy; the Santa Maria Maggiore.

There were clues; little snippets which I'd picked up on by accident or when Bella had been freaked out enough to share.

But that was before we'd declared ourselves. Before we'd kissed.

All of that had different meaning now that we were… dating.

Yes, dating.

I was dating someone.

Well, Bella was not just someone.

She was my… girlfriend.

There I said it, just like I had told that doctor and the extremely incompetent pharmacy nurse at the hospital.

Bella was my girlfriend.

The word had slipped from my lips so easily and without any hesitation.

And I meant it.

Bella was my girlfriend and that automatically made me her boyfriend.

And I may have very little - well actually no experience - but people who called each other that also shared information about their likes, dislikes, past and any important things their significant other should know.

If we couldn't find a way to communicate then any romantic connection would be clouded by uncertainties and misunderstandings that would always stand between us. That could lead to awkward moments and possibly even life threatening situations.

Okay, perhaps that was a slight exaggeration in general but what if there were occurrences where it was essential to know a part of Bella that she hadn't shared before?

Like how she was possibly sensitive to ear infections.

We had planned to spend Saturday together but when I had arrived at Bella's apartment after a quick breakfast stop at Starbucks, it became evident she was in no shape to go out.

My instinct had instantly kicked in. As had my worry.

First, I had gone to a local pharmacy, once again struck by the fact Bella's neighborhood wasn't the right place for her.

I was certain there was a sense of prejudice on my part because I had never spent much time around Rainier Valley before I met Bella but this area was definitely less economically fortunate compared to where I lived. Maybe it made me a snob but I wanted Bella away from there.

Now going to the local pharmacy hadn't been that simple because I'd had a hard time locating one. Not wanting to disturb Bella by calling her for directions, I'd called Angela instead and she had been happy to lead me to the nearest pharmacy by providing guidance on the phone.

By the time I'd gotten back to Bella, she'd been out cold on her sofa, covered by the blanket I'd tucked around her before I left.

I'd gently picked her up and carried her to her room. She'd sighed softly as she leaned against my chest.

"Edward," had escaped her lips and she'd sounded so content. She'd sounded happy.

While I had not welcomed the circumstance of Bella being sick, her words had warmed me as much as her feverish skin had.

"Shh, sleep my Bella," I had whispered and in that moment I'd probably already declared her my girlfriend in my head without thinking.

I'd spent the rest of Saturday taking care of Bella, hoping her fever would break soon so that she would feel better.

Angela and Ben had stopped by briefly, mostly to keep me company. I'd called my parents to let them know I would have to skip mass on Sunday because I couldn't leave Bella alone. My mother had been very understanding and she had gone into instant "mom-mode" by offering to make her infamous chicken and stars soup; something she had always made whenever Emmett or I were sick as kids.

My father had surprised me by asking for Bella's symptoms and being genuinely concerned and sounding truly interested for once. Though maybe he'd felt obligated because of the oath he'd taken as a doctor.

Occasionally I'd woken Bella up to give her some Tylenol or let her drink something and by nightfall her skin seemed cooler and it had made me optimistic that she might feel better in the morning.

But she hadn't. She'd only gotten worse.

By the time it was Sunday afternoon, I'd found her in intense pain which had forced me to take her to the emergency room because her fever was sky rocketing and her ear was giving her a lot of agony.

Ben had driven us to Seattle Medical Center, offering to wait out in the parking lot to give us a ride back.

Eventually a doctor had diagnosed Bella with a heavy ear infection.

And then the insurance issue came up.

Now truth be told, I had never even thought of that.

It made sense though. Bella had spent the past few years conducting her "business" on the street. There had never been any need for a social security number and insurance was likely something she couldn't afford.

But then there was Isabella Marie Volturi.

A different person and yet also the same.

She had insurance. She had a social security number.

She existed in ways Bella didn't.

So why did Bella leave this behind? And what exactly did she leave behind?

Who was Isabella Marie Volturi?

Did Bella Swan even exist or had she made that up. Was she in fact someone else?

I sighed, staring at my computer screen again.

The cursor flickered next to the name.

Isabella Marie Volturi.

After I had brought Bella home from the hospital, demanding she would stay with me instead of her own place, I had been in snob mode again, convinced that her building was infested with germs and whatnot. Then I had practically forced her to give me some answers.

While the pharmacy nurse had been obnoxious with her flirting – I think that had been what she'd tried to do - and her severe lack in health care professionalism, she had also planted a seed in my head.

That name. Isabella Marie Volturi. Those small details. A social security number. More ear infections in the past.

Standing alone these tidbits meant little but all together they added to the mystery that was my… my girlfriend.

Bella Marie Swan.

Was she even real?

She had promised we would talk when she felt better, ignoring the scowl that had formed on my face as she'd pushed me away again, making promises she might not keep and always managing to break them because she hated talking about the things that haunted her.

But this time she would not run. This time she would give me some answers.

