Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

Join the Not Without You discussion thread at Twillighted: www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=7726&p=829227#p829227

Not Without You

Chapter 37: Outburst

"Hospital corners," she said, demonstrating how to properly make the beds. Her long, thin fingers pulled the sheet tightly around the bend of the mattress, then she lifted the corner of the mattress and tucked the extra bit of sheet underneath. Mrs. Pollazzi was strong, but her hands and fingers moved delicately. I'd seen Edward's hands move that way when he unzipped his backpack and pulled books out, or when he lifted my shirt, his fingers trailing over my skin. They were musician hands, or more accurately, pianist hands.

"That piano downstairs," I asked, "is it yours?"

She paused in her bed-making demonstration, still bent over, to look up at me. "Used to be." Her eyes seemed to squint in thought.

I nodded.

Edward had been getting away to play the piano in Caius's building. I went with him when I could, but sometimes he went alone. The last time we all went together--Edward, Masen, and I--was the day Jasper and Alice left.

It had been easier for me to let them go this time. I knew they'd be back in three months, and I knew that there work was making them both happy.

Now, a week after Alice and Jasper took off, I was beginning my first day of training on my new job. As we worked together on the fourth room, Mrs. Pollazzi wasn't even breathing heavy. But Masen was squirming too much in my sling. I tried to shush him, my lips to his head. I didn't want to lose my job on my first day, and Masen's behavior--his ankles kicking against me, his fists demanding in their sign for milk, and his fussing--was starting to embarrass me. He wasn't calming either. Mrs. Pollazzi looked across the bed at me as I dropped my side of the sheet.

"I'm sorry. It's just, I think I have to feed him."

"Do you need to go down to the kitchen, Isabella?"

Apparently, since she'd seen my full name on my tax forms, Mrs. Pollazzi decided that when she wasn't calling me "the little girl." She'd call me by my given name. She'd said there was much more to me than simply Bella, that I was bigger than my nickname. I wasn't sure if I believed her. I thought maybe she just enjoyed being eccentric as well as pronouncing my name in Italian.

"Not yet." I sat in the corner chair with its big flowers and readied myself to nurse Masen. "I'm sorry. I'll only do this on my breaks. I promise." I felt a bit like joining Masen in his cries.

"You never told me you were nursing."

"I only do it a couple of times a day. He doesn't drink that much any more. But I want to do it as long as possible." A part of me hated that I was feeling bad and somewhat justifying or making excuses for nursing. But fear of losing my job was what propelled the words out of me.

The old woman came over and placed a slow hand on my shoulder. "A young girl like you, nursing? " She leaned in closer and near whispered as she pointed a finger at me. "There's a special place in heaven reserved for you. Mark my words."

And then my eyes did water.

"What's the matter, child?"

I felt like I should get up and offer Mrs. Pollazzi the chair. I couldn't do that with Masen nursing, so I shifted uncomfortably, and closed my eyes.

"Someone once called me a sinner. She told me I needed to ask for forgiveness for fornication, or having a child out of wedlock. Yeah, I remember she said 'wedlock'. What you said was just… so nice to hear from someone so wise."

"Oh, I'm not wise. I'm old and I've been around a lot. And just like the young thing that you are, my old irregular heart can still be touched unexpectedly."

She sat on the edge of the partially made bed, her hands in her dress pockets, and silently watched with a pleased smile until I finished nursing. I wanted to ask what she was thinking. Was she reminded of her own daughter? Perhaps a grandchild? But I let her silence fill the room, which was what she seemed to prefer until she spoke again.

"You know what I believe makes a person wise?" she asked, and continued before I could answer. "Observation. Understanding people. What else is more important than understanding our own kind?" She brought her hands out from her pockets and held them up for me to see. She wiggled her fingers. "You observe, don't you?"

"Yes I do. And so do you."

