Because of You
Chapter 38
Edward's POV
Bella and I were pretty certain these surprise kids of ours were girls, but we still had the sonographer confirm it before I painted their room and we went overboard on girly shit. After all, I was sure squirt was a girl, and that little grunter sure as hell threw me.
"I've already seen what they are," the sonographer admitted. It was the same woman who'd done Jack's ultra-sounds, as she continued measuring arms and legs and internal organs. "Just give me a minute, and I'll get back down there. Any guesses?"
"Girls," Bella and I answered at the same time, as practically one voice.
Without giving anything away, the woman only smiled. She was measuring their heads and just looking at their profiles on the grainy black and white screen they already looked like squirt. "You have a little boy at home, don't you?"
After responding that we did, the sonographer's grin only grew, and for a moment I was beginning to fucking doubt myself. What if we ended up with three boys? I lucked out with squirt. The kid was his mother all over, but if we ended up with two more, one of them was sure to be me.
And just as I started convincing myself that karma was about to take a large fucking chunk out of my ass, the sonographer turned the screen to Bella and me and pointed out what I could only assume was legs.
"There's definitely only one placenta, so they're identical; which means they're the same sex."
I peered closer, but fucked if I could see anything.
"Are those lines...?" Bella began, before her breath softly hitched.
"Yes, three lines means girl. They're both girls. Congratulations."
"Oh, fuck..." I mumbled unwittingly out loud, because it suddenly fucking dawned on me. What I'd been like as a horny fucking teenager, and what I'd done to sweet and innocent Bella.
Jesus, no wonder her father always looked at me like he wanted to snap my neck, because he no doubt recalled what he'd been like.
And right at that moment I felt like fucking necking myself. One day my daughters would be seventeen years old and have drooling fucking imbeciles, full of hormones, leeching over them, and if they were anything like me, violating them in ways that would make a Los Angeles prostitute blush.
Yeah, karma was coming for me, all right.
Bella only laughed softly at me, and grabbed my hand. She was completely overrun and over the fucking moon at the same time.
I had no idea how we were going to handle three kids so close together in age, but I knew how happy she was, and if she was happy I was happy.
In truth, I would have been happy with just squirt; if I could stop making his mother spoil him, that is. But I knew Bella was mourning him growing up a lot more than what was normal. She wanted more babies, despite all her reassurances that she was okay. I could read the pain in the ass like a fucking newspaper. She practically turned into a puddle of sap if we saw a newborn at the park or a fucking supermarket.
I was ready to fork out more money for IVF, despite the fact that I'd rather be fucking castrated than go through that shit again, but Bella seemed just as against it as I was. All I could do was hope this internal body clock or whatever it was that turned women into maternal fucking nuns, would pass.
Thank fucking god shit was always evolving with us, and now the stress of Bella longing for more babies had turned into the stress of having two more of them. Two girls. Two girls that I would no doubt have to shoot some horny bastard over one day.
. . .
"Do you know it's been ten years since...?" Bella Began after we'd left the radiology building, before something flickered in her eyes and she dropped it, frowning.
It's not that she had to elaborate or anything. I knew exactly what she was referring to. It'd been ten years since she'd first got pregnant and had then lost it. Ten years since I fucked it all up, thinking she'd had it aborted, and ten years since my fucking mother and sister decided to intervene on my behalf.
Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I hurried her to the car. It was Mid-January and snowing, and Bella, after twelve years in this country, still couldn't handle winters very well.
"Can you believe if it had all turned out differently, we'd have a nine year old?" I pointed out, pulling out of the parking lot; though, it wasn't something I had to remind her of.
If she'd never lost that first baby, I couldn't honestly say how shit would have turned out for us. I'd like to think we would have been okay, but at nineteen Bella was still so fucked up by her mother. I could still recall her reaction to being pregnant. She was fucking horrified, and she was pissed off at me for putting her in that position. She no more wanted a baby than I did at that point, but while I would never have decided to abort it, I knew Bella was considering it; even if it was under the misguided logic that she would somehow become her mother.
She was gazing at the sonogram pictures, smiling warmly to herself, before she looked up and directed that smile at me. "I know," she murmured more or less to herself. "Bloody hell, that makes me feel old."
