***Friday, 12/21/12***

~afternoon~

"Jas, I feel like we should knock. I can't just walk in like this."

"Mom, I've already been here two full days. I'm not gonna knock now. Besides, it's the garage door. Who knocks on the garage door?"

I don't know. Who sleeps with her best friend's son? Her son's best friend? I feel like I'm wearing a scarlet letter on my forehead; I just can't for the life of me figure out what letter it would be. It's not adultery. It's not incest. It's not pedophilia. And honestly, it's not even sordid. Fact is, it's been life-affirming and symbiotic and utterly delicious.

No matter what, it's been worth it. Even if we don't get to touch each other this weekend.

Please God, let us touch each other. And soon.

I take a deep, cleansing breath and force it out. I've played this out in my mind a thousand times, and still I have no good solution. I can feel Edward's presence on the other side of this door, but I can't allow myself to rush to him, can't afford a scintilla of over-exuberance in our greeting. I'm shaking from head to toe with the effort of my restraint, and I can only pray that my dearest, oldest friend does not detect the depth of my emotions.

"BELLA!" Esme approaches with her arms held wide, her smile bright and genuine. The change in climate has been good to her. Where I have the pallor of the New England winter, her skin is rich with olive overtones, but she's somehow escaped the leathery crinkles of full-time Floridians.

"Esme," I respond, falling into her embrace. I close my eyes and it's as if the years never happened to us. We're back in my kitchen, standing side by side, cutting out cookies for the holidays and topping off glasses of Chardonnay at 5:30 while we await the arrival of our husbands from their long respective days of work. Her hands move up and down my back and we sway, reuniting on the most profound level.

Emotions wash over me—

Happiness at finding what has been so long denied me.

Regret at the years lost and wasted.

Love for my dear friend.

Gratitude that fences are on the mend.

And the scariest of all—anxiety that all this could be washed away so easily with one wrong step.

I don't need to open my eyes to know that Edward is standing just beyond her, just out of reach in every imaginable way. His hands are pushed deep into his front pockets and he's pretending to be indifferent, same as I am. His eyes are focused on the floor, which is helpful because once he looks at me, I know I'll be toast.

"EDWARD!"

Oh yeah, Alice.

Edward looks up, glancing at me just for the briefest moment before turning his head toward the incoming missile aimed for his chest. He yanks out his hands in the nick of time and his mouth twists into a happy grin just before she slams into him.

"Ooomph!"

"Edward! My long lost brothuh from anothuh mothuh!" she squeaks. The voice of the mature college junior Alice had so carefully cultivated is a vague memory as she reclaims the voice of the little sister of Edward's best bud.

"Little Squirt," Edward says affectionately, pulling her into his arms and spinning her around in a complete circle. "Oh man," he groans, "they must have some good food at NYU."

"Hey!" she complains, whacking him in the arm once he sets her down. His eyes twinkle with laughter, and I remind myself to be careful not to slip too far down the rabbit hole. But damn, did he have to wear the indigo designer jeans with a dark green scoop-neck, skin-tight t-shirt? No, he did not. He did that to kill me.

"Allie, lemme see you. Oh man, you look great." They hold hands between their bodies and Alice basks in the glow of Edward's approval, same as she always has.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, we've come to the moment in the square dance where you switch partners. Esme initiates it, sliding her hands from my arms and turning toward Alice. Of course, now Edward and I are entirely blocked by the two of them clasped between us. There's a bit of an awkward dip in first one direction, then the other, where we miss each other spectacularly on both sides, ending with embarrassed laughter and blushing.

"Bizzy," he finally says, his voice dripping with desperation. He holds out a hand around his mother's back and I place mine inside of it, woozy when he clasps me and pulls me in for a hug. I can feel every ridge of his rocky chest beneath the thin weave of his shirt, just as plainly as I can feel the heat of his palms right through my blouse.

His face is clean-shaven, and my cheek brushes against his, finally settling into place as he leaves a soft kiss near my ear.

"Good to see you again," he whispers, dangerous yet perfectly innocuous.

"You, too," I speak into his ear. Our meter has run out, the reasonable time span for platonic hugging expired.

I catch his eyes as he releases me, and in their emerald depths, I feel his need.

"Do you have a suitcase?" he asks, then belatedly adds Alice in his inquiry.

"I got," Jas calls out, heading back out to the garage.

"Where's James?" Alice asks.

Esme smiles knowingly and answers, "They're coming Monday afternoon. They're spending the weekend with his girlfriend's family in Austin."

"Looks like you're stuck with me, Squirt," Edward adds.

"Ugh!" Alice says. "Puh-leez! Anything but that!"

Esme takes my hand and drags me to the couch. "How about a drink? You've had a long day of flying, no?"

"Yeah, the mecca of Burlington, you may recall, is not exactly the hub of the universe."

"Edward, get the girls something to drink, would you? How about some egg nog?"

"I'm on it," he calls out, heading for the wet bar. "Allie, come help me."

"Esme, your home is just gorgeous. What do you do here when it's just you?"

She winks and leans in. "Don't tell the ildren-chay, but it's rarely just me."

