Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight no copyright infringement is intended.

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Anyone who's wondering about updates for my other WIPs, rest assured that they are coming soon. I signed up for too many charities, and I'm trying to play catch up. And I've been blah . . . Updates are coming. HUGE thank you to everyone who continues to read my stories.

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Sort of . . . youse know I love me some filler and intro chaps!


Weather the Storm

Chapter Forty-Eight: End of the Day

Midnight Sun is hardly the venue where I'd usually host a sit-down. Yet here we are, in a loud-ass club, as we wait for Luke and his people. My friend from New Jersey called me a few hours ago—said he was in the area—and he wanted to talk. Personally, I don't know what it's about; however, I suspected it had something to do with Carlisle.

"Your brother is here," Aro, who had just arrived, whispered in my ear. He had a drink in hand, too, already.

My eyes had found Carlisle, and I silently nodded. We haven't spoken since Thanksgiving. He did all the things I asked, even going so far as to visit Nunzio in the hospital. I haven't been there to see him, but I planned to.

"What's good?" he asked, taking a seat.

"You tell me," I said. "You reached out to Luke?"

He shook his head no. "Luke called me—said he wanted to meet with all three of us, and you . . ."

I leaned forward. "You don't know what this is about?"

"No." He shrugged. "You told me I couldn't miss it—here I am." He widened his arms.

I massaged my forehead. "Have you spoken to him?" I asked Aro.

He pursed his lips, bobbing his head a bit. "I think I know who reached out. It wasn't me, though . . ." Aro kept his gaze low, studying his drink. "Remember what we thought might happen—if we backed Ronnie?"

I nodded. "Who?"

"I'm pretty sure Mauro—a few of the younger guys contacted Luke."

"Right."

With all due respect to me, and as things go, my own guys got in touch with Luke, so another "boss" would meet with me. Luke and I are at the same level, and there would be no bias—we have a lot of business with New Jersey, despite past qualms. Sometimes, I have to go out there and square shit away, too, and it's almost always bullshit.

I sat in on one of these with Marcus and Phil once. It was the other way around, but similar circumstances.

Marcus was accused of slapping too many wrists, whereas his predecessor used to crack skulls—lay the iron hand without a problem, doling out punishments and being strict with everyone.

Marcus was more lenient with the younger generation.

Things changed after that sit-down, as we were all on our toes.

Luke was basically called to talk with me, so another "higher up" had the back of the low-man, the underlings—my guys, who are so fucking low they don't rank.

"Bunch of fucking babies." Aro spat. "Mauro's lucky—we were easy on him. At the end of the day, Alex is the daughter of a captain, Skip. Nunzio spoke out of turn . . . It's not her fault—don't be upset with her," he was fast to say.

I shook my head once. "I'm not . . . It is what it is."

Whatever problem I had with Bella's friend was long forgotten. She's a kid, and is pretty far removed from everything. It was Ronnie who was sore about her treatment, Carlisle, too. Mauro was wrong. He went there, and Alex never came to me for anything. She didn't put anyone up to do her bidding—my brother or Ronnie. They're grown men who reacted the way they saw fit.

She's afraid of me—my power or whatever-the-fuck—and I can respect that.

Although, it wages the age-old war within me—would I rather be feared, or loved and respected?

"The rest must be running scared, walking on eggshells," Jasper commented. "I don't have any newbies on my crew. So, I don't know."

"Lou's a cool cat. Nunz is too . . . for real," Aro said. "Anton is earning good as well. The point of the matter, and what Luke will likely say, is what we already know. Just because they're new—"

"We can't do what we want and get away with it. We have to have their backs along with our own people's—be fair." Carlisle finished for him. "But why not come to you?" He pointed to Aro. "You're . . . like our shop steward," he laughed. "Or me, although I'm not as readily available . . . You're out there though, you know?"

"Nah." I shook my head. "He would've told them to go fuck themselves, and if it's quiet here . . . it's quiet in Dirty Jerz, too," I laughed. "I'm going to guess that Luke is bored . . . He's coming here to save face. He's the head, but Jersey ain't shit . . . Nothing more than a glorified crew."

"You're here to save face as well," Aro reminded me. "Regardless of their status as a family, you can't turn down a boss when asked to be seen."

I blew out a breath. "I'm missing dinner for this?" I hoped I'd be home before Kylie went to bed.

We all shared a chuckle while I snapped my fingers for the waitress's attention. "JD, rocks."

"Same," Carlisle said. "Thanks."

"I'm good." Aro held up his drink.

"Amstel Light," Jasper said. "Thanks, Shana." He watched the busty blond leave the table.

"What was that?" I asked.

He shrugged, raising a brow. "I can look."

I didn't reply.

"She's not worth it," Carlisle said. "Shana . . . I've been there—done that. Right in that bathroom last year."

"Ah," I sighed. "You're this new person, so now you can pass judgment."

His brow twitched, inhaling deeply through his nose. "No. I was just letting Jazz know . . . She's not worth the time or the energy—nothing special." He scratched his nose with his thumb.

I nodded.

"I can look, maybe sniff around, but I don't touch." Jazz pointed to himself. "As faggy as that sounds—"

"Good for you." I hit his shoulder. "Good. For. You." Maybe I wanted a pat on the back myself.

"It's not faggy at all. The love of a good woman . . ." Carlisle nodded, pursing his lips. "That's—"

"You'll get there," Aro said, and I honestly had no idea what was going on in my brother's personal affairs. I was curious, having let go of any anger I had toward him as well. He was correct in what he did to Nunzio. I was wrong for not stepping up, and I had a problem admitting that, but what Carlisle said that day . . . That shit had no truth to it.

"Damn . . . I hope I get there, too." Aro chuckled.

I leaned back when the drinks arrived.

"Some days . . . I'm glad Lau pulled the plug." Aro continued. "Technically, I'm still young. I can start over, although I'm like . . . confused. The kids . . . How do I ease them into it? There's all these 'what ifs' You know? Lau's not with that one cat anymore. He couldn't deal with us still being close—living-wise. But if homeboy had a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, Lau wouldn't be . . . close, on my payroll. Is it all about money with these broads?" He went off the subject.

"She never brought that guy around your kids?" I was befuddled. "Weren't they all together in Cali while you were goo-gootz—in the hospital?"

"Yeah, but she introduced him as a friend," he answered.

Carlisle whistled. "My only gripe is . . . I wish Alex was older. So . . . I wouldn't be as—afraid?" He scrunched his nose. "I'm literally frightened she's going to leave me—say fuck this without really giving me a chance . . . because I can't spend the amount of time I want with her—what with keeping my dating her from the kids. They come first, which she knows. And the fucked-up thing is that they actually adore her. Hanna is up her ass every chance she has. Carli will love anyone I do, and Ant . . . well, he's the most easygoing kid I know. But I'm not so sure they would still feel that way if they learned she was Daddy's girl. For now, we're keeping our relationship separate—we hang out, and I try to be home as much as possible for my babies." He looked tired after that whole rant. "And I also don't want to come on too strong. I'm trying to be easy . . . Don't want to scare her with . . . adult problems." He shook his head. "What the fuck? Why's it so confusing?"

"Because." Aro paused. "Even if you were married . . . I'm sorry, bro, but you don't know dick about love."

"I know how I feel." Carlisle grinned, his drink to his lips, and then he snorted and sipped.

"It's gotta be tough." Jazz drank his beer. "I feel for you guys."

