A/N: Disclaimer - Stephenie Meyer owns all the characters, obviously, but I'm the one who makes them do all the weird stuff. My dear beta, Trekgeezer, was prevented by circumstances beyond her control to finish work on this chapter in time for publication, so here goes nothing. My apologies to one and all – everything is my fault! ;-) Thank you for reading!

Today is gonna be the day
That they're gonna throw it back to you
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now

Back beat, the word was on the street
That the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now

And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I
Would like to say to you but I don't know how

Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all, you're my wonderwall

Oasis: Wonderwall

Chapter 36

BPOV

We stop at another couple of vista points to watch the sun sinking towards the ocean, the shadows growing longer. It's incredibly beautiful and I clutch Edward's hand in mine, reminding myself that this is real, that we are really here, together. He is quiet, more so than before, but I tell myself that he has a lot on his mind and has had a long week. We finally drive on, because I don't want to be caught on winding roads I'm not familiar with in the dark, and we see the sunset blooming across the sky from inside the car.

As we drive into Monterey, twilight envelops us and Edward uses my iPhone to find the Travelodge I booked us into, just outside the city center. We park in front of the building and walk into the spacious lobby to get our keys. After I check us in, Edward carries our bags to our room. As we cross the courtyard which has a green lawn, some trees and a swimming pool, Edward nods towards the pool.

"Want to go for a swim with me later?" I look at him, surprised.

"I didn't bring a bathing suit with me. I didn't think we'd have time for that." I pause, then ask, "We live right by the ocean, but you've never asked me that before – how come?"

Edward doesn't reply at first and waits while I open the door to our room and stand aside to let him in. Once he's dumped the bags on the floor he turns to me and pulls his hands through his hair, making it stand on end, smiling and stretching like a cat - or maybe a puma.

"I never thought swimming in the ocean would be much fun for you – it's always colder than you'd think, and the waves can be intimidating. But if you enjoy swimming we can, as often as you like. I wouldn't mind seeing you in a bikini, Bella." His smirk is suggestive, but I blush and shrug it off. Not going to happen, mister. I decide to change the subject.

"Do you want to freshen up before we go grab a bite to eat? Aren't you hungry?" My stomach is growling, but in my book it's almost too late in the day to eat. Maybe I'll just have a snack. Edward moves sinuously and before I know it, he's pulled me into his embrace and propels me towards the king-sized bed. I land on my back with a surprised squeal and Edward hovers above me, one leg slung across my body and his hand in my hair. The bed is soft, the pillows piled up on it are like a white cloud and suddenly I feel how tired I am. Hmmm, bed.

"I'm hungry, but more for you than for food. How about you?" Edward's voice is soft and so is his smile. My stomach growls loudly in response and he laughs and rolls over on his back.

"I guess that's my answer. Okay, let's go now, we can shower later!" He pulls me to my feet, and I barely have time to retrieve my purse and the key cards before he takes my hand again and whisks me with him out of the room.

I stop briefly at the desk to ask if there are any restaurants nearby, and the concierge recommends an Italian place that's only a few minutes' walk down the road. We walk quickly in the dark, cars whooshing past us on the road, because we can see the sign shining ahead of us, "La Bella Italia."

It's a simple place, the guests are mostly families with children and elderly couples and the waitress is a woman in her sixties who seems to know most of the customers; at least she gives that impression. She seats us in a booth and gives us menus, and is back with ice water to take our order in no time at all. I'm favorably impressed by her efficiency and warm manner. After settling for a Pasta Marinara (Edward) and a tomato salad (me) we relax in our seats and sip the water.

"I don't know if we should take time to wait around for the Aquarium to open in the morning, I've read that it's supposed to be one of the main attractions here," I say, more to make conversation than anything else. "Would you rather have more time in San Francisco or here? I have an appointment with Shirley Cope at 4 p.m. but we shouldn't have any problems making it to Berkeley before then."