Before I started work on the rooms, early in the morning--in fact, I was waking Masen up by 5:00 AM to get to work on time--I baked the breakfast pastries. While whichever pastry was on the menu for that day heated and rose in the oven, I strapped Masen to me and headed up the stairs to gather the breakfast cards that guests left hanging on doorknobs. Then down I'd go again to fulfill their drink and pastry request. Pots of coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice from the juicer, or simply milk. Carrying each tray and Masen back up the stairs was a much more difficult feat. One wrong move from Masen or me, and a guest's breakfast would be all over the stairs. I watched Masen carefully as I walked with my tray. I whispered to him to keep him still. He was a good boy for me, having been well-fed beforehand and content against my chest.

I rarely interacted with any of the guests, and hardly ever saw them unless we ran into each other coming or going. They usually left on their tours or daily activities while I finished cleaning the kitchen and preparing for the following day. I allowed Masen to wander around the kitchen while I worked and I had his backpack of toys--changed out daily--to keep his interest. I also hummed or sang as I worked, and he'd join sometimes with his coos or his ongoing ma-ma-ma's. He was at an age where he was truly loving his toy piano. If nothing else could distract him, that would do it. Sometimes he would even toddle to the backpack, leaning up against the wall, and struggle to open it just to free the piano himself. He always fussed before the job was complete because even if he'd somehow got the zipper free, he couldn't lift the piano.

"Okay," I'd say, wiping my hands on my apron, and then pulling it out for him. "Here you are."

After the kitchen was finished, it was up the stairs again to clean the occupied rooms. They were easy to keep clean since the work was done daily. Masen liked to help as much as I let him, and sometimes moaned complaints when I held him back from scrubbing the bathtub.

"Mommy has gloves," I'd say, holding up my yellow rubber hands. "Only gloved hands are allowed to touch this."

I knew it was true that without Masen I could have completed my job in less time, but of course, I kept that to myself. The important thing was that I was finishing on time everyday, and I was off by 1:00.

January, much like December, was mostly filled with very cold but sunny days, the early morning fog lifting usually before noon. There were only a few gray days here and there, and even less were rainy. After work, I'd begun collecting some of the leftover pastries and fruit, and would walk Masen the two blocks from the bed and breakfast to the park.

There was a home for sale a few houses over--lookers would drive up, traipsing in and out of the small one-storey, to view what may or may not become their next home. I watched a couple, older than me, carrying a baby younger than Masen as they followed their realtor up the path.

I wondered over my life, thinking about how, for as many times as I'd moved, I'd never experienced the house-hunt. I'd been too young to remember it when my mom had whisked me off to Phoenix. Then it was back at my dad's eight years later. From there to the Cullens', and then Stanford, where once again I'd had no input on where I lived. Choosing a first real home was something I looked forward to experiencing with Edward. I walked, as if entranced, up the path after the strangers, Masen close to my chest. I thought I'd just peek in, see if I could imagine a life with my family there. But when I got to the door, I turned around. It wasn't possible yet. It would just be another alternate reality, and I was fine with my reality, I reminded myself.

I continued on to the park. It was a relief to be there, off campus, with its sand-filled playground, plastic slides, and rubber swings. The playground was out-skirted by a huge manicured lawn, tall natural redwoods, and smaller planted, bare trees, their branches moving stiffly in the wind. There, I met other mothers, none of whom asked me if I attended Stanford. In fact, the subject of college never came up. And even if I was the youngest around, for once I finally fit in.

Edward had started classes again, and was able to cut back his work hours. He now worked three days a week instead of five, and since I got home just as he finished school, we were able to spend most afternoons and evenings together. He didn't have to stay up all hours studying anymore either, which settled my own anxiety perhaps more than his. Every other Saturday, on Edward's day off from the clinic, he'd join Masen and me for lunch at the park.

Caius, I was seeing less of. He was also in school while I worked, and I was off when he started at the bed and breakfast. We only shared work hours on the weekends.

I'd noticed along the left wall a set of double doors that, when I tried to open them, were locked. One Saturday, my curiosity compelled me to ask Caius about what was behind the doors.

"Ah, what's behind door number one? A wall," he said.

"Fake doors?"

He laughed. "Yeah, the wall was sealed in to create a separate apartment. It's fully functional with its own kitchen and bath. It even has a private back patio."

"Does Mrs. Pollazzi live there?"