"You," Aro pointed to my brother, "told me to date other single parents . . . Now, look at you, robbing the cradle and shit." He touched his cheek.

Carlisle laughed, pulling his head away. "In all seriousness, I don't need her to be a mom to them . . . She doesn't have to? Just be a friend and get along with them. I don't know. All I do know is that . . . I'm fucking head-over-heels already." He smiled wide. "I think about her all the time . . . It's . . . it's the most amazing feeling," he looked to all of us, "it's like I'm chasing a high that truly never goes away."

I nodded, knowing exactly how he felt.

Knowing my brother had never shared that type of feeling and finding out that he finally was . . . I was happy for him—truly elated and excited. "Salute." I raised my glass and the rest joined me. "May you two find what you're looking for . . . and let it all work out—fall in love and all that."

"Thanks, Ed." My brother beamed at me. "That's generous of you."

I didn't reply.

"May your white picket fences never chip." Aro added, looking to Jazz and me. "And may your wives never get tired of your asses."

"I'll drink to that." I sipped again, and then looked to Jazz. "We're going out this weekend . . . dinner and then here. Take the night off, find a sitter, and bring Alice. I'll have Bella call Rose and Emmett."

He puffed his cheeks, blowing out a breath. "I'll see what's up. Our last sitter quit; meanwhile, she only baby-sat once in a blue moon." He shrugged. "Ali didn't like her . . . kept accusing her of stealing shit, but wouldn't fire her. I don't know."

"Oh." I didn't know what to say. "Was she stealing?"

"I don't know," he laughed. "Everything important that's worth something is locked in my safe. It's not like she could go unnoticed—trying to leave with a flat screen." Jazz shook his head, looking down as though he was thinking. "She was young. I think Ali was just—"

"She didn't want you and the baby-sitter to . . ." Carlisle made a hand gesture.

"Like I'd fucking do that," my cousin laughed. "She's it . . . my Ali."

"When do you even get to spend time with her?" I asked. "You show your devotion by . . ." I didn't want to bring up him icing her father.

Brandon Swan actually died of a heart attack, or something like that, two days after I had seen him. Jasper doused him in gasoline, and that fuck was so scared . . . He stiffened, grabbed his chest, and died. He was bruised, bloodied, and beaten, although those weren't necessarily the reasons. He got off easy, which was how I saw it.

That's what Mauro ended up doing when Carlisle sent him back to New York early.

Jasper still had so much hate in his heart, they used Ronnie's deli—his butcher's equipment—to make hamburger out of him.

We briefly heard about his disappearance, but in the end, no one cared enough to look or make a stink. That's what happens when pieces of shit go missing—que sera sera and all that. Fuck him.

"It's hard." Jazz guzzled his beer. "She's sick a lot. That's another reason why she might not wanna come. She's going for chemo—"

"Whoa!" I didn't know that. "I thought—"

"She doesn't have cancer," Jasper said. "It's to stop the rheumatoid arthritis or some shit—I don't know. It all sounds Greek to me." He turned to face me. "Don't tell Bella—worse than worry, my wife hates sympathy." He rolled his eyes. "Ali will tell Bella when she's ready."

Swallowing, I looked down to my hands. "I'd really like to tell my wife."

Jasper disagreed. "It's not life-threatening, which is what Ali keeps reminding me. She'll be good. Her docs are trying different methods of treatment. All else they can do is load her up with pain killers, and Ali can't be a mom . . . Despite the pain, she doesn't want to be out of it."

I nodded my head. "If you guys need anything, and I mean any—"

Jazz laughed. "Thanks, Ed, but we're good."

"While we're here, we should talk about that other thing . . ." Aro trailed off, leaning toward me. "Laurent wants a sit-down—he thinks you're wrong. This thing shouldn't interfere with that other thing."

I shook my head. "It's sloppy. They'll fuck up and get us all pinched. He's not one of us," I whispered. "Made guys rat, too, but—"

"Skip, I understand," Aro said.

"But do we want beef with them?" Carlisle asked. "If they're not with us they're against us. And you know," he looked to me, "you're going to tax them anyway for pushing that shit in New York."

"No." I wiped my hands clean. "He can do what he wants, but if he does that, he has no more ties with us—like I said."

"That could be a lot of money, though," Jasper whistled. "They operate—manufacture—solo, and we still profit. We can move it upstate, too. I still have a few connects—"

"You wanna fit the bill?" I raised a brow. "Front money for some meth lab out in East New York? I won't have that—Why is this even an issue?" I spluttered.

"He still wants to do what he does down south, and conduct biz' with Eleazar." Aro shrugged. "He's done business in Louisiana for years. We've been using him and his boys for that run—"

"Fuck him." I honestly didn't care about all that. "If he's associated with her and her people, he can't be associated with us, and that's that. End of discussion. There will be no sit-down." I sipped my drink. "I don't trust her, and he can go fuck himself."

"Ed, his people—they're Bloods, whatever-the-fuck. They're little boys, looking to make names for themselves, which to me, means—"

"They're a bunch of punks." I cut Carlisle off.

"They're unpredictable—have no heart," Jasper said. "They might strike. There's no talking with them, only action—violence."

"What about your shit out in Cali?" my brother asked.

"What shit?" I leaned toward him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

An awkward silence descended over us for the briefest of moments. Whether or not I get a big fat paycheck from the family out there is of no relevance. I don't hear a peep out of them. They run their heroin—do what they do, and I get my money just for having their backs. The DeGaetano brothers have expanded, have more people nowadays, and never need my help, yet I still get paid. It's none of my guys' business.

"Look—" I huffed, "we're not sticking our noses into drugs—meth—whatever . . . Fucking Bloods, Crips, Latin Kings . . . we have ties, and they better know where their loyalties lie," I laughed. "They exist—make money because we let them," my voice rose, "Are you guys seriously worried about some street gang bullshit? Besides us, Laurent has his little . . . outfit of Bloods, his boys, that's it. And most of Eleazar's peeps died in that explosion, which is why she's so desperate . . . with her hand out." Shaking my head, I laughed. "Besides that, her little family were all that interested me—us having more heads on our side. She's nothing now, and I won't help her fuck us. We should give the Feds more ammo?"

"Laurent's been affiliated with us for years, though." Aro looked to me. "You ran with him when you were a kid . . . At least have the sit-down—show respect—so nothing pops off. I'm not saying this out of fear. Those fuckers can do them and we'll take care of them, but why cause trouble when it can be settled over a drink?"

"Respect?" I thought that shit was hilarious. "Although, he's no one—in life, to me, or to anyone at this table . . . Laurent's his own man—can do what he wants. It's her or us, and that's pretty fucking simple."

"I agree with Aro," Jasper said. "At least we hear them out. We could make some money—"

"No," Carlisle and I spat in unison.

"You need money, you talk to me," I told my cousin.

"No. I don't. I'm just saying . . . more."

I sighed. "When fuckers get too greedy . . . that's when shit gets messy. You know?"

Jasper pursed his lips, nodding, yet I could tell he didn't agree with me. "I'd like to have this sit-down. I won't agree to anything. I'll just hear him out for you. Morbid curiosity . . . I'd like to know how it'll work."

I shook my head no because I wasn't going to repeat myself.

"I'll be back." Aro walked over to Joey-Botz. Like always, we had a guy at the entrance to VIP for security reasons.

My gaze lingered, but then I saw Luke and his henchman Giuseppe standing right outside. "Just let 'em in," I shouted to Joey.