Edward shrugs. "I've seen aquariums in other places, so it's not something I need to see here. Why don't we start early and take our time driving up to San Francisco? Then we can decide on what to do when we get there and see what time it is. What do you need to do while we're there? I'm merely along for the ride, you know." He smiles at me and, tired as I am, his handsome face still has the power to pull me out of a slump. I sit up straight and smile right back at him.

"Well, the only other thing I've planned is to check on the stuff I've put in storage to see if there's anything I'd like to take with me to England. I think I have a couple of books and journals I would like to look through again for ideas. We can do that before we leave on Friday, though, so Thursday night and most of Friday we can go sightseeing if you want. Have you been to San Francisco before?"

Edward shakes his head. "No, I've seen very little of the Pacific Coast. What kind of journals do you mean? Did you use to keep a diary?" His eyes express a keen interest, and I wonder if this is something he's done himself.

I take a sip of my water to think my reply through, "Well, yes and no. I've always enjoyed writing, and I usually keep a journal where I jot down all kinds of stuff; observations, ideas, references to books I'm reading, quotations, the weather, situations or events I'd like to remember. It's too jumbled to be called a diary, but it usually gives a fair representation of my life and thoughts at any given time in my life." I pick up a breadstick and unwrap it from the crackly paper, mostly to have something to do with my hands. Edward's eyes are so intense they make me nervous.

"Nowadays, mostly I keep everything on my computer. It's easier, and feels more private. Anyone can pick up a journal and read it. That's why I've locked all my old ones away." I remember when James read my journal once, and how livid we both were: I because of the intrusion, he because of what he'd found.

"Why the hell do you write this stuff in your journal, Bella? You should be talking to me about it instead? Why won't you tell me what's on your mind? I'm your husband, for fuck's sake!"

"Oh, shut up, James! I don't think you're in any position to act self-righteous. You're the one who's read my private journal! These are things that I've written for my eyes only, things that you of course decide to take completely out of context and twist around to use as a weapon against me. And then you have the nerve to ask why I don't tell you what's on my mind! Let me tell you why; one, because you're usually not the least bit interested. Two, because you're hardly ever around when I want to talk. Three, because my thoughts are none of your goddamned business just because we're married, and, four, you paid a therapist to see me, because you told me yourself and I quote, ' it was better if we didn't talk about the things that upset me, since that just wound me up pointlessly'."

James stared at me, his mouth a thin, hard line in his pale face. Ominously quiet for a moment, then his voice came out as a hissing whisper, "I said that, didn't I?" And then he threw my journal down on the floor and walked right out of the house, the slam of the front door shortly followed by the roar of his car bursting out of the garage.

He came back late that night, after I'd gone to bed, and left early the next morning. We didn't speak until the next evening. Then, he came home with some expensive flowers and made me a cool, formal apology, which I accepted equally coolly. I didn't think that any one of us had really changed our minds, but we never mentioned the matter again. I started hiding all my old journals, locking them away in my office, and James tried to demonstrate his interest in me for the next few months by making a point of asking me how my day was whenever we sat down to dinner together. To me, it always reminded me more of my dad asking me about my grades than my husband taking an active interest in my life.

And that's also when I started writing my journal entries on my computer, and keeping them on a separate hard drive that I could either lock inside the desk in my office at work or carry with me. I became more wary and my life became even more compartmentalized, with secret walls shielding the thoughts and feelings I needed to hide, sometimes even from myself.

"What about you, do you keep a journal? I didn't think that was a guy thing," I ask. Edward looks at the small pile of crumbles on the table beneath my hands, where the breadstick now rests in peace, and smiles to himself.

"What? You never heard of Samuel Pepys, Bella? All famous diaries were written by men!" I frown at him, but I know he's just teasing me.

"So, you did keep a diary?" I insist. Edward shrugs, and looks up at me through his lashes, his eyes incredibly green in the lamplight. He seems shy.

"Well, it wasn't much, but I did keep a sort of journal when I was a kid. I didn't have a lot of friends and I found that writing about things that troubled me made them seem less troubling. If you've tried it, you know what I mean. Putting words to your thoughts sometimes gives you a handle on what's happening. But when I got older, I stopped. I guess I wasn't so interested in introspection anymore."