Unless...

I stared at the name Volturi.

I could…

I shouldn't.

But I could…

I could find some answers myself.

I could google the name to get some answers. It would be so easy. Every person had some sort of reference on the internet nowadays.

I had no malicious intent. I would just take a peek at the name. See what would come up and find out where I might have heard it before. I wouldn't start digging or anything.

Right, Edward, I scolded myself. Like you would stop once you'd find something.

I sighed. I couldn't betray Bella's trust like that. It would have to come from her.

"Hey," a voice sounded behind me. "What are you doing?"

I turned and saw the most beautiful sight.

Bella, my fallen angel was standing there in a pair of my black sweats – they were way too big on her so she had rolled them up around the waist a few times - and one of my black t-shirts. Her feet were covered in a pair of my socks.

All mine. And I liked the idea that those clothes smelled like her now. It awakened something primal in me.

Her hair looked disheveled from not brushing it because she'd been in bed for days and her skin was pale. Her eyes had slight purple bruises underneath them but the golden brown of her irises had a little sparkle again.

"You're up," I said, jumping up from my chair to get to her.

"I had to go to the bathroom," Bella explained. "Plus, I'm kind of thirsty."

"How do you feel?" I asked as I touched her forehead with my hand, noticing that it still felt clammy but thankfully far less hot.

"Better, definitely better," Bella said as she leaned into me.

I didn't hesitate to wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her bed-head hair. Bella sighed and placed her hands against my chest.

"I'm glad. And relieved," I whispered. "You had me worried."

"I'm sorry," Bella murmured as she placed her cheek against my chest.

I moved back a little to look at her again. "Does your ear feel better?"

Bella nodded. "It's still throbbing a little and there's this annoying high beeping sound I keep hearing but the worst pain is gone."

I let her go and she swayed a little, so I took hold of her waist to steady her.

I traced her sides with my fingers, letting them ghost over her ribs – she had definitely lost a few pounds from eating so little in the past few days.

Bella gave me a sheepish look and I realized I had never touched her like this before; it was quite intimate.

I flashed her a smile before releasing her and guiding her to the sofa.

"You said you were thirsty."

Bella nodded.

"Tea or water?"

"Water is fine," Bella said as she slumped down a little. I could tell that while she was doing better, being sick and in bed for days had taken its toll on her. She had lost some weight, her muscles were probably weak from lying down and she must be feeling generally tired. It would take some time for her to be back to her full strength again.

I grabbed Bella a bottle of water and a Tylenol – just in case she needed it. She was still hours away from having to take her antibiotics.

I went back to the living room and noticed my laptop was still on, screen open and ready for Bella to read that name.

Her name.

But Bella didn't seem to care and as she took the water and Tylenol, I went to shut it down.

"Have you been working hard?" she asked instead.

"Christmas break is coming up in only a few weeks. I have a few assignments that I need to finish before then."

Bella yawned and nodded at the same time.

"Are you hungry? There's some chicken and stars soup left."

"You cooked?" Bella asked suspiciously.

I shook my head, smiling. "My mother did."

Yesterday, my mother had insisted on bringing soup over, even though I had told her it was unnecessary she had been relentless.

And once she had arrived at my apartment, she had made a list and did some grocery shopping, making sure my refrigerator was stocked aplenty for days to come.

"I'd like some soup."

I went into my kitchen to reheat the soup.

"What day is it anyway?" Bella asked from the living room. "I barely recall anything from the past few days."

"It's Tuesday – late afternoon," I told her, as I poured the soup into a bowl and grabbed a spoon to take it over to Bella.

I put it on the coffee table so it could cool down a bit and sat down on the sofa next to Bella.

"Wow," she said. "The last thing I really remember is going to the hospital, even though that's fuzzy as well. I can't believe I've been out for days. Wait… Maggie, she must think I am a lousy employee for being absent already in my second week!"

"No worries," I reassured her. "Maggie knows you're sick and she told me to wish you a speedy recovery and not to worry. When you're well again, you still have a job. She doesn't think badly of you now, she is only worried about your wellbeing."

Bella let out a sigh of relief before reaching for the bowl of soup and moving back onto the sofa where she held the soup close to her chest and shuddered as its warmth touched her through the fabric of the t-shirt.

"Are you cold?" I asked as little clouds of the steam from the heated broth engulfed her.

"No, I just love the smell of chicken soup." Bella smiled. "I should really call your mother to thank her."

"No need, she loves to take care of sick people," I said. "Sometimes I wonder why she didn't become a nurse."

My mother had been pretty worried about Bella and she had not even questioned the fact I had brought Bella here. In fact, she had acted like it was the most normal thing in the world, even though it really wasn't.

I had never had a girl here, let alone a girl I was now calling my girlfriend.

Of course, I hadn't really shared those feelings with my mother. It was one thing for her to stop by and fuss over me and particularly Bella and another to embrace the idea of gaining another daughter-in-law.