They came over, and while Luke kissed my cheek, his dude took a seat. "It's nice to see you all again," Giuseppe said.

"Yeah." I didn't share that sentiment. "What brings you to the city?"

"I was uptown, getting a rock for my lady." Luke wore a bright smile. "I'm doing it—gonna tie the knot. Elena's been through it all with me."

I clapped. "Everyone's in love."

Luke loosened his tie, his face falling a bit. "It's time—I waited long enough."

"Regardless of the circumstance." Aro shook his hand, and I'd bet Luke's chick was knocked up. "Vi auguro la felicità." He wished him happiness.

"He tell you why I'm here?" He pointed to Aro.

I nodded, toying with my glass. With the condensation building, it moved smoothly against the table. "Who contacted you?"

Luke shook his head. "That's not important—"

"I beg to differ. If someone in my family isn't happy, I should know. Mostly, I'd like to know why they didn't go to Aro, my consigliere," I pointed to my brother, "or myself . . . I think I'm fair to wonder. I mean, if they can't trust me, maybe they should move to the Garden State."

"Edward," Luke widened his arms, "let's not be hasty. They spoke to me because . . . well, if people aren't happy, they're not working to their full potential, right? They're not making you the money they could be. Instead of taking things into their own hands . . . I mean, you wouldn't hear them unless I said something. Just like if we had a problem, my guys would come to you. Even if I have a problem, I come to you."

"Give me their names—who spoke to you—and I'll-we'll—take care of it."

Despite the past, I've never been a fan of history or repeating it, and I didn't appreciate Luke's nose being in our business.

At the end of the day, anything over the state line is of no concern to him. "I appreciate your visit." I added as an afterthought, and then sipped my drink. "Where's Shana?" I snapped my fingers and Joey-Botz let the waitress back in. "Have a drink. Champagne to celebrate?" I was friendly and nudged his arm.

"Ed—" Luke started and stopped, looking up. "JW Black—neat, no ice."

"Captain and Coke." Giuseppe handed her a bill.

Shana nodded and quickly left the room.

"Luke," Aro spoke up. "I think it's . . . right to say," he gave me fleeting glance, "give us the names of those who are unhappy before we're unhappy. You feel me?"

I didn't say a word, content with what my buddy said.

"Let's not get ugly, fellas," Carlisle interjected. "I'd like to thank you for bringing this issue to our attention, but I think you can sympathize that it doesn't concern you. Do you agree?"

Luke pursed his lips.

"Thank you for coming out here, though." I raised my glass to him again as the waitress brought their drinks. "It's good to see you."

Truth be told, I really just wanted to know who was working—rubbing their noses so close to Luke that it was brought to his attention. If they're playing both sides, I wanted to know, and that was exactly how I saw it. Even if getting another boss involved is the correct way to handle this situation, I didn't give a fuck.

There are reasons why those who used to run things aren't running them any more. I'm here now, so I'll continue doing things the way I see fit.

"Mauro Giordano," Luke said. "I have to agree with the kid . . . What happens in his personal relationship should have no bearing on how he makes a living—whoever his girl's father is."

My brother huffed, leaning into him. "You don't know jack shit about that situation—and that definitely doesn't concern you," he said, quiet, deadly, and to the fucking point. I was proud of him. He's quick to speak for me and keep the peace, but Carlisle didn't give a fuck about all that—not in this moment. "She's the daughter of a capo, and that piece-of-shit used to—"

"Whoa." I put a hand up. "That's neither here nor there." I didn't feel the need for Carlisle to justify a damn thing.

Carlisle picked a piece of lint off Luke's jacket. "Why don't you get back in your Benz and hit the fucking tunnel?"

"This is fucked-up." Luke stared at me.

"It is what it is . . . I dealt with the situation. He did wrong, and now he's paying. If Mauro has beef with me, he can talk to Aro, or me, and we can . . . negotiate." I chuckled, while the rest of my counterparts joined me. "What's it to you?"

He put his hands up. "Nothing. I told you why I came here. The kid who's in the hospital—"

"Again," I sighed, leaning back to close my jacket. I wanted to get going soon.

"He's being taken care of," Carlisle said. "Whoever you talk to, those friends of ours, you tell them we're doing the right thing, and keep yourself out of it."

Luke nodded. "I hear you—don't get me wrong, I do—"

"What's the problem then?" my brother asked.

"I'm doing the right thing." He widened his arms again. "And I feel all this hostility . . . I was presented with a problem. You have unhappy members within your organization, and instead of letting them go, instead of forgetting about it and turning them away, I came here. What if they stage a coup?"

I hummed. "Thank you. Like I said, I appreciate it, I truly do. But we figured there'd be some beef amongst our ranks. I can't keep the geezers happy without pissing off the juniors, and vice versa. Diverse generations are used to handling things differently because with the passing of time comes change . . . At the end of the day, Mauro was wrong—what he did was wrong. He disrespected a capo. The circumstances might be . . . personal, but the issue was still present. I handled it the best I could, and—"

I shrugged, wincing, "Now, I see in a whole different light. Mauro's behavior . . . It's cunty—I'm sorry, excuse my language—but going to you was a pussy move. You do the crime, you do the time, and you pay the fucking piper . . . just like anyone else would've had to. I handled it. There are no other qualms at this given time—everyone's content."

Luke nodded again. "Well . . . I guess you put me in my place then."

"Oh!" I shouted. "You really want to go there?"

He shook his head.

"I know what's up. Thank you for informing me." I raised a brow. "Is there anything else?"

"In the interest of sharing good faith . . ." Luke smirked, going into his jacket pocket. "I have a treat."

My hand twitched to my waist, but then he placed a piece of paper on the table.

"Aro," he said. "My brothers were fucks—that whole mess on the highway. I'm sorry you were wounded, hurt so badly."

"Thank you." Aro sounded wary.

"There was a car that kept going that day," Luke said. "You guys did good, but not too good—they did some damage." He grimaced. "He's yours. I'm giving him to you . . . He boasted about clipping your boy, Rob, and hitting you up." His eyes never left Aro as he turned the piece of paper over, which ended up being a photograph.

The picture was of DJ—Derek Meloni, Jr.

I gritted my teeth, knowing Luke was trying to fuck with me. There'd be no way I could rightfully tell Aro not to do anything. DJ means nothing to me, but if anything happened to him . . . the associations he had before his death . . . I think everyone would turn in my direction, including my wife and her biological father.

"He's mouthy, owes a lot of money—"

"His uncle is also one of your capos," Carlisle said.

"Mike," Luke sighed. "He might be a problem, but he's nothing I can't handle. I know where my loyalties lie."

"You do?" I laughed. "That's fucking spectacular."

Luke was taken aback. "I thought you'd be grateful."

"I am . . . thank you." I patted Aro's back, a soothing gesture.

It's not every day you learn that your best friend's brother, who is also the brother of your potential new girlfriend, is the guy who was sent to kill you and almost succeeded ten months prior.

"We'll take care of it."

Luke nodded once. "I gotta go . . . The old lady has been on my ass about coming home late."

I waved his words away, and I definitely knew what he meant. "Great seeing you." I stood up to say goodbye.

He kissed my cheek, shook Carlisle's hand, and turned for the door with Giuseppe on his heels. When they were gone, we all stayed quiet, our eyes on Aro. He was silent as well, his finger trailing along the edge of the photograph.

And again, there was no way I couldn't grant Aro his revenge for a stunt like that.