Old? The woman was delusional. She was twenty-nine but still got asked for I.D most places we went. Half the time they looked at me like I was some degenerate fucking sugar daddy. It didn't help that I towered over her, a foot taller than her. Plus, there would always be something about Bella's eyes—no matter how old she got—that would always make her appear lost and innocent.
I only rolled my eyes at her, and scowling at me teasingly, she went back to looking at her babies. She looked pregnant now—obviously pregnant. She'd had a flat stomach until literally a week after we first found out, and then as if on cue it popped out. She was four months pregnant, but was already the size she was at six months with squirt. Though since she had two of them in there, I guess that was to be expected, but it was already getting awkward between us. I couldn't in good fucking conscious slam into her stomach the way I did before, and she hated when I got on my knees.
But, hey, we were soon to be a family of five. A serious family, where the poor fucking parents no longer had sex.
Jesus...
I dropped Bella off at Angela's. Ang was looking after Jack while we had the sonogram, and after they were taking the kids to the flicks to watch "Inside Out". Bella had invited me to go, but yeah, no way was that going to happen. I didn't need a crystal ball into our future. We were going to be the parents of three kids in a few months, I was on board with that, but I had no desire at early fucking intervention.
Jack couldn't sit still longer than five minutes at a time, as it was. I had no idea how Bella planned on keeping him seated for ninety minutes, and I didn't really want to find out, either. At least, not without losing my patience with her.
Bella had no idea of the concept of "taking it easy". With her pregnant with twins she was seeing Dr. Kendrick as well as a high risk specialist. Both had told her to slow things down, but Bella, being the pain in the fucking ass she was, only scoffed at it, insisting she felt fine, and continued filling her days with activities with squirt. Playdate on Monday with Angela and her kids, Tuesday was Mommy and Me; Wednesday Gymbaroo; Thursday she did the grocery shopping; and Friday she took him to baby swim class. On top of that she spent most of her spare time with Ang, while insisting we had a "date night" once a week, as well as having "family time" on my days off. And after all of this she still managed to keep the house anally neat and clean, while walking the fleabag.
Apart of me knew she saw squirt as her 'do-over' kid. To give him the childhood she never had, but she really needed to learn to do things in moderation. It was any wonder Jack slept so well at nights. The kid was exhausted.
"Take it fucking easy, woman," I appealed to her, knowing I was wasting my breath after she turned to me and kissed me goodbye.
"Yes, Dad," she teased me wryly, taking me with a grain of fucking salt like she did most days, before flicking my chin with her finger and sliding out of the truck. "Ang is going to drop us off," she spoke through the window. "Probably around four."
"Okay," I conceded with a sigh.
If anything, I had three hours to myself.
Five minutes after getting home, Fed Ex came to the door; with another fucking package from my sister, it wasn't hard to guess. When Bella reached twelve weeks, we made the announcement, and ever since my pain in the ass sister had sent a package a fucking week. At least my mother had had the foresight not to fucking push it and had only sent one. Though hers overtook all of Alice's in one go.
She'd sent two matching baby books with "Baby Cullen #2" and "Baby Cullen #3" inscribed on the covers in gold. They looked a hundred years old, and fucking expensive, and Bella was immediately touched.
Yeah, my mother knew exactly what she was doing.
Alice, on the other hand sent all kinds of random stupid shit every week. Baby bottles—despite Bella making her mind up to breast feed both of them—boxes of diapers, toys, and clothes. To a stranger it would appear like me and Bella were the fucking charity case of the family; a couple of teenagers knocked up. I'm sure that's what the delivery guy must have been thinking, but I knew my sister was just being her usual over the top fucking self, without thinking shit through first.
She'd been that way all her life, so I knew enough not to be too offended. If she hadn't royally, fucking premeditatingly, fucked up, I might have even laughed about it, but shit with me and Alice was still strained, at best.