Well, sort of.

Plus, I hadn't even discussed labeling what we had with Bella. I should probably do that before sharing it with the world.

"Nurse," Bella mused. "I remember that at the hospital, there was a nurse… was she… did she… have gigantic boobs?"

My former self would have flushed with embarrassment, unsure of how to respond but I wasn't all that innocent anymore.

I'd kissed and been affectionate with a girl so to say I didn't notice now when a woman used her breasts to get my attention would be ridiculous. Having said that, while I had noticed what the pharmacy nurse had tried, it had been her lack in being a medical professional that had really caught my attention.

"Yes, she… she did." I chuckled.

"You checked them out," Bella mock-gasped. "You're a perv, Edward Cullen. I knew it would only be a matter of time before you'd take a peek at someone's cleavage."

Now this did make me blush because in some ways I was still pretty innocent. I'd never consider taking a look at a woman's cleavage, unless maybe it was Bella. I had no doubt I was curious there. It was enough already to stop my eyes from lingering on certain parts of her body. I remembered the first time we met; Bella had worn very little and her lack of a proper outfit had caught my attention even then.

"I didn't take a peek," I argued. "They were right there, practically shoved in my face."

"Sure, sure." Bella chuckled as she started blowing at her soup before taking a hesitant mouthful. "Whatever you made yourself believe."

"Bella, I would never look at a woman's breasts like that. I may see them, but it doesn't mean I am looking intently because I find them… uh... stimulating."

Bella shrugged and took another spoonful, sighing contently that the soup made her insides warm.

"So you wouldn't even look at mine?" she asked. "My boobs wouldn't… stimulate you?" she asked and turned to pout at me.

Her teasing embarrassed me even further. It was one thing to kiss and hug and another to talk about something as intimate as looking at Bella's breasts.

She wasn't offering, was she?

Because her entire physique would probably stimulate me. I mean, being close to her had stimulated me before and while I hadn't done anything to provoke that, it had seemed to come naturally.

I pondered this when I felt Bella's hand on my arm. "Breathe, Edward," she said. "I am only teasing you."

"Besides, I've seen you check out my girls before." she winked before going back to eat her soup.

"Well, again, the nurse had an interesting appearance and demeanor," I mumbled, trying not to look at her chest now, even though there was little to see with Bella basically drowning in my t-shirt.

"I vaguely remember you called me your girlfriend when the nurse with the huge rack was trying to get your attention with her... huge rack."

"I did."

"Is that what I am now? Your girlfriend? Or was it a defense mechanism to get the boobs out of your face?"

I knew that after what had happened with Bella getting sick and taking care of her like I had, calling her my girlfriend at the hospital was not a defense mechanism of any sorts. It came natural but I had no idea if she wanted to be. I mean, I wanted her to be. But maybe I'd stepped out of line to call Bella that without her being conscious enough to agree.

"I… uh… I called you that because it was easier that way," I said, giving her the neutral answer.

Bella nodded. "I guess. It would've been more difficult to explain it any other way. Plus, it did help back off Busty."

"Busty?"

"I nicknamed her." Bella shrugged.

I laughed at that. Bella gave everyone she didn't really like a nickname, often a crude one.

"Well, I didn't call you my girlfriend to send her a message."

"No?"

I took the bowl from Bella's lap and put it on the table before pulling her close.

Bella eagerly molded herself into my embrace, sighing contently. Ever since we'd kissed it had gotten so much easier to be close to her, to know what to do without questioning it. And she didn't freak out anymore, which made it easier to share these moments without having to guess if a sudden move or act of closeness would bother her.

"No," I whispered, as I pulled back to look at her.

"I want to call you that; my girlfriend."

Bella's eyes went wide in surprise but only a little.

"I know that it might seem like we're moving much faster than we agreed upon beforehand but…"

"We were going to see where things would take us; force nothing," Bella said.

I nodded. "Yes, and if defining this… connection between us in a certain way makes you feel uncomfortable, we shouldn't do it."

Bella shook her head. "I liked it when you called me that. Well, I think I did, because I don't remember it completely."

I smiled. "I liked calling you that as well.

"Girlfriend," I murmured.

"Boyfriend," Bella whispered.

I leaned in to touch my lips to hers but Bella pulled away before I could.

"What's wrong?" I wondered, trying to keep the feeling of rejection at bay. We had just declared ourselves; wasn't kissing appropriate?

"I'm still sick," Bella pointed out. "I don't want to give you my germs and get you sick as well."

"Hmm," I pretend to ponder before taking Bella by surprise and capturing her lips with mine.

She hesitated for a second before she tentatively kissed me back.

Feeling her soft lips moving against mine never failed to amaze me. How had I managed to go without this for so long?

Kissing Bella was like a rainstorm in a scorching desert. Like a warm blanket covering you in a bitingly cold winter. The electric pull between us captivated me and made me take hold of her sides to press her closer against my chest.