But it also made a lot of sense . . .

Why DJ reacted the way he did when we first met him—scared and like we might be there to kill him.

And now, like on Thanksgiving, he was kissing our asses.

Carlisle's face was all business as he leaned forward. "It's really not that important—the Mauro beef?" He rolled his eyes. "We call a meeting with the heads of each crew, and then they can speak to their guys. An open forum where anyone can express any concerns they have . . . It's the best way to keep the peace. We have all these heads to look out for, and only two are unhappy? Nunz and Mauro? I doubt Nunz even opened his mouth. Things have been good, pockets are fat and it's close to Christmas . . . no one is going to say shit. They're all happy."

"I know. Set it up anyway. You two can take care of it." I pointed to my brother and cousin. "It'll be like a holiday party." Looking to Aro, I asked, "You all right?"

"I'll talk to the capos—that's my job." He was still staring at the picture.

"Hey." I squeezed his shoulder. "Let them—"

He took a lighter and lit the damn thing on fire before he threw it to the ground. "I'm heading back to BK . . . Anyone want a ride? No?"

Knowing he'd want to be alone, I didn't accept his offer. "C's got me."

Aro nodded. "I just . . . I wanna be with my kids."

"Bro, go . . . Take a few days off?" As I patted his back again, I had no idea what to say. "Don't worry about anything, but—"

"Ed," Carlisle whispered, and I shut up.

Aro nodded, not saying a word as he speedily walked out of the lounge.

"How 'bout that ride?" I asked my brother.

/=/=/=/=/

Bella

/=/=/=/=/

For over a week, I decided to take it easy. Alex and I had been spending way too much time together, and it was getting to Edward. Although, I really wanted to call her after Thanksgiving, I never did.

And as the days passed, I wanted to think up an excuse—as to why I hadn't called and all that—sure, that she'd call any day.

But she didn't.

When Aro noticed how sad I was, he suggested I just call to say hello—figuring we weren't speaking because Edward and Carlisle still weren't talking.

I have no idea what they fought about, but I hoped to get the answer tonight.

"More wine?" I called Alex over for dinner since tonight Edward was going to be late, and I knew Carlisle would be there too. My husband bitched about needing Carlisle during a sit-down they had this evening.

"I'm good." She looked to her glass. "Is the roast almost ready?" It was all in my head, any awkwardness I thought there might be. She was fine and casual, like nothing was wrong—because nothing is wrong.

Maybe she wasn't as talkative as usual, but that's all.

I remember Esme and Lauren both—if I went too long without calling them, they called me to start drama, saying I was ignoring them. When in reality, life just kind of gets in the way.

"Ten more minutes." I turned to take a seat at the table. "Come sit."

She was still in a pair of scrubs from work. "I'm so tired." She sipped from her glass.

I smiled. "How are you?"

She grimaced, but then grinned. "They—they're bad, and then some things are amazing. I mean . . . the thing with Nunzio—"

I gasped. "Isn't it terrible? On a holiday—to get jumped like that." I shook my head. "Well, any day," I whispered.

"Uh, yeah . . . terrible." She looked away from me.

I raised a brow, a red flag appearing. "What, um, what do you care about Nunzio?"

She shrugged, her face falling even more. "I'm sure you heard . . . that whore business? Specifically, me being one."

I nodded. "I heard a few things . . . One in particular, uh . . ." I bit my lip, my eyes narrowing. "Something about you chillin' with me to get closer to Edward."

"That's one of the things people are saying." She groaned.

I licked my lips, knowing I'd regret my next words. "It's not true?"

"Oh God, no!" she shouted. "You don't believe that do you?" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Shhh." I patted her hand. "No, I didn't."

"I'd never . . . " And the tears spilled over. "Everyone is whispering behind my back. I haven't gone grocery shopping in forever. I can't go anywhere. The only place I go to is to get coffee in the morning—well, I did." She shrugged. "People point and they stare, and I didn't do anything wrong." Her lip quivered. "I know Carlisle is older, but our dating isn't taboo . . . He's not married. He's widowed, and their relationship was over before she passed. I did nothing wrong, and my parents adore him, so . . . I am not a home wrecker."

"People are assholes, probably referring to this home." I grabbed a napkin to hand it to her, feeling like a shitty friend.

"I thought—I thought—Well, I kind of knew that's why you hadn't called me."

"No," I said. "I've been busy."

She nodded. "I thought maybe that, too, but I didn't wanna be a pest or bring it up. My dad is so pissed . . ." She blew out a breath. "God help Mauro if my father sees him. They all go back to him. His big-nosed sister spread these lies at the salon, and you know how those women talk. Everyone and everywhere I go—I can't take this anymore." She rambled while I kept nodding, ready to listen.

"I'm applying for jobs all over—"

"Why?" I asked.

"I hate this neighborhood. It's ridiculous." She sniffled. "No one thinks for themselves. No one hardly ever knew who I was, and now everyone thinks I'm this slut." She leaned in. "Please tell me you don't believe them."

With tears in my own eyes, I rose to hug her tightly. "No, sweetie, I don't." I rocked us while she sobbed. "Not for one second." I hated myself for even asking, but I needed . . . I don't know. When someone says shit like that, one can't help but think about it and stew—wonder if there's even a possibility.

"My mother is being so dramatic—going to church to light candles for me, she wants me to move back in with her and my dad. No one has the balls to step to me." She backed away. "I'm okay."

I nodded, sitting in my own chair. "Cowards talk shit."

"And no one can say anything to my face—not that they'd dare to now." She swallowed. "Carlisle beat up Nunzio—kids didn't do it."

I gasped. "Really?"

"Yup . . ." she sighed. "He grabbed me—yoked me up and slammed me—"

"When?" I lowered my voice. "When did this happen?" I was shocked. Nunzio is always so sweet, mild-mannered, and I could never picture him doing something like that.

"Thanksgiving."

"Wow."

"The roast." She pointed. "Sorry. I'm hungry."

I got up to go to the oven. "Keep talking."

"I'm not innocent, but what he said . . . I just—I don't know. He said I looked good, but that I'd look better on my back, and then he asked when his turn might be."

My eyes were wide as I slammed the pan down on the stove. "He said that?"

She nodded. "I was smoking a cigarette—I put it out on his arm and that's when he . . . It was my fault for provoking, but he was hovering anyway. It was scary. I don't know why I do the things I do. I get angry, and I react, and then I wonder why the men in my life . . . react. I'm so stupid." She palmed her face.

"Hey, Mauro was abusive. There's no excuse for that. Are you saying that if you didn't act out, it would have stopped him from hitting you?" I didn't understand it, and her logic broke my heart. "You're a good person, and you didn't deserve any of that."

"Maybe. I just need to learn to keep my mouth shut."

"No," I said. "Always speak your mind, especially if you're in a relationship. You can't be a silent partner . . . Good for Carlisle." I was proud of my brother-in-law. "Edward would do the same—would have beat Nunzio's ass."

"I bet." Alex got up, and then bent low to snatch up Kylie from the Tupperware cabinet. My daughter likes to play in there while I cook. "I've been needing my fix." She smiled, embracing Kylie. They looked adorable. "She's such a cuddly kid."

I grinned and went back to the food.

"Owex."

"Al-lex," I heard them behind me.

"Wove-a-you," Kylie said.

"Oh . . . I love you too," Alex replied, and when I turned back, they were rocking back and forth, but Alex was still crying.

"It's going to blow over," I said.