I know I promised Bella—and myself, for that matter—that I'd put all the shit with me and Alice behind me when she was pregnant with squirt, but when it all came down to it, I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to hang out and play happy families, at least. Once Jack was born Alice started calling every week. She'd seen my moment of weakness the day he was born as a fucking green light. In the beginning it pissed me off, and more than once I threatened to send Rose down on her if she didn't stop, but then I figured "fuck it". A twisted part of me enjoyed talking to her, and an even more fucked up part even missed her. Of course it pissed me off that my emotions were so fucking mutinous, but fighting it constantly was exhausting.
So, it had become routine. Bella didn't know about it, and I preferred it that way. I knew Bella had decided to leave all this reconciliation shit up to me, but at the same time, I knew how much stress it caused her. It stressed her because it irritated the fuck out of me, and Bella was too in tune with me for me to allow her to be a part of it. Just yet, anyway.
Tearing open the box, I pulled out a wrapped present, and after contemplating for no longer than three seconds about reading the card first, I passed on it, and ripped it off with the wrapping.
It was two matching white dresses with pink frilly shit around the hems. They were cute, probably something Bella would buy, and before I was aware of it, I was grinning to myself. That was only three seconds before I became frustrated, and throwing them on the kitchen table, I reached for the refrigerator, grabbing a beer out just as the fleabag grabbed one of the dresses and hauled ass.
During winter his dog house was kept in the basement, so the little asshole really had nowhere to go.
"You really are a dumb fucking blond!" I called after him, getting that fucking whiny-growl shit from him in return.
Slamming my beer on the counter top, I turned to chase that fucker down, when my phone rang, effectively distracting me.
"Hey! Did you get it?" My sister's overly screechy enthusiasm burst through my phone the moment I recognized her number on the screen.
"Jesus, it's you again," I replied dryly. "Yeah, we got it."
"Does Bella like them?" she asked, her tone turning pitifully hopeful.
"She's not home. What's with the dresses anyway? We found out they're boys," I lied, smirking to myself.
"What!?" she fucking cried all shrill and almost fucking deafened me. "But I was sure..."
"Okay, calm yourself. I'm only bullshitting," I fessed up, continuing to grin to myself.
"So they are girls?" she asked, sounding cynical.
"Yeah, they're girls."
She sighed shortly, making the phone turn static. "Really funny, Edward."
"What do you want, Alice? Just rang up for chit-chat?"
"Yes," she admitted as if it went without saying—as if the last four fucking years, and six before that had, never taken place. "And I wanted to invite you to Teddy and Essy's birthday."
I snorted, rolling my eyes. I really couldn't take my sister seriously while she referred to her poor fucking offspring as "Teddy and Essy".
"Is that a yes?" she breached full of uncertainty, but with that same pathetically needy hope.
"In what universe do you think that's ever going to happen?" I answered flatly, sarcastically. "Why the fuck do you keep inviting us to all your domestic shit?"
"Because I keep hoping one day you'll change your mind," she mumbled with a heavy sigh.
"Alice, how many times do I have to tell you?" I spoke abruptly, becoming impatient. "It's never going to be the same with us, so stop fucking pushing it."
"Okay, but you know I probably won't," she admitted; she was remorseful, like she always was, but at the same time, I could detect that fucking sly smile with every word she spoke.
"You want me to hang up?" I threatened her, wrangling my hand through my hair as my attention was diverted to what the little shit furball was up to in the basement. By the sounds of it he was ripping shit up, and as much as my sister annoyed the shit out of me, I was really hoping it wasn't that girly, froo froo fucking dress.
"No," she burst hastily, knowing I wasn't bluffing. I'd hung up on her more times than I could count, after all.
"Jesus—hang on a minute," I grumbled, deciding I had to sort this shit out with the furry bastard before I could relax. "Your days are numbered you little asshole," I hollered after pushing open the basement door and spotting the shredded mess lying all over the place. "Jesus fucking Christ!"
"Edward, hello?" my sister's voice spoke through the receiver of my phone that I was gripping at my side, all but mistaking it for the furball's neck.
"Alice, I have to go," I snapped, and not giving a shit if she properly heard me or not, before hanging up and offloading my phone on top of the washer.
The fleabag was cowering in the corner, tail between his legs, while trying to hide his ass behind a mop and bucket.