The answer was simple; I'd gone without feeling like this because there had never been someone like Bella.

I had no doubt any other girl would not be able to make me feel this way; no one else would have me question a once solid future and trade it in for the insecurities of falling in love.

But Bella had.

Of course the other side of the coin was the fact that while she had turned my life upside down in great ways, she also held plenty of secrets that could only cause trouble if they stood between us.

"Edward," Bella murmured against my lips. "I… can't…"

"Can't what?" I asked, pulling away abruptly.

"Breathe," Bella sighed deeply. "Your kisses leave me breathless and since my nose closed up again... well no need to be graphic but I'm sure you get the point."

I smiled widely. "Breathless, hmm… I kind of like that."

Bella rolled her eyes but remained playful. "Look at you, all proud of your kissing skills."

"Is that weird?" I asked, slightly taken aback by my own brazenness.

"No," Bella shook her head, as she cupped my cheek. "I like it. And you should be proud because you're very good at it."

She emphasized that by pressing her lips to mine again, but only briefly.

Pulling away with a smile, she said. "But if you get sick, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Are you saying you wouldn't take care of me, if I caught a few of your germs?"

"Well, considering the fact I'd be immune by then, it would sort of make sense. I mean, your mother's soup is delicious, but it would be ridiculous to have her come over with more soup and risk her getting sick as well. So yes, I'd take care of you; make you soup and give you naughty sponge baths."

Naughty sponge baths. I pictured a half naked Bella – though no specific body parts unnecessarily exposed - in a white nurse uniform that was too short and too tight and that earned me a light slap on the chest.

"You went there!" Bella grinned, "You pictured me as a naughty nurse, didn't you!"

"I... uh... yes."

My face had to be beet red because I felt my cheeks burning which only caused Bella to grin wider.

"You are so cute," she smiled. "I should call Busty and ask for a uniform."

Relieved she was joking, I rolled my eyes.

"If I got sick, you wouldn't have to wear any type of costumes."

"Fine," Bella shrugged. "It would be my duty anyway, whether I was immune or not."

"Why?"

"Because it's what girlfriends do." she smiled before launching herself into my arms again.

On Wednesday Bella demanded I go back to my normal routine instead of hovering over her like I'd done since she'd gotten sick.

"I feel much better," she had said. "So there's no need to hang around me all day."

"But what if your temperature starts spiking again, or your ear acts up?" I had protested.

While I hadn't gone to school for two days and was getting kind of anxious being cooped up in my apartment all day, I really didn't want to leave Bella.

But she was relentless. Once again she had told me she'd be fine before wrapping her arms around me in a hug.

Then, when I had protested some more, she had threatened to go back to her apartment to recover further and for some reason that had bothered me.

I sort of liked having her around. I liked that constant pull between us, even if it distracted me a little. It was nice to feel that way about someone, to crave their presence and wanting them close.

Finally I had relented and with a kiss and homemade lunch – thanks to my mother stocking up and Bella making a great tuna sandwich - I'd been sent on my way.

I followed my regular classes of the day, met up with a study group for some project we had to finish by February – we had to put together an open day for potential new students - and sat at the university cafeteria with Seth to have lunch.

He was envious of my tuna sandwich and with good reason because it tasted amazing. I texted Bella to thank her, to which she sent me back a smiley face and the assurance she was doing okay and had rested in between cleaning my apartment a little. I wanted to call her to tell her not to do that but I knew Bella well enough by now to know she'd be too stubborn to listen to me anyway. And I understood that she might want to do something after having been stuck in bed for so long.

Seth talked about the girl he'd been dating for a while and I had to bite my tongue not to tell him I was dating someone as well. I wanted to, which was kind of odd considering I had always taken pride in the fact I served God instead of getting myself distracted by boasting about the trivialities of romance and hormones.

Of course, it wasn't so trivial any more.

It was all very real.

I was leaving something big behind; something I'd wanted for so long. I knew I didn't necessarily have to – I could be with Bella now and still have the option to become a priest later but that would mean somewhere along the line I'd have to end things with Bella because ordination required celibacy and I could never be married. That alone would make it unfair to have Bella stick around now and get caste off later because I'd chosen to become a priest after all.

But that wasn't the most important reason for me to choose. I couldn't have it both ways and I didn't want to.

Kissing Bella and declaring her my girlfriend had basically shut the door to becoming a priest for me. The moment our lips had touched and I'd allowed myself to feel the enormity of those feelings, I had made my choice.

I'd be lying if I said I was a hundred percent at peace with it. It wasn't that losing that particular future upset me; it was more the unknown that I was facing by making this choice.

And that was okay, it was normal. But it was also scary. Still, it didn't mean I regretted anything that had happened since I'd met Bella and I certainly didn't regret choosing her.

After school, I was in a rush to get back to her when a surprising phone call disturbed my plan.

