When Edward suggested we should go to the Met museum sometime I honestly wasn't expecting it to happen any time soon. "Sometime" is a vague word. So I was positively surprised when he swung by my office in the beginning of the week to ask if I wanted to go this Saturday. The plan was set.
For days this has been my happy place. We've sworn not to mention work this weekend, even if it's something funny. Like how Angela very surprisingly busted a move to no music at all to celebrate all of her wedding plans finally coming together. Or how Edward is trying stuff now that's not even on the Starbucks menu. Yes, Irina is still making sure he gets his coffee fix. We're pretty much convinced it's part of Jessica's plan to make him want to hang around after his contract has expired. If that's the case I don't think she has any clue that some firms offer more luxury than Starbucks coffee. Volturi probably has their own exclusive brand. Their own company masseur, driver, gym etc. They're just on that level.
Come Saturday and we're far away from the silliness that is work. When I open my bedroom window in the morning the skies are clear and birds are singing. I'm awfully tempted to join in and see if I can have a Snow-white moment, but newly-awaken I'm too much of a wimp, even if there's no one around to hear my voice crack. I can't believe half of summer has already passed by. I whined about this to Alice the other day and she promised me her next obsession would get us out in the sunshine. I thought she was talking about exercising, but it turns out she's determined to find the cosiest café in Manhattan. We're going to walk around and stop here and there to have a coffee and a piece of cake. In a way her new obsession is still cake-related, though she acts like it's not.
I put on a light-blue summer dress and after some contemplation I choose flats. I've never been a fan of high heels in places like museums or libraries. I don't want to risk being the person who disturbs the harmony of a room with the harsh sound of heels against stone floor.
Edward meets me outside my apartment. You'd think we called each other before to make sure we match because his shirt is the same color as my dress. We begin walking and his hand brushes against my hand, as if by mistake but then he grabs it firmly. He looks straight ahead, not acknowledging the smooth move. I'm not as good at pokerfaces as him. I must be beet-red considering how hard I'm blushing. How is it that holding hands with someone you really like can sometimes be more exciting than sex?
We stroll through Central Park. It's around noon and because it's such a beautiful summer's day people are everywhere, jogging, walking, bycycling and having picnics. My heart swells in my chest when I see all these strangers, all the while I'm holding hands with Edward. The world always seems to be more wonderful when you're in love.
After about forty minutes we reach our destination.
Last time I was at the Met was when Renée visited. She got real upset because of the shark in a tank exhibition. Of course that wasn't the name of the exhibition. The title of it was longer, made up of fancy words and something to do with death. Mom is a true animal-lover and she couldn't understand how someone could kill an innocent creature for art. "This is isn't art, this is murder!" She'd called out disrupting the peace. Security had given her a warning.
"What are you smiling about?" Edward asks.
"Renée almost got arrested in here", I answer gesturing to the gigantic building in front of us.
A slight exaggeration, but who knows what she might be telling Edward about me in that weird Facebook exchange they got going? Might as well get her back in any way I can.
"That's it? No story?" he questions, amused when I don't elaborate.
"Nope, just putting it out there. Now let your imagination run wild."
"About your mom? Sure, no problem," he says grinning wickedly and I close my eyes briefly for dramatic effect.
This is so inappropriate. When Edward and Renée meet in real life it's either going to be awkward as hell or downright glorious.
Stepping inside the Met we both marvel at the majestic entrance hall. It has some lovely acoustic. The museum is buzzing with people's conversations. There are plenty of tourists here, putting away maps and cameras getting ready to enter the galleries. Edward pays for the two of us, politely telling the clerk to ignore my card and when I say I have cash, he says it's no good here (Edward said that, not the clerk - that would've been weird).
Afraid the day will simply fly by and we'll miss his favorite painting I ask Edward to head there first. He finds that funny. As if the painting will take off if we don't get there fast enough. For some reason I suspect it's a Jackson Pollock, but my guess is worthless since we walk past American art and instead head towards the European section. I reveal my guess. He's concerned that I think he's that edgy and jokingly says he's feeling self-conscious because his favorite is a bit cheesier than that. He knows a lot about art though and doesn't need to look at the small info plaque next to the painting to establish the artist, year and title. While I'm no novice myself, he shines and it's fun to see.
We finally come to a halt, longer than the ones before. The painting before us if a Monet. The most famous one of a bridge over a pond of water lillies. A regal golden frame around it.
"This is beautiful," I say, wishing I could get closer to it but the band makes sure to keep visitors from getting too near.
"Not exactly what you expected," Edward says smiling.
I shake my head no. It's so lush and green. I'm starting to think Edward is a nature romantic at heart. He went hiking in Alaska. He told me how he didn't shave and wore flanell shirts. At the vineyard he shared that his dream house was Shingle style. Shyngle styled houses aren't exactly scyscrapers. In my mind they come with gardens. And gardens, unless they are full of trash, are for romantic people. Maybe Edward longs for the countryside. Is he merely playing the role of a businessman in a big city?