"No, she doesn't live here. It just seems that way because she's here so much. The apartment was created for the groundskeeper, oh about fifteen, twenty years ago, and since then it's been rented to the odd employee who needs it, usually a student. The girl whose position you took over used to occupy it. Come on. I'll show you. You should probably go in and clean it up once in a while, anyway; just keep it dust free and livable. You know?"

He opened the antique desk that stood against the wall under the stairs, and took out a key. I held Masen's hand and allowed him to walk as we followed Caius out the front door. To the left of the bed and breakfast, he pulled a string, releasing the gate. The entrance to the apartment was around the side of the house.

The apartment was small. Everything went straight back except for the one bedroom off to the left side.

The living room carpet was the same blue as the living room in the bed and breakfast, and the few furnishings were covered by sheets. There was a half-wall defining the dining area from the living room. A sheet-covered dining table was centered in that area, and another wall at the back housed long shelves on the upper half and just as long drawers on the bottom half, all a creamy off-white color. The color of a peeled banana.

Across from that half-wall, right there between the dining room and living room, was a nook that lead to the bedroom. I recognized the nook, with its slanted ceiling, as the spot beneath the stairs of the bed and breakfast. On the other side of that wall would be the desk that stored the key to this apartment. I wondered if footsteps moving up and down the stairs could be heard from here. The bedroom was large and empty, with wood floors, and all the way across the room was the apartment's only bathroom.

The kitchen was mostly blue; tile the color of cobalt ran across the wall between the sink and stove, and the robin's-egg colored cabinets. Out the kitchen door, a gray stone wall separated this square yard from the larger garden of the bed and breakfast.

I could imagine living here with Masen and Edward, and I let myself explore my thoughts this time. As small as the apartment was, it was still larger than the shack Edward and I had dreamed up. And out back, there was enough room for a tomato garden and the grape vine Edward had given me for Christmas. I already knew where I'd put it. Right in the circular, bricked center, surrounded by grass.

"There used to be a small gazebo there," Caius said, as if knowing exactly what I was looking at. "The wood got old and rotted, so it had to be removed."

I hadn't said anything to Caius since we'd entered the apartment. He'd done all the talking and I sometimes listened. Most of the time I was musing over how to make this my family's place. The nook between the living room and the bedroom, for instance, could easily be turned into a small room for Masen with the use of the screen we already had. It would give him more space than he had now, sharing our room at Stanford. This apartment could be our first place, away from Emmett, away from our parents. We could sit together and enjoy the garden that I'd grow and teach Masen how to attend to.

As I carried Masen out front, Caius closed the door to the apartment that I somehow knew would be my next home. I felt that possibility like I felt the late morning wind on my face. I could make it happen. Then, free of financial help, on our own, Edward and I could get married, and it wouldn't be a joke to anyone. Not even my mother or Phil could say we weren't supporting ourselves.

For the rest of that Saturday I was in a cloud, a daydream that I couldn't wait for Edward to join. At home, after putting Masen down for the night, I went to the living room where Edward was studying. I finally had a moment to talk to him about the apartment.

Rosalie and Emmett were arguing again. I heard them faintly through the wall as I made my way to Edward. Their voices grew louder just before it went quiet and Rosalie charged out. Emmett took her arm.

"Wait, Rose." Emmett turned her around by her shoulders--spun her as easily as if she were a top.

She glared at him, arms folded, head tilted, mouth pursed in wait of whatever it was he'd asked her to wait for. He stared down at her without releasing his thoughts.

I continued on toward Edward as he sat with a book, so peaceful in his reading, completely ignoring the scene around him.

"He's finally asleep," I whispered into his ear and straddled Edward's lap, kissing his cheek and then his lips. His book fell to the sofa and he held my hips, pulling me close against him.

"Bella, what are you doing?" Rosalie asked.

I turned. "Kissing Edward. What are you doing?" I didn't realize my smile was still present, until I saw the look on her face. I was still floating somewhere distant in my imagination.

"Vomiting in my mouth. Why do you pull shit like that whenever Emmett and I are fighting? I swear, you're doing it on purpose."

My smile disappeared. It was gone without a trace, as if it were never there in the first place. I stood up and Edward's hands fell to the side of my knees.