I snorted at how pathetic he was, first and foremost, and then at the idiot's delusions that he actually thought I couldn't see him. Though, the second I took a step toward him he knew he was busted. He started making that whiney dog talking shit, and I wasn't sure whether it was to himself or at me, but it was fucking pitiful.
Grabbing him by the collar, I dragged his hairy ass up the stairs with him resisting the entire time while his whines turning high pitched. I ignored him, but if I was being honest, I did kind of feel sorry for him, but fuck me, the shithead was more high maintenance than Jack.
Opening the sliding doors to the back yard with one hand, while trying to keep the bastard restrained with the other, I threw his furry ass outside and into the snow. It was only a weak threat at best. I couldn't leave him out there for too long without the AS-fucking-PCA coming down on me.
Or worse; Bella.
"Fuck me," I muttered to myself, running both hands back through my hair, before snatching my beer and heading back to the basement to clean up. If Bella came home and seen it in the state it was in, she'd probably insist on fucking remodeling it herself, right then and there.
It was mostly magazines I quickly realized; though, I had no idea where the little asshole got them from. Bella read a lot of pregnancy and parenting magazines when she was pregnant with squirt, but as far as I knew she'd thrown them all out after he was born.
After sweeping it up, I crawled inside the little shit's dog house to retrieve the dress, and whatever else the fucker had swiped over the last, fuck knows how many, months.
There was three of my pen torches that I used for work, and that I'd convinced myself I'd lost—fucking naively—as well as several of squirt's pacifiers, fuck knows how many pairs of socks, and...a Christmas card.
After pulling it all out, I dumped it on the laundry counter, when several photos slipped from between the card and fell, face down, to the floor.
Bending down, I picked them up, not thinking anything of it, but the instant I turned them over, the blood in my veins ran fucking cold.
They were of my mother and Carlisle—my mother and Carlisle with my fucking son!
For a moment I only studied them, pushing my breath stiffly through my nose as I feebly attempted to rein in my growing anger. It was a few months back; Jack's hair was shorter and he had less teeth. He looked about ten months old. Around September, I quickly calculated in my mind. They were at the park, the same park Bella and I often took him to. In three of them my mother was holding him; she was smiling at him and squirt was smiling back. In the other Carlisle was holding him, looking fucking awkward as Jack only stared at him with that familiar look of uncertainty on his face.
Fucking Bella!
Bella had done this. She'd taken Jack to see my parents and she'd fucking kept it from me.
I only shook my head, because Bella would never do this! She'd never go behind my back and do this.
She wouldn't.
Only, she had.
Whipping around, I grabbed the card that still sat wedged with the other shit the fleabag had made off with, before opening it. It was written in Bella's handwriting.
"Dear Carlisle and Esme,
Merry Christmas from Edward, Bella and Jack," it simply read, and if that was all it had been I would have thought nothing of it. I knew she'd been sending cards and pictures of Jack to them, and I was okay with that.
But this? This, I was not okay with.
And for the first time in my life, the first time since I'd known Bella, I was fucking pissed at her. So pissed off I had to remind myself that she was pregnant and that we had a toddler; I couldn't just lose my shit at her the moment she walked in the door.
Only waiting alone in the house with nothing but my thoughts only fueled my anger and resentment at her, until I was fucking fuming. I paced around the house trying my fucking damnedest not to punch holes through the drywall as I tried to rid myself of it. But I couldn't. I was pissed off and fucking indignant, and my wife, for the first time in my life, was the cause of it. I felt like she'd betrayed me; betrayed my fucking trust, and she'd sworn never to do that.
By the time she arrived back home, I was well and truly fucking gone. I'd lost the battle to keep myself under some kind of self-control, and I was so rigidly angry, I had to keep flexing my fingers to keep my muscles from locking up.
She came through the front door, put Jack on his feet, before removing his coat and beanie. Then after taking off hers and hanging them over the coat rack, she looked up and met my gaze just as the smile fell instantly from her face.
"Honey...?" she asked me full of apprehension, her expression immediately flooding with concern. "You okay?"
"Come here," I instructed her, my voice fucking ice cold and trembling. I was waiting in the kitchen; it was my lame assed attempt at keeping this shit from squirt.