"Oh! Good for you!" We giggle like old times, and then she lays the zinger on me.

"You have no idea, Bella. I have a…" she leans in and whispers, "young lover!"

My mouth drops open at her shocking news, which has taken her all of three minutes to share. "How young?" My heart squeezes in my chest.

"Thirty-four!" she announces proudly.

My eyebrows pop up and I burst into giggles. "Well double good for you! Do I get to meet this young stud?"

"Hmmm," she smiles, "I'm not really sure I want him to meet you. You're looking pretty hot yourself."

"She is," Edward says, sliding the eggnog into my hand and winking.

"God, you're such a flirt," Alice chastises him, sinking into the couch next to me. "Always were."

"Always will be," he adds quite unapologetically.

"What are you drinking?" Esme asks her son as he sinks into the huge armchair.

"Belvedere."

"Straight?"

"Sure. It's already…" he consults the watch I gave him, "3:48."

Esme rolls her eyes and points her thumb at Edward. "Big law man now. Pretty soon he'll start smoking a pipe."

"Highly doubtful," he informs us.

"Can you believe how these kids have grown, B? I could not get over Jas when I saw him."

I chance a look at Edward, whose drink is suspended casually from his fingertips as he swirls the ice around the glass, a challenging little smirk on his lips.

"Yep, all grown up."

"Not her Royal Squirtness over there," Edward remarks.

"You better be nice to me, Teddy Bear."

"Or what?" he grins.

"Or I'll have my big brother beat you up."

"I've gotta do what now?" Jasper asks, entering the room with his hands on his hips.

"You have to defend my honor."

"Sure," Jasper says, sinking into the other chair. "Who's messing with your honor this time?"

"Take a wild guess," she says, but her smile gives her away. She and Edward have always bickered like brother and sister but love each other fiercely.

"Sorry, Al, I can't beat up Edward. I know he doesn't look like much, but he's scrappy. Besides, who would be my wingman?"

Edward chuckles and pulls his drink up to his lips. Alice huffs and argues, "I'll be your wing-girl, Jas."

Jasper laughs, "That would be great if I were trying to pick up guys or lesbians."

"Oh-kay!" Esme claps her hands loudly. "Are we just about hungry for dinner?"

Predictably, two male voices vote yes.

"I just need to freshen up a bit. Esme, where did you want me to put my things?"

"Edward, be a sweetheart and show Bella to the blue room, would you?"

Edward's eyes click over to mine and he bites the inside of his cheeks to contain his smile. "Sure." He rises from his chair and shakes out his long legs. "Right this way, mademoiselle." He gestures me in front of him with a swirl of his drink, grabs the handle of my suitcase and starts wheeling it down the long hall without looking back.

My hands clench and unclench with the effort of not reaching out to the back pockets hugging his perfectly-formed ass. I'm conscious of every noise accompanying us down the hallway—the faint squeak of the suitcase wheels along the thin carpet, the gentle clink of ice cubes against the crystal tumbler, and the roar of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. As promised, the blue room is at the far reaches of the house, and it takes us a good five minutes to stroll to the last room on the left. Edward goes right in and turns on the light.

The room is indeed very, very blue. The walls are a muted shade of slate; the carpet is a plush pile in a much deeper tone; and the windows are framed by lush, sheer, iridescent silk while the real work of shading the intense Florida sun is handled by whitewashed wood blinds.

My eyes are immediately drawn to the elegant, wrought iron king-sized bed occupying most of the floor space. The comforter is a sophisticated weave meant to evoke the ocean, and there are enough pillows and throws to compensate for the stark beauty but relative discomfort of the iron bar headboard. The furnishings provided by my dear old friend are more than adequate for comfortable reading—or other, more vigorous activities.

"Thank you." My voice is shaky now that we're actually alone.

"I hope you'll let me know if there's anything I can do to make your stay here more pleasurable," he says, poised like a well-trained bellhop waiting for his tip.

"Hmm," I answer, stepping close enough to whisper into his ear. "Does this establishment offer turn-down service?"

I pull back so I can see into his eyes, which twinkle playfully in response. "You can count on it, Ms. Swan."

"If you'll excuse me then…?"

"Oh yes, the freshening. I'll leave you to it," he says. "On second thought—"

Edward's arm is around my waist so fast I hardly see it coming. He pulls my hips into his body and presses his cool, wet lips against mine. His eager tongue instantly finds its mate, claiming every inch of my mouth.

Every memory I consoled myself with while we were apart falls massively short of the reality of this man around me, against me, inside me. His arms tighten around my waist, and the icy drink presses into my back. I gasp and hiss and wriggle out of his grasp with a loud giggle.

"Shhh!" he chastises me, barely containing his own laughter.

"You did that on purpose!" I give him a light smack in the chest.

He grabs my hand and holds it against his heart. "I swear it was an accident. I'm sorry."

"Edward." My voice is a quiet agony.

"Yeah?"

"How am I supposed to go out there and not have my hands on you?"

He shakes his head slowly. "I have no fucking idea, Biz."

"Okay. Good plan."


A/N: So...was the reunion worth the wait? XXX ~BOH