"You don't have to watch," I said.

"You're right in front of me, and you do it every time we're fighting."

"When aren't you fighting? It makes me tense when you're arguing, and Edward calms me." I barely felt him take my fingers, my own body contradicting my words as I felt my temper working its way up and out of my mouth, regardless of Edward's touch.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You point out that we're always fighting and subtly add how perfect you and Edward are. It's sickening and cruel."

"Rosalie," Edward said, "she--"

"Stop, Edward," I said. "I can defend myself." I turned back to Rosalie, who was shaking her head at me, her eyes narrow. "What is your problem? I can't kiss Edward without you making it about you? So, I love him. This is our time together when Masen is sleeping. Should I start a fight with him just to please you?"

"Bella, just stop it. Look at how you treat him and he lets you get away with it. And I see how you're starting in on Emmett, too. You may be manipulating them, but you're not fooling me. Edward, your love for her is so blinding, you can't see what she's doing to you, can you? You're going to regret that, Edward."

"What are you talking about? How do I treat him? And what am I doing to Emmett?"

Edward was standing next to me now, his hand on my lower back.

"You're playing Emmett just like you do Edward. Getting him to trip all over himself, just to make you happy. Do you know that I can't even go to the store with Emmett without him asking me if I think there's anything you need?" She stopped to scoff and roll her eyes. "You live here, sure, but why should taking care of you be my boyfriend's job?"

My eyes darted between Rosalie and Emmett. "I don't ask him to-"

"And Edward didn't even get to see his family at Christmas because you didn't want to go."

"We decided together…" Didn't we? I thought about it. Had that been my decision? I'd suggested it, but he… I looked at Edward… he had agreed with me. He'd said it was a brilliant idea.

"My family spent Christmas Eve with the Cullens, and Esme was sad, Bella. You know how she is, and she didn't even try to hide her disappointment."

I looked down and started to bring a hand to my head, but Edward caught it and linked our fingers. I felt his thumb caress the back of my hand.

"Fuck, Rose," Edward said. "I've been trying to get Bella to stop thinking so much about other people."

"Who does she think about?" Rosalie asked. "When Masen was sick and she had to take him to the hospital, she thought it was more important to call Emmett than you, Edward."

"What?" I said looking up again. "What are you…" I turned to Edward. He shook his head. Had he been talking to her? Was that how he saw that day? "You-you had your exam. I called Emmett to ask him what I should do."

"Bella," Edward said, "I didn't-"

"Wait. You talk to Rosalie? What else does she know?"

"It's not like that. Not at all."

"What difference does it make if he talks to me, Bella? You talk to Emmett, don't you?" Rosalie said, Emmett standing just behind her, his eyes on the floor. "And Caius."

"Rosalie," Edward said. "That's enough."

"Edward, stop it! I'll tell her when it's enough." I faced Rosalie. "Is this-don't tell me this is like before? After all this time? Rose, you still don't think I'm good enough for Edward."

"Bella, of course she doesn't think that." Edward brought my hand to his lips, but I didn't acknowledge him. My temper was lit like a match, only this match couldn't simply be blown out.

"Edward and I have been together for two years now. We have Masen. You and I are friends. How am I not good enough?"

"I never said you weren't good enough, Bella. Don't put words in my mouth and turn this around. Don't play the victim."

"I'm playing victim now? Rosalie, if it's not that I'm not good enough for him, then what is it?"

"You don't treat him right. Like a minute ago. You snapped at Edward, shutting him up, assuming he was going to defend you--you wouldn't even let him finish his sentence. And he doesn't say anything--let's you do it and follows your orders like you own him. You better know how goddamn lucky you are to have someone like him."

"What does that mean?" Emmett asked, speaking up for the first time.

"I know I'm lucky," I said.

"You better," she said, "because someday he might open his eyes."

"Rosalie, why are you being such a bitch right now?" I said.

"What did you say?"

"I said… I miss Alice! Come on, Edward." I pulled on his hand and started leading him to our room. "Let's go somewhere where it's legal for me to kiss you."