"I know," she whispered. "I just need to get away—Carlisle gave me tickets to the Bahamas of all things."

"Wow." I nodded.

"I can take anyone I want since he says he can't go . . . You know, the only person who's still my friend," she laughed, "is Lou's girlfriend, Monica? I might ask her."

"Oh." I was a little disappointed that she wouldn't ask me, even if I'd never be able to go. "That sounds like fun."

She shrugged, going to the table to sit with Kylie. "The tickets don't expire and the hotel has vouchers . . . I might use my week off to move. Maybe I can't find a job right away, but I can find a new place—maybe Bensonhurst or Park Slope. Who knows?"

"You should take time—think about it more. Don't be so fast to run . . . and I'd miss you."

She smiled, and I turned back to cut the meat. "This is the only drawback to making roast beef while Edward isn't here." I gripped the knife and dug in, trying to slice it thin. "How's Carlisle?"

"Good. You haven't seen him?" She sounded surprised.

I shook my head. "He and Edward aren't speaking—do you know why?" I looked back to her.

"No, I don't," she replied, furrowing her brow. "We don't get to . . . spend a lot of time together. We meet for lunch some days and," she giggled, "Tuesday he took the day off and I called out sick. You can guess what we did all day."

"Ha, ha." I brought some of the meat over to the serving dish. "How was that?"

"Amazing. After he got the kids off to school, he picked me up and brought me back to his house. I had never seen it before—where he lives? But, but I couldn't stay there." She lowered her voice.

I put the string beans into the microwave and hit the power. "Why?"

She grimaced. "We had plans. We were going to—to do that all day, and he brought me into the guest room. He said he had been staying in there ever since . . ." She didn't want to bring up Esme. "Out of curiosity, I asked to see the master suite. He had shown me every other room except that one." She shrugged. "All of her stuff is still there. The whole house is hers, and I was spooked."

I frowned, swallowing thickly. "I could imagine. All of her stuff is seriously still there?"

She nodded. "We went back to my place, where things went back to normal, but . . . We haven't spoken about it. I don't even know what to say. We've gone on three dates—normal dates. We've had sex like five times—well, we did it three times on Tuesday, that morning after we all went out, which was the first time, and . . . another time." Alex placed Kylie on her feet.

"So . . . you guys haven't spent that much time together?" I crouched to clap and Kylie ran into my arms, and then I placed her in her chair. "And he gave you tickets to the Bahamas?" My head whipped back to her.

Alex was biting her lip and nodding. "I don't know what to think . . . It's not all his fault. When I see him, I just want to—" She growled playfully, which made me giggle. "I can't help it. He's, he's my new favorite thing to do." She had stars in her eyes.

"Favorite thing to do, huh?"

"Oh, Jesus, the sex is . . . I can't." She sat up, crossing her legs, which made me burst into laughter again.

"Awesome," I said.

"He doesn't have that much spare time—between his job, his kids, and then me, so . . . I wish we knew each other better as people . . . not let our, um, genitals do the talking. I'm busy, too, though. It's not as if I can complain."

I didn't know how to reply. "You'll get there." I hoped that was a decent answer.

A large part of me wanted to tell her the truth—that it might all be just physical for Carlisle, but I wasn't sure anymore, so I kept my mouth shut. "Edward and I were the same way. We were married a month after we met," I giggled. "We were practically strangers, but—"

"A month?" She held her head. "Geez."

"Uh-huh." I smiled. "I don't recommend it—like, I wouldn't suggest you run off and do that. It was hit or miss, and we argued all the time. I—" I paused, "I also didn't know a lot of the things that I do now; meanwhile, I don't regret it—wouldn't change a thing."

"You guys are so in love," she sighed. "It's—it's inspiring, something I definitely want one day, a man so devoted—that kind of love. My parents . . . I know my father has a girlfriend. He's been with the same woman for years, and my mother just looks the other way. I couldn't—I can't do that, and I've put up with a lot of crap," she grumbled, "but not that."

"But if Mauro never left you . . .?" I hedged. He gave her a social disease. And although she messed up his car, they were still technically together after the fact.

"I don't know. I honestly have no idea. I guess I felt trapped?" She hugged herself.

"I wish you would have said something." I wondered if there would have been a way I could have helped her.

"I remember . . . when I was seventeen, begging my mother to leave him. I guess, growing up, marriage was kind of a joke? Mauro and I were together for seven years, and the thought made me cringe. What's wrong with just living together, you know? But now, it's like, maybe he just wasn't right for me, or . . . maybe I never loved him. It was routine."

"Some people see marriage as piece of paper." I placed the beef on the table.

"Let me help you—"

"Sit." I waved. "You worked all day." Laughing, I brought the potatoes and greens over too. "If you want, go get Sonny and Dame."

She stood from the table. "Okay."

While she was gone, I finished setting the table, but then the phone rang.

"Hello?" The caller ID said it was Derek.

"Bella?" he asked.

"Hey . . . We were just about to sit down, but it's great to hear from you." I hadn't heard from him since Thanksgiving. Before that, he only called every few days or so, and I figured he might be busy—the mall and being close to Christmas. I tried not to take it personal.

He hummed. "I've been working like mad—round the clock."

"I bet." I started cutting slices into tiny pieces for Kylie and Dame. "How are you otherwise?"

"Good—can't complain. I was calling to see if you'd like to join me for dinner."

"Oh. I'm not sure what our plans are this weekend." I didn't want to agree without talking to Edward first.

"Just you and Leesee," he said. "I'd—I'd like to take the both of you out in the city. My treat, of course, although Leesee might insist."

My stomach tied in knots. She went on a date with Aro, where he said she was an amazing, easy-going person, but she was very cold—standoffish to me. "That sounds like fun."

"Who's that?" Damion asked.

I placed his plate in front of him. "Eat."

"I don't like this." He went to push it away.

"Then eat what you like—it's chicken," I lied.

"No, it's not. Roast beast is . . . well, it's beast." His eyes widened as he scooped mashed potatoes into his mouth, and I tried not to laugh. My kid is so fucking cute.

"Hello?" Derek asked.

"I'm sorry. It sounds good. When did you . . . want to do this?" Sighing, I sat down to put some meat on Kylie's tray.

"Saturday?" he suggested, which was also the day we were all supposed to go out again.

"Can I get back to you? It sounds great—good plans." I nodded, with lack of anything else to say.

"All-righty. Call me tomorrow."

"Will do. Bye-bye." I ended the call, trying to get Kylie to eat. "Come on."

"No!" She pushed my hand.

"See?" Damion pointed. "She doesn't like beast either."

I snorted. "How'd you get so cute?"

He winked. "I look like my mommy."

"Right." He looks just like Edward. "Eat the string beans, too." I looked around the table. "Where's your brother?"

He shrugged. "He had something to do."

I rose from my seat. "Keep an eye on your sister."

"Aye-Aye, Mommy!"

Laughing, I stopped in the hallway.

Alex made eye contact with me, and Sonny had his back to me. "Dunkin' Donuts," she said, holding a card.

"Um, well, I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck. Edward does the same shit when he's nervous or doesn't know what to say, and it made me smile. "That was the only store I could get to."

"A hundred dollar gift card." She raised a brow at me. "That's a lot of coffee. Why don't you keep it? You can get donuts and hot chocolate."

"My uncle gave me that money on Thanksgiving, and . . . because of my behavior—that day, I thought—I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it, and I was out of line."

I furrowed my brow, wondering what he did.