"Maybe you became a man of action," I suggest with a smile.

Edward snorts. "Yeah, right! You make it sound like I'm the hero when it was the other way around. That's when I really started screwing up." He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. I reach out and squeeze his other hand resting on the tablecloth.

"In my story, you're the hero Edward," I say, "just so you know."

We're interrupted by the arrival of our food. Edward looks up and smiles his thanks at our waitress, whose eyes widen a fraction at the impact. She's never experienced the full force of his smile before and I'm left feeling amused and resigned. If Edward should ever be let loose on the wider world of women, the reaction will be so great he probably won't know what hit him.

I briefly try to imagine Edward as a reporter on Fox News or the leader of a boy band as I pick through my tomato and mozzarella salad and force myself to eat slowly and chew carefully. Putting that face on national television would probably be considered a credible threat by Homeland Security. I smile and look at Edward who is wolfing his pasta down, then checking himself and slowing down with an apologetic smirk in my direction. He's such a boy sometimes.

We decline the offer of dessert, and I insist on paying again. Edward accepts graciously, and I am acutely grateful that he lets me have my way without sulking. As we walk back to the hotel I think about the difference between Edward and James yet again. In a way it's as if Edward is helping me unite different parts of me that were always kept apart before. He lets me be myself.

There was always a glaring difference between the rules I abided by at work and at home, a difference that I sometimes found difficult to adapt to. Around James I was always careful to let him play the man of the house. I let him be the one to suggest changes, make plans, pay bills and give me gifts. I never opened my own car doors or tried to pick up checks in his company, because I knew it irritated him. Even when I picked up a napkin that had fallen to the floor in a restaurant, instead of alerting a waiter to do it for me or bring me a new one, he disapproved.

At work, though, I was just a colleague among colleagues, getting my own lunch, holding my own doors and driving my points home in staff meetings and academic discussions. I never had any real trouble interacting with male teachers and students because I felt secure in my own professional role and how they perceived me.

Now, out in the world on my own after my temporary mental breakdown, it has been a different story. Which may be why I've been so insecure and defensive around someone like Tony – I just don't know what he expects of me, and it's easy for me to assume that his flirting is somehow his way of making fun of me. I've only ever had geek guys for friends, and he's so far out of my realm of experience that I can't read him. Edward is the one, glaring exception to the rule of my life; someone uncommonly attractive who notices me, yet is not out to mock me or change me.

Edward takes my hand and quickens his pace as we reach the hotel. "What's the hurry?" I ask, surprised. He raises his eyebrows at me. "Bella, the pool closes in an hour, but we still have time for that swim."

I just roll my eyes at him. "Edward, if you think for a moment that I'm going to go skinny dipping with you in public, you're delusional. I'll watch while you take your shower, though, if you want," I add playfully. "Seeing as how that was such a big success last time we tried it." I unlock the door, and let Edward push me gently into the room.

He shakes his head at me. "Bella, have a little faith in me. Would I ever want to share you in all your naked glory with anyone?" He gestures to the bathroom. "Do you need to use the bathroom? You can go first if you want."

I shrug. Since we're probably going to do nothing more exciting than watching a movie before going to sleep, or hopefully, not sleeping so much, I think a shower and some sleepwear is in order. "Sure, let me get my stuff and give me ten minutes?"

Edward lounges on the bed and turns the TV on, while I lock myself in the bathroom, shower, shave and brush my teeth. When I walk through the bathroom door, I stop in my tracks, surprised. Edward is sitting in an armchair across the room, watching me. Anticipation and nervous excitement is written all over his face. On the bed, right before my eyes, sits a box in pretty wrapping.

I hesitate. "Eh, is this for me?"

Edward nods, never taking his eyes off me. Now I feel nervous, too. I put my folded clothes away and sit down carefully on the bed, hesitantly picking up the package. As I start pulling slowly on the ribbons, Edward says, "Don't take all night, Bella." I frown and rip the paper off. Oh. Victoria's Secret. This is probably bad, but I open the box. Inside is a swimsuit. I lift it up and hold it out in front of me. It's dark blue, a conservative cut, but looks nice.