"Yeah, go ahead, follow her, Edward. Weren't you just studying? Does she even care? Don't think for yourself. Don't put your foot down or anything. She might stomp on it. She's the only person you have ever let drag you around like you're on a leash. You're not who you used to be. You… you're not Edward. You're Bella's boyfriend." I felt the tug on my arm as he froze in his spot.

"Rosalie--" he started, but I cut him off, even if it would only add fuel to Rosalie's anger.

"Just let it go. You are so far off. He's not on a leash. Why don't you ask him if he would rather be out here listening to this or in our bedroom making out with me?! It's a pretty fucking easy question to answer. Anyway, how can you talk to him that way after complaining about how awful I supposedly treat him? And after everything, everything he's done for you. He was at your beck-and-call. He put his life on hold for you when-"

I stopped, and stepped back as if I could step away from my own words. The silence that followed my outburst rang through me like a church bell. It hurt my ears.

"Bella," Edward said, and I looked at him. His hands were off me completely. Not at my waist, my hips, my fingers. I had taken it too far. I knew that as soon as I caught myself saying it. But Edward should have known I didn't mean it.

"Bella, just calm down," Emmett said.

I looked at Rosalie, but she wasn't looking at me. She was nodding with tears in her eyes, looking at Edward, who was looking back at her. She bit her lip, her chin trembling, then turned around and left the room. Emmett followed her around the corner into the kitchen.

"Bella? How could you say that? She was being unreasonable but she didn't fucking deserve that!"

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. It just came out. I couldn't control it."

"It's your mind and your mouth, Bella. Control it!" He left me there and went after Rosalie.

I returned to the sofa and sat down, waiting for one of them or all of them to return. They were all gone for a long time. After maybe an hour, I started to get up to join them in the kitchen, no matter how much my presence was unwanted, but Edward returned alone and I sat back again. He didn't look any happier with me. In fact, he looked angrier. He sat down in the chair next to the sofa and leaned forward, looking me in the eyes.

"Don't ever bring my helping Rosalie into one of your fights again."

"I didn't mean to."

"Well, you did it. The damage is done."

"What damage?"

"She thinks that I complained to you when I was helping her through the loss of her sister, the time when she thought she was at fault for her sister's death. She thinks she was a burden on me and that I complained to you about it. I worried about you back then, but did I ever complain about helping her?"

I shook my head. "Not once. You did so much for her that I couldn't believe you weren't complaining."

"She doesn't believe that. And you need to know right now that if I had to do it all over again, I would do it exactly the same way."

"I know that. Edward, I didn't mean it. I was angry. I was lashing out, and maybe it did bother me a little when you were taking care of her, and that's selfish, but I should never have brought it up."

"No. You shouldn't have. Not to Rosalie."

"So, we agree. Are you done chastising me?"

"Bella! This isn't about chastising you! It's about making things right with Rosalie! Cleaning up a huge mess that you made with one incomplete sentence."

I couldn't look at him looking at me like that anymore. I started for our room.

"Bella, maybe Rosalie was pushing your buttons and saying things she had no business saying, but you--"

I spun around. "Yeah, I know. I'm the bitch! I'm the one who so obviously treats you like crap… I mean it's so obvious, you're miserable all the time, aren't you? You never smile. You never laugh. You never get to have sex whenever the hell you want it! I'm such a bitchy girlfriend, why would you even want to be with me?! And then I force you to kiss me and pretend to be happy just to make other people feel bad about their own problems. You should know how late I stay up scheming about who I can hurt next. It all makes perfect sense, doesn't it? You know me better, Edward. You know me. I didn't mean what I said to Rosalie, and I'll apologize to her and I'll make it right, but stop yelling at me about it, right now. I feel bad enough already."

He sat back down and put his face in his hands. "Fuck. I know you didn't mean it, Bella. I do know that. But I don't know how you could have said it."

"I don't know, either, but I did say it. And now we have to deal with it. I know how connected you are to Rosalie, and I've never tried to come between you, and I'm not asking you to take sides now. I messed up and I want to make it right, but you telling me what an awful person I am for being capable of being so hurtful… maybe I look like I'm playing the victim, but it hurts, too. It hurts me, too, Edward."