Her eyes widened, but there was something defiant in them; as if she didn't take too kindly to me speaking to her in that tone. Still, she made her way into the kitchen regardless.
"Edward, what's wrong?" she all but pleaded with me, her voice softening, and she rarely called me "Edward" anymore. She'd stopped before squirt was born after I refused to stop teasing her over her accent.
Her accent that was rapidly waning with each passing month.
"What's wrong?" I challenged her, my voice straining, before I ripped the photos from my back pocket and slammed them on the kitchen table so hard it made her jump in surprise. "This is what's fucking wrong!"
She only stared at them for a moment, her expression completely flooding in fucking guilt. In fact, she looked so fucking culpable for a moment I almost lost it.
"Honey, I..." she began, but I cut her off.
"You went behind my back!" I accused her, my voice low, and it wasn't just that I was angry, I was also hurt. She'd ripped my fucking heart out.
She only shook her head, her eyes pleading, before opening her mouth to explain, but I couldn't hear it.
"I thought I could trust you, Bella!" I burst, fighting to keep my voice restrained.
For a moment she only stared at me, her face flushing and on the verge of tears, but at the same time she was growing angry, and she was fucking damning me. "You think you can't trust me?" she questioned me, her voice breaking, before she cleared it angrily.
"What the fuck am I supposed to make of this!?" My patience severed and I yelled at her, at her fucking gall.
She was staring at me as if it was me who'd done this.
"I couldn't tell you for this reason, Edward!" she switched back to fucking guilt-ridden as she attempted to explain to me.
"You had no fucking right to keep this from me, Isabella!" I spat, I was fucking fuming and only growing more so. "He's my fucking son, as well!"
She only stared at me again, her eyes wide and becoming wounded. I'd hurt her, and I couldn't fucking understand why. She'd taken my son to see my fucking mother after all the shit we'd gone through—after our entire history—and she stood before me challenging me on it as if it was fucking trivial.
Her eyes slowly filled with tears, it was yanking on my fucking heart, and I had to all but stop myself from reaching out to her. Then just as she opened her mouth to respond, Jack came into the room, his entire expression full of fear.
"Mama," he whimpered, and the moment he saw his mother's face he burst into tears, out stretching his arms to her.
She picked him up, attempting to soothe him, as he clung to her, before flashing me a fucking scornful glare. "Do you want to talk about this, or do you just want to yell at me and scare your son?"
I was so angry, I was shaking.
"I don't know who the fuck you are anymore!" I snapped loudly, ripping my hand back through my hair before slamming my fist down on the table.
She flinched and hasty stepped away from me, stumbling backward as if she actually feared me. At the same time I'd scared Jack so much he immediately started screaming.
For a moment I faltered, feeling like the abject fucking bastard I was acting like. I rose my hand as if on impulse to apologize to her, but for a second time she moved away from me; shaking her head.
She didn't want me anywhere near her, and while I was still fucking fuming, my heart suddenly felt like it was being torn.
"Honey," she whispered, her voice choked and breaking further, "please calm down. It's not how you think. Please let me explain." Tears were streaming down her cheeks, while the last shred of rationality inside me told me to snap the fuck out of it and listen to her, that there had to be a good reason for this, but my anger eventually won out.
"I can't even look at you right now," I replied quietly, my voice sharp, then turning my back on her I headed down the hallway.
With my hands fucking shaking, I reached for the door knob to our room too quickly and completely fucking missed it. My patience finally severed, and without a second thought I slammed my fist through the door.
For a moment I thought I'd broken my hand. I concentrated on moving my fingers, making sure I hadn't done any real damage to it, if only to stop myself focusing on Jack as his cries increased and grew higher on the other side of the door.
I'd scared him, and I'd scared his mother, as well.
I suddenly felt like the same out of control kid I once was, and I fucking detested it. But I couldn't reconcile how Bella could do this, why she'd go behind my back with our son knowing full well how I felt about my parents.
This wasn't like her. At all.
. . .