Alex smiled. "This is very sweet of you, but I can't take it."

"Wait—there's more." He ran back into his room.

"What happened?" I mouthed.

She winced, and then Sonny popped back out with a stuffed bear. It had the words "I'm Sorry," written on its belly, and I held my heart. Even if I had no idea what my kid did, I thought he was being really sweet. "You know . . . I'm single now . . . My birthday was Monday. I turned twelve."

"Happy birthday . . . no one told me. I'm sorry." Alex frowned. "What happened to Katie?"

"I beat up her brother."

I did not know about that. "When?" I mouthed again.

"When?" Alex asked.

"Thanksgiving."

I nodded, slumping back. Aro or Edward said that AJ had fallen, and everything was so crazy I never questioned it.

"You should give this to her . . . or maybe AJ?" Alex giggled, handing the bear back. "Despite—" Our eyes met again. "You're a really great kid." She nodded, gently punching his shoulder. "Santino, you're going to be some heartbreaker when you grow up."

"Don't call me that—"

"Why not?" she asked. "It's sophisticated, ethnic . . . kind of sexy." She winked, and I wouldn't have used that last word, but I could see Sonny's ears turning red from here.

And in the end, if the kid didn't hate his name anymore . . .

"You're those things, too, but none of those other things," he whispered. "I heard you and Mom. And people are stupid. You shouldn't listen to them."

She swallowed, nodding and looking away. "Thank you."

"I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, just . . . learn from it?" she asked.

He nodded. "I definitely have . . . I'm going to take Italian as my second language—"

"Great. Um . . . we should go eat." She went to walk around him, but he stopped her.

"Can—can I have a hug?"

Aww, I thought, and held my heart again. Alex looked hesitant, but she did reach over and embrace my son. Then, like clockwork, his lower half quickly scooted away.

And then, I shouted, "Dinner!" because Sonny had slowly brought his hips back.

Before I sat down at the table, Sonny threw those things into his bedroom, and Alex had wide eyes, giving me a look as she came toward me. "What was that?"

"Tell you later," she whispered.

Since Edward wasn't home, Sonny had to sit at the head of the table. He was adorable, telling Damion he had to eat his beast. Believe it or not, I let my son think the beef was beast. He never usually questioned what we ate, just knowing what he likes and doesn't like, but if I said beef came from a cow . . . I wasn't sure how he'd react. He's Mommy's little moosh-monster.

My eldest also tried to serve Alex, which I found kind of endearing. Edward serves me all the time, and Sonny was being a gentleman.

"Gotcha!" Damion poked her boob. "Sorry. Meant to get your shoulder."

Alex laughed. "It's okay."

"You little—" Sonny groaned. "How does he get away with that?" He picked up his dish and walked toward the sink.

"Huh?" Alex looked confused, while Damion tucked into his plate, seeming guilty.

"Sonny—"

"Santino," he corrected.

"Excuse me, Santino," I giggled. "But I'll have a chat with your brother later." If his little ass thinks I don't know what he's up to, he's wrong. And I raised a bitch brow at Dame, so he knew. He looked away as if he didn't. Little stinker.

"Cool . . ." Sonny nodded, staring at his brother. "Apologize."

"I'm sorry," Dame whispered to Alex.

"It's okay." She rubbed his back. "You're curious."

"So am I," Sonny said under his breath, but I doubt she heard him.

My head turned to gaze at the plate in his hands, the one he was about to clear. It had a lot of food on it, and he usually eats better than that—a lot better. "What happened?"

He rubbed his tummy. "I don't know—stomachache, I guess."

I reached to feel his head for fever, yet he wouldn't let me. "Oh . . . do you need Pepto—"

He cut me off. "I'm fine. Can I go? I have reading for English I want to get over with."

I waved. "Put that sweater back in your closet." The kid was dressed up—for a night on the town, not dinner at home.

He turned but paused. "You know there's no school tomorrow, right?"

I nodded. "Another Conference Day—I know."

"I'll be back to say goodnight." He left the kitchen.

I grabbed some baby wipes to clean Kylie's face, while Alex started to clear the table. I let her do it because no matter what I'd say, she'd do it anyway.

"I'm done," Damion said. "I liked-ed it a lot."

"It's just 'liked' . . . Told you." I blew him a kiss. "Come here." After I was done with Kylie, I gave Damion a quick cleanup. "You know what private areas are," I whispered. "And you don't touch other people's—just like no one is supposed to touch you there."

"Except you or Daddy."

"Right," I said. "There's touching that's okay, like, to help you. And then there's touching that's not. And you never touch anyone's private areas, like no one is supposed to touch yours." I stopped to make sure that all came out correctly.

"Except during naked wrestling—"

"Uh—" He surprised me with that one. "Go put your pajamas on."

"Okay." He left the kitchen too.

"And then there was Kylie." I tickled her belly, and she giggled, sipping her juice.

"Does she get a bath tonight?" Alex asked from the sink.

"Nah . . . Tonight she gets to watch TV." I kissed her chubby cheek.

"Dad-dy." Her lip jutted out.

"You'll see him in the morning, baby." I leaned my forehead to hers.

"Wove Dad-dy." She pointed at nothing.

I smiled. "I love him, too. You miss him?"

She nodded. "Dad-dy." This time she sounded excited and giggled.

Grinning, I leaned back to rub my own full stomach. "That was good."

"You make a great 'beast'," Alex laughed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome—what was that about, before dinner?" I asked. "With Sonny?"

"Oh . . ." She shrugged, her back to me as she placed food in storage containers. "Ya know . . . boys that age—"

I laughed. "He did that to me—the poke? He didn't mean it. He was mortified." My eyes widened.

She nodded, giggling. "If I was him, I would be too."

"I didn't get a gift card," I teased. "That would have come in handy. Don't you stop there every morning?"

"I did, but . . . Carlisle bought me a new coffee maker." Alex turned to face me. "It just showed up the other day, one of those single-cup makers? It was so nice of him, and he wouldn't let me return it. Making a full pot for me is wasteful. Mauro never drank coffee . . . Two bucks every morning was nothing, but the maker is cool. One press of a button, and I have a travel mug."

"Get used to it . . . Both of them, Edward and Carlisle, they like to spend money."

"But I have nothing to offer." She turned to lean on the counter.

"I beg to differ." I shimmied my shoulders.

"And I'm not a whore?"

I sucked my teeth. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I was . . . half-kidding, too," she laughed. "What should I get him for Christmas? Presuming we're still—doing what we're doing." She rolled her eyes. "I don't even know what we are. I had an idea, but . . . I tried asking him, like, if he believed those rumors? He said no, but then he didn't want to talk about it. If he thinks . . . I mean, we haven't spoken since yesterday. He sent me a good morning text, but . . . I don't know. Then I think about my behavior, throwing myself at him. It doesn't look good."

"He doesn't," I said. "If he did . . . he might still sleep with you, but there'd be no way he'd spend so much money on you, or put Nunzio in the hospital. Make sense? He was defending your honor—whoever defamed you."

She grinned. "That's so fucking hot. Monica—Lou's girl—you have to meet her. She's cool. We should go to dinner one night. She, she told me that Carlisle beat up Mauro, too. I didn't—I didn't know about that."

"Neither did I," I said. "My brother-in-law is definitely more of a lover than a fighter, so that surprises me. You know? He's good with his words, calming down situations . . . can talk most girls right out of their panties." I raised a brow. "Watch that." There are things I can't say, but there are things I can.