"Why is this your favorite?" I ask.
He seems embarrassed somehow, his hand going up to the nape of his neck, a move I've only seem him do when he's put on the spot. Which is rare.
"A postcard version used to hang on the fridge when I was a kid. It's one of my earliest memories."
On our fridge Renée had a photo of James Dean. hey, that's culture too, maybe not Monet, but still.
"Oh," I say. "That's nice."
He chuckles self-consciously.
"It was just a cheap postcard. The smallest things stay with you."
"You kind of wish you were there, right?" I muse aloud. "In the painting."
"Yeah," he agrees.
I lean into him and his arm goes around my waist. We stand like that, looking at the painting, both of us getting lost in the green water lily dream, daydreaming.
And then we're brutally awakened.
A woman shouts my name as if she's a fan and I'm a famous movie star. Edward and I are equally confused as we turn around and see a woman all dressed in red running at us while pushing a black stroller infront of her.
"Who's that?" Edward asks in a low murmur.
"Uh," I get out. "Samantha Wells?"
We watch as people jump out of her way. What is it with people pushing strollers? They're like freakin' bulldozers! Samantha Wells is no different. She hits my feet with it and I jump back while she speaks in a voice loud enough for people around us to react and wonder what's going on.
"I can't believe I run into you again!" She's shouting.
"Hi," I greet. "You had your baby!" I exclaim as we hug briefly.
She turns around the stroller so we can have a look. The little alien-looking thing in it is red-faced and all scrunched up like a raisin, resting comfortably under a cosy blanket. My heart immediately softens.
"We're touring every museum in town. I have so much time on my hands. All this little angel does is eat and sleep. She's perfect."
"Hey there cutie," I say waving, although the kid is busy napping like a pro. "What's her name?"
"Sarah, after my mother," Samantha answers smiling. "But who's this?!" She points, yes points at Edward.
He fires off a smile and reaches out his hand but Samantha embraces him tightly.
"What an upgrade Isabella, woah. This is fantastic."
Yes, she this is fantastic. This specimen. I don't know if I'm imagining things or not or if she's feeling his bicep. Edward shoots me an amused glance.
"I'm Edward," he introduces himself.
"Samantha," she says waving her hand as if to say 'who gives a shit?' "Bella and I used to work together at Havens. Nice to meet you, Edward. Cullen right?" She winks and puts a finger to his chest.
"Right," he confirms.
I'm trying hard not to laugh and judging by the look on Edward's face, he's right there with me.
"I know perfectly well who you are," she says in scolding tone. "Such a talented guy, not only good looking but brains too."
She looks at her baby.
"Sarah," she cooes. "Open your eyes. There's a real handsome man standing right here." She laughs loudly. "Oh my she's drooling already!"
In fact she is, but then again most babies that age do.
"Cute," Edward says but really looking as if he's at a loss for words.
He must be wondering where the hell this person came from. Samantha, that is, not her baby. Edward knows how babies are made. Samantha on the other hand is a subject all on her own.
"So you guys are just hanging at the Met on a Saturday?"
"That is correct," I answer. "We are here and it is Saturday."
Edward chuckles and casually wraps his arm around my waist.
"Well aren't you two the stylish couple," Samantha beams. "And where to after this? A night on the town perhaps?"
"Just home," I answer, sounding more dreamy than I intended.
She laughs loudly, making several people turn around and look at her, but she's oblivious to their stares.
"Oh I see," she says tapping her nose. "You kids enjoy yourselves. It was so nice seeing you again Bella and meeting your gorgeous boyfriend."
Then like that, she disappears as suddenly as she appeared. I hate when people do that. Drop a verbal bomb and then run away. The word "boyfriend", I've learnt, is a sensitive term. James used to jokingly call it to "immediately emasculate" a guy. "I'm no boy", he would say "I'm a man". But when it comes to Edward and I's relationship it's sensitive because none of us have used the words "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" yet.
"So that was..." He trails off.
"Samantha. I, uhm, worked with her. Before. At Havens," I stutter awkwardly. "But she told you that so..."
"She seems nice."
"Yes. Apparently she works at Surrony's now."
"Surrony's?" He repeats. "Sounds like a pizza place."
"That's exactly what I thought!" I exclaim, somehow feeling relieved.
"Great minds think alike," Edward says and for a moment we grin at each other.
None of us mention her Boyfriend-comment. I tell him I ran into her at the architecture ball when she was super-pregnant and she was as much of a whirl-wind then as she was now. I don't tell him how miserable I felt running into her then, but I feel happy thinking about how things have changed for the better. That night Edward pretended to be with me because we ran into James and Lauren, and now he's not pretending.
Later, when we're at his place we cook together. For a guy who "never" cooks Edward has pretty good knife technique, chopping onions and vegetables like a masterchef while I'm in charge of the sauce and meat.