"Try it on, Bella." Edward is looking at me, earnest. Then he retrieves something from his bag and walks over to where I'm still sitting on the bed, hesitating. He's brought my silk robe. He knows how much I like to be covered up, and this is something I need if I'm to get up the nerve to walk to the pool in swimwear. He leaves the robe on the bed and cups my cheek with his warm hand.

"I have fond memories of that robe," he says. "I'd like to get the chance to take it off you." I swallow.

"Okay," Edward continues, his voice firm, "I'm going to go take a quick shower and when I come out again, I expect you to be wearing that swimsuit, ready to accompany me for a short swim before the pool closes for the night." He lifts my chin, and I meet his eyes. They are warm, filled with affection and a little anxious.

I smile and nod. "Sure. I get it."

As soon as he's closed the door to the bathroom and I hear the shower running, I whip off my t-shirt and sleep shorts and quickly pull the swimsuit on. The floor-length mirror in the hall is unforgiving, but I force myself to look. Well, it's not a complete disaster. My fat thighs and arms are on display, but the cut makes my cleavage looks nice, and even if my hips are broad, they give my body a nice, feminine curve. The dark, stretchy material of the swimsuit actually holds my stomach in place.

I straighten up, draw a deep breath and tell myself not to be a coward. I can do this, for Edward. He's been opening up to me, lowering his defenses. The least I can do is to try to come out from behind the walls I've put up between myself and the world. I need to try and beat down the churning conviction deep down inside that if he really saw me, noticed the way I look, he, too, would turn away. This will be fine. It's not as if I'll expose myself to a packed beach in broad daylight. It's late, very few people are around, and I'll take my robe off right before I jump into the water.

When he comes out, with a towel wrapped around his waist, I'm ready. I quickly walk up to him, hug him close and give him a kiss. "Thank you, Edward. That was really sweet of you, and you shouldn't buy me presents." He stops my tirade with another kiss.

"I told you, I want to give you presents when I can. You don't have to say anything. Just smile, Bella, that's all I ask. Your smile is the most beautiful thing I know." He frowns. "Maybe your face when you come is the most beautiful thing, now that I think of it." I slap his thigh, and he smirks at me. "But your smile right now is a close second. Come on! Get your towel and the keys. Hurry up!"

We half run through the hallway and into the courtyard, holding hands like kids on the run from the grownups. I'm breathless with a mix of anticipation and giggles. Outside, the sky is black and the evening air feels balmy. It's late and Edward is right: no one is lounging by the pool at this hour. As we slip through the gate the stones are cool under the soles of my feet that make a slapping noise. The sound of our footsteps echoes softly but distinctly across the courtyard. The water of the pool is clear blue and lit up from below, throwing white reflexes of light in my face as the surface moves, lapping against the sides. Edward throws his towel onto one of the plastic chairs by the poolside and, without hesitation, dives head first into the water. I slip out of my robe, leave it with my towel on a chair, and quickly jump, feet first, so I won't have time to feel self-conscious standing around in my swimsuit.

When I surface and push wet strands of hair out of my face, Edward is right in front of me, treading water. His smile is radiant and I feel his arms circling around my waist, pulling me flush against him. Instinctively, I lift my legs around his body and put my arms around his neck, clutching on to him for dear life as he kisses me. It's really hard to kiss and stay afloat in the water, but his urgent, warm mouth on mine is irresistible. He pulls me up onto the front of his body and starts swimming on his back pushing off with his legs, long, powerful strokes that bring us quickly to the other side of the pool, where the water is shallow. We sink down, still entwined, and his eager fingers find their way underneath my swimsuit. I pull away, breathless and grip his straying hand.

"Hey, slow down!" I kiss the palm of his hand before dropping it, to soften my words. "If you keep that up we'll be doing the pool scene from "Showgirls" all over again before we know it. I'm sure they would throw us out of the hotel if we did."