"Thinking about that makes me sick to my stomach, wondering how to keep him interested. I don't know him, and people do talk shit. I don't know what to believe, and then you say things like that . . . and I believe you. Is he the whore?" She looked up to the ceiling. "Then, since I don't know, I'm trying not to get carried away with my ooey-gooey feelings."

I had no idea what to tell her in regards to that. "Are you serious about moving—finding another job?"

She nodded. "I'm over this neighborhood. I'm tired of the bullshit and hierarchy—no offense."

"None taken—" I put up a finger, hearing the front door. "Edward." My tone was hushed, and Alex turned back to the sink to wipe her hands.

"I should go—" Now, she looked panicked. "I'm sure he's heard everything too and hates me."

"Relax," I whispered. "He doesn't. Stay . . . and do me a favor. Say hello, how are you, and maintain eye contact."

"Why?" She gripped the dishtowel, and I slowly pried it out of her hands.

"Trust me." I threw the rag down, hearing footsteps. And I found myself feeling stupid.

How could I even have a shadow of a doubt? Alex truly does act as though Edward is going to whip out a gun and shoot us all, or something crazy like that. All of which are reasons why she keeps her head down and doesn't say diddly-squat while he's around.

And my husband thinks she's up to something devious, although he hasn't mentioned it since Thanksgiving.

"Hey," Edward announced. He looked good, wearing a black wool coat with his scarf hanging low. "I made it—Kylie's still awake." He came over to peck my lips, and then kiss our daughter's hair. "Hi." He was flippant to Alex as he took off his coat.

"Hello," she said.

Edward's eyes flashed to me, and I turned around to feign nonchalance.

"How are you?" Alex asked.

"Good . . . how are you?"

"G-good, can't complain," she answered.

I was smiling when I turned back. "You just missed dinner—It's all put away."

"Oh, I can—" Alex started.

Edward looked to her. "I'll take a plate."

"I got it," I said. "Geez." The poor girl gives an inch and Edward has to take a mile.

"Nunzio woke up . . . he's talking—there's nothing wrong with his speech." Edward took Kylie from her chair to place her on his lap.

"That's awesome—good for Nunzio and Carlisle."

Edward nodded, not even surprised that I knew. "How's Daddy's girl?" He tickled our daughter.

"I'm gonna go," Alex whispered. "It's getting late."

"Okay." I gave her a quick hug.

"Carlisle had to talk to Lou . . . Bet he's still out there waiting for you since he saw your car . . . Have him follow you—make sure you get home all right," Edward said.

"I'll be fine, but thank you." Alex waved, grabbing her purse. "Say good night to Santino for me." She winked.

"I will." I gave her another hug just for the hell of it. "It'll all work out, but don't run away—cowards do that. Be the Brooklyn chick—strong, scary with attitude." I leaned back to widen my eyes.

She laughed. "We'll see . . . Have a good night, Mr. Cullen." She waved again, and my friend knows her way out.

Neither Edward nor I said a word until we heard the door click shut. Sonny must have heard it, too. He stopped short to bang his fist on the wall.

"I didn't get the chance—" He groaned, palming his face and going back down the hall.

I rolled my eyes at nothing and brought Edward's plate over to the microwave.

"What's your problem?" Edward shouted back to him.

"Don't have one . . . hi, Dad." Now, Sonny had a dull monotone, and then we heard his door close.

"So . . . what was that? I'm worthy to talk to now?" My husband snorted.

"Maybe if you didn't give off those vibes . . . those standoffish, cold vibes, she would talk to you more. That's all I'm saying." I shrugged.

"I've done nothing in front of her to make her fear me," he whispered. "Kylie's not afraid of me. Right, Ky?" They laughed and giggled up a storm, and it made me smile.

"Derek called me . . . finally."

"You could have called him," he said. "Same thing with this chick . . . your fingers broken?"

I didn't comment, bringing his dish over. "Trade?"

Once I had Kylie in my arms, I walked her into the den—placing her and her sippy cup in her playpen so she could watch cartoons.

Then I sat with Edward while he ate.

"He mentioned going to dinner Saturday . . . but just him, me, and Lisa."

Edward shoveled food in his mouth. "Do you want to go?"

"We were supposed to go to Midnight Sun since we didn't go last weekend." I frowned. "Aro's second date."

Edward winced, still chewing. "I don't know. Uh . . ."

I poked his bicep. "What'd you hear?"

He swallowed, smiling now.

"Tell me. I won't say anything," I promised.

"Your sister—"

"Don't call her that." In my heart, Rosalie and Alice, although I don't see them often—they're my sisters.

"He digs her . . . and he dug her on their first date, but I don't know how it'll all work out." He looked pensive, jaw set, tongue on molars.

"She slept with him."

Edward nodded. "He might be taking her out again to show respect to you. I don't know . . . and I doubt we're going out this weekend either."

"He doesn't like her that much? They got along great, and why aren't we going out?"

"Derek . . . might have told her—who and/or what Aro does."

"Oh!" I nodded. "She's . . ."

"Some might call her smart. She's apprehensive." He went back to his food. "Oh baby, this is on." He groaned, leaning over to give me a greasy kiss.

"Thanks." I grinned. "Why aren't we going—"

"Oh . . . no one's going. It's best we lay low. Aro canceled with Lisa. If you wanna meet up with Derek—"

"No," I said. "We can put the tree up this weekend."

"Sounds like a plan . . . You know I like keeping you to myself." He gathered a bunch of food onto his fork. "What was that talk about running away?"

"What's up with you and Carlisle?" I asked.

"I asked you a question," he mumbled with a mouthful to avoid mine.

I sighed. "Mine is more important since I don't think she's running anywhere."

"Nothing's up. We had words, argued . . . I saw him tonight and we're cool now." He shrugged.

"He apologized?"

Edward slowly shook his head no. "The shit he said was wrong, but he doesn't see himself as such. It was dumb, though. We agreed to disagree and never talk about it again."

"That works." I shook my head, feeling as though I'd never fully understand their bond.

"Daddy!" Damion slammed into Edward.

"Hey, bud." He kissed Dame's hair. "How was your day?"

"Same old, same old." Dame shrugged.

"Really?" Edward nodded, their exchange making me giggle. "How was school?"

"Good. We start practicing for the Christmas pageant on Monday. I'm an innkeeper . . . again." Our son didn't look happy.

"Rehearsal," I said. "Sister Tavia says he's got a lot potential as an actor. After the break, they're going to be working hard for the spring production."

"I can't wait to be Lumiere." He had an accent suddenly and moved his arm with a flourish, as though he was a candlestick. In truth, my son still mispronounces some English words, but he's got great ears, picks things up so fast.

I clapped. "You're going to be wonderful."

Our son smiled. "Ma chère, mademoi-selle." He sounded mumbled. "It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now, we invite to relax, let us pull up a chair . . . as the dining room proudly presents . . . your dinner." He gestured to Edward's plate.

"Yay!" I was so excited for him. He shines when he recites lines, even when he stumbles.

"An actor, huh?" Edward's face fell again. I nudged him with my foot, and he smiled wide. "That's great. What do you think?" He poked Dame's belly.

He furrowed his brow. "I don't know. I'm a kid." He placed his hand on his hip, looking at his father like he was crazy.

We chuckled. "You have time," Edward said, "loads of time—the world's your oyster."

Damion nodded. "What's twatwaffle mean?"

