A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a pretty complicated coffee maker.

37

In the morning, we wake early. While Bella takes a shower and gets dressed, I try to figure out how to work her coffee maker. Fortunately, I'm good at that sort of thing. She emerges, wet-hair tied up in a twist, to find me standing at the counter, a mug already poured for her, three different kinds of cereal all laid out.

Because cereal? I can do cereal.

She protests, saying she just wants to get to the hospital, but I insist, refusing to take her until she gets something down. We eat together in companionable silence, standing next to each other at the counter, legs touching.

And it's something entirely different somehow. It feels like we're not just a girlfriend and a boyfriend, not just colleagues or friends. No matter how rough last night was – hell, maybe because of how rough last night was – it feels like we're a unit now. Partners.

After cleaning up, we head to the hospital. In the light of day, it's a different place, bustling with activity. The waiting room is full of people, and when we ask to see Charlie, we're shown in right away.

And when we see him, propped up in bed, eyes open, smile weak but there, it's like the weight of the world is being lifted. Bella clasps her hand over her mouth and runs to him, all but throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He pats her back and tells her in a gruff, low voice, that he's fine, but she fusses all the same.

Still holding her, he looks up and catches my eye. Silently, he mouths, "Thank you."

I just nod.

From there, the day passes by in a blur. We're ushered out from time to time when doctors need to run tests or do exams, and Sue shows up a little before noon. Bella and I stand aside and let her get to Charlie's bed, where she takes his hand in hers and gives him a soft kiss on the forehead. And he relaxes in a way he hasn't all day.

I tug on Bella's arm and tell her dad and Sue that we're going to go get some coffee. Bella narrows her eyes at me, but follows along without too much of an argument. Even she admits they deserve a little bit of privacy.

More than anything else, though, we wait. Wait for test results. Wait for Charlie to wake up when he nods off. Wait to wait. In the sporadic bits of downtime, I get out my laptop and try to do a little work, but it's hard to concentrate with all that's going on. Bella tells me more than once that I can go, but there's a neediness to her eyes, belying her words. In the end, I stay put.

I take care of my girl. Hold her hand. Make her eat.

And while her words from the night before – the ones about being 'distracted' – still linger in my head, she doesn't seem to be planning to push me away. If anything, she's looking at me with an expression that I could swear reflects back everything I feel.

Everything.

Finally, at nine o'clock at night, the nurses tell us visiting hours are over, and we all say our goodbyes. Charlie looks exhausted even though he slept half the day. Holding onto Bella's hand, he tells her to go and get some rest. She kisses his cheek and promises she will.

Then his eyes lock on mine.

"Make sure she does now, you hear?"

I don't miss the tacit acceptance in his words. He knows I'm not going to let her sleep alone.

"You can count on it, sir."

He mumbles something too low for me to hear.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

His eyelids drift open and his gaze connects with mine. He coughs, then says, louder, "Think it's time you started calling me Charlie."

"Okay." I smile. "Charlie."

#

The ride home tonight couldn't be more different than the one we shared yesterday. Bella is positively…chatty, going on about everything her dad said, how he looked and how Sue acted, on and on and back and forth. I grin and agree with pretty much everything says, I'm just so relieved to see her acting more like herself.

We make a quick pit stop at my place so I can pick up some clothes, then head to her house. We go about the routines that are starting to become familiar now that we've done them together a couple of times.

After I've brushed my teeth, I head to her room, where I find her sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed. As is her wont, she's hardly dressed, and unlike last night, I'm self-possessed enough to notice how long her legs look, how smooth that pale, soft flesh.

Self-conscious of my aroused state, I tug at my shirt as I go to unbuckle my belt and take my jeans off so I can join her. Just to sleep, I remind myself. Just to sleep.

But before I can undress, she climbs off the bed and comes to stand before me, puts her hand on my wrist to stop me.

I swallow hard. Maybe she doesn't want me to sleep here? I shouldn't have assumed…

I re-buckle, but she shakes her head and runs her hands up my arms.

"Edward…"

"Yes?"

She's looking down, staring at her hands on mine.

Surely she can't miss the way I'm pressed against the fabric of my jeans.

"I just…" She pauses, then looks up, gazing deep into my eyes. "I just want to thank you. So much. Everything you've done…"

My face softens. "Bella, of course."

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Let me just…" She takes a deep breath in and then exhales it slowly. "I've been doing this on my own now for a couple years. I thought I could…that I could do it all by myself. And then you…" Her voice trails off, her eyes darting away and then back. Her fingers tighten around mine. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

I lean in and kiss her lips, pull my hands out from under hers to rest them on her hips. "I was happy to. It's what you do for…"

I stop, the words right there on my tongue.

It's the time. And it's the place.

Steeling myself, I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers. "It's what you do for the people you love."

Her mouth meets mine the instant the word escapes my lips, a kiss so lush and tender, it melts me. Puts me back together after my fear of telling her threatens to tear me apart.

A low shudder rushes up my spine, and I start speaking again, the words tumbling out. "I know we haven't been together long. And you don't have to say anything back-"

I'm interrupted by her finger on my mouth, by the sight of her smile, glowing and soft.

"Shh," she tells me, then kisses me again. When she pulls back, she whispers, "I love you, too."

I press my love into her skin, grasping so tightly at her hips and pulling her flush against my chest. My lips sweep over hers again and again.

"I love you," I breathe between kisses. "I love you so much."

And then we're moving, walking backwards toward her bed. When her legs hit the mattress, she stops. And with her hands on either side of my face, she draws back enough to look at me.

"Edward?" she whispers. "Will you make love to me?"