Edward looks chastised, but he still palms my behind firmly on top of the swimsuit and nips at my neck and ear with his lips. His voice is low and husky when he speaks and his breath is hot on my skin. "Being in a car with you all day is torture, Bella. I'm so close to you and the car is filled with your fragrance, but I can't touch you." He kisses along my jawline, which makes me shudder, then looks into my eyes, serious. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but you look fantastic in that swimsuit and I just needed to show you my appreciation. I'm glad you accepted my gift."

I caress his face, brushing my thumb across his lips, and when he sucks it into his mouth and bites down gently on the pad, it sends an electric bolt straight to my center. Lucky we're already wet or I would probably be embarrassed by the physical evidence on my swimsuit. I disentangle myself from him, and carefully pull my hand away from his lovely mouth. "Let's go for a swim."

The swimming pool isn't large, but since we're alone there's plenty of room and we swim laps for twenty minutes, meeting in the middle. I do breast strokes, while Edward seems to be an expert at crawling, going at about twice the speed that I can manage. When I feel out of breath, I finally stop to admire his fluent movements and the ripple of muscles across his smooth back that I glimpse as he turns. I relax and float on my back, watching the starlit sky, faintly visible beyond the lights of the hotel and the nearby town. Swimming at night is a completely different experience from going to the beach in the daytime. I feel at peace, floating between dark sky and blue water, mindlessly letting cool waves carry me as if I weigh nothing at all.

My peaceful moment ends when Edward pulls up behind me, gathering me in his arms and kissing my shoulder as I fumble for my footing on the slippery pool floor. "Ready to go?" he asks me and I nod as his strong arms squeeze around my waist, pulling me towards the side of the pool. Edward of course exits the pool by pulling himself up in a splash of water and effortlessly gets to his feet, while I opt for the safer way of climbing the ladder. I hurry to wrap myself in my towel, squeezing the water out of my ponytail, while Edward stands there like a young god, rubbing his arms and chest with the towel, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. The mere sight of him is enough to make me long for bed.

I think he can read my mind, because the smirk he sends my way makes my face heat up. Actually, I don't think I would mind enacting the pool scene from "Showgirls" with Edward, as long as we were doing it in a private pool. I wrap the silk robe on top of the towel to keep from dripping water on the hotel carpet as we make our way back to our room. Once inside, Edward gently propels me ahead of him into the bathroom, then whips his bathing trunks off and steps into the shower without preliminaries, completely unselfconscious. I peel off my damp robe and hang up the towel, but draw the line at getting naked in the shower with Edward in front of the huge bathroom mirror.

Edward seems to understand why I'm hovering by the sink. He doesn't comment, just leaves the hot water running as he steps out of the shower, picks up his towel and heads for the door. "It's all yours, Bella. Just don't take too long." He fires off a smile before wrapping the towel around his waist, his wet chest glistening with silver drops of water. I swallow and quickly lock the door behind him, before peeling the wet suit off and stepping under the blissfully hot stream of water. I wash all the chlorine out of my hair and, closing my eyes, I recall the image of the naked Adonis that just walked out the door.

Once I'm done, and have hung all the damp towels and swimming gear up to dry, I wrap the robe around me, feeling the wet silk stick to my skin as I exit the bathroom – only to stop on the doorstep. Edward is lying on the bed, the lights are low and there's faint music coming from the radio. Two parcels rest on my side of the bed – from Victoria's Secret again. I draw a steadying breath and look over at Edward, who is watching me, his eyes dark in the twilight, the hint of a smile curling his lips.

"Come on, Bella, open them. They won't bite." His voice is gently mocking me, and I shake my head ruefully as I sit down on the bed and pick up the first parcel. He rolls over so that he can watch me, resting his head on his arms, as I unwrap it and remove the lid. Carefully, I lift up what's inside. It's a set of bra and panties, dark blue, lacy and pretty. I hold them up, doubtfully. It looks as if they might possibly fit me – the panties are boy shorts but they aren't cut too low, and have a forgiving hem of lace, the bra is a push-up but looks sturdy. I look over at Edward and smile shyly. "Thank you. They're beautiful."