That night Bella didn't make me any dinner. In fact, she completely fucking ignored me for the rest of the night. She bathed squirt in the main bathroom, then put him to bed without bringing him in to say goodnight to me. Then, later, when I crept in his room to tuck him in, I was met with an empty cot. The house had gone quiet and I could only assume Bella had taken him to the spare room with her.
I dragged my ass to the kitchen and made myself a sandwich before taking a shower and crashing. I was agitated as fuck, and hanging on to so much anger had fucking exhausted me. Despite this, I knew something wasn't quite right. Bella hadn't even uttered so much as an "I'm sorry" to me, that on top of everything else, I was beginning to fucking question myself.
I went to bed that night by myself for the first time since we'd got married; since I'd moved in her house with her at Forks.
I hated it.
The next morning I got up for work on my own. There was no Bella up before me making coffee, with breakfast waiting for me on the table. In fact, she hadn't even made me lunch to take with me. I was forced to make my own, making me fucking late, while the only thing I had time to have for breakfast was coffee.
By the time I left, I was more fucking frustrated than I was angry, and becoming full of doubt on top of it. I wanted to wake Bella up and demand to know what the fuck was going on in her mind, but I didn't. Instead, I quietly opened the door to the spare room, and for a moment I only gazed down at her.
She was asleep with squirt curled against her chest. He had a fistful of her shirt clamped in his hand, like she often did to me, while his other rested over her rounded belly.
Breaking into an involuntary smile, I bent down and pressed my lips lightly to his forehead. He didn't even flinch, but Bella did; she stirred, pulling him further against her before a shuddering sigh left her mouth. She looked like she'd been crying all night.
It broke my fucking heart, and knowing it would probably wake her up, I bent down again, and this time kissed her temple.
"I'm sorry, honey," she mumbled softly, still clearly half asleep, before she fell quiet again.
"I know," I murmured gently to her. "We'll talk about it when I come home, okay?"
She didn't reply.
But whether she'd heard me or not, Bella had no intention of talking to me that afternoon. With the same wounded look in her eyes, she completely fucking ignored me. She let me hang with squirt this time, at least, and she even made me dinner, but she didn't speak a fucking word to me. In fact she wouldn't even look me in the eye.
I volunteered to bath Jack after dinner, and she didn't argue, but then she didn't even acknowledge me. We put him to bed together, but while Bella stood beside me, she was miles away. She showered in the master bath, fussing around in there doing whatever the fuck she did, and for a brief moment, I thought she might come to bed with me. But she didn't. With her robe around her, she walked straight passed me and out the door, without fucking returning.
The next morning she was once again absent, but at least she'd made me lunch this time. It was beginning to feel like a fucking miracle, but then that afternoon, she was still as frosty as fuck toward me. At this point I was close to fucking snapping, but I was becoming so unsure of myself, I was afraid I'd make shit worse.
So I said nothing.
She refused to talk to me, and the few times I attempted to engage with her, she walked out of the room and locked herself in the bathroom. What's worse was that squirt was picking up on all this tension between us. He was crying a lot more than he usually did, and when I came home, he clung to his mother, reacting to me as if I was a stranger.
I was beginning to think I'd fucked up, badly, but with Bella refusing to talk to me, I had no fucking way of knowing either way.
After a week of this shit, where she refused to sleep in bed with me, or even acknowledge my fucking existence, I was well and truly over it. We couldn't continue like this, and I needed it out in the open.
I came home that afternoon ready to have it out with her, but unsure how the fuck I was supposed to go about it. Only, when I walked through the garage door she appeared to be waiting for me.
"Where's squirt?" I asked her, sounding too fucking shaken.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, her arms folded, and for a moment I thought she was angrier than hell, and I was anticipating an all-out fucking brawl, when I realized that wasn't quite right. She was angry as much as she was hurt, but at the same time, she was defeated.
"Ang is watching him for a while," she spoke softly, in a voice that was completely detached.
"Baby..." I began, when she interrupted me, whipping her head around and arching a pissed off fucking brow.
"Baby? Don't you mean Isabella?"
"Bella," I started over, with a weary fucking breath, but I was already doubting myself. "What-what do you want me to fucking say?" I stammered, and it was me this time who was feeling fucking defeated.