"It hurts you, Bella?" He looked up at me again. "You're the one who said it and it hurts you? There are consequences to your actions and they're nobody else's fault."

I stared at him. I wanted to disappear to our room, but would I be playing a victim again? Should I just continue to let him yell at me until he felt I'd been punished enough? I went back to the sofa and sat down. He hadn't looked away from me. I needed him to forgive me, though, because I couldn't take the way he was looking at me and talking to me. I knelt down in front of him, took his hand, and when he didn't pull away from me, I thought perhaps he was beginning to forgive me. But then he did pull his hand from mine.

"You remember that day at the hospital when Rosalie told me what her father had said to her?"

I nodded.

"You asked me how he could have said something like that to her?"

"Yeah."

"I felt very similar to that when you said what you said to her tonight. That's how I felt. That's me being honest. I know you're sorry. But it doesn't mean I understand how you could have said it."

I sat back on the floor. When he spoke again his voice was softer, calm, sad.

"You know what she was like after the accident. You know what was in her mind. She fucking contemplated suicide, Bella. You know that she believed the wrong sister died. She needed me."

My hand flew to my mouth. Edward started shaking his head. "No. Bella. Wait." He took my wrist, pulling my hand from my mouth. "Wait."

"I'm- I'm sorry, Edward." I was trying hard not to cry. I didn't want him to think that I was crying for sympathy. I squeezed my eyes. I blinked away tears. "Do you… do you think that I… what I said… Did it bring those feelings back?" What if those thoughts had never really left her? What if they'd remained inside her, dormant? What if she had just buried them like they did her sister? I was unaware I'd been scooting away from Edward until my back was against the corner of the sofa. My actions were not my own. I hugged my legs to my chest.

"No. No, no. Come back here." He leaned forward, took my arms, and pulled me until I was in front of him again. He held my face, keeping my eyes on his. "Bella, don't think about that. That's not what's going on."

"I wish I could take it back. I'm so sorry for throwing Irina's death in her face out of anger. Oh God, all the feelings it must have brought up in her. I was awful to her and, indirectly, to you. Neither one of you deserved it, and I'm so sorry."

"Bella. I know you're sorry. I took it too far."

His eyes hadn't left mine. I brought a hand to his cheek. "I'm not horrible, Edward. It was a mistake. I spoke without thinking. I stopped myself as fast as I could, but it was too late."

He took my hand, the one that was cupping his face, and he brought it to his lips and he kissed my palm. That gesture told me that he could forgive me. Eventually, he would, and more tears puddled in my eyes and my nose burned with my effort to keep them at bay.

"I'm sorry," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck, and his arms came around me and pulled me onto his lap, and he held me as tight as I held him. "I'm sorry."

"I know, Bella. I know you are. So am I."

"I love you, Edward. And I love Rosalie."

"We love you, too. I love you."

I buried my face into his neck and kissed it. Over and over again, I kissed up and down his neck. "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me? Will she?"

He didn't answer so I pulled back, but he held my face and brought my lips to his. I took them eagerly, savoring the taste of his mouth. Even if he couldn't forgive me yet, he was giving me this.

"I love you, Bella. That doesn't change. Don't think that changes. I love you."

"I wish none of this happened." I kissed him deeper.

"Me too." He kissed me back just as deeply, and our breathing and need for each other was building with each kiss. I brought my hand under his shirt and felt his stomach. His skin was perfect under my fingers, and they drifted around his back.

"I want to feel you," I said.

"Hmmm." He kissed down my throat to my collarbone. "Come on, come on, come on, let's go to our room." We kissed our way to our room, and on to the bed. Edward wason top of me, removing my clothes, and then he stopped. His shirt was off, but his jeans were still on, and he was slightly panting and looking down at me, at my face. "Before we do this, I need to tell you something."

I sat up. "What?"

"You're right. I do know you, and I know your heart. There's nothing to forgive. It was just a mistake, Bella, and it could have happened to anyone. God knows I've made mistakes in this relationship, and I'll do it again. I did tonight." He brought a hand to my chest. "Your heart is beautiful, Bella, and I'm sorry I lost it on you. I know how bad you must have felt."