A vinyl is playing, Debussy again. We chatter as we cook. About our day and the Samantha Wells encounter. We joke about how babies always look like aliens or tiny old people since they're all wrinkly but you always have to call them pretty no matter what.
"Do you want kids?" I ask him casually while stirring the sauce.
He freezes in the vegetable chopping, letting the knife rest on the cutting board.
"Ah, I don't know," he answers.
His tone of voice is letting me know he doesn't want to go there.
So let's not push it. It's too soon. I get it.
"Well you don't know till you're there right?" I comment lightly.
He starts chopping again.
"I'm not sure if I'm going to get there," he uses air quotation marks with his knife-free hand. "Whatever that place is."
"When everything else, like work, marriage, house. That stuff is done," I explain adding some spice to the sauce.
"You put marriage before house?" he asks.
"Did I say that? I'm not conservative. James and I lived together before he proposed."
"And you guys... Were you ready for kids?"
"I've mentioned it before, right? At the vineyard I think. Yes, I guess," I answer, seeing no need to lie. "It wasn't like an elaborate plan or anything, but sure we were heading in that direction."
"You feel ready to be a mom?"
I laugh loudly realizing where this could be leading. Edward freaking out about me wanting to have his babies, pronto.
"No," I practically snort.
Something resembling relief crosses his face.
I bring out the meat from the fridge and start slicing it thouroughly.
"Actually Bella," Edward says carefully. "I don't see myself as a father. Ever."
"You don't?" I can't help but to sound disappointed.
He grimaces.
"I don't. It's not something I've ever envisioned for myself."
"But why?" I blurt. "I mean someone as great as you..."
"Look, I don't want to lead you on and say something when I know it wouldn't be true. I really like you, Bella. I care about you a lot and I'm hoping we can... I don't know..." He puts the knife down and when he pinches the bridge of his nose I realize this is a really frustrating subject for him.
"Compromise?" I fill in.
"Compromise? About a kid?" He repeats incredulously.
Strands of hair fall down in my face and I brush them away with the back of my hand. Shit. I should've just dropped the subject, but now that we're talking I can't back away from it.
"You don't think it will change?" I ask. "Maybe it's just about time."
I go back to my own task at hand, slicing away, acting as if his answer is not a big deal, although it's kind of a big deal. He chops again, under silence for a few seconds. He should be done by now. I glance at the vegetables and notice he's been cutting the same pieces over and over.
"Knowing myself, I don't think so, no," he finally answers.
"Maybe you haven't..." Met the right person yet, I'm about to say but at the same time I realize what my unsaid words would imply.
That I'm not the right person.
And there goes the knife, right on my thumb.
"Fuck!" I call out so loudly even Edward jumps.
He is all action, leading me to the tap to get some cold water on the cut. It's small and deeper than I thought. It doesn't hurt much. Still I'm embarrassingly close to crying.
"Are you alright?" He asks concerned. "You're looking kind of pale."
"I don't like blood," I get out weakly.
I've always thought you'd want children with the person you love, even if you weren't certain before. Edward being so sure of not wanting kids means his feelings for me aren't strong enough. Brilliant theory, Swan, really. I know it's idiotic, but I can't think clearly right now. I'm busy blowing this out of proportion.
Edward says I won't need stitches and gently wraps a band aid around my thumb. I take deep breaths. This was a sign. Nearly chopping off my thumb may have saved myself from talking further and saying stuff I don't even mean. It's always silly to fight about something you've just mentioned for the first time.
We have dinner and talk about other things. It's surprisingly not awkward considering our day so far. We smoothly avoid the Samantha Wells run in and her boyfriend comment, as well as our discussion about kids. Instead we talk about art, the museum and other places in Manhattan we want to visit next.
Later I take a quick shower. Edward's shower is crazy big compared to mine and for the first few minutes I'm expecting him to join me considering I left the door unlocked, but he doesn't. Still, I think everything's okay. After, wrapping the towel around myself, I open the bathroom cupboard. I have my own shelf here now where I keep some night necessities and there right next to deodorant is the body lotion. I brought it mostly as a joke. Nevertheless it's nice to have here. Massaging it onto my skin and feeling quite content knowing I'll fall asleep in Edward's arms I realize I can't freak out about this. Not yet.
We've got something good going. Things don't fall apart that easily. They just don't.
Embarrassed to be updating late, again. Seriously struggling with this atm, but will keep it going anyways. I'll probably go back and try and better it later on. Speaking of that, I edited the last chapter (cut out some bickering, softened Rose a bit, made Bella slightly less naive). Still not happy with it and I may go back to that one as well. Actually... May go back to a lot of chapters, but will not change any events or such just make things smoother.
I want this story to be as good as it can be and I find your response very helpful. So grateful and happy when you let me know what you think, what like and don't like.
Thank you for reading!