"You never say anything, Edward—you presume!" she pointed out, and she'd instantly flipped back to hurt.
"Well, tell me, Bella—what have I presumed?" I asked her fucking beseechingly, raising my arms and letting them drop back to my sides, before taking the seat across from her at the table.
"You presumed I had betrayed you!" she snapped, only her tone was quickly becoming overrun. "You didn't even ask me—you just condemned me. You'd already made up your mind, and you actually thought that little of me!"
I opened my mouth to fucking plead with her as the sense of dread quickly enveloped me, but she only shook her head, adamantly, not wanting to hear a word from me.
"You spoke to me the same way you speak to your mother—to Alice. And I know you've been talking to her, you fucking hypocrite!" she was yelling at me by this point, but it was obvious what she was saying, what I'd done to her, was shredding her.
"Honey, please calm down," I urged her, suddenly fearful for her, when the irony fucking hit me. This was exactly what she'd begged me to do the other night.
"No!" she blurted, her voice failing, before she pulled herself back from the brink. "You do not get to turn on the charm and expect me to just fall into your arms this time. I hate you, Edward!"
I fucking winced, feeling like she'd just rammed a fucking steak knife into my chest. "You don't really mean that," I said quietly, feeling fucking gutted.
"Don't I?" she challenged me, pushing herself back from the table and getting to her feet, before immediately grabbing her belly as if the sudden movement had caused her pain.
I was on my feet in an instant, pulling her to me, when she shoved me away. I thought for a moment about holding her against me, forcefully if I had to, but something inside me warned me against it. She was deadly fucking serious, and I knew if I restrained her she'd fight against it.
"Baby, I'm so—" I started to apologize to her, hopelessly fucking apologize to her, but she wasn't even close to being receptive to me.
"Don't tell me you're sorry when you have no idea why!"
"Well, tell me why, baby?" I fucking begged her. "Please."
"You're a grown man, Edward, and I'm not your mother." She shook her head at me, her voice barely a whisper and stone fucking cold.
"If you just told me you'd seen them, baby," I changed tactics, continuing to appeal to her, laying my fucking heart out to her. "If you just explained it to me."
She scoffed, almost laughing bitterly. "I couldn't, because I knew what would happen—what did happen, and I didn't want to have that same argument I've had hundreds of times before with you," she started ranting, the tears she'd been fighting to hold back suddenly breaking free and running down her face. "You're allowing this entire bullshit with your mother to turn you into that recklessly impulsive person you swore to me you'd never be again. That person who broke my heart, over and over again. And I am not going to live like that again, Edward!"
I nodded, conceding, feeling fucking criminal, before reaching out to her. "I know..." I admitted, fucking disgusted in myself.
She only shook her head, stumbling further away from me; she wasn't finished. She wasn't even fucking close, but I wasn't sure if I could bear anymore.
"Work out what you want to do with your mother. Forgive her or never speak to her again—I don't care—but if you ever scare Jack again like you did the other night, I will take him, andI will leave. Because I am not having him grow up like that—I refuse!" she screamed at me, her voice turning hoarse, her tears running in rivers down her cheeks before she completely broke down.
This is when I lost it. Yanking her into my arms, I pressed her tightly against me, and she was so fucking broken that she didn't resist. She went completely fluid against me, before almost apprehensively, wrapping her arms around me and clinging to me; her entire body shaking.
She'd never been so angry at me before that she'd threatened to leave me, never, and hearing her say it, that she'd take squirt and leave me, fucking crippled me.
Jack was the motivating factor in all of this. She'd forgive me for how I'd treated her, she always did—even if I never fucking would—but Jack getting caught up in it was her deal breaker. She would never allow him to experience even a fraction of what she lived through. Jack or these two little girls who were soon coming into our lives.
I cradled her to me, worried about her and how upset she'd let herself get—that I'd been the fucking cause of. At the same time, I was pissed off and frustrated at myself, but worse than that, I felt fucking helpless in my own culpability.
It was a huge fucking dose of déjà vu. She was right, I'd reverted straight back to that pissed off little bastard who'd had so little faith in her. I'd had so little faith in her because I knew from the very beginning that I didn't deserve her.