My eyes widened, but Edward didn't seem fazed. "It's another way to say douche—"

"Edward," I chastised, reaching for Dame. "Where did you hear that word?"

Damion wouldn't meet my gaze.

"Dame . . ." I held him still, making him look at me. "You don't say that—it's a bad word."

"It means . . . idiot." Edward went back to his food. "I've heard you slip . . . you and your brother are getting a little loose with the language."

I nodded, agreeing.

"You both know you're not supposed to say those words, yet you do anyway." He chewed.

"We should—" I started.

"No." Edward cut me off. "I'm not watching my mouth. They know better."

I huffed, knowing that was a losing battle—having us both mind our tongues.

"Go put your PJs on," I told Dame once more. He was still in his school uniform.

"Am I in trouble?" He pouted.

"No—"

"Yes."

I threw my hands up. "He repeats what he hears. He asked, was honest," I said.

"Okay." Edward shrugged. "Give me a hug."

Damion smiled and embraced Edward.

"Go get your jammies on." Edward kissed Damion on the lips and then gave him a pat on the ass. "Don't make Mommy tell you again."

Damion ran from the kitchen, and I sighed.

"Maybe if we punished them—started to. They won't . . . act like twatwaffles," he laughed.

I rolled my eyes. "Right."

"We punish Sonny all the time," he spoke, waving his fork. "Dame's little ass never gets in trouble. We always take the time to talk and explain—"

"You're quick to punish them both," I commented. "I don't know. God help us when Kylie's older. The girl's going to get away with murder." I made to get up, but Edward took my hand.

"I love you."

Smiling, I bent low to kiss those lips. "I love you too . . ."

"Where you going?" He pulled me onto his lap.

Staring at his jaw—the one I wanted to bite, I hummed. "Kylie needs to go to bed. I should start the dishwasher. There's a load that has to go into the dryer." I dipped to scrape my teeth along his jawline.

He tilted his head to the side, a slight groan spilling from his lips. "I missed you."

My forehead rested to his cheek. "Same here—missed you, too."

"Go." He leaned away. "Go do what you gotta do so we can go to bed."

Holding in my squeal, I kissed his cheek and left the kitchen quickly.

Kylie has had mercy on me the past few nights. After I changed her, I placed her in the crib, and she cried—she cries every night; however, she's not carrying on anymore.

Before I was even finished cleaning up the kitchen for the night, she quieted down.

Feeling tired, I loaded the dryer and shut everything down as I made my way back to my bedroom.

"Sonny?" I knocked and received no answer. "Sonny?" I whispered, opening the door. He was asleep, and it was kind of early for him. With no school the next day, he'd usually stay up late. "Goodnight." I kissed his hair and left, going to Dame's room.

Now, he was awake, doodling in his bed. "How's my artist?"

Damion beamed at me. "Hi, Mommy."

Smiling just as big back, I crawled into bed with him and hugged him tight, only to hum—very content to cuddle.

"I love you." He held my head to his chest.

"I love you, too, baby." I looked up to kiss his forehead.

"You should be asleep," Edward said.

We turned to see him standing in the doorway. "He's going," I defended.

"Yeah, yeah." My husband came in to kiss Damion goodnight. "Sleep tight."

"'Night, Daddy," Dame whispered.

"You coming?" He hit my ass.

I nodded. "Go to sleep. Finish this tomorrow."

"Okay—Eskimo."

I nuzzled my nose to his as I placed his pad of paper on his desk. "Goodnight."

He waved, nestling into his bed.

Once I closed the door, not all the way but enough, Edward pulled me into his arms. "It's Mommy's turn to go to bed."

"Oh, yeah?" I whispered, playful and wrapping my arms around his neck.

He gathered me into his arms, picking me up from the ground.

After he dropped me onto the bed, he went back to the door to lock it.

Excited, I tossed my sweater somewhere, and then reached for my jeans.

"Allow me." In one swift movement, he pulled my pants from me. "Bra, too."

I giggled, sitting up and reaching back. "Someone's eager."

He nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. "Had a long day."

I rose to my knees to help him.

"You look so sexy right now." His hands spanned my sides—his touch firm as he smoothed my skin upward.

I shivered from the contact. "These gotta go, too." I undid his belt, and then his pants—pushing them down. "Hmm." I placed small kisses on his stomach, his hands pushing my hair away.

"Beautiful." He rubbed my cheek, staring into my eyes.

I smiled, taking his cock deep into my mouth. He twitched against my tongue, his hips rocking slightly. He tasted like . . . home, his scent driving me wild—soapy and Edward-y.

He groaned. "Lie back."

My mouth popped, pulling him out, and then I scooted higher onto the bed. Before my back hit the pillows, Edward pulled my panties off.

"Can I just fuck you?" He crawled toward me, his hands trailing up my legs to spread my thighs.

My breath hitched, my back arching from the bed. "Y-yeah."

His finger twirled around my clit, making me hiss. "Oh, you're ready."

"Fuck." I licked my lips.

Edward grabbed my hips, pulling me even closer as he got into position—easing between my legs as they wrapped around him. "Sometimes, I just miss my woman." He kissed my nose.

I giggled, which turned into a moan when he entered me.

"Fuck." He closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he moved slowly. "I needed this—just this."

I blew out a slow breath, thrusting my hips to meet his. "Me too." My arms hugged him tight—feeling full, whole.

He leaned away, holding himself up with one hand while his other reached to massage my clit. "You gonna come for me?" He picked up the pace, bucking faster.

Inhaling deeply to let it out quick, I melted back into the mattress—ready for Edward to take me home. "Don't I always come for you?" My hands rubbed up his taut chest. Now, he's the sexy one. "You always make me—"

"This pussy—" He grunted, his hand moving faster.

I sat up to watch his dick enter me as his finger pleasured me, and Edward did too—hugging my bent knee.

The pressure was building, taking me higher and higher as my chest heaved. "Fuck me—faster." I moaned.

He gritted his teeth, complying and picking up a rhythm. "You feel so good, baby."

I gasped, catching my scream before it spilled by clamping my mouth shut. My stomach flipped, euphoria sprouting and spreading throughout my body while I let go—stiffening, coming and panting as my eyes rolled and my toes curled.

I was still going—pulsating—when he grabbed my hips, going deep and groaning. "Fuck." His hips were slow, his body slightly convulsing. "Damn," he laughed, collapsing down.

I held his cheeks. "That was awesome."

"It always is." He rested his elbows on either side of me. "This face . . ."

I leaned forward to capture his lips. "This face."

He kissed me again, and then placed his head on my chest. "Your heart's still going goo-gootz."

I giggled, and then heard a soft knock. "Damion."

"Wow . . . at least we got to finish . . . although it wasn't my longest performance." Edward chuckled, leaving our embrace. "We both came, though . . . You good?" He crookedly grinned and scratched his ear.

"I am," I laughed, getting up.

"I got it." He jerked a thumb to the door.

We both scrambled to cover up. I grabbed Edward's discarded shirt, and he put his boxers on before he opened the door. It was Damion, saying he couldn't sleep. Edward whisked him off to bed again while I put on an actual pair of pajamas.

Thank you for reading.

Please leave me your thoughts.


Fandoms4Autism - I am donating Quiet Storm Chapter One told in Edward's point of view. Ever wondered what Edward thought about Bella? What he and his brother were up to before they met her? It's an amazing cause. Please donate! It's really amazing. LOL. I LOVE the way it came out, and I actually like it better than the original first chappy.

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