It was Father Masen. Apparently he was back in the city again, after spending a lot of time down in New Orleans as of late, and he asked me if I could meet him for coffee.

I wanted to decline because I had a feeling he wanted to meet up to lecture me – again - but I also realized that I owed him some respect and he deserved to know about Bella and me.

I had no idea how he would respond and while I felt I didn't owe him any explanations – a person was free to change their mind about something, right? – I did worry about his reaction. He had always been a close friend of the family and he'd been my mentor for so long. I wanted him to approve, even if a non-approval wouldn't stop me.

We met at a small coffee place near the church and Father Masen was actually dressed in casual attire, namely jeans and a sweater. His white collar was still visible – he never took it off - but for some reason I felt almost comfortable talking to him in this setting.

"Edward," he greeted me jovially. "How have you been?"

I shook his hand and took a seat, while Father Masen waved over a waitress to take our order.

"I've been well," I told him. "Busy times with Christmas break not too far away."

He looked at me – well scanning me was more like it - and nodded.

"You look well indeed."

We both ordered coffee and Father Masen ordered a chocolate croissant on the side. I politely declined any food because my stomach felt like it was in knots.

We talked about meaningless topics like the weather and Mrs. Cope's everlasting cleaning habits where she misplaced Father Masen's things, until our order was brought. The waitress was my age and flashed me a big smile as she placed the coffee in front of me.

Was she flirting? I wondered. I'd never paid a lot of attention to that before but since Bella kept pointing it out whenever it happened, I was starting to notice it.

Not that it made me feel any different or that it mattered; I only cared for what Bella thought of me.

Thinking of how she'd roll her eyes at the waitress if she was here right now put a smile on my face.

"Something funny?" Father Masen wondered. "That smile on your face surely means something. You look very happy."

I shook my head. "I was just thinking. Anyway, how have you been? I heard you had to go to New Orleans again. Did you spend Thanksgiving there?"

Father Masen nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. It's a very hectic situation over there and it's taking up all my time lately."

I'd been given these cryptic answers for a while now by either Father Masen or my father. While I respected the delicate nature of whatever was going on in New Orleans and the obvious discretion with which Father Masen acted and spoke, I was starting to hate the vagueness in his explanations.

"It must be serious. My father said something about how this could look bad for the church if it came out."

Father Masen rubbed his face and took a sip of coffee. He sighed deeply after that and his shoulders slumped like he was keeping a huge secret.

He probably was.

"We have a so called 'loose cannon'- someone who's not abiding by the laws of the Catholic Church. Even more so, someone who's completely out of control."

"A cleric?"

"Yes."

"Will this person be excommunicated?" I wondered.

Father Masen took another deep breath. This was evidently weighing pretty heavy on him.

"St. Patrick prefers to apply the censure of suspension."

"Wow."

The censure of suspension was one of the biggest punishments for a cleric, because it would prohibit him from exercising the power of orders, his power of governance and the rights and functions attached to the office he held.

That kind of penance was only given when someone had really done something inexcusable to the church.

"Yes, unfortunately Rome doesn't agree."

"Rome?"

"The Vatican is reluctant to support the discussion. They'd prefer it if a more appropriate punishment was chosen."

"Like?"

"They feel a reprimand; a verbal slap on the hand so to speak would suffice. But they're willing to concede to excommunication."

I sat there, mouth agape. I knew excommunication was a relatively light punishment, intended to invite the person to change behavior or attitude, to repent and return to full communion after absolution was given by a priest or bishop empowered to do so.

Suspension would be a more severe punishment, which meant that whatever this cleric had done was pretty bad; otherwise his church wouldn't demand it.

It surprised me the Vatican was involved – that meant it was a very serious matter, and that they had strongly advised against a strong penance and had shown favor to the possibility of letting this cleric return to full communion.

"What will St. Patrick do?"

"They don't want to go against the recommendation the Vatican made," Father Masen explained. "But at the same time they feel like excommunication is a light penance. Too light."

I believed in forgiveness and repentance but I felt there was a lot more to this story than Father Masen felt comfortable to share and based on that I couldn't pass any judgment on an appropriate punishment either way. Plus, it wasn't my place to do so.

"Is he still in New Orleans?"

"No, he went to Rome."

Hiding in the heart of the Roman Catholic Church. No wonder his penance was cause for such heavy discussion.

"That must complicate things."

Father Masen nodded and finished his coffee. He instantly gestured to the waitress to bring him another one.

"Enough about this; I'm sure it'll get sorted. My main focus is to make sure it doesn't become a public matter. St. Patrick is one of the oldest and most respected churches in New Orleans. They don't need any negative attention," he said.

The waitress brought over more coffee and asked me if she could get me anything else. There was that toothy, over the top grin again, one that screamed for me to notice her. But my mind was reeling with what Father Masen had told me and so I shook my head no and ignored her stare.

I never quite understood why people would allow themselves to be led astray from their faith in ways that made it necessary to ban them from the church all together. It was one thing to consciously choose a different path without disrespecting your religion and another to break the actual rules of the church.