"Thank you." I grabbed his lips with mine and brought my hands around his neck, and pulled until he was on top of me again. "This is us, Edward," I said, and I hadn't even know I'd been crying until I heard the shaking in my own voice, and felt his hands roughly pushing the tears off my face. But I didn't need or want him to do that. I wanted his lips on mine. "This is why we're here." I reached for his face and pulled him tight against my lips.

He practically ripped my panties off me--if they were torn, I wouldn't have been surprised--and his own pants were gone and his skin was against mine, and it was all that I thought I needed until he gave me more. He gave it to me in kisses all over my body, while my tears continued to spill. Our kisses and touches grew hard and rough against each other, and our need for each other was almost a panic. I couldn't get enough of his taste. I wrapped my legs around him and pushed on his back until he knew what I was demanding, and he handed it to me. Everything my body asked for, he delivered. We were not soft; we were not gentle; we were not slow. It was not romance. It was living. Living for each other, and we were showing life with everything we had that one was here just for the other, and nothing else. And when we finished, we still hadn't had enough of each other, and took selfish kisses again and again.

"This is why we're here." He repeated what I'd said in a voice that was barely there; it was all heaving breaths, and he continued to speak through kisses. Kisses over my still-wet eyelids, my leftover tears. Kisses on my neck, my cheek, my temple, my chest, and in no pattern at all. "I'm here for you, Bella. I love you. Every bit of you. Every mistake you've ever made, I love you for it. And every generous gift you've ever given, I love you for that, too. It's not going to stop, Bella." And still, his words were breaths. And his kisses were on my stomach now.

"I love you the same," I answered back. "No matter how angry you are with me or what you say to me. I don't just love a part of you, I love the whole you."

"No," he said, and his lips were back on mine again. "Not no matter how angry I get. You don't deserve my temper. Not you." His lips were on my cheek and moving toward my ear.

"Your temper is a part of you, Edward."

His kisses stopped and his face was in line with mine, his eyes damp and glistening. "Bella, did I hurt you? Did I make you feel like a bad person?"

"I already felt that way before you said anything to me."

"But I made it worse."

"You were angry."

"You told me you're not horrible. I know that, baby." His fingers caressed my face from my hairline to my chin. "I know you're not horrible. You never could be. Did I make you feel horrible?"

"I was afraid you thought that. When you compared me to Rosalie's father."

"Oh fuck, Bella. You're nothing like her father. I'm sorry. Everything came out wrong. I only meant to say that's how I felt--that I couldn't understand where those words came from because it seemed so unlike you. But what you said, it didn't even come close to what her father said. It isn't even on the same planet."

"Thank you."

He gave a laugh. "Don't thank me. It's a fact." He wrapped me in his arms and rolled over so that I was lying on top of him. "Bella. Isabella Swan. You are the best person that I have ever known. I need you to understand and believe that."

"But I was hurtful to you and Rosalie."

"So what? You're allowed to make mistakes without being reprimanded by the person who loves you more than his own life. And I do love you more than my life." He kissed me. "You were crying while we were making love. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." I nodded. "It was relief and love… and regret. I still feel terrible for what I said to her."

"I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I was angry and worried about Rose, but I handled it all wrong. I wasn't thinking clearly."

I sat up and started moving off the bed. "I have to go talk to her."

He caught my arm and pulled me on top of him again. "No. Not right now. Wait until morning. Let her cool down. She's with Emmett now; that's what she needs. We'll make it right together, love."

I let him guide my head to his chest. "Okay."

"I know you understand that Rosalie and I are close. She is and always has been an important part of my life. I'll help her when she needs me, but no matter what--in every day, in every single moment--I choose you. I'm on your side. You don't have to ask me to choose, but I choose you anyway. In every circumstance, it's always you. She may be a part of my life, but you are my life."

I hugged him and held on tight. "Edward, I hate when we fight. It scares me."

"Me too."

"I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'll never have to find out, Bella."

Review Please :)

Edward and Bella obviously have some more talking to do, as do Rosalie and Bella. More to come.