Hoisting her up into my arms, I carried her down the hall and into our bedroom, before laying down on the bed with her. I'd missed her beside me, and I'd barely slept a wink the entire time.
I only held her to me as she calmed. She was quiet, too quiet, but for the first time in my life I was actually glad for it. I didn't think I could hear another word about how much I'd fucked up—how much I'd hurt her.
I looked down at her, she was clutching my work shirt, her face all blotchy and tear streaked, while her expression was completely engulfed. Bending down I pressed my lips to the top of her head, before pulling back, just as she met my gaze.
Those eyes of hers... They were the first thing I'd noticed the very first moment I'd saw her, and even now twelve years later, they hadn't changed. They were a documented testimony to all the pain she'd experienced in her life, and how much she'd overcome. And what an amazing, selfless person she really was.
If I lived to be one hundred years old I would never be good enough for her.
This was when the emotion hit me. It quickly burned through me, almost fucking choking me as my eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry," I whispered, completely fucking crashing, and barely able to make my voice audible.
Her eyes deepened, suddenly reflecting what I could feel fucking crippling me, before she stretched up, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me.
After that it became rushed and blurred, while I switched back and forth between the complete primitive fucking desire that was plowing through me, and being conscious of her delicate little pregnant body. In the end the latter won out. It's not that I planned it that way, but as my hand ran down her skin, passed her breasts to her soft swollen stomach, I felt them moving around inside her.
It surprised me so much I froze, before pulling my mouth from hers to stare down at her belly. I left my hand against her, continuing to feel them prod and poke against my palm, before I broke into a completely, emotionally fucked up laugh.
We didn't end up having sex; instead, I laid my head against Bella's stomach, happy to feel these two little unexpected miracles who had completely thrown me into left field, while I thanked the heavens for their existence.
. . .
Bella eventually fell asleep. She looked so exhausted and shattered that I didn't want to wake her up to get squirt, so I went on my own.
Angela was completely gracious towards me; flashing me this courteous smile, as if she was letting me know she held nothing against me. I only smiled back awkwardly, while trying not to remind myself exactly how close she and Bella were, and how much she no doubt knew about mine and Bella's life.
"I fed him dinner, I hope that's okay," Ang explained, before leading me into her living room where Jack sat with her two juggernauts.
"No, that's fine," I assured her, as Jack after hearing my voice, turned immediately to me.
He'd been wary of me all week, when normally the kid jumped me the minute I walked through the door. I knew he'd just been feeding off me and Bella, but I fucking hated that he'd been so uncertain around me.
But right then it was as if none of it had happened. He broke into the goofiest grin, and pulled himself to his feet. Then, making a high pitched, over excited sound, he ran to me with his arms raised high.
I picked him up, and he clung to me, giving me one of his hugs where his hands squeezed whatever part he grabbed first. Tonight it was my ears.
"Give me a kiss, squirt," I said to him, feeling suddenly consumed with affection for the kid.
Without hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed his opened mouth to mine, complete with tongue, drool and fuck knows what else.
"Okay, okay," I relented, pulling back, before wiping my mouth clear with my shoulder. "Say goodbye to Aunty Angela."
"Bye-bye," he willingly complied before waving his entire arm. He was in a good mood, because it was usually hard to tell how receptive he was going to be with other people, even Ang; he was shy like his mother.
Angela chuckled softly before tickling him under his chin. "Good bye, Jack."
"Thanks, Ang," I said with genuine appreciation, before leaning down to kiss her quickly on the cheek.
She was a good friend, a better friend than my sister had ever been, and I was fucking grateful Bella had her in her life.
. . .
Bella didn't end up telling me the entire story with my mother and Carlisle, and I didn't ask. I didn't really want to mention it again, but I knew it had all come to a head and it was time I dealt with it once and for all.
I made a promise to her that I was going to start moving forward instead of being stuck in the fucking past. I figured I could get back on speaking terms with my mother, like I was with Alice. I didn't want squirt missing out on his grandmother because of the crap between us. I just wasn't sure how the fuck I was going to go about it. I knew one thing, though; I couldn't let this shit with her get between me and my family ever again.