"Tell me about you," Father Masen said, getting my attention. "What have you been up to?"

Me? Oh… I decided to turn my life around and get myself a girlfriend; you've met her: the ex prostitute.

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I was a grown man. I had a right to explore my options and not set my entire future in stone and sign it off with my blood.

Okay, that was a bit too dramatic and graphic but I felt like I had to convince my father and Father Masen of the choices I made. It never had been an issue before because I'd always walked a line that led me straight to the confessional and the pulpit, but now that I was changing course, they were starting to protest and it bothered me that I had to defend myself because of it.

Like I was doing something wrong.

"I've been busy with school and such," I answered vaguely.

"Your father told me you missed mass on Sunday. And Father Banner mentioned you only confessed to him once during my absence."

There was no accusation in his voice but there was a burning curiosity there. I had never gone without confessing for long. The last time I hadn't gone to confession for more than a week was when I was sixteen and had a nasty flu that floored me for two weeks. But then, the moment I'd gotten the go ahead from our family physician, I'd practically run straight to the confessional booth.

"I don't feel comfortable going to confession with Father Banner. He lectures instead of listening. It bothers me."

I spoke the truth. But I knew that wasn't an excuse to stay away. In all honesty, my entire religious routine had changed now that my focus lay elsewhere. There was no excuse for it but I wasn't actively feeling bad about it either.

"Well, I am back now, so I suggest you come by soon. And I assume you'll be at mass this Sunday?"

His words were quite demanding.

"I had a valid reason to be absent; I had to stay with Bella. She had a high fever and an ear infection."

"Your mother mentioned that. How is she feeling?"

"She's doing better, thankfully."

Father Masen smiled. "That's good to hear."

I nodded.

Silence crept up between us and the man who had been my guide, my spiritual mentor for years, looked at me intently.

I felt uncomfortable being scrutinized like this.

"What?" I asked a little too harshly. "If you have something to say, please say it."

"Can't I be relieved to hear your friend feels better?" He shrugged. "Ear infections are very serious and highly painful. I had them as a child… it was awful."

The emphasis on the word "friend" had not escaped me.

"Would you be just as concerned about her wellbeing if you knew she was my girlfriend?"

I honestly didn't know what I expected to happen. Perhaps shock in his eyes or a verbal outburst of sorts to my words.

But nothing happened. Father Masen simply quirked an eyebrow and flashed me a calm – or was that condescending- smile.

"I don't see how a romantic label should affect my concerns for Isabella's wellbeing. I don't know her well but I would never wish anyone a weakened health."

"My father spoke to you, didn't he?" I said and I realized how accusing my tone was but I didn't care. "He told you about what happened at Thanksgiving."

"Your father and I talk about many things but we don't share particular details of your life. But, as we are old friends, he has shared his concerns about your recent choices."

"That's basically the same thing," I spat. "He thinks I'm making a mistake by pursuing a relationship with Bella and I'm sure you feel the same."

Father Masen didn't answer me right away and I knew I was right. My irritation was growing.

"Is that what you're doing?" he finally asked. "Pursuing a relationship with her?"

"I called her my girlfriend, didn't I?"

"I suppose you did."

"Look, if you have some sort of wisdom to bestow upon me, by all means, say it. But respect me enough to try and support me, instead of pointing out faults and trying to change my mind."

"Respect goes both ways, Edward. You ask for respect but as of late you have me wondering where your respect is. You used to have a routine; mass on Sundays, your Bible study discussion group on Tuesdays, confession twice a week, volunteering when needed, etcetera. Now you skip confessions, forget about discussion group and forego coming to Sunday mass."

"I told you; I have my reasons."

"No, you have your excuses. Edward, if you want anyone to respect your choices, you need to present them with conviction instead of hiding behind some sort of confusion."

I frowned, not sure what Father Masen was getting at.

"I don't understand what you mean," I admitted.

"For years you have lived by the principle of becoming a priest. That was your goal and all your thoughts and actions went toward that goal. Therefore people respected and supported that choice, because they saw how serious you were about it."

"And you don't believe I am serious about Bella?"

Father Masen looked at me. "I think you believe you're serious. I also think that you are acting out after being confined to your principles for so long."

"You think I'm acting out? What am I; a teenager?"

"Like I said, I believe you are confused, which is quite normal. Choosing to serve Him is not a lighthearted matter. It takes a lot of strength to be that devoted. It's understandable to find yourself questioning the choice and what you're giving up. It makes perfect sense to have doubts about whether or not you are strong enough to dedicate your entire life to Him and his word."

I sat there, stunned. Father Masen and my own father both believed I was confused about my choice. That I might doubt my own strength in being devoted to God and was being rebellious because of that. If it wasn't so sad I would have laughed at the assumption.

Yes, I was confused. But that didn't mean I was acting out or something. My life was changing and there were things I'd never done before and these new experiences confused me as much as they excited me.

It was an insult to my feelings for Bella and the choice to pursue those feelings to dismiss them as an act of defiance.

"You're wrong," I simply said. "I am not trying to be rebellious because I fear the burden of committing myself to my faith or God. My faith hasn't changed and I am still devoted…

…but I can be devoted in different ways. Plenty of people serve Him and don't live celibate."

"Is that it? You want to experience a sexual relationship before becoming celibate?"

I wanted to tell Father Masen no and that he was out of line but he held up a hand because he wasn't finished speaking.

"There is no rule that you need to be pure before you are ordained. Yes, it is preferable but not a necessity. If you truly wish to engage in such activities with a woman, then you could and still become a priest after. Of course you'd have to be celibate then…"

"That's not..." I started but Father Masen had more to say.

"If this is what you want, if you want to experiment before you devote your life to your faith and become a priest, I suppose it makes sense that you'd project some kind of feeling onto someone so promiscuous and familiar with the act of sexual intercourse," he finished bitterly.

I was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice but it also sparked anger in me because his analysis wasn't just wrong, it was also highly demeaning to both Bella and me.

"You think I want to have sex with Bella, who happens to be an ex prostitute, to get it out of my system?" I said icily. "To see what sex is all about and then go back to that white collar in the end?"

"If that's what you wish, I grant you permission. As long as you continue to talk to me and share your confusion, I can help you and guide you through this so you'll make the right decision in the end."

I was bewildered. Father Masen has always been open and fair with me but right now he acted like a patronizing… jerk. And his attitude clarified some things for me.

I wanted to be faithful to my religion. I believed in Him and his word. I believed in the solace He offered his followers. But I also knew that believing in Him alone wasn't what defined me to be a good and compassionate human being. Bella was just as good and probably more selfless and compassionate than me and she wasn't religious at all.

I could be good; I could believe and I could serve him without necessarily becoming a priest.

Choosing Bella wasn't wrong or a sin or acting out. It may very well be my salvation.

"I don't need your permission. And I am not confused. If anything, you just cleared up a lot of things. If you want to big talk or bully me into becoming a priest, I can tell you: don't bother to try. You'd be wasting your time on a 'defiant' like me. As for making the right decision, I think the only right decision now is to end this conversation," I said, before throwing a twenty dollar bill on the table and walking out.

I came home and expected Bella to be resting but instead I found her on my sofa, chatting to my mother.

She was wearing a pair of jeans and one of her own t-shirts but it pleased me to see her wrapped in my hoodie as well.

Another thing that would smell like her.

"Edward, dear!" my mother greeted me happily.

She rose and came up to hug me.

"Hi Mom, what brings you here?"

"I made a ziti casserole yesterday and despite Emmett and your father taking two servings, there were plenty of leftovers, so I decided to bring you some."

"That's very sweet but you already made sure we wouldn't starve by filling my refrigerator with food to last us a week."

If the use of "we" and "us" bothered my mother, she didn't lead on. In fact, it almost looked like her smile got marginally wider but that was probably my imagination.

"I want to take care of you, is that so bad?" she asked and I didn't know if "you" meant just me or Bella as well.

"No, it's fine."

"Bella and I were just talking about that hospital fundraiser in two weeks."

"The charity ball?"

"That's the one." My mother nodded. "I was trying to convince Bella to go shopping for nice dresses, but she seems reluctant."

I was a little surprised how casually my mother included Bella in this annual event, like it was completely normal she'd come as my date.

But it wasn't that normal; it'd be the first time I'd bring an actual date.

"I hate shopping," Bella offered with a shrug. "It's never been my thing."

"But you'll need a dress, dear. Edward, I am sure you can be more persuasive than I am," my mother said, before she looked back at Bella and winked. "Edward looks dashing in a tuxedo."

Bella's cheeks spilled with red at that.

"We'll talk about it," I offered.

"Well, now that you're here Bella no longer needs my company so I better get going," my mother smiled and she turned back to give Bella a hug and tell her to "Get well soon."

She then proceeded to hug me and bade us both goodbye.

Bella rose from the sofa and walked my mother to the door, while I waved and put my bag away.

"You don't have to go," I said as soon as she closed the door. "To that ball, I mean."

"It seems to mean a lot to your mother. Plus, it's for a good cause, right?"

"It is. So… you'll be my date?"

Bella nodded, smiling a little. "I'll be your date, as long as you make sure we'll have an actual date with just the two of us before then. You still owe me one."

"Deal." I smiled.

"It's close to six, are you hungry? I could heat up some of that ziti for you," Bella then offered.

I wasn't. I felt oddly full after my conversation with Father Masen.

Bella must have noticed something was off because she walked over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck without warning or any awkwardness.

"Are you okay? You seem distracted," she observed softly.

Reveling in her warmth and her floral smell I buried my face in the crook of her neck. This is what boy- and girlfriends did, right? They comforted each other.

It was definitely a lot better than having to listen to whatever unsolicited advice Father Masen had tried to give me.

"I had a tough afternoon," I admitted.

Bella pulled away and pointed to the sofa. "Sit. I'll get you some ziti. It's really good."

Five minutes later I was eating my mother's ziti with an expectant Bella sitting next to me.

"So?"

"How do you feel? You look better."

Bella rolled her eyes – a clear indication she was feeling better. "I feel fine. I mean, I barely have a fever and my ear feels better. I should probably move back to my place tomorrow. Give you back your bed."

She flashed me a small smile that didn't stay long and made room for a certain sadness.

I had to admit, it would be nice to sleep in a bed again – my sofa was fine for a few nights but obviously not extremely comfortable - but I had also grown used to Bella being around and I liked that. Maybe her presumed sadness meant she might feel the same.

"You don't have to go."

Bella smiled again. "I do. I need to get back to my own routine. No worries, I can still stalk you without being sick and stuff. Now, enough about me. What happened this afternoon?"

I took another bite and chewing gave me a way to stall.

I wanted to be honest with Bella and tell her about Father Masen but his words hadn't been very encouraging and I didn't want Bella to feel deterred by his attitude. For me it had been enlightening in a positive way and I wanted her to feel the same.

"I met up with Father Masen," I said.

"Hmm, I see. That must have been fun," she muttered sarcastically. "What happened? Did he warn you to stay away from big bad Bella?"

"He said that being with you was a way for me to act out before fully devoting myself to God through ordination."

I decided against telling Bella how Father Masen believed I wanted to have sex with her to experience what it was like and that she was the "perfect candidate" due to her past because I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

That, or anger her.

"Hmm."

I watched her as she processed what I said.

I could see the wheels turning and because I was getting better at recognizing the variety of facial expressions and reactions Bella had, her current expression told me Father Masen's words were sinking in and finding a place to take root.

"Bella, don't…" I started.

"Don't what?"

"Don't let his words get to you. He's wrong. This isn't me being defiant," I said as I took her hand. "This is real."

"If we don't work out, then what?"

I knew that there were no guarantees and that we might not be together forever because no one could look into the future, but for now I felt pretty confident about us.

"If that were to happen, I could still become a priest, should I want to. But Bella, that has nothing to do with you and me. I think we should focus on the here and now. I'm your boyfriend and you're my girlfriend. We have plenty to figure out but I am serious about us, aren't you?" I asked her before I leaned in to press my lips to hers.

Bella seemed to agree because she moved her lips more firmly, nipping and pecking until she moved away to breathe.

"Damn stuffed nose," she muttered.

I chuckled as I gave her a kiss on the cheek.

After dinner Bella asked if she could take a shower, embarrassing me a little by teasing me to come along and wash her back because she had her own version of me playing naughty male nurse. I hastily declined while willing my burning cheeks to go away before I fired up my laptop to work on my dissertation a bit.

I opened the document and instantly noticed those three words on the last page.

Isabella Marie Volturi

The document must have auto-saved them.

I'd almost forgotten about that, or rather recent events had pushed the words and what they represented to the background.

But reading them now brought back the need for answers in full force.

"Hey Edward," Bella called from behind me.

I quickly deleted the three words and turned to look at her.

She was wearing my sweats and her own t-shirt. Her hair was dripping wet and I sort of envied the few beads of water that slowly dripped down her neck and into the collar of the shirt and down her… cleavage.

I felt my lower regions tighten and sighed deeply. Now was not the time to feel sexual stimulation. I wouldn't even know what to do with myself anyway.

I'd had some sort of release once a while ago and since then, any provocative thoughts of Bella that'd had a physical effect on me had been washed away with very cold showers.

I had not dared to touch myself again, let alone naked. That was still a step too far but one I knew I'd eventually take.

"Edward?"

"Sorry, what?"

"I want you to know I am serious about us too."

I smiled. "I know you are."

"Yes well, if we want this to work, we need honesty, right?"

I nodded.

"I want to tell you about..."

"About?"

"Isabella Marie Volturi."

A/N: This chapter isn't meant to be a tease after the last one. Edward has things to deal with as well and the story of Isabella Marie Volturi (or whatever Bella will share) needs to come from her, in her POV. So I promise Bella will start talking next chapter :)

St. Patrick is a Catholic church in New Orleans.

I want to be clear about the religious/church aspect in this story. Someone's religion or belief is a choice or even a way of life. I respect that. I have no personal beef with any kind of religion. I have my opinions like anyone but the religious aspects, mentions and plots in this story are not a reflection of that.

As always: thanks for reading, reccing, reviewing. I appreciate it all!

And feel free to drop me a few words, it's very encouraging even if I don't like begging or threatening to withhold chapters (which I'd never do, don't see the point; only alienates readers, IMO)

Have a good week. Almost Friday!