He just smiles and nods at the other parcel. "Go on. You're not done yet."

I sigh and pick up the other parcel, after carefully replacing the lingerie in the box. This time, it's a black nightgown, lacy and practically see-through. I knit my brows. I don't know if I'll feel comfortable wearing this. Maybe when the lights are low and ... I look at Edward. "You want me to try these on, now?" I ask, but I already know the answer.

He nods. "Will you please, Bella? For me?" How can I resist him when he gives me puppy dog-eyes like that? I shrug, and pick up my gifts, retreating to the bathroom again.

"Okay, but no peeking! Close your eyes until I tell you to look," I admonish him, and his low laugh follows me behind the closing door.

"Whatever you say, Bella!"

Alone once again, I get naked and slip into the panties first. Then, I find the hooks on the bra and adjust the straps. The size is a little snug, but it doesn't cut uncomfortably into my ample flesh. I brace myself and face the mirror. I still don't like my flabby stomach and the boy shorts are cut a little bit higher than I like over my behind exposing a bit of my ass cheeks, but the lace border helps distract the eye. My breasts do look bigger in this bra, soft and round, swelling enticingly out of the lacy material. Yes, I think they might hold Edward's attention!

With a shaky sigh I pull the nightgown over my head on top of the underwear. This way, I don't feel as exposed, and the bra and panties actually look sexier beneath the mysterious smoky layer of thin black material, intricately worked through with a lacy pattern. Without the bra and panties, though, I think I would look downright indecent - and not necessarily in a good way. I frown.

I turn out the light in the bathroom, before hesitantly stepping out into the bedroom. Strange shadows climb on the ceiling and everything has a dreamlike quality. Edward is waiting for me and his eyes seem to glitter with a light of their own as he turns his whole body towards me. I stop for a moment, holding myself still, trying not to fidget or strike an unnatural pose. Then Edward holds his hand out to me.

"Come here please, Bella."

His voice is low and rough with some kind of emotion. I climb on the bed and kneel beside him, taking his offered hand. He sits up, and with his free hand he traces the outline of my face, then my neck and shoulder, his fingers running a trail of fire over my breast and stomach, before coming to rest on my thigh. He shakes his head, and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking. Is he pleased? Was this a mistake? Do I look silly to him?

"Bella, you're so beautiful right now, I wish I could take a picture and show the world." I squirm, and open my mouth to protest, but he shushes me.

"Ssshh, no, don't say a word." Before I know it, he's on his knees in front of me, running his hands through my damp hair, brushing his thumbs across my cheekbones.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known, and I just want to worship you. Will you let me do that, Bella?" His voice is soft, and yet it's as if the sound of it reverberates in my bones and shakes me to the core of my being. His green eyes look almost golden in the faint lamplight and I see so much adoration there that I feel a lump in my throat from intense emotion. I lick my lips and nod, honestly speechless for once.

And that night, in a motel room surrounded by invisible strangers, under a black sky where the stars roll soundlessly as the hours pass, he worships me. And like an idol I crash down in his arms, only to be resurrected again and again.

When I finally drift off to sleep in the hours before daybreak, oddly enough I remember a line from the cheesiest of movies, "Pretty Woman." Richard Gere asks Julia Roberts what happens after the knight comes riding on the white horse to rescue the damsel, and she replies "Then she rescues him right back." Even though our roles seem reversed, I vaguely realize that this is exactly what I wish for. Edward seems to have rescued me. Now I want to rescue him right back. With his arms wrapped tightly around me, at last I let sleep pull me out like a long, black wave.

A/N: Some of you have asked me what Bella really looks like, and why she is so hard on herself. As we're shifting between Edward's and Bella's point of view, we see the world through their eyes. If their perspective is skewered, so is ours. It's up to you as reader to make your mind up about what you perceive as the truth. And to be honest; do you think that you see yourself exactly the way other people perceive you? It's something I've had reason to think about. Hm, we're now approaching San Francisco, only one more stop to go. Please tell me